Page 162 of Gabriel: Duke of Bencalor

“Primo!” Gabriel called.

“What are you do­ing out in the lounge, Gabri?” Raul asked with a frown. “You’re sup­posed to be in bed.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “It is a small flesh wound. Your fa­ther needed to speak with Quinn pri­vately.”

“About what?”

Gabriel started to shrug but re­mem­bered his in­jury. “I have no idea, but I hope it was to ex­press his grat­i­tude.” He opened the door to the room. “Come in.”

Quinn sat slouched in a chair, star­ing into space. A spurt of anger heated Gabriel’s blood. What had his un­cle said to her?

Then she looked around, and a smile of joy lit her face, slam­ming him in the gut. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and tell her he wouldn’t let her go ever again. But she would not ac­cept that from him.

“Quinn. Gabri.” Raul spoke their names in a way that com­manded their at­ten­tion. Gabriel turned to see his cousin was bow­ing low to Quinn. “You saved my life last night. I owe you a debt—an­other debt”—he looked straight at Gabriel—“I can never re­pay.”

Quinn was not hav­ing any of it. “Your fa­ther al­ready thanked me. In fact, it’s part of my job to pro­tect you since I work for Mikel. So you re­ally don’t have to say any more to me.” She ges­tured to­ward Gabriel. “He’s the one who tack­led an armed woman and got shot.”

Raul looked taken aback, and Gabriel had to sti­fle a grin. His cousin wasn’t used to hav­ing his princely speeches in­ter­rupted.

Gabriel would have dis­missed his cousin’s grat­i­tude as well, ex­cept now he un­der­stood the bur­den of know­ing some­one you loved was hurt be­cause of you. “Her­mano, no thanks are nec­es­sary. You would have done the same for me.”

“I hope to have the op­por­tu­nity some­day,” Raul said.

“No!” Gabriel said with a sharp slice of his hand in de­nial. “Do not wish for that! We have had enough mis­for­tune to last a life­time.”

Raul nod­ded, but his eyes still held shad­ows.

“You can re­pay me by fund­ing my new per­form­ing arts cen­ter,” Gabriel said to lighten his cousin’s mood.

“Ay, primo, you are re­lent­less about your fes­ti­val,” Raul said, his smile strained, but at least he was smil­ing.

“Hey, he’s got Kyran Redda, so it has to be amaz­ing!” Quinn added.

The door opened, and Dr. Al­varez walked in. When she saw Raul, she dipped a curtsy. “Su Al­teza Real. I will re­turn later.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “I need to go home.”

Gabriel re­fused the wheel­chair and the med­i­cal es­cort, as­sur­ing the doc­tor that Quinn and Raul were all the com­pany he needed.

Now they stood at the VIP wing’s en­trance. Three dark green limos and a cav­al­cade of black SUVs waited in the curved drive­way.

“A lit­tle bit of overkill now that Odette is in cus­tody,” Raul com­mented. “Are you com­ing back to the palace, Gabri?”

Gabriel looked at Quinn, who was study­ing the ar­ray of ve­hi­cles. “May I go with you to your house?”

“My house?” She piv­oted to­ward him, a mix­ture of sur­prise and long­ing on her face. “Yes. Ab­so­lutely.”

“Then I will re­turn to the palace alone,” Raul said. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am hon­ored to know both of you.” He spun on his heel and headed for the first of the limos.

Gabriel put his hand on the small of Quinn’s back to guide her to the sec­ond limou­sine, sa­vor­ing the warmth of her body through the silk of her blouse. The driver jumped out of the limo to open the door.

Once they were set­tled in­side, Gabriel laid his hand on the leather seat be­tween them, palm up, in an in­vi­ta­tion. “Thank you for al­low­ing me to come to your place.”

A shud­der of hope ran through him when Quinn put her hand in his with­out hes­i­ta­tion. “I’m happy you wanted to, but your un­cle and Mikel may not be so happy about it.”

“Odette is in cus­tody, as Raul pointed out.” He closed his fin­gers around hers and felt the plea­sure of her skin. Even bet­ter, she’d said she was happy he wanted to be in her home.

She pat­ted her purse. “And Mikel didn’t give me back my Glock, so he must be­lieve there’s no im­mi­nent dan­ger.”

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