Page 74 of Gabriel
“Why?”
“It’s difficult to explain.” My brows furrowed, and she continued. “He’s so overwhelming and possessive, but in a sweet way. I’ve never met anyone like him.” Then she chuckled softly, almost dreamily. “He acts like he’d burn down the world for me.”
It sounded like a crazy mobster to me, I thought. My chest twisted as a thought struck like lightning. What if Jet was using an alias? Anya would never know it.
“Who is he? What’s his name?” I asked.
Silence stretched. Not awkward, but protective.
“I’m not ready to say,” she admitted, and a knot in my stomach tightened. “I don’t want my brother to find out and scare him off.”
A relieved breath swished out of my lungs and I leaned back in relief, a smile tugging at my lips. If shehadmet Jet and he was as interested in her as Gabriel would like me to believe, she’d know it would take more than her brother to scare him away. Jet didn’t run from anything; people ran from him.
“Okay. That’s fair.”
Another beat passed.
“Thanks for picking up,” I said.
“Always,” she replied.
The call ended, and I stared at the screen until it dimmed and went black. I set the phone aside, fingertips brushing the woodgrain of the desk like I was trying to ground myself in something real.
But something still itched at the back of my mind.
Not about Jet.
About Anya.
It was in the pause. The beat was too long before she told me there was someone. The way her voice had shifted just slightly before she changed the subject.
I was interrupted from my ruminating thoughts when a noise outside caught my attention. I turned sharply toward the window.
But there was nothing there. Just the moon’s reflection trembling on the waves and that low, crawling sense that something—someone—was there.
Gabriel
Another few days passed in slow, aching silence and a never-ending marathon of Stephen King movies.
If Amara had ever bothered to come back and see me, I might’ve expressed my concerns over her selection. But she’d kept her distance for three days. Smart of her, but inconvenient for my scheming.
I kept track of the ship’s subtle shifts, the creak of boots across the hall, and the number of times Elira came to see me.
“Ah, Satan’s approaching,” I muttered, hearing the echo of footsteps against the deck. Elira walked like she was on a mission that would inevitably result in someone’s demise. Hopefully not mine.
The door swung open and she appeared, carrying a food tray.
“This catering to you is getting so fucking annoying,” she muttered as a greeting.
I flashed her a smile, keeping a keen eye on her movements. “Well, you can always uncuff me and I can fetch my own food.”
“It’s not like you could run off, considering we’re in the middle of the ocean.”
“See,” I drawled. “It’s a win-win.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not exactly, considering you would kill us all in our sleep.”
“Not everyone.” I chuckled, the sound lacking humor.
