Page 65 of Five
“It’s like you’re a completely different person at times,” he utters, like he’s voicing a thought out loud. Then he seems to shake the idea off. “It’s still none of your business. Stop bothering me!”
And here is that bellicose temper I dig so much.
I give him a wicked smirk and shift my hand until I grab a handful of curls. “You’re so fucking hot when you stand up to me. Fight me. Even threaten me with that Rudolf nose.” He gasps indignantly hearing that. My hand trails upward until I squeeze his thigh. “But you’re wrong, everything about you is my business whether you like it or not.”
The staring contest continues for a while. Until his eyes fall to my hand on his leg. He grabs it and turns it to look at the cuts on my palm from the broken glass. They’re healing easily thanks to his care. Then he sniffs and dropping my hand pushes against my chest. Or tries to.
“People are watching us, Mr. Reed,” he says, glancing at the glass walls of the conference room. Despite my I-don’t-give-a shit-about-people attitude, this is Gabe’s domain. It’s the reason why I live a very comfortable life.
It is, Gabe uselessly says.
You’re the one that hauled him all the way in here!I remind him.
To have some privacy.
In a room made of glass?He’s so fucking blind. How can he not see what is right in front of him? And he’s the one with a PhD.
“Hey.” I focus on Lori again. He’s studying me with a small frown on his face.
I push back and let Gabe take the reins again…for now.
“Keep the ice pack on your nose.” I let Lori go and watch as he jumps down from the table and walks away from me. With every step he takes the uneasiness slowly comes back under my skin. It’s astonishing.
I grit my teeth and grabbing my phone, I dial Rague’s number.
“Gabe,” he answers after three rings. He’s probably working on the library café he opened with Ollie.
“Need to talk to your husband.” They are always together unless Ollie is in class.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
I’m starting to figure out what Bez has been alluding to.
seven
GABRIEL/BEZALIEL
I park my BMW in front of Lori’s building and make my way out of the car. The forlorn structure looms in the impoverished area. It’s early evening, and the game between shadows and streetlights gives the building an eerie appearance. Its cracked paint, boarded-up windows, and the overall beaten-up look tell a story of neglect and dangerous times.
I see a man standing near the lamppost. He’s wearing a ball cap and smoking a cigarette. There’s something familiar about him, but just as I decide to get a better look, I hear an appreciative whistle coming from the group of young guys on the building’s broken front stairs. They’re dealers waiting for their clients, members of a gang judging by the same tattoo of a scorpion on their arms.
“Nice ride,” one of them tells me as I make my way toward them, flashing two gold teeth as he smirks at me.
I stop in front of him, leaving three feet between us, and stare him down for a moment. “It is, and if I find even a scratch on it, I’m going to slit your tongue and feed it to…” I look around them. My gaze finds a skinny boy with sad eyes. “Him.”
The guy jumps down on the sidewalk and takes out an impressive tactical knife from his jeans, pointing it at me.
“You’re holding it the wrong way,” I tell him, not even a little intimidated by his overplayed act.
“No, I’m not, fancy-pants.” He pushes out his chest and spits on the ground, still holding his knife wrong. I could grab mine from the back of my jacket, but I don’t think I’ll need it against this guy.
“Never draw a blade unless you’re willing to show it blood,” I say my mantra out loud, which only makes him tighten his grip on the knife.
We have no time for this, Bez states.Knock him out and get the knife. It’s a nice piece for your collection.
“Are you going to attack me or just stand there like a pathetic fool?”
