Page 11 of Sinful Bargain

He tosses the shirt at me. “Put it on.”

For a moment, all I do is gawk. I still don’t know what he’s doing here. He couldn’t have come for me.

The crowd murmurs in agitation, and I realize that if we don’t get out of here quickly, we might not make it out at all.

I slide the shirt on, relishing Gabriel’s thick, masculine odor, which is admittedly fucked up with the situation we’re in.

But I can’t help myself. I’ve never smelt anything as good as his sweat.

Once I have the shirt on, Gabe bends, shoves his shoulder into my stomach, and lifts me, folding me over his back.

I’m too stunned to react.

He hops off the stage, walks past the men, and heads straight for the door.

A part of me wants to fight him, because I’m scared. As crazy as it sounds, as horrible as my life has been these last few months, I’ve never faced real danger. No man would ever hurt me. Save Frank. The only times I’ve seen one of the dead was when Frank tried to scare me into submission.

And now, Gabe is headed straight for the door into the greater world.

Panic floods me. I twist, trying to climb down the tower that is my brother, but he holds me tight and whispers, “Calm down, baby girl. I got you.”

My bones turn to jelly as tears flood my eyes. Strange feelings sweep over me. Warmth and heat and unimaginable longing. Not for his body, but for a protector. Someone who would do anything to keep me safe, as silly as that sounds, because no one cares to save women like me.

I’m broken. Damaged. Not meant for good things.

It’s not like this rescue is about me. Gabe was probably shocked to see me on stage and decided to be noble. Rescuing me was happenstance.

He’ll regret it in the morning.

Maybe instead of worrying, I need to count my blessings. No matter the reason Gabriel entered this nasty Lowtown tit club, he’s leaving with me. He’s rescuing me from the hell I’ve been living in for so long.

And who knows, maybe I’ll get to show him just how thankful I am.

THE SAFE HOUSE

GABRIEL

After leaving the club, I grab weapons I’d stowed nearby and hurry to a safe house a few blocks away.

The entire time, Brooke is silent. Even when I have to put down a handful of ragers, she doesn’t utter a peep.

I wonder what’s going through her mind. If she’s angry as hell that I took her, or if there’s some small shred of gratitude.

Once we’re safely inside the intended building, I haul her up twelve flights of stairs to the tucked away apartment pest control sometimes uses. Before going to the club, I made sure it was empty and would remain so during our stay, because I don’t know what the next few days are going to look like.

I don’t know Brooke’s temperament and how she’s going to react to the Keep’s rules and what they expect of her. Heck, I don’t even know if they’ll take her. If she’s been binging drugs and booze, she may have messed up her system.

No—they have to take her. I won’t let them turn her away.

Once we’re inside the apartment, I close and lock the door, and wordlessly deposit her on the couch so I can make sure there are no surprises.

Protection and redundancies cannot be overstated in the apocalypse. You check, double-check, triple-check, and still sleep with one eye open.

When I’m finally convinced the place is secure, I grab a cold water from the refrigerator and take a seat on the chair adjacent to the couch Brooke is seated on.

“Here.” I hand her the water.

She tucks her knees to her chest, refusing to meet my gaze or accept the water. I set it on the sofa table.

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