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Gabriel was half out of his seat when the guy pulled her mouth to his. She leaned in, like she was liking it. No struggle, no sign that she was in trouble. When he pulled away, she said something, patting the guy’s chest. The smile she offered him was big and sweet.
His nerve endings raw from zigzagging between lust and the rescue-the-distressed-damsel adrenaline rush, Gabriel clenched his fist and sucked in a deep breath.
Settling in his chair, he shifted so he couldn’t watch the show any longer.
He had to focus, dammit.
The priority was the game. The money.
Never a woman.
“I understand your concerns,” he told the men, focusing on Jerry. He went on to outline why their thinking was wrong, and why his deal was the greatest thing invented since internet porn. It only took a few seconds before both men were nodding along, big smiles on their faces.
Not because he was so damned good, either. Nope, the guys’ attention was still split, half of it on the Gabriel’s pitch, the rest on the blonde over his shoulder.
Hell, he thought as he pushed the contract toward Jerry to read and sign. She was making this way too easy for him. He was starting to feel like he should offer her up a pretty sparkle or two as a thank-you for doing half his work for him.
Offering Jerry his pen and a charming smile, Gabriel could almost feel the million dollars sliding into his pocket.
Then there was a loud crash of glass hitting the floor, a muffled cry of pain and a growl and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The room went silent for a heartbeat before the air was filled with gasps and protests.
Fury propelled Gabriel to his feet. Before he could take a step, though, the blonde gave a quick, worried shake of her head. Her face, one cheek glowing red from that asshole’s hand, looked terrified.
Stay out of it, her big blue eyes begged.
A man who strongly believed in people’s right to screw themselves up, Gabriel forced himself to sit back down.
He watched a busboy rush over to clean up the broken glass. Two waiters scurried, one for the table, the other probably for the manager.
Let it go, Black.
It was being taken care of. No reason for him to interfere. Or worse, to blow this deal.
He watched the blonde assure the concerned waiter that she was okay. Her date, the prick, just glared at the guy, his hand fisted around her slender arm.
Nope. He wasn’t going to be able to ignore it.
Gabriel grimaced. Then, unable to help himself, he held up one finger to stop the accountant’s pitch.
“Hang on,” he murmured. He rose, his eyes locked on the guy bullying the pretty blonde. He stepped toward the booth, a charming warning teetering on the tip of his tongue.
The guy’s beady rat eyes met Gabriel’s for a brief second before he grabbed a handful of the blonde’s curls and yanked again. “I’m paying you for a good time, I want a good time. You do me, girly. Here. Now,” he growled.
Her quiet cry of pain was eclipsed by the red flush of humiliation warming those alabaster cheeks. She didn’t look toward Gabriel any longer. Instead she whispered something, tried to pull away.
“No party, no pay,” the guy responded, not whispering.
She was a rental fantasy?
Didn’t matter.
Fury propelled him forward. Before she could cry out again, Gabriel had his hand around the guy’s neck.
“Oh, no,” the blonde moaned, her fingers reaching and missing as Gabriel yanked the guy to his feet. “Please.”
His fist cocked back, Gabriel made the mistake of looking at her. Those big blue eyes, so sexy and afraid, pleaded. “Please. Let him go.”
His fingers itched. His arm vibrated with the force of his fury. He wanted to plow into the man’s face. To make him pay for hurting her. For humiliating her.
It was that last part, the humiliation, that made Gabriel swallow the edgy violence pounding through his system. He glared into the asshole’s beady eyes and gave him a good shake before letting go.
“Out.”
The jerk looked like he was going to say something. He shot the blonde a glare, then opened his mouth. Gabriel flexed his fingers. The guy ran.
“I have to.” Her face on fire as she looked around at all the staring faces, the blonde pressed one hand against those ripe, glossy lips as if holding back a sob, then got to her feet and ran from the room, too.
Torn between ambition and a desperate need to protect, Gabriel wanted to howl with fury. But, really, there was no choice. Barely sparing a glance for his mark and the million he was kissing off, Gabriel followed.
He caught her just outside the hotel, near the garden entrance.
“Hold up,” he demanded, lengthening his stride to catch her before she rounded the corner. How the hell did she move so fast on those heels? Almost running now, Gabriel snagged her arm.
Her gasp was a watery protest. She yanked away, but faced him. “Don’t,” she said, tears pouring from those sultry blue eyes. One of those girl things or the miracle of the paint manufactures, her makeup didn’t budge under all that wet. So instead of looking bruised and messy, she glowed.
Gabriel cursed under his breath. There shouldn’t be anything appealing about a bawling woman.
“You shouldn’t have followed me,” she murmured, brushing the tips of her fingers over her face as if that’d hide her tears. She looked like she wanted to jump out of her own skin, her eyes skipping to the left, then right, before meeting his briefly then dropping somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder.
She was even sexier close-up. Her hair glinted gold and bright in the reflection of the streetlight. Despite her sexy outfit and wild look, she seemed delicate, almost fragile outside.
And still so freaking sexy his mouth watered for just one taste. Of those lips, glistening and full. That skin, so silky and tempting. But most of all, those curves, barely hidden by the barely-there black fabric.
“I don’t rescue damsels then let them run off still distressed,” Gabriel told her with a charming, patient sort of smile.
“Why?” She backed up a step, holding her hands over her breasts as if protecting her modesty. Or herself. “What do you want?”
“I’m not asking for anything,” he assured her.
Skepticism etched on her face, she gave him a long, searching look.
Gabriel tried to look as innocent and harmless as possible. Not an easy task since he’d never been either.
Then she threw herself into his arms.
“Aww, sweetheart, don’t cry,” Gabriel murmured. He wrapped his arm around her slender shoulder and hugged her to him.
Her body fit against his perfectly. For all her delicate looks, she was tall enough to curve her cheek into his throat, her body shaking with sobs as she burrowed closer.
Damsel in distress, he reminded himself as his blood heated. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but the kind of guy who took advantage of abused, vulnerable women didn’t make the list.
Then she slid a foot along his calf. A foot that was wrapped in those sexy ribbons she probably called shoes.
Gabriel swore he felt his brain stutter. His body, already on high alert, funneled all his blood straight down to his dick. A dick that was only too happy to have her press even closer, so her leather-clad hips made it clear where the party was.
“I needed that money,” she sniffed, looking up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Swimming in tears, the lushly lashed gaze was hypnotic, tugging at his soul. “I can’t make rent without it. I’m already two weeks overdue and going to be kicked out in the morning.”
All she needed was to throw in a sick grandma and an ailing cat. But still, what’s a guy to do?
“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket, then peeling four hundreds out of his wallet. “This will cover your loss. Now let’s go in and dry your tears. I’ll buy you a drink, then get you a cab ride home.”
She gave a shuddering breath. The kind that pressed those delicate breasts against his chest
“Thank you,” she whispered after a brief hesitation. She gave him a look that was somewhere between gratitude and pure seduction. Gabriel was pretty sure he heard a few of his brain cells explode in tiny little sexual pops. “But I can’t take your money. Not unless you let me thank you. Properly.”
His brain fogged with an edgy, needy passion, Gabriel tried to find the words to tell her he didn’t need to be thanked.
Before he could, though, she slid her hands, palms flat, up his chest. Smoothing, but not soothing. Heating his skin through the layers of fabric as easily as if he’d been nude.
As she curled her hands around the back of his neck, she leaned in, her breasts amping that heat up to a fiery level.
Gabriel’s hands curved over her leather-slick hips, pulling her closer, tighter.
Her mouth met his. Soft at first, just the brush of those glossy lips. Once, then twice.
Sweet.
She slanted her head to the side. Their lips fit together perfectly. Too perfectly for his comfort, he realized. Shifting, he prepared to pull back. Then she slid her tongue along the seam of his mouth and what was left of his brains spontaneously combusted.
The kiss went wild. Tongues slid over each other. No soft caress here—it was an intense duel for control. Hot, intense.
Fabulous.
Before Gabriel could take it a little hotter, a little wilder, she pulled back. Her eyes were huge. Passion, and something that looked like a cross between fear and horror, swam in those blue depths.
Then she blinked and looked sultry again.
“That’s just a taste of my thank-you,” she purred.
“I’m looking forward to another bite,” he murmured, lowering his head to try her again.
“Put your hands on your head,” a voice barked from behind Gabriel.
He could barely hear through the roaring in his head. Everything he was, everything he had, was focused on the blonde and the sexual desperation she was spinning in his body.
“You heard me. Back away, mister,” the voice sounded again.
“What?” His fingers still burning with the feel of her, delicately tempting, Gabriel curled them into her shoulders to shield her from the interruption. The blonde, though, gave a shuddering sigh, then stepped back and made a show of slipping the cash into her bodice.
“Hands on your head.” The voice, male and angry, was doing serious damage to the passion buzzing through his system.
Before Gabriel could decide what to do about it, hell, before he could reengage his brain, someone grabbed him.
“What the hell …”
The distinct rattle of handcuffs filled the air just before the metal slapped against Gabriel’s wrist.
“You’re under arrest for solicitation.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Gabriel tried to wrench his arm free. But even at six-three, he was no match for the hairy gorilla with a badge glaring down at him.
His gaze cut to the blonde.
Her gaze didn’t glow with tears, or passion any longer.
Nope, she just looked satisfied.
Gabriel resisted the urge to cuss.
Because he was damned sure she was the only one of the two of them who’d be feeling any satisfaction tonight.
“WE BOTH KNOW you don’t have a case against me. Which means I’m here as a courtesy,” Gabriel stated in a bored tone as he leaned back in a surprisingly comfortable chair. He stared at the guy who had to be a cop, even though he hadn’t introduced himself. Nor had anyone trotted out the Miranda, and they weren’t in a copshop, yet. So this was about something else. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, and then I can be on my way.”
For all his cocky tone, a niggling of worry tickled the back of Gabriel’s neck. But he brushed it aside. His ID claimed him as Gavin Lane. Even though he hadn’t planned to, he’d left the incriminating paperwork at the hotel with Jerry. He wasn’t worried. They had nothing on him.
Despite his lack of concern, the way the other guy—was he a cop?—was ignoring him was starting to get irritating.
“Entrapment never looks good to the brass, you know. Add to that, I didn’t agree to pay the babe for sex. So why don’t we do both ourselves a favor and call it a night.”
The guy didn’t respond. He just kept on flipping through some fat file folder.
His jaw as tight as the muscles bunched in his shoulders, Gabriel was starting to get seriously pissed.
Being ignored had a way of doing that to him.
“So …”
Finally, the guy said something.
As he spoke, the cop—or whatever the hell he was—finished reading the file, then set it on the desk. This was a guy who was into control, Gabriel decided. Not the best adversary considering he also held most of the cards. But Gabriel’s daddy had taught him at a young age to keep an ace or two up his sleeve, so he was confident he’d get through this. It was just another game.
“I’m Hunter,” introduced the man. He didn’t offer to shake hands, though. Just as well, since his name was ringing some bells. Warning bells, that is.
There had been a guy by the name of Hunter who’d spent a good portion of his FBI career chasing Gabriel’s old man. Narrowing his eyes, Gabe inspected the man in front of him. Mid-thirties, at the most. Local law, not federal, right? He’d have flashed credentials if he was a feebie.
The name was just a coincidence.
Spend enough time committing crime, and sooner or later a guy had to start doubling up on names. Law of averages and all that.
