87. Chapter 87
Chapter eighty-seven
Gabe
G abe
I lay awake holding Abbie, with Dexter at the foot of the bed, a surreal sense of rightness to the three of us together. Until these two came into my life, rightness meant alone. Rightness meant no one really knew me. No one at all. Not even Reid. Hell, the truth is that I always felt my father knew me better than anyone because of the past, and his role in Kendall and Mike’s undoing.
Did I blow my past into more than it had to be? Or did Abbie, downplay my sins because contrary to her vow not to, she’s falling in love with her best friend? Holy hell I want her to fall in love with me. I want and want and want some fucking more with this woman.
That thought was the last thought I had when I fell asleep and the first I have in the new day.
Exactly why I wake Abbie by kissing every part of her body I can possibly kiss, her soft sweet moans, the best damn way a man, this man, could wake up. I don’t fuck her. I make love to her and when we’re done, there’s a warmth between us that expands like a fire casting a glow across a cold room. We’re the fire that does more than cast me in warmth. We ignite fuel in me to take action. To shut my father down once and for all. To make everything bad in our lives right now good.
Still in a playful mood, Abbie mentions the shower and I proceed to carry her there, depositing her into the hot water, and then thanks to Dexter’s demands, leave her there alone. He needs to pee. Damn cute fucking dog. I throw on sweats and a T-shirt to take him out, avoiding the front of the building when the building staff warns me of reporters. A necessity that has me dialing Reid. “We got rid of him but we didn’t deal with him.”
I don’t have to say who “him” is. “Exactly what kept me up all night,” he admits. “We should meet.”
“Agreed. I need to get Abbie to the office and settled but I don’t want to talk there.”
“The coffee shop,” he says, referencing the spot by the office we often meet. “Ten AM.”
“Ten AM.” We disconnect and I head back upstairs to feed Dexter.
I enter the bedroom already peeling away my T-shirt and toeing off my shoes. “Your dog licked the doorman from chin to forehead,” I call out, walking toward the open bathroom door. “And I’m talking full-on lips-to-tongue action.” I find her at one of the two double sinks, a silk robe hugging her curves.
“My dog?” she laughs, turning to face me, a lacy black bra teasing me through the gaping V of the silk robe.
“I’ve decided he’s your dog when he does shit like that,” I say, dragging her to me and squeezing her backside. “I could really get used to this view in the morning.”
“You better. I’m moving in, remember?”
“I do. When Abbie?”
“You tell me?”
“Now.”
“Now?” she laughs.
“Yes. We’ll get all we can ourselves this weekend and call movers to get the rest.”
“I have a lease.”
“I’ll pay it.”
“You are not—”
I mold her to me and kiss her. “What’s mine is yours. We’ll work out the details later, but you will never want for anything ever again. You have my word.” I kiss her again and walk to the shower, undressing and stepping inside, pulling the door shut.
It opens again and Abbie stands there, tempting me to pull her inside, and if her hair wasn’t dry and her make-up done, I would. Hell if I didn’t have the meeting with Reid, I’d do it anyway and she could just get dressed all over again.
“I don’t want your money. I’ve had money, remember? It didn’t keep me warm at night or make me laugh, or even moan like you do, Gabe. And I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to be equal. I want to be friends. I want you, Gabe Maxwell, and nothing more.” And with that, she shuts the door and disappears, leaving me with more of that warmth spreading through me, as does my determination to do just what she said I shouldn’t.
Take care of her.
Whatever that has to mean. Whoever I have to cross. Even Jean Claude. I don’t care how dangerous he is, he’s not as dangerous as a man protecting the woman who woke him up.
***
Abbie and I drink coffee in the kitchen, our kitchen, and talk through the plans to move her out of her place. Dexter is exceptionally excited, feeding off our energy and laughter as we talk about what furniture she wants to keep. “We can redecorate,” I offer. “Anything you want.”
“Really?” she challenges, sipping from my coffee cup when hers is out of reach, comfortable. We’re remarkably comfortable with each other. “Because I was thinking a pink theme. Pink blinds. Pink rugs. I have a thing for pink.”
“Then we’ll decorate in fucking pink rugs and blinds, baby.”
“Good,” she says. “I can’t wait to go shopping.”
We laugh together, give Dexter goodbye affection and a bone before we decide to make the short walk to the office. “Talk to your mother about the shelter,” I say. “If she can’t get a place secured, find some options. Let’s start looking.”
“You’re sure about this, Gabe?”
“Tax write-off, baby. Is there another shelter we could buyout and merge with? A shelter we could improve? Turn it into a doggy spa shelter?”
“A doggy spa,” she laughs. “I like that idea. And maybe. I’ll talk to my mother.”
We chat that out a bit more, including the merits of doggy manicures, and we’ve just walked into the office to be greeted by Lulu who is apparently back from Italy today. I should know this of course, she is my assistant, but hell if I did. I introduce her to Abbie and since she’s also a redhead, the comparison is awkward. The looks Lulu casts between me and Abbie are as well. She knows me. She senses something between us, but I’ll have to have the “zip your lips” conversation with her.
When I’m finally in Abbie’s office with her alone, she arches a brow. “You don’t like redheads?”
“I don’t care what color her hair is when she kicks everyone’s ass for me, and she does, you’ll like her.”
“I do, but I think she knows about us.”
“She knows me,” I say, repeating my earlier thoughts out loud. “She reads me. She, no doubt, knows about us because of those things but she’ll zip her lips. She’s good like that.”
“I didn’t even think about how living together might make us more obviously a couple here at work. We live right around the corner. We could be seen in the area walking around arm in arm.”
We live .
I fucking love how easily she merges our worlds. “I don’t think we should hide our relationship,” I say sitting on the corner of her desk as she claims her chair. “As we discussed, you’re it, baby. You’re the one launching our much-needed charity division for the company. If someone tries to throw stones at you, they’re going to look like shit. Besides, Reid and his wife work together. But we’ll handle us how you want to handle us with the staff.”
My cellphone rings and I snag it from my pocket and glance at the Caller ID. “Reese,” I say, answering on speaker. “You have me and Abbie on the line.”
“Just what I hoped for,” he says. “Listen, I’m going into court, but I got some news. Blake got off-the-record word on an arrest being made today. A man named Neal, who was doing some work for Kenneth. Apparently, Kenneth was cutting him out of the new complex which meant cutting him out of big money. Neal killed him before he could make the cut.”
“I knew Neal,” Abbie says, sitting up straighter. “He did dirty work for Kenneth. I know he did. I overhead conversations.”
“And Neal knows you,” Reese replies. “Law enforcement believes that he used a wig to make the murder look like you did it but the crime scene was too professional for that to fly. I have to go, but hang tight for more news. Once the arrest is made, Blake or myself will update you both.”
“Will we still be interviewed?” Abbie asks quickly.
“I’ll know more soon,” Reese says. “I suspect we’ll know a lot of things today.”
He says a hasty goodbye and then disconnects. My phone immediately buzzes with a text and I glance down to find a message from Reid: Two plus two does not equal four. I’m headed to the coffee shop now.
My jaw tenses at an old saying my father used to use when telling us to look beyond the obvious. In other words, my father’s involved.
“Gabe? Something wrong?”
I shove my phone back in my pocket. “Reid is waiting on me to talk about the agreement with Jean Claude. And as for what’s wrong? It sounds like a lot of right, baby.”
“Could this really be over?” Abbie asks hopefully.
I stand and pull her to her feet. “It will be soon,” I say, stroking her cheek. “And then you’ll be free to fall in love with me.”
“I told you. I will not fall in love with you, Gabe.”
“And I will not fall in love with you, Abbie.”
We smile and it’s a united smile, one that says we both know this is a game. One we both win. “Call your mom. Make sure she knows what’s going on. Find us a shelter location. Let’s save some animals while we’re not falling in love.”
“I like that idea.”
“Good. I need to take care of Jean Claude, among other things. I’ll be back soon.” I kiss her hand and head to the door, with the intent of meeting up with Reid. Kenneth’s murder might be solved, but another problem is not. My father.
“Gabe,” Abbie says, as I’m about to open the door.
I pause, and I know without looking at her that she read me, when I thought she hadn’t. I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“You aren’t your father. Don’t forget that.”
My jaw clenches. Yes. She knows. She damn sure knows that I’m after blood and my father. “No,” I say, agreeing with her. “I’m not like my father.” And with that, I leave. She’s right. I’m not my father. I don’t hurt people for personal gain. I don’t turn my back on those I care about and I’m not going to start now.
Abbie’s the reason this is over for my father.
She’s the reason he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.
She’s the best thing that ever happened to me and anyone who has ever known my father.