Chapter 16 #3
“He was in the toilet. It isn’t Gray Jacket,” he bit out, his voice rising, drawing curious looks.
Michael cut in again. “Confirmed. Craig Adams. An out-of-towner. Current residence Los Angeles, California.”
There was a chorus of curses from the others and Leland’s frustrated growl. Rhys wanted to do the same, but he locked it down and strode for the door.
***
Dev drove her home. Not because Gaby couldn’t. Because neither he nor Rhys trusted the outcome of tonight enough to let her leave alone.
By the time Dev parked in front of their townhouse, it was two fifteen in the morning.
They climbed out in silence. Gaby’s nerves still hummed unpleasantly beneath her skin. Her body still undecided if it should shake or shut down. The wrongness of the scene still clung to her, landing harder than the flogger ever had.
The front door opened before they reached it. Rhys stood framed in light spilling from the entryway, sleeves rolled to his forearms, tension carved into every line of his body.
His gaze found her instantly. The composure she’d been holding onto during the drive gave out. She crossed the remaining distance fast and went straight into his arms.
Rhys caught her immediately, one arm circling her waist while cradling her head with his free hand. She pressed against him hard enough to feel the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. He was everything she needed right now—solid, steady, safe.
His lips brushed her temple. “You’re all right,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question. He needed the reassurance of the words as much as she did.
Gaby closed her eyes briefly and breathed him in.
Behind them, Dev shut the door softly.
“Any sign of him?” Rhys asked over her head, though his attention never left her completely. His hand continued moving slowly through her hair in calm, repetitive strokes.
“None,” Dev replied. “Rafe stayed on her the entire route. No tails. No secondary vehicles.”
Rhys nodded once.
The rigidity in his frame eased fractionally now that she was physically in front of him instead of somewhere in the city serving as bait for a predator. Hers did too.
“I’ll leave you two to your delayed aftercare,” Dev said quietly.
Gaby made a soft sound against Rhys’s chest before lifting her head. “What’s next?”
Dev turned at the door to answer her. “We keep at it. Could’ve been the wrong night. Wrong club. Wrong timing.”
Rhys’s jaw tightened faintly. “It’s been seven months since Anna. If the pattern holds, he’ll need to hunt again soon.”
“Yeah.” Dev rubbed a tired hand over his face. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He halted and let out a low laugh. “Rather, later today. Hell if I know anymore. The days are all starting to run together.”
That Nick Devlin was actually human earned the faintest breath of amusement from Gaby.
Dev pointed toward Rhys. “Get her upstairs before she crashes standing up.”
“I was planning on it.”
“Tonight was rough. I know—”
“But worth it if we find him before he finds his next victim,” Gaby finished for him.
“You’re willing to do that again?”
“I will if I have to,” she replied.
Dev’s gaze met Rhys’s over her head. “I’ve always said subs are steel wrapped in satin. People often mistake them as weak.”
“Stupid too,” he replied. “Especially one with a fetish for justice.”
“You see me standing here, don’t you?”
With her proving their point, they chuckled, Rhys squeezing her tighter.
Dev gave them both one last look before heading out into the steamy darkness. When the lock clicked softly behind him, Rhys didn’t move right away. Neither did she.
His hand continued to move slowly through her hair while his other remained firmly at her back, making it clear he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.
“Sure you’re okay?” he asked finally.
Gaby nodded against his chest before immediately shaking her head instead. “Not really.”
Rhys hummed quietly in acknowledgment, as if that answer made perfect sense to him.
“It would’ve been easier with someone else,” she admitted after a moment.
His hand stilled.
Gaby pulled away enough to look at him. “Not because of the scene,” she clarified quickly. “Because it was you. What we have is special. That felt… wrong.”
Understanding moved slowly over his face. And underneath it—regret.
“For me too,” Rhys murmured. He exhaled slowly and rested his forehead briefly against hers. “I hated every second of it.”
“You hid it well.”
“That was the idea.”
A tired laugh escaped her. “Oscar-worthy…” Her amusement rapidly faded. “When you changed… I knew it was part of the scene, but for a second—”
His hand brushed lightly along her spine.
“You believed it.”
She nodded.
Pain crossed his face. Rhys lifted a hand, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. “I would never take your choice away from you. Not for a scene or for a case. Not for anything.”
Emotion climbed into her throat. Even at the cross, even with half the room watching, she had known. The fake Rhys felt wrong precisely because the real Rhys never would.
“Come upstairs, love,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you properly.”
And God help her—that nearly broke her more than the scene itself had.