The Evasion (2 page)

Tom winced. “Is he gonna make it?”

Gabe shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Might be nerves.”

“What else?”

“I got a bead on Martinson.”

Tom’s eyebrows hitched up. They all wanted Martinson. Bad. “No shit.”

“CI says he’s in South Carolina.”

Still rocking, Tom considered this. “Reliable intel?”

“It came from DeFiore. His stuff is usually good.”

Tom sat forward, made a note. “I’ll make some calls down there. See if he’s on their radar. Anything else?”

“Jo.”

His boss eyed him. Tom had been Gabe’s supervisor since their days at the Fourteenth.. After Tom transferred to the Special Operations Division, the parent command of ESU, he’d made sure Gabe made the move with him. The man wasn’t stupid or blind and had all but asked Gabe if he and Jo were doing the nasty, which Gabe steadfastly denied. Was it a lie? Sure. Was it a lie worth telling? Abso-fucking-lutely.

On looks alone, Jo had grabbed the attention of the men surrounding Gabe. She was one of those tall blondes who immediately sparked carnal thoughts in males. Throw in her smart mouth and aggressive attitude and some guys wanted to tame her. Gabe had no interest in taming her. He liked that she was a pain-in-the-ass. Kept him sharp and mentally challenged.

What he didn’t like was the idea of a squad of ESU guys snickering about her. If that pack of animals knew about them, the cat calls would be endless, the off-color jokes even more so. In short, that goatfuck of a situation would embarrass Jo and take Gabe’s protective nature to a whole other level.

I’m screwed
.

“Where’s Jo on this?”

“I spoke to her earlier.”
Way earlier.
“She’s talking all crazy that she wants to go down there and see what Martinson is up to. We need to bury that. Tell her no, straight away. Before she gets hurt again.”

That bit about her getting hurt again had to help his cause. And Tom knew all about Jo’s antics, the disguises as she marched down Tower Street—the knockoff capitol of New York City—trying to gather evidence. When it came to busting counterfeiters, her lack of fear strung them all out.

Tom rubbed one hand across his mouth.
Strategizing
. “Let me talk to Bev. She’s got a way with Jo.”

Bev Richards was the mayor’s point person on Operation Clean Sweep. All information regarding task force functions went through Bev and she decided what the mayor needed to be brought up to speed on. After Jo nearly lost her life in that building fire, Gabe’s shit-meter roared into the red and he begged Tom to sideline her. Tom agreed and the request went through Bev to the mayor, who also agreed Jo getting hurt wouldn’t help their cause. Of course, the mayor, an asshole among assholes, probably only cared about the success of his precious task force. A member of said task force getting killed would send the New York media into a feeding frenzy.

Bottom line, Jo was done playing detective and, yeah, Gabe had suffered her wrath. But he’d do it again—and again if it kept that gorgeous woman intact.

Gabe stood. “As long as it doesn’t come from me, I don’t care. She fights with me. She won’t fight with the mayor.”

Tom laughed. “She’s a spitfire.”

That was putting it mildly. And that fire extended into the bedroom. A bedroom Gabe was having a hard time resisting. For many reasons. The first one being that, at thirty-three years old, he suspected he’d fallen in love. For the first time.

It was his dumb luck that the woman was a total pain in the ass. What that said about him, he couldn’t dwell on. God knew he wasn’t the easiest man to live with. But he and Jo had a thing. They understood each other. Accepted each other’s flaws and their sometimes harsh personalities. For them, twisted as it was, their aggressiveness doubled as foreplay.

Really excellent foreplay.

Tom cleared his throat. “You good?”

Wake up, dumbass
. Gabe headed for the door. “I’m good. I’ll keep you posted on the hit.”

Chapter Two

“The mayor already has concerns about your safety,” Bev Richards said via Jo’s office speakerphone. “What will this trip to South Carolina do for us?”

Jo sat back in her desk chair, crossed her legs and prepared for the verbal sparring she was so good at. From the minute Bev had answered her call, Jo knew she’d be in for a fight.

“What it will do is help locate Martinson, a man who is ripping off my client. Four million dollars, Bev. That’s what Barelli estimates they lose in New York alone.” Jo stopped and took a breath.
Easy, girl
. “How about we compromise?”

“How?”

“Let’s call the local P.D. down there and I can work with them on locating Martinson. Even if he’s laying low and not selling any knockoffs, he’s still wanted in New York. All they need to do is get him in custody and we can ship him back up here. It’s the perfect plan. And if we can get him wrapped up in a nice little bow, the mayor will be a hero to high-end manufacturers everywhere. He’ll be King of Anti-Counterfeiting and you’ll be his queen.”

Bev snorted. At fifty-eight, she’d spent her entire life in Manhattan. She wouldn’t be played unless she wanted to be. “I have no interest in being queen. My interest is for my boss to not yell at me. And if I’m not mistaken, he gave you strict orders to stay out of the action.”

“Hang on. That was specifically regarding going with Gabe’s team on hits. This isn’t a hit. It’s a fishing expedition. And I hear fishing is awesome in South Carolina.”

On her end of the line, Jo grinned. That fishing line was a winner. She knew it. Felt it in the pit of her stomach. This was why she loved being an attorney. Who said intellectual property law wasn’t exciting? In a few hours she’d be jetting south to hunt down a smuggler. When she found him, it would get her one step closer to achieving her dream of a national anti-counterfeiting task force.
Te-he
. Every major port in the U.S. should have the same model as the one in New York. And she’d make sure it happened.

Bev sighed. “You’ll stay out of trouble?”

Victory
. “Yes.”

“Promise me. Because if something goes wrong, I’m telling the mayor you went rogue. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Jo held up three fingers. Not that Bev could see, but hey, it was the effort that counted. “I promise. I’ll stick with law enforcement down there. You may not believe me, but I did learn my lesson after the broken hand and the fire. I’ll be careful. I’ll stay at the damned P.D. all day so they can watch me.”

Maybe
.

“Jesus,” Bev said. “Mr. August is gonna go apeshit.”

Jo laughed. They’d originally given Gabe his moniker and if Bev had a clue about Jo wrapping herself around all that male perfection, she hadn’t let on. Unprofessional? Absolutely. But months before Jo and Gabe started their affair, Bev and Jo had secretly commented on the level of hotness contained in that six-foot-three package. To suddenly stop that banter would raise questions and Jo wasn’t ready for that.

“I’ll take care of Mr. August. I’m not afraid of him.”

Not much anyway.

—:—

Two hours later, Jo stepped out of the lobby doors of her office building into the biting cold of a January day. She stopped on the sidewalk and smiled—not hard to do—at the man leaning against his unmarked NYPD cruiser. None other than Mr. August, dressed in his tactical uniform—navy cargo pants, honking big gun strapped to his thigh and a heavyweight NYPD jacket. The jacket alone should have alarmed her. The man was a self-proclaimed furnace who never wore anything heavier than a windbreaker.

In the back of her mind, something snapped and that something told her his presence wasn’t accidental. Not when she was on her way home to pack a few things for her trip to South Carolina. A trip she fully intended on sharing with him.

From the airport.

Seconds before takeoff.

She waited for rushing pedestrians to hustle by and crossed to him. “Hello, handsome.”

He gave her that sly grin, the one that hinted of talents she’d recently been made aware of.
Shark Gabe.

“Afternoon, Counselor. Heading to lunch? Thought I’d treat.”

Lunch.
Um, no
.

A gust of wind howled and Jo held the collar of her coat closed. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long. Ten minutes maybe.”

“Huh. Why didn’t you come up?”

This time when he smiled, it was the real Gabe smile. The silly, boyish one that turned her into a puddle. “I’m illegally parked.”

Cop humor. She rolled her eyes.

“So,” he said, “we’d better get moving before I get a ticket.” He lurched off the car and opened the passenger door. “Hop in. I’ll take you to lunch. Your choice.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He stepped around the open door and squared off with her. “No? How come?”

Okay. This was a problem. She had never—and would never—lie to him. Not purposely. Then again, was it possible to not purposely lie?

Don’t get distracted.
With Gabe’s intelligence, this conversation would take every one of her brain cells to navigate. She shook her head. “I have a meeting.”

Which she did. With an airplane.

Slowly, he nodded. Those dark eyes like focused lasers as he took in her face, looking for clues of deception.
Uh-oh
.

“A meeting.”

Jo stood still.
Don’t react
. If she moved, he’d sense her discomfort. He was brilliant that way, every little nuance of her personality had been figured out. After months of working together and, more recently, enjoying a personal relationship, he’d identified all her signals: happiness, sadness, anger. He knew all the cues.

“Fine. I’ll drive you. Get in.” He waved her into the car. “Get a move on. Don’t want you to be late.”

And then she caught it, the quirking smile.
He knows
.

She marched right up to him. Even with her wearing heels, he looked down at her. Terrible position of weakness. Still, she squeaked out a few more millimeters by holding her head high. If he wanted to play, she’d let him. But she wouldn’t make it easy.

She walked two fingers up his jacket to his collar and tugged. “What are you up to, sergeant?”

“Me?
You’re
asking
me
what
I’m
up to?” He stepped back, clearly wanting to break the contact. “That’s classic, Jo, considering you’re trying to bullshit me right on the goddamned street. You are
busted
.”

A few pedestrians glanced their way, spotted the giant man wearing a gun and kept going.
My heroes
.

“Why are you yelling?”

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned toward her. “Because I’m upset. I’m
communicating
.”

Jo made snoring noises. Communicating. Funny man. Two weeks ago they’d argued over something—who knew what—and she’d scolded him for failing to communicate. “Okay, smartass. Fine. You’ve communicated. Now I have to go.”

She made a move to step around him, but he blocked her path. Not in an aggressive way, just a minor hindrance that she could avoid if she wanted. She glanced up at him expecting to see the normal ferocity and tight skin that were so much a part of him. Instead, his mouth sagged and his eyes—those were the killers—his eyes didn’t have that normal heat. He looked…sad.

“Gabe?”

“You were going to fly off to South Carolina and not tell me?”

He knows
.

She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “No. I’d never do that.”

“I just caught you.”

“You caught me going home to pack. I planned on calling you from the airport.”

“So I couldn’t get there in time?”

“Yes.”

“And somehow that should make me feel better?”

Now that he’d mentioned it, she supposed not. She
supposed
, she’d be furious and more than a little hurt if he’d done something like that to her.

Damn, Jo
. This was the problem with them. They were stuck in this loop of her trying to do her job the only way she knew how and him trying to keep her out of harm’s way. If she had any issues with their relationship, this was it. In order to give Gabe peace of mind, she’d have to be sidelined. Being sidelined, in many ways, meant giving up her ambition.

And she couldn’t do that.

“No. It shouldn’t make you feel better. This was horrible of me.” She squeezed his arm again. “I’m sorry. My mind got ahead of my common sense. It’s not an excuse. I’m just telling you what happened. I was so focused on doing my job, I didn’t think about the collateral damage.”

“I asked you not to go.”

“You
told
me not to. Big difference.”

He huffed. “Either way, you knew where I was on this. This guy tried to make kindling out of you.”

“I know, but—”

“No buts.”

Time to convince him. If he’d even let her. When he dug in, chances were slim he’d change his mind. “I took precautions. I’ve spoken with the sheriff down there. They’ll do the leg work. I’ll stay behind. I need to see if Martinson is moving product or if he’s just hiding. That’s all. I promise you, I’ll stay out of the way. You don’t have to worry about me.”