Page 21 of Missing Marcus

“I’m taking you to my place.”

“I can’t go to California,” she said desperately.

“Good, because I don’t live there. I’m renting a condo in Seattle,” Knight informed her.

“I’m not staying at your place.” Gabby’s mouth firmed. “Take me to a hotel.”

“I’m not dropping you off like a piece of baggage. Tell me what happened back there,” he demanded.

“Please, Marcus. I can’t… go to your place. We’re divorced. I don’t want to fight about this. I’m tired, hurt like hell, and I’m starving. If you can take me to a pharmacy, I can fill the prescriptions and get out of your hair,” she pleaded.

Knight pulled to the side of the road, slammed the truck into park, and turned toward her.

“Gabrielle. You scared the shit out of me when I received the call about your car accident. I don’t give a damn if we’re getting a divorce, it doesn’t mean I…I want to see you hurt.”

Only if you’re the one doing it. “I’m not staying at your place. I don’t want to see where you live, or why you’re here,” she burst out.

“Fine. Maybe we’ll think more rationally if we get some food in you. We’ll pick up the meds, get something to eat, and figure it out,” he rationalized.

Gabby’s eyes seemed to glow red. “There isn’t a ‘we,’ Marcus. It’s me.”

She leaned her head against the window. All the fight left her between the pain, shock of the apartment and arguing with him. She didn’t have the strength to keep up a brave front. Someone tried to kill her. She refused to confide in her soon-to-be ex.

Knight put the truck in drive and pulled into a drive-thru pharmacy while she rummaged through her purse for her insurance card. She handed it to him and he grimaced when he saw the blood soaking through the towel from her hand.

“We need to take care of your hand,” he said gently. “What can you eat?”

“Tacos. I don’t want to sit ina restaurant and deal with people staring at me.” She smoothed the coat over her bump.

“Right. Tacos.” He used the GPS to search for a local Mexican restaurant. If Gabby wanted tacos, he refused to get her garbage when she ate for two. “It’ll take thirty minutes to fill the scripts. I’ll run in and grab the food and we’ll eat in the truck. What do you want?” he asked.

“Six tacos. No sour cream and a side of pico and guacamole if they have it. Beef, please.” Gabby pulled her wallet out as he called in the order.

He pulled into the parking spot where he could keep an eye on her. “It’ll be ready in five minutes. Will you be here when I return if I leave you in the truck?” he asked worriedly.

Gabby sighed. “I don’t have the energy to run. Wait until I eat and then I’ll think about it.”

Knight smirked as he exited the truck and ran inside the restaurant. Watching Gabby, he paid for the food and asked for silverware, two waters and a large milk. Jogging back to the truck, he handed over the bag as he got in.

Gabby leaned over the bag and inhaled deeply. Her eyes glazed over as he handed her the drinks. He pulled out the containers and gave her the food. She opened it while he placed the container of pico on the dashboard with a side of guacamole. Gabby dug in. He watched as she finished her second taco before he even started eating. She licked her fingers, sighed as she dumped the pico on top of another, and scooped out the guacamole.

Gabby closed her eyes and sipped the milk when she downed the fourth taco. Knight didn’t know whether to feel in awe of her newly acquired eating habit or a bit worried she demolished the food so fast. Not wanting to make her self-conscious or upset, he stayed quiet while she ate.

Gabby tilted her head back and relished the last bit of the sixth taco and sighed, deeply satisfied. She sipped the milk until it reached the bottom of the cup, yawned and laid back against the seat.

“Your meds will be ready in a few minutes.”

Gabby struggled to sit up and grabbed her wallet. “Right. What do I owe you for my portion of the meal?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured sarcastically.

“I don’t want to take more than my half,” she insisted.

Knight ran his hand along his scruff. “Can we keep to the truce?”

“Thank you,” she responded as she gazed at him suspiciously.

“We need to discuss this, Gabby. I did the math.” He nodded toward her stomach. “This baby could be mine or the other man’s, the one I found in our bedroom. I don’t want to stress you more, but I need to know. Of course, if the baby’s mine, I want to be involved in its life,” he reassured her. “You know I’ll never abandon my child. And I’m sure as hell not allowing you to put it in danger.”

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