Page 47 of Undercover
“You’re under arrest,” I panted. “FBI. I’ll show you my badge once you’re tied up. Fucker.”
Not exactly the official line, but close enough. Whipley tried one last buck, but I ground my knee down, and he grunted in pain and went still.
I looked up. Gabe stood a few feet away, still pale but upright and not cowed at all, still holding the yoga mat like a bludgeon. He’d been held at gunpoint, tied up, and kidnapped, and he’d still come up fighting. With a yoga mat.
Christ, I wanted to kiss him.
Except that he had his pretty lips drawn back in a look ferocious enough to have me wary. I hoped that was all for Whipley.
But I doubted it.
I’d caught my smuggler and saved the day. I’d probably lost the only good thing I’d found in years in the process.
“Are you okay?” He blinked at me, but didn’t answer. “Did he hurt you? Or Dave?”
“No,” Gabe said after a second. “Pulling the tape off is going to hurt, though.” He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit in shock after all. He dropped the yoga mat at last, and it fell right by Whipley’s head. A little bit of something poked out the end of the roll and glinted in the sunlight. Plastic wrap.
The fucker had been smuggling drugs in yoga mats all along, just like we’d thought. Fuck, Jenna was going to kill herself laughing over Gabe knocking the smuggler down with a yoga mat full of drugs.
Although it was a good thing the mat had been wrapped around contraband. That had probably given it enough heft to be a viable weapon.
“Okay,” I said gently. “We’ll get the tape off carefully.” I wanted to say,Please, please forgive me. We should talk.I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him better. I wanted him to take me in his arms and kissmebetter, because I’d banged my knee on the deck when I took Whipley down, and it throbbed like a bitch. “Right now, I need you to stay back while I get him off the boat. The Shelburne police are on their way.”
Not just on their way—they’d arrived, it sounded like. Renewed shouting from Dave and answering voices carried across the dock.
I called out to them, heavy booted feet thumped over the dock and up the ramp, and I handed Whipley off to an enthusiastic young officer with a pair of handcuffs and a big grin, who’d obviously never had anything this exciting happen since he’d joined the Shelburne PD.
At least we’d made his day.
His older counterpart followed him up the ramp and gave me a nod. “Agent Kaminsky? Officer Brown. Everyone okay? We have officers taking care of Mr. Middleton, and an ambulance on the way.”
I staggered to my feet, and Brown offered me a hand up.
“Get Mr. Whipley into custody and secure the scene. I’ll be calling in my own team in a minute. I’ll take care of this Mr. Middleton,” I gestured at Gabe, “and bring him down to the paramedics in a minute.”
Brown and his partner got Whipley up and off the boat. He cursed and complained the whole way, his broken nose making him sound like a foul-mouthed cartoon character.
Too damn bad.
And that left me and Gabe, who’d gone still and silent, watching as Whipley got dragged away.
I needed to call the field office. I had a busy day ahead of me still, and a busy night. Reams of paperwork. A forensic team to supervise, evidence to gather and organize. More phone calls than I wanted to think about.
And Gabe stood there, looking at me, his eyes narrowed. The bright midday sun highlighted the blue streaks in his hair and made his blond eyelashes gleam like gold. He had a few freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. Gabe was so beautiful it made me ache.
He didn’t move as I approached him. He definitely didn’t throw himself into my arms and thank me for rescuing him. Maybe I should be doing that, come to think of it. His quick thinking with the yoga mat might’ve saved me a gunshot wound, honestly.
“Get the tape off so I can go check on Dave,” Gabe said tightly. He held out his arms. Whipley had put the tape on tightly, but some of it had wrapped around Gabe’s hoodie sleeves, so only a little of it had gone on the skin of his wrists. Still, his hands had turned red, and as I started to work the tape off, he winced.
“Sorry. Let me try cutting it.” I had a pocketknife, and I whipped it out and started to carefully saw at the tape in the gap between his wrists. I had to hold his hands steady, and I couldn’t resist wrapping my fingers around his. The need to hold him felt like a tug under my breastbone, a physical longing, like being sucked into a gravity well. Irresistible.
I had to resist. The tape sliced through cleanly enough, and I peeled it back on either side. Gabe worked his hands free and pulled away from me, rubbing at his wrists.
“Gabe,” I said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to you.”
He looked up from his examination of his reddened hands. His eyes gleamed with something that could have been tears, but he lifted his chin and held himself straight. Vulnerable and determined all at once. “But you did. I can’t—I can’t do this right now. Maybe not at all. I need to see Dave now, please.”
And what could I say to that?No, you can’t go and see your traumatized brother and get checked out by the paramedics yourself, because I need you to listen to my excuses first?I nodded, and Gabe headed down the ramp. I reached out to take his elbow, and he dodged me.
