Page 48 of Undercover
EMTs and cops swarmed over the dock as we stepped down, and I let them whisk Gabe away in a flurry of questions and blankets and stethoscopes and friendly encouragement.
He had the right to walk away from me.
I’d done this to myself, and I’d known that from the beginning.
That didn’t make it any easier to take. It hurt, a throbbing pain in my chest that I doubted I’d be free of for a long time, if ever.
15
Gabe
It turned out that being kidnapped by a drug smuggler was kind of a big deal.
I didn’t see why, particularly. I was fine. I didn’t know any more about Adam’s criminal activity than what I’d seen and heard that day, and giving a statement about it shouldn’t have taken longer than the events themselves, right? I needed some ointment for my wrists, and then maybe half an hour at the police station. Easy peasy.
Eight hours after Adam had been arrested, I was still drinking shitty coffee—albeit out of Officer Brown’s personal coffee mug, rather than the paper cups visitors usually got—and sitting in a little conference room, bored out of my mind, waiting for someone to come and tell me I could finally go home. My parents were off somewhere harassing judges or police chiefs or whichever officials were important enough for them to bother personally. They hadn’t bothered to keep me company, although they’d definitely made a scene, showing up and throwing their weight around.
Dave had ended up at the hospital, to be observed after showing the signs of going into shock. I’d ridden along in the ambulance and then spent a few hours there sitting at his bedside and listening to him rant woozily about all the ways he was going to ruin Adam’s life and career.
I just nodded along, knowing arguing with Dave didn’t get me anywhere at the best of times.
But personally, I figured Adam would be in prison for long enough that Dave’s efforts would be totally redundant.
Eventually, Officer Brown had come to bring me down to the station to give my statement, and I’d been here ever since, shuffled from one desk to another, waiting in various uncomfortable chairs, and signing things. They’d been super nice to me, but I’d had it.
I hadn’t seen Alec except in passing.
Sitting in a conference room alone gave me more than enough time to brood about him, but he’d been a lot busier. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about me at all. He’d solved his case, caught the bad guy, recovered who knew how many pounds of illegal drugs and tainted yoga mats.
I’d at least expected a pat on the back for clubbing Adam with one of said yoga mats, but I hadn’t even gotten that. I’d thought it was pretty badass, in a totally absurd kind of way.
But no. Alec couldn’t even be bothered to stick his head in, ask if I needed more coffee, and tell me I’d done a good job helping him not get shot.
I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to you.
“Yeah, well then, maybe you shouldn’t have. No one put a gun to your head.” The words fell flat in the empty room. I blinked and shifted in my latest unergonomic chair. The faintly flickering overhead fluorescents, and their reflections on the conference table, had started to give me a major headache. It’d been half an hour since anyone needed anything from me.
God, now I’d started talking to myself.
Why wouldn’t they let me leave already?
The answer finally came fifteen minutes later, right as the wall clock ticked its irritating, fussy way past eleven.
The door opened, and Alec stepped in. Even after getting shot at, rescuing me and Dave, tackling Adam and wrestling him to the ground, and spending a full work-day’s worth of hours after that supervising the crime scene and doing God only knew what else, he looked like he had it together. Yeah, his five o’clock shadow had its own five o’clock shadow, and maybe he could’ve used a cup of coffee himself.
But he strode into the room as confidently as I’d seen him striding by hours earlier, on the phone and still directing three or four people in person.
That energy dissipated a little once he’d shut the door behind him, though. He leaned against it, his arms folded, the pose making him look nearly as menacing, with his arms and shoulders set off by his leather jacket, as he had in the park the first time we’d met.
The first time we’d kissed.
The first time he’d lied to me.
The first of many.
“Can I go home now?” My voice sounded as rusty as it had talking to myself. I cleared my throat, and Alec’s jaw tightened a little. He had his eyes fixed on me, dark and inscrutable. “I think I’ve given all the statements I need to give, right? Why am I still here?”
He pushed off from the wall and started to cross the room to me. “I’m sorry—”
