Page 33 of Five
“Where’s my phone?” I hiss at nobody in particular.
“Right there.” Hunter points at the nightstand, and sure enough, the sparkly rainbow middle finger on the cover is shining on top of the dark wooden surface.
I grab it and dial Gabe’s number, but after one ring it goes to voicemail. The bastard hung up on me. I try again. One ring. Voicemail. Gritted teeth…my teeth.
“Rague, gimme.” I pull back the too-long sleeve of the suit jacket and wiggle my fingers at him, extending my arm.
His scowl makes people run away in fear—along with his ginormous bod—but I’ve learned it’s just his regular face. Plus, I’ve heard him say such syrupy stuff to Ollie, I could never be afraid of him, not that I ever was.
“Your phone. I need to call my jerk of a boss,” I huff at him.
“He’s busy,” he replies.
“He’s always busy. Gimme!” I wait impatiently as he slides his cell out of his pocket and hands it to me so bloody slowly.
My irritation reaches higher levels when Gabe answers on the second ring, “What? Everything okay? Lori?”
“Arsehole” is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down, reminding myself what he did for me…to me. “I can’t stay at home for a few days!”
My loud statement is met with silence. Then he simply says, “You have to.”
His monotone voice starts a familiar flutter in my stomach. I hate it. I want it.
“No, I won’t. I have two cases I’m helping with. They are pro bono, the clients are counting on me.”
I hear a muffled sound, like he covered the phone with his hand, and then someone in the background…crying? Firing anotherPA? He’s always at the office, the first one to arrive and the last one to leave. I kind of admire his dedication.
After a few seconds Gabe replies, “Cutler will take care of them.”
Cutler? King Midas? He doesn’t give a bloody fuck about anything but money. “He won’t even spare them a glance.”
“I’ll look into them, then,” he hurriedly says, like he wants to end the conversation.
My mouth turns slack. Whiplash! He’s still an arrogant prick, but at the same time a caring…boss?Friend? The idea of being friends with Gabe feels ridiculous.
“You…will?” I ask dubiously. I mean I have no doubt he will, but Gabe taking care of my little pro bono cases is so surreal to me. “Yourself?”
Another loud cry reaches my ear from the phone. It sounded pained. Is he with a donor?
“That’s what I said. I dislike redundancy. Don’t come to work. Rest,” he practically orders me, before hanging up. I move the phone so that I can turn a death glare at it, hoping it will fly through time and space and reach Gabe’s stupid face.
If it’s true that God created the world in six days, on the seventh, he made Gabe just to bother me.
“Fucking hate when he hangs up like that,” Rami mutters. “So rude.”
Yeah, Gabe is not a time waster, nor does he care about other people’s feelings. But he’s a skilled lawyer, and I know he’ll take good care of my pro bono cases. I, on the other hand, can usethose free days to start hunting Mr. Hot Shot. Thoughts fire in my head as I think about my next step.
“I want my revenge, Reacher. Tell me, what’s your plan?” I ask Rami.
“First, regain your strength, Gremlin.” He takes a sip from his tumbler and leans back against Hunter’s massive chest. They are both brawny and sexy. I had a sandwich dream a few weeks back, in which I was the ham in between theirbaguettes. But I usually have sex dreams at night, I even sleepwalk when I’m stressed.
“I just need to eat something, and I’ll be good to go. This is fucking personal to me.”
“It’s also personal to Gabe. And he’s…working on it, while you’re in no shape to do that,” Rague states.
“Working? What does that mean?” I ask.
“He’s hunting down the people who were watching you from the gallery room inside the sex club,” Ollie lets me know.
