Page 147 of Gabriel: Duke of Bencalor

She would ask Mikel to help her find a job in an­other coun­try. She couldn’t stay in Cal­eva and watch Gabriel marry a woman wor­thy of him. It would rip her guts out.

She choked down a sob. She loved her life here. Mikel was the world’s best boss. Her house was the sanc­tu­ary she’d searched for. She had started to put down roots on this beau­ti­ful is­land coun­try.

Roots are for nor­mal peo­ple.

The jet ceased try­ing to make her stom­ach do som­er­saults and set­tled into a smooth, if rapid, de­scent. The wheels whis­pered onto the run­way. The plane rolled to a stop, and the roar of the en­gines dropped to a whine. Isaac bus­tled out of the gal­ley to open the door, ex­chang­ing pleas­antries with the crew rolling the stair­way up to the jet.

Sud­denly, Quinn needed air. She ripped open her seat belt and bolted out of her chair.

“Quinn!” Gabriel called as she jogged down the aisle.

She was prob­a­bly breach­ing ev­ery rule of pro­to­col by leav­ing the plane be­fore a royal duke, but she didn’t give a shit. Her body felt like it was tear­ing it­self apart from the in­side out.

Isaac stepped back, sur­prise round­ing his mouth as she nearly col­lided with him.

“Sorry,” she mut­tered, brush­ing past him as the stair­way touched the jet’s thresh­old. She ran down the steps, her hand skim­ming the rail­ing for bal­ance.

“Quinn!” Gabriel called again.

She shook her head and kept walk­ing to­ward the small ter­mi­nal build­ing, her shoul­ders hunched, her gaze on the slog of her feet. She would not look back.

“Gabriel! Mon fils!” a woman with a French ac­cent cried, jerk­ing Quinn’s at­ten­tion up­ward. She hadn’t no­ticed the two sedans parked on the tar­mac near the build­ing. Gabriel’s mother and fa­ther were emerg­ing from one, while Mikel ex­ited from the other.

Re­lief surged through her. She could hitch a ride with her boss. She veered away from the duke and duchess and be­gan to jog to­ward Mikel.

“Quinn?” Gabriel’s mother had seen her.

Quinn lifted a hand in greet­ing, but quick­ened her pace. If she of­fended the duchess, it didn’t mat­ter much any­more.

Mikel met her part­way across the windy tar­mac. What­ever he saw on her face made him put his arm around her shoul­ders and turn her to­ward his car. “What is it?” he asked as they walked.

“I screwed things up for din­ner with Odette,” she said, try­ing to keep her com­po­sure.

They reached the car, and he opened the pas­sen­ger door for her. “You can ex­plain when I get back, but I need to speak with Gabriel first.”

She nod­ded and slouched down in the leather seat. Please God, don’t let Gabriel fol­low me to the car. She sneaked a quick glance at the plane to see him walk­ing down the stairs. His dark hair whipped around his head, and his shirt rip­pled over his torso. As soon as he reached the bot­tom of the steps, his par­ents en­gulfed him in hugs.

It took ev­ery ounce of her willpower to force her gaze away.

Guilt burned like bile in her throat at how his re­turn to Cal­eva had been ru­ined. He should have been tri­umphant with his dou­ble news of Kyran Redda’s com­mit­ment and Marisela Alejo’s ap­proval.

In­stead, he had barely es­caped with his life, and he would have to ex­plain to his par­ents why his girl­friend had bolted out of the air­plane.

She wanted to dou­ble over and sob into her hands, but Mikel might re­turn at any minute. She pulled out her phone, but her eyes blurred with tears as she tried to read her emails and text mes­sages. She had sunk so far into her morass of mis­ery that when the driver’s door opened, she jumped.

Mikel slid into the seat and started the en­gine. “I as­sume you don’t want to have a chat with Gabriel’s par­ents.”

She shook her head and slid even lower into the seat while Mikel swung the car around the ter­mi­nal and headed down the two-lane road from the land­ing strip. The pri­vate air­port was some dis­tance out­side San Ig­na­cio, so it would take time to get back to the of­fice.

“Any news about the sniper?” Quinn asked.

“On the roof of a build­ing across the street. A pro. Gone by the time my peo­ple found the site, but we’ll track him down.” Mikel cut a glance her way. “You’ll help.”

He turned off the road into a nearly empty restau­rant park­ing lot. It was too late for lunch and too early for din­ner at Taberna El Sur. Mikel pulled into a park­ing place shaded by an aca­cia tree at the back edge of the lot. He piv­oted in his seat, his left arm rest­ing on the steer­ing wheel. “You aren’t cry­ing over the sniper. Now, talk to me.”

Quinn gulped in a breath be­fore care­fully enun­ci­at­ing the words she’d spent most of the drive com­ing up with. “Gabriel and I are no longer to­gether. That’s why I can’t at­tend the din­ner with Odette. I’m sorry.”

“That ex­plains why Gabriel looked like hell,” Mikel ob­served in a dry tone, send­ing a lance of pain shriek­ing through Quinn’s chest. “When did this sep­a­ra­tion oc­cur?”

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