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“About those bad habits,” he says. “You tell me yours. I’ll tell you mine.”
“I’m messy,” I say. “I’m bad about leaving my shoes by the bed and not in the closet. Stuff like that. And my hair is wild in the mornings.” I give him a coy look. “But you know that.”
“Your hair is sexy as fuck in the morning.”
“But you don’t like redheads, right?” I tease.
“You’re it, Abbie. You’re exactly what I like. Even if you don’t know it yet.” He leans into me and presses his lips to mine. “I’ll show you upstairs.”
I smile. God how easily he makes me smile. “Promise?” I whisper.
“I never make a promise I don’t keep.”
It’s a light moment, invaded by a flicker of a memory of him talking to my ex, of his promises to hurt Kenneth; of my certainty then in that moment, that Gabe could hold his own with a brutal man like Kenneth. I wait for this to bother me, but it doesn’t. I admire his strength. I like that he’s protective. I likehim.I amfalling for him. I might truly fall in love with him.
I shove aside thoughts of Kenneth but as soon we arrive back at Gabe’s building a thirty-something man with a stubble roughened jawline, steps in front of us. “Abigail Tanner?”
I stiffen and Gabe’s fingers flex on my hip. “Who are you?” he asks and Dexter must sense our discomfort because he snarls and starts to growl.
The man, whose trench coat could be hiding a weapon, holds out his hands. “Easy there, puppy.”
I want to say good boy, I really do. My ex was murdered. Until now, it never crossed my mind that someone might want me dead as well. I was his wife. I was linked to him for five years.
“He doesn’t like it when you call him a puppy,” Gabe snaps. “In fact, it really pisses him off. Almost as much as strangers showing up outside my apartment. Who are you and what do you want?” Dexter snarls louder, Gabe tightening his hold on him, or I’m pretty sure he’d live up to his killer name.
“I’m a reporter for the NY News,” he says. “I have credentials.” He motions to his coat. “I can show you.”
“Credentials or a gun?” I demand. “How do we know which you’re reaching for?”
“A reasonable fear,” the man concludes, “especially considering your ex-husband was killed execution-style. I’m sure you’re afraid you’re next.”
And there it is. He’s confirming my new fear that I don’t want confirmed. “You’re digging for information we don’t have to give,” Gabe snaps. “We have nothing to say to you.” Gabe turns me and Dexter toward the building.
The man calls out, “You’re the new man, Mr. Maxwell. Were you jealous? Did you kill him?”
My heart squeezes and I feel like it’s being ripped out of my chest. I don’t want this for Gabe. It’s so unfair. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. I rotate and scowl. I open my mouth to speak, but Gabe turns me to face him. “Don’t say a word. That’s what he wants. To goad you into saying something he can print. Walk away. Together. Let’s walk away together.”
The doorman appears by our side, as the reporter calls out, “You spoke to him the night before he died! I know you spoke to him, Gabe Maxwell. Did you fight?”
Gabe’s jaw sets hard and the big, burly doorman rushes to our sides. “You want me to deal with him?”
“Yes, Steven,” Gabe replies. “The sooner the fucking better.” He palms him a large bill.
“Consider him handled and please, take shelter inside and enjoy your evening.”
Dexter thanks him by licking his hand. Steven offers the killer dog a tiny smile and pets him but Gabe is already leading us toward the building.
“Don’t talk in the elevator,” he warns, as we cross the lobby and he punches the call button. “We can’t risk being recorded and we now know we have reporters charting our every move.”
I nod, hating our perfect walk has become this. The elevator takes several ridiculously long minutes to arrive which I use to worry about Gabe and the attacks just thrown his direction. Once we’re inside the car, Gabe punches in our floor, leans on the wall and to my relief, pulls me to him, holding me close. I rotate and wrap my arms around him. I hold him close, too.
Chapter sixty-five
Abbie
Abbie
The minute we’re off the elevator, Dexter is bounding down the hallway, apparently feeding off my need to be in a private spot where Gabe and I can speak. Gabe catches my hand and links our fingers, and miraculously, that easily, I can breathe again. Gabe does that for me. He calms me down. He makes me feel like I’m standing with him, while my ex was always above me.
