Page 127 of Wicked Submission


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Obviously, she doesn’t know that Gabe doesn’t want children. I consider what she’s shared about this letter, about his father cheating on his mother, and I feel as if there’s a connection there I’m missing. Maybe Gabe’s decision to have a vasectomy was about his father, about a fear he’s like him, his children would be like him, but it feels like there’s more. Whatever the case, Cat is hungry for Gabe’s involvement with the baby and I feed that hunger.

“I can’t speak of the past, Cat,” I say, “but I can speak of now. Gabe’s excited about your baby. He’s happy to be in your life.”

“He’s happy to haveyouin his life, too, Abbie. You need to let us help you. You’re family now.” She leans closer again. “He’s in love with you. You’re in love with him. Why are we in this coffee shop instead of with him?”

“I’m trying to do what’s right.”

“If anything happens to you, it will destroy him. He doesn’t let himself get close to people, Abbie. He did with you. Let Reese do what Reese does. I’m proud of how damn good he is. Let him do it.”

“Don’t you see? It’s because I care about Gabe that I can’t let him get hurt. That’s why I need him to focus on himself and his family. I need him to come out of this on top.”

“You leaving. That’s the kind of hurt he won’t recover from. I know my brother. If something happens to you, he will not be okay ever again. I know that’s a lot to put on you, but I can’t just let you walk away. Not for the wrong reasons. Get your purse and I’ll get mine. Let’s go back.”

“I need to think.”

“No. I reject that statement. You don’t have time to think. Come back and talk to Reese before he has to go to court. If you think Gabe will focus on Reese when you’re gone, you’re wrong. Your heart is in the right place, but you’re still wrong. Coming back with me is the right move.”

Suddenly, I know she’s right. Gabe is stubborn. He won’t protect himself. I have to be there to make sure he does. “Let’s go back.” I stand up and she pops to her feet.

“Good decision,” she says, and we waste no time heading for the door.

We make it half a block before we’re accosted by the press. We link arms and start walking through the mess and we’re almost back to the building when we’re pulled apart. We’re more than pulled apart. Someone has my arm and is yanking me down an alleyway.

“Abbie!” At the sound of Gabe’s voice, I search desperately for him, not sure how he’s here, or where he’s at, but I need to find him. Everything will be okay if I find Gabe but all I can see is the back of a man’s head while the force of his body pulls me forward.

“Gabe!” I shout, and with blessed relief, I twist around to find him running toward me. I want nothing more than to run to him, but I can’t. I’m yanked around a corner and Gabe’s gone, out of sight.

Chapter seventy-six

Abbie

Abbie

Gabe’s gone. I can’t see him anymore and that’s all it takes to jolt me into action.

I yank the man in front of me by the hair. He stumbles with the force of my pull and in that quick of a moment, Gabe is there, pulling the man away from me and shoving him against a wall. I reach for my phone to call the police, but I don’t have time to react. Adam is here, stepping in front of me, big and broad, a hand on his weapon under his jacket.

“Don’t call the police,” he orders. “Not yet.”

I blanch and when I would defy him, he’s stepping beside Gabe, and the two of them are speaking to the man. No one is shooting. No one is dying. Relief and adrenaline collide and I sink against the wall.

“Abbie!”

Cat rounds the corner and she’s on full speed, spotting me and running my direction.

Her presence sets me off all over again. She and her unborn child don’t need to be near this. I take off running toward her. “Get back!” I shout.

“What happened?” she pants out when I step in front of her, my hands coming down on her shoulders, her pregnant belly between us. “What happened?” she repeats, inspecting me for injury.

“I don’t know,” I say. “That guy just grabbed me. I have no idea what just happened.”

“Thank God you’re safe. I was terrified. I shouted for Adam. He was close, thank God.”

Two thank God statements in one sentence. She’s rattled. The truth is, so am I.

“He’s a fucking reporter,” Adam says, joining us right as Gabe does the same, pulling me around and into his arms, his hands on my face.

“Are you okay?” he demands, his voice fierce, his hands traveling my body, inspecting me for injury. “Tell me you’re okay.”

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