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“Oh no. Oh God.” I press my hand to my forehead. “I’ll be right there. I’ll—we’ll figure it out.” I disconnect and look at Gabe. “I have to go.” I dart toward the stairs to find my clothes and by the time I make it to the stairs, Gabe has my arm and is turning me to face him.
“What happened?”
“My ex just happened. Two pipes broke at the shelter. It’s flooding the cages. We have to evacuate. He did this to get us off the property. I know he did. He’s ruining us the way he’ll ruin you if you let him. That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
“I won’t let him ruin you or me. And he damn sure isn’t going to hurt those dogs.” He starts up the stairs and grabs my hand, pulling me with him.
“Gabe!” I call out behind him. “What are you doing?”
He glances down at me. “We’re going to save the animals and then I might just go beat your ex’s ass.” He reaches the top level and when he drags me to his side, he adds, “And if one of the animals gets hurt, I might do a whole lot worse.” He sets me ahead of him and walks me into the bedroom.
I rotate to face him. “A whole lot worse? What does that even mean?”
“I’ll let you know when I decide,” is his only reply.
All kinds of warning bells go off in my head. I’m dragging him into this. He’s going to regret it. “This is not your battle.”
“It is now. It has been since the minute you kissed me in that hallway. We just didn’t know it then, and you might not know it now, but I do. This is my battle and I win my battles. We’re going to win this one.”
Chapter sixteen
Gabe
We need to get to the shelter where those animals are being tortured by a flood of water, which is exactly why when Abbie calls, “Gabe, stop!” I tighten my hold on her hand and keep us moving up my stairs toward my bedroom.
“That your ex would flood an animal shelter to get what he wants,” I say, leading her to the second level of my apartment, “tells me just how terrorized you’ve been by this man.” I pull her forward into my bedroom. “I’m not worried about me,” she says, pressing on my chest, her gaze averted. I hit a nerve. I think I hit more than one nerve. “I need to go. My mother will have tons of volunteers helping, but she’ll be panicked. She needs me. I can’t rescue animals from water in a skirt and heels. I have to get home and change.”
“Which is why we don’t have time to go by your place. My sister left some clothes here. You can wear those.” I motion to the dresser. “Top right drawer.”
“Your sister?” She opens her mouth to say more and seems to think better of it, cutting her gaze instead, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
“I need to go home.” She tries to pull away.
I catch her arm and force her to face me. “Sister is not a code for some woman I fucked,” I say, my hands coming down on her shoulders. “I told you, Abbie, I don’t bring women here.” But even as I make that statement, her eyes meet mine and they tell a story. She still doesn’t believe me, and why would she? She barely knows me and she’s coming off a relationship with a man who lied to her and cheated on her.
I grab my phone from my pocket and hit the auto-dial for my sister. “Cat,” I say when she answers.
“What’s up, big brother?”
“I need you to tell Abbie, who is standing here with me, that the women’s clothes I have at my apartment are yours.”
Abbie shakes her head, trying to back away, but I catch her arm and pull her to me. “She’s my sister, Abbie. I promise you.”
Meanwhile, Cat responds to my question and what she just overheard, “Oh. Wow. You care what this Abbie person thinks? This is new.”
“Yes,” I say, not even fighting it which is just as fucking new. “It is. And her family has an animal shelter that’s presently flooding and in crisis. The animals are in danger and she needs something to wear other than a skirt and heels.”
“Oh God. Yes. Tell her to wear my clothes or just put her on the line.”
God, I love my sister. I don’t deserve her after the way I used to treat her. I say that. “I don’t deserve you, Cat.”
“Not yet, but you’re working on that.”
“I am,” I assure her. “I really am. Hold on.” I hold out the phone to Abbie. “This is Cat. She’s my baby sister who writesCat Does Crime,the syndicated column, just so you know it’s really her. You can look her up and confirm that I’m telling the truth.”
“I don’t need to talk to Cat,” Abbie says, holding up her hands, refusing the phone. “I trust you, Gabe.”
“Trust me by talking to her.” I put the phone on speaker. “Cat, you’re live.”
