Page 106 of Dirty Pool

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Gabbie ditched the car—one of her father’s men that had left the keys in the ignition—two blocks from where she was supposed to meet Michel. She knew what car to look for because she was sure he would have told her if he was driving something different. Tightening the coat around her throat, she tried to blend into the people walking down the busy street.

She was just another woman.

Detroit was full of those.

And yet, she still felt like she had to keep checking over her shoulder to see if someone was coming after her. Surely, her father must have realized she took off by now, and there was no doubt in her mind that Charles would know the first person she went to, as well. He’d be looking for her, or at the very least, he would have sent his men out after her.

Gabbie was almost directly in front of the city hall building—although, on the other side of the street from it—when a horn beeped. She jumped in the running shoes she’d pulled on before leaving the house and spun around fast only to realize she had walked right past Michel’s car.

The relief was sweet.

She almost laughed.

Almost.

For a brief second, Gabbie forgot about everything as she met Michel’s gaze behind the windshield. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and she was finally okay again. Her world righted itself, and started turning again. Because that’s how it felt for so long … like the world just stopped because he wasn’t there.

She no longer felt like she had to look over her shoulder as she darted forward to open the passenger door of his car. Slipping into the vehicle, she wasn’t thinking about anything except for getting as close to Michel as she possibly could.

He was already reaching for her.

She reached back.

The second his hands were cupping her face, and she was close enough to kiss him, Gabbie did just that. The rest of the world disappeared, then. It didn’t even matter any longer. All those nights spent on tear-stained pillows because she was without him were a distant memory. This was so much fucking better.

Michel kissed her hard enough to take her breath away. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket because she just couldn’t seem to get him close enough even as their tongues warred. He tasted like heaven on her tongue—perfect and hers. She’d never felt quite so desperate before, but he was right there to coax her through it with every sweep of his lips against hers, and each strike of his tongue along her own.

All too soon for her liking, he was pulling away. Not far, of course, as his lips still grazed hers when he spoke, but it was still a little too far for her.

She hiccupped.

When had those tears started?

Michel let out a soft noise, and used the pad of his thumbs to quickly wipe away the wetness from her face. “Don’t cry … God, don’t cry, Gabbie.”

“Sorry, sorry … I’m just—”

“Overwhelmed, yeah. I get it.”

Still, he wiped away her tears.

He waited her out.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the bruises dotting his knuckles. Every single one them. Like he’d beaten the hell out of something. They looked painful.

“What happened?” she asked.

Michel’s gaze darted away from hers. “Nothing, babe.”

“But—”

“You’re here, right? I’m here. That’s what matters.”

Gabbie nodded because yeah, he was right. “You’re right. It’s just … everything happened so fast, didn’t it? Everything changed.”

Michel’s jaw tightened. “It had to. It had to change, or I was never going to get you back with me, you know?”