Challenging Gabriel (Knight Security 2) (10 page)

Several minutes of speeding through the streets later, and her hands were still shaking, badly, but at least her heart had stopped racing. She distracted herself further by glancing curiously at the man sitting behind the wheel.

Gabriel was big, but this man was
huge.
His shoulders were so wide, he must have trouble getting through doorways without turning sideways, all the defined muscles, across those shoulders and his arms, visible beneath the short sleeves of his black T-shirt. He had overlong, messy dark blond hair, chopped untidily, as if he cut it himself when it became too long rather than visit a barber. She couldn’t see all of his face from this angle, but what she could see looked chiseled and hard as he stared alertly at the road and traffic ahead.

“Angel, meet Zander. Zander, this is Angel,” Gabriel introduced dryly, obviously having noticed her curious glance in the other man’s direction.

“Zander,” Angel acknowledged.

He nodded briefly in acknowledgment but kept his attention on driving through the heavy traffic.

“Zander is a man of few words.” Gabriel grinned, causing the other man to scowl.

“And I can still beat you to a pulp if I have to, Major,” Zander rumbled.

“That’s why I prefer having you on my side,” Gabriel mused.

“Always.” Zander nodded.

Major? Gabriel hadn’t only been in the army, he’d been an officer? Something else Angel didn’t know about him. They really should have spent more time talking to each other eight years ago!

Their desire for each other had just been so all-consuming, there had never seemed to be the time to actually talk to each other. Maybe if they had, Gabriel might have felt more inclined to confide in her as to where he was actually going and why on that last mission? Maybe. But it really was too late for maybes or what-ifs for them. Their past was, as Gabriel had already stated, history.

“Okay now?”

She forced herself to focus on Gabriel as he half turned in his seat to look at her. The concern in his gaze caused her to realize his lighthearted bantering with Zander—even if it was mainly one-sided—had been meant as a diversion. To soothe her nerves after what had happened.

As if that was going to happen any time soon. Gabriel might be used to being shot at on a daily basis but she certainly wasn’t. “Do you think Clive sent someone to shoot me?”

“Unless you know of anyone else who wants you dead?”

“Gabe!” Zander rebuked quietly after giving Angel’s pale face a glance in the rearview mirror.

He sighed. “Sorry. We won’t know for certain until Ian reports in after checking out the roof. I was more interested in getting you away from there than in who was responsible.”

There could be no doubt, really, could there? Clive obviously wanted her dead. Less messy for him. No divorce. No dispute over custody of Daniel. No— “I still have the evidence against him…”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m guessing the plan was for the shooter to take us both out and for his accomplice to pick up the envelope in the mayhem that would have ensued, before going merrily on his way.”

Her eyes widened. “There was someone else involved? Down on the street with us?” Somehow, that seemed even worse than a shooter on one of the London rooftops.

“That’s how I would have arranged it, yes.” Gabriel nodded.

How he would have arranged it?

“Ash is looking for him now,” he added.

God, this really was like some bad gangster movie. Except it was all too real, and Angel appeared to be the rabbit caught in the crosshairs. Or, possibly, as far as Clive was concerned, the rebellious ex-wife needing a short, sharp lesson as to who was in control of this situation.

He obviously hadn’t taken into consideration the experience and skills of Gabriel and his men when he thought of that plan.

“Where are we going?” They didn’t appear to be going in the direction of Gabriel’s apartment, as they had originally planned to do after visiting the bank.

Gabriel gave her a brief glance. “Sinclair’s men are in disarray at the moment. The shooter is running; his accomplice is hoping to make himself invisible, part of the shopping crowd. It gives the two of us a chance to hide out somewhere else until the jet is ready to take off, and hopefully avoid detection until we’re well on our way to Majorca.”

“But where are we going?”

“My place,” Zander answered her gruffly.

“Why Zander’s place?” Angel eyed the two men curiously.

“Because he has enough security there to stop a small army,” Gabriel answered with satisfaction.

“You do?” She looked at the bigger man.

He shifted uncomfortably. “I have expensive equipment installed in there.”

“He’s also slightly paranoid,” Gabriel taunted.

The other man growled. “You’ve been grateful enough for that in the past.”

“I’m grateful for it now too.”

“It isn’t much, but it’s home,” Zander rumbled as he let them into his apartment fifteen minutes later.

Which wasn’t actually an apartment at all but a converted loft space over what had once been an industrial building on the outskirts of London. Much as Angel looked, she couldn’t see any of the
security
the two men had talked about, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

She had never seen or been anywhere like Zander’s loft conversion before.

From the outside, it looked like an abandoned industrial building, slightly derelict and more in need of pulling down than for living in. Inside, it was totally different. It was completely open plan, apart from the bathroom and some stairs leading up into the attic space. The wooden floors were of a dark oak, the furnishings surprisingly all warm tones: burnished copper, greens, browns, with faint touches of gold.

Angel loved it at first sight. “It’s beautiful,” she complimented the huge hulk of a man who lived here.

Once he unfolded that bulk from behind the wheel of the SUV, Angel was able to see that he was probably a couple of years younger than Gabriel, but an inch or so taller. Tattoos were visible on his arms, and he had incredible muscle definition all over his body. Despite his size, the tattoos, and those muscles, Zander had warm blue eyes in his ruggedly handsome face.

He seemed uncomfortable at her compliment. “Make yourself at home,” he invited. “If you could give me one of the memory sticks?” His palm was the size of a dinner plate as he held out his hand.

“What’s up there?” Angel prompted Gabriel a few seconds later as Zander disappeared up into the attic space, memory stick in hand.

“You don’t want to know.” Gabriel chuckled as he moved into the kitchen area and began to make a pot of coffee with the familiarity of a regular guest.

Considering the missions she was starting to suspect these two men had been on in the past, maybe she didn’t…

“Thank you.” She accepted the full mug of coffee Gabriel handed her a few minutes later, grimacing as she took a sip and tasted how sweet it was. Obviously Gabriel had forgotten she didn’t take sugar in her coffee.

“It’s for the shock,” Gabriel explained as he saw Angel wince after sipping the strong coffee. She had stood up very well, literally under fire, but reaction had to be setting in about now.

His own reaction was slightly different. Anger. Fury, to be exact, that Sinclair had dared to try to take Angel out on his watch. For daring to think he could take Angel out at all! The fucker was going to pay for that. Gabriel didn’t know when or how, but he would ensure that he did. It was—

“What’s that on your shirt?”

He glanced up at Angel and then down in the direction of her gaze. A slow tide of red seemed to be soaking into the left side of his shirt beneath his suit jacket.

Gabriel pulled the front of his jacket aside for a better look, guessing from the hole in his shirt and the visible blood that the bullet had found a target after all.

Sinclair could afford the best, and Gabriel doubted the other man had stinted when it came to hiring an assassin. Gabriel had been walking at Angel’s side when he heard the whistling sound of the approaching bullet—a sound no soldier ever forgot—but his wound was on the side of his body farthest away from Angel. Making him wonder if Sinclair had been trying to take
him
out rather than Angel?

“Have you been
shot
?” She stumbled to her feet, her face pale as she moved round the breakfast bar to where Gabriel was standing. “My God, you have…” she gasped, not bothering to unfasten his shirt but instead pulling the two sides apart, the buttons flying in all directions.

“Hey, that was a silk shirt!”

“Hey, that was a totally ruined silk shirt even before I ripped the buttons off,” Angel shot back, totally concentrated on inspecting the wound in Gabriel’s side.

It didn’t look as if the bullet had actually penetrated the skin but rather scraped along his flesh, causing a three-inch-long gash that was bleeding profusely.

“It looks worse than it is,” Gabriel assured.

“Really?” Angel’s eyes flashed skepticism as she glanced up at him. “How could you not have realized you had been shot?” She pressed the bottom of the shirt against the wound to stanch the flow of blood.

“Adrenaline rush. Look, I was too busy concentrating on not getting you killed to be aware I was the one who had been injured,” he reasoned as she gave him another quelling glance. “It’s only a flesh wound, Angel. They always bleed profusely. It isn’t bad enough to need stitches. I’ll clean it up a bit, put on a dressing, and I’ll be as good as new.”

“
I’ll
clean it up a bit and put on a dressing, and then you are going to lie down on the couch,” she contradicted decisively. “And someone really does need to call the police and report— What do you mean, no?” She frowned as Gabriel shook his head. “People can’t just go around shooting other people in busy London streets!”

Gabriel smiled derisively. “It seems they can, and I just was. You said it yourself, involving the police will only delay things and further complicate an already fraught situation.”

“That was before someone shot at us.”

“
Think
, Angel,” he continued impatiently. “If we report the shooting, then the police will want to know the whole story. And if we tell them that, everything will get so delayed, you might never see Daniel and Lena again.”

Angel clamped her lips together. She knew Gabriel was right, but at the same time, she hated the very idea of letting Clive get away with something this despicable. “Is it possible you were the target rather than me?”

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t meet hers as he took over pressing his shirt to the wound. “I think we should get this cleaned up and put a dressing on it.”

In other words, yes, that was exactly what Gabriel thought.

Her chin firmed. “Because you were with me?”

“Why else?” Gabriel still wasn’t meeting her gaze.

“Perhaps because by now, Clive has probably seen a photograph of the man who’s assisting me,” Angel said bitterly. “He knows exactly who you are, Gabriel.”

He raised his head to meet her gaze head-on. “So what if he knows I’m Daniel’s biological father? If he checks into my background, as I have no doubt he will, then he’ll also realize who he’s dealing with.”

She swallowed. “And who is that?”

His expression softened. “I think you already know, Angel.”

Of course she did. The missions he couldn’t talk about. The title of Major. His calm efficiency during the shooting. His dismissal of what he called a flesh wound and she considered much more serious.

She breathed out shakily. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It took them ten minutes to get Gabriel out of his jacket and shirt, and for Angel to clean the wound sufficiently before applying the dressing. Helped by the fact that Zander had everything they needed in his bathroom cabinet, along with a kit for sewing up a more serious wound, and several other medical supplies Angel was sure he shouldn’t have in his possession without a doctor’s prescription. Something she was pretty sure he didn’t have.

Angel concentrated on cleaning and dressing the wound as a way of distracting herself from the fact Gabriel was half-naked flesh warm and vital to the touch.

“I’m guessing from all those scars you already have that this sort of thing is an occupational hazard for you and your men.” She followed Gabriel back into the sitting area after helping him to put on one of Zander’s T-shirts she had found in the top drawer of his dresser.

“It happens from time to time, yes.” He grinned unconcernedly.

Angel’s breath caught in her throat at how much younger he looked when he smiled like that. Almost but not quite the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. She changed the subject abruptly. “Can you still fly a plane when you’re injured?”
 

He nodded. “We can leave as soon as Ash and Ian have reported in.”

“Ian is another one of your men?”

“And my cousin.”

“Ian Knight?”

“Correct.”

“Any more family I should know about?”

“Can’t think of any, no.”

“So what do we do while we’re waiting?”