jail, because I swear if you expose me, I’ll make sure you rot there for the rest of your life. I promise you, I can do it.”
He shook his head, his expression sympathetic. “You misunderstand. We’ll talk more later, when you’re not so distraught. But I would never do anything to hurt you, Gabriela.” He rose and strode to the door.
Once there, he turned back to look at her. Handsome, powerful, he donned the guise of a charming businessman as easily as changing clothes. But Gabrielle saw the blood dripping from his hands.
He smiled and met her gaze. “Unless, of course, you force me to.”
The door closed behind him. Gabrielle relaxed her death grip on Rocky’s collar, and the dog lunged at the door, barking and growling furiously. “I know just how you feel,” Gabrielle said, sinking into a chair and burying her head in her hands. “God, what am I going to do now?”
CHAPTER SIX
Devlin checked his watch for the fifth time that morning. 9:30 A.M. He didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him that it was unusual for Gabrielle to be late. They were supposed to interview Sabatino’s alibis and character witnesses that day. Character witness. That was a joke when it came to Sabatino. In any event, Devlin had wanted to get an early start. But he wondered if he was ticked because he and Gabrielle had a lot of ground to cover that day, or because he was still chapped by what hadn’t happened the night before?
Devlin acknowledged he hadn’t behaved particularly well, but then, neither had Gabrielle. His behavior bothered him more than hers, though. Being hot for her was fine. Perfectly understandable, a normal male reaction to a sexy, beautiful woman. What irritated the hell out of him was that she made him crazy. Almost . . . out of control. After a lifetime of watching his mother manipulate his father, he’d promised himself that no woman would ever pull his strings.
But he wasn’t his father and, God help him, he never would be. Besides, Devlin knew the answer to his problem. Once he got Gabrielle into his bed, he could get her out of his head.
Glancing up at the knock on his door, he frowned and snapped out a clipped, “It’s open.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Gabrielle said upon entering. “Are you ready to leave?”
The sight of her was a balm to his wounded pride. Dark circles under her eyes, her hair escaping the usual neat twist, one earring. Not her office standard, the put-together, buttoned-up-tighter-than-a-nun image. Feeling magnanimous, he decided to make her apology easier for her. “Yeah, in a minute.” He rose, keeping his gaze on her. She looked like she hadn’t had an hour of sleep the night before. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Last night?” She echoed his words blankly, her forehead furrowing. He could swear it wasn’t an act. After a moment her brow cleared. “Oh, that. Let’s just forget it happened.”
Forget it? His jaw damn near dropped to his chest. Forget it? Like hell he would. She’d melted into a gooey puddle the night before and now she couldn’t even remember it? Devlin wanted to strangle her.
No, he wanted her begging for mercy. Begging for him.
He shrugged, pretending indifference. “Sure. Consider it forgotten. Let’s hit the road.”
Before he reached the door, it opened and a woman tumbled in. Lank blond hair hung to her shoulders. Bruised, battered, wearing a ragged T-shirt and threadbare blue jeans, she stood like a homeless waif in the middle of his doorway. Marcie, he realized with a sinking feeling. From the looks of her, she hadn’t managed to get rid of the lowlife bastard who lived with her, either.
Her words rushed out before he could stop them. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so glad you’re here. I know I should’ve waited, but the receptionist didn’t believe me when I told her you were my lawyer. I’ve seen the look before, and I knew she’d keep me sitting there forever before she even told you I was here.” Her eyes beseeched
He shook his head, his expression sympathetic. “You misunderstand. We’ll talk more later, when you’re not so distraught. But I would never do anything to hurt you, Gabriela.” He rose and strode to the door.
Once there, he turned back to look at her. Handsome, powerful, he donned the guise of a charming businessman as easily as changing clothes. But Gabrielle saw the blood dripping from his hands.
He smiled and met her gaze. “Unless, of course, you force me to.”
The door closed behind him. Gabrielle relaxed her death grip on Rocky’s collar, and the dog lunged at the door, barking and growling furiously. “I know just how you feel,” Gabrielle said, sinking into a chair and burying her head in her hands. “God, what am I going to do now?”
CHAPTER SIX
Devlin checked his watch for the fifth time that morning. 9:30 A.M. He didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him that it was unusual for Gabrielle to be late. They were supposed to interview Sabatino’s alibis and character witnesses that day. Character witness. That was a joke when it came to Sabatino. In any event, Devlin had wanted to get an early start. But he wondered if he was ticked because he and Gabrielle had a lot of ground to cover that day, or because he was still chapped by what hadn’t happened the night before?
Devlin acknowledged he hadn’t behaved particularly well, but then, neither had Gabrielle. His behavior bothered him more than hers, though. Being hot for her was fine. Perfectly understandable, a normal male reaction to a sexy, beautiful woman. What irritated the hell out of him was that she made him crazy. Almost . . . out of control. After a lifetime of watching his mother manipulate his father, he’d promised himself that no woman would ever pull his strings.
But he wasn’t his father and, God help him, he never would be. Besides, Devlin knew the answer to his problem. Once he got Gabrielle into his bed, he could get her out of his head.
Glancing up at the knock on his door, he frowned and snapped out a clipped, “It’s open.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Gabrielle said upon entering. “Are you ready to leave?”
The sight of her was a balm to his wounded pride. Dark circles under her eyes, her hair escaping the usual neat twist, one earring. Not her office standard, the put-together, buttoned-up-tighter-than-a-nun image. Feeling magnanimous, he decided to make her apology easier for her. “Yeah, in a minute.” He rose, keeping his gaze on her. She looked like she hadn’t had an hour of sleep the night before. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Last night?” She echoed his words blankly, her forehead furrowing. He could swear it wasn’t an act. After a moment her brow cleared. “Oh, that. Let’s just forget it happened.”
Forget it? His jaw damn near dropped to his chest. Forget it? Like hell he would. She’d melted into a gooey puddle the night before and now she couldn’t even remember it? Devlin wanted to strangle her.
No, he wanted her begging for mercy. Begging for him.
He shrugged, pretending indifference. “Sure. Consider it forgotten. Let’s hit the road.”
Before he reached the door, it opened and a woman tumbled in. Lank blond hair hung to her shoulders. Bruised, battered, wearing a ragged T-shirt and threadbare blue jeans, she stood like a homeless waif in the middle of his doorway. Marcie, he realized with a sinking feeling. From the looks of her, she hadn’t managed to get rid of the lowlife bastard who lived with her, either.
Her words rushed out before he could stop them. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m so glad you’re here. I know I should’ve waited, but the receptionist didn’t believe me when I told her you were my lawyer. I’ve seen the look before, and I knew she’d keep me sitting there forever before she even told you I was here.” Her eyes beseeched
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