“He’s going,” she yelled.
Gabe set her down, reached across and grabbed Martinson by the shirt before shoving him to the ground and planting his knee in Martinson’s back. “If you move I’ll shoot you.”
“Shoot him anyway,” Jo muttered, breathing hard as the ringing in her ears clanged on. She stooped low and—bam!—whacked him again.
“Ow!”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Smuggling counterfeit merchandise is one thing, but you could have blown half this town away. Idiot.” She smacked him on the non-bloody side of his head and he lifted his hands to shelter himself from another attack.
She may have looked like a lunatic clubbing him with a shoe, but by the blood seeping from the back of his head, she’d gotten her point across. Martinson, his hands still hovering, lowered his cheek to the ground.
“Okay,” Gabe said. “Crazy blonde lady, you need to back off.” He shooed her back. “Go on.”
Seeing the hard look in his eyes, recognizing it as the one that happened right before his famous temper blew, she obliged. He wasn’t fun when mad. A shout came from behind and she turned, taking in the destruction. Instead of gently swaying water, only a giant, muddy puddle remained. The edge of the pond, amazingly enough, remained mostly intact. Thankfully, the blast had been contained. The sheriff stood in the street, where the brass statue she’d admired had landed on his deputy’s cruiser, the impact crushing the roof.
Holy moly, that was a sight.
Somehow, they’d managed to get through the explosion with no injuries. Her ears might ring for days, but she was alive.
And so was Gabe.
“Sheriff!” Gabe shouted “Handcuffs!”
They’d finally caught Martinson and didn’t have anything to cuff him with. At some point she might find it funny. “Seriously? No handcuffs?”
“They’re in my go-bag. I had a bomb in my hands and was busy saving your life. What was I supposed to do?”
Point there.
Under Gabe’s knee, Martinson squirmed.
“Keep wiggling,” Jo said, “and I’ve got another shoe begging for a crack at you.”
Gabe grinned. So she was crazy. Sue me.
Across the expanse of the square, the sheriff got his mojo on and did some kind of quasi run-walk thing. Really, she didn’t care. She just wanted a vision of Martinson in cuffs.
As he approached, the sheriff spotted Martinson’s bloody and matted hair, halted and gave Gabe a heated look.
Oh, no. Jo wanted credit for this one. “He didn’t touch him.” She reached down, pulled her shoe off and waved it. “That was all me.”
“Jo, stop talking. Now.”
Said the hot sergeant to the lawyer. This is a switch. “No. He’s not going to blame you for this.”
The sheriff stared up at the sky and shook his head before signaling Gabe off their prisoner. “Let me cuff him.”
Gabe rose to his feet, let the sheriff step in. “All yours.”
She flapped her hand. “Sheriff, don’t give that slippery bastard an inch of room.”
Not appreciating her comment, Gabe shushed her. “Swear to god, if you hadn’t just escaped death, I’d kill you.”
What? “I’m just saying.”
The sheriff grunted. “Both y’all need to pipe down.”
Within seconds, the sheriff hauled Martinson to his feet, Mirandized him and glanced back at them, his face an array of interesting colors. “I should wrench y’all with a hosepipe.”
Gabe’s bottom lip curved out and he tilted his head as the sheriff pushed Martinson toward the street, where a crowd of rubberneckers gathered.
Hosepipe. What the heck? “What do you suppose he means by that?”
“How should I know? They speak a different fucking language down here. It’s like being in a foreign country.”
She stepped closer, linked her arm through his and snuggled in as she swept her gaze over the crater of mud where the pond had been just minutes ago. Slowly, the full force of what they’d done sunk in and the cold punch of a fist rammed her in the chest, trapping her air. She opened her mouth, rasped out a breath.
They’d almost failed. Almost lost it all.
Gabe freed his arm, slid his hand over her waist to her back and squeezed. “You okay?”
At the entrance to the square, the sheriff angled Martinson toward his car—the undamaged one. She watched him load his prisoner into the vehicle and for the first time, wondered if nabbing Martinson had been worth all they’d almost lost.
What’s wrong with me?
Six weeks ago, she’d have risked anything to catch the elusive smuggler. Now? Looking at Gabe, hero that he was, the man that fit her better than Barelli loafers, she wasn’t sure how far was too far.
Mr. August had ruined her.
“Jo?”
She nodded. “I’m good. I love you. That’s all.”
He dipped his head low and kissed her. Soon they’d go home and all this PDA would be tamped down, locked away again. Pity that. But they’d agreed to make changes. To go out more, take weekends outside of the city. Meet the folks.
Progress. Even if it was small.
Gabe pulled back from the kiss, ran his hand over her hair and gently tugged. “I love you too. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Ten
“You were damned lucky, that’s all.”
Tom was well into the ten-minute mark of a scathing lecture. Gabe and Jo sat in front of his desk, absorbing the reprimand like bad children in the principal’s office. With the way Tom speared his index finger at them, that digit might require physical therapy when this was over.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, they’d captured Martinson, who was now caught in a dogfight between the states of New York and South Carolina over whose justice system would have the first crack at him.
For Gabe, it didn’t matter. All he knew was Martinson, along with his assistant, Thelma, was behind bars, their huge shipment of counterfeit goods seized and their smuggling operation brought to a halt.
Not bad.
“It was my fault,” Jo said.
Gabe shot her a look. With Tom, there were times to speak and times to shut the hell up. This would be one of the times to shut the hell up.
“Your fault?” Tom mocked.
Yep. Here we go.
“Well, Joanna—Ms. Pomeroy—I appreciate that, but let’s analyze this. My sergeant, an appointed member of a mayoral task force, escorted you to South Carolina. The two of you were supposed to assist local law enforcement. I believe that was fairly clear.”
Ouch. This getting reamed by the boss was starting to get old.
“Instead,” Tom continued, “the two of you went off on your own, investigating, threatening witnesses, blowing up a town square, destroying police property and, for your final act, almost getting killed.”
Maybe Gabe was too close to it, but threatening witnesses might have been extreme. But he sat still, tapping his fingers against his thighs, mentally willing Jo to go against her instincts and keep. Her trap. Shut.
“Tom—”
So much for mental will.
“Quiet!” Tom’s eyes bulged and the veins at his temples throbbed, the greenish-blue tint coming through his skin.
Tom. Was. Pissed.
In his head, Gabe began counting. Nothing else to do. They just needed to get through this initial meltdown. The guy had one of those tempers that flared and raged and tore things up. Then he’d be done. Unfortunately for them, this tantrum had lasted longer than usual.
He ripped a file from his desk drawer, slapped it on the desk, the thwack filling the small office and making Jo flinch.
“And somehow,” he said, “you managed to not completely screw this up.”
Hell to the yeah on that one. They caught the guy.
Tom shifted to Jo. “Your guy Martinson isn’t much for jail cells. Their closed-in nature makes him talk.”
“Seriously?”
Of all t
he bad guys Gabe had encountered, Martinson ratting surprised him. And that was saying something. Not much shocked him anymore.
Tom nodded. “Martinson has a boss. In Los Angeles. He’s running networks in every major port in the U.S. He had a guy on the inside at the Port Authority who told Martinson the shipment had been seized.”
Gabe whistled. He’d love to know who that son of a bitch was. And who the leak in Tom’s circle was. For now, Gabe would sit on that one. No sense going there when his boss was already fired up.
Tom glared at him, one of those icy stares that severed limbs. He went back to Jo. “You, Ms. Pomeroy, in a completely back-assed way, have achieved your goal of expanding the task force. You’re about to help the mayor of Los Angeles duplicate Clean Sweep.”
Well, shit. Suddenly unconcerned about his boss’s reaction, Gabe looked at Jo, studied her profile. She slid him a sideways glance, but beyond that, he couldn’t read her. Although he was damned sure her mind was laying down some serious rubber.
She swallowed once, then a second time. “L.A.?”
“Yes. At 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, the three of us are meeting with Bev and the mayor. Right after, we’ll have a video conference with the mayor of Los Angeles. I’m assuming you’re available.”
Now she turned to Gabe, her mouth slightly agape. Tom had silenced the mighty Jo Pomeroy.
“Hey,” Gabe said. “It’s the start of what you wanted.”
Part of him was proud of her. More than anyone, she deserved credit. She’d spent countless hours making this happen. The other part of him hated it. Los Angeles wasn’t a hop-skip. And forming the Clean Sweep task force had taken months of planning before they’d rolled it out. Would she leave New York for months?
And if so, would they survive a bicoastal relationship? A sick feeling gripped him, made his shoulders ache.
Jo’s eyes were on him, holding his stare—questioning. She’s not sure. And that, he knew, was his fault. Two months ago, she would have pissed herself over this. Now? Now she had guilt because he loved her and was a selfish prick who wanted her in New York. With him.
Tom sat back in his chair, the springs shouting from the strain. “9:00 a.m. tomorrow, people. We’re clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Of course,” Jo said. “I’ll be there.”
They filed out of Tom’s office, Jo in front of him. In the hallway she stopped and two patrol officers angled around her. Gabe kept moving. Not in here. “I’ll walk you out.”
Keeping his gaze on her, he slid her coat from her arm and held it while she maneuvered her briefcase and put the coat on.
On the sidewalk, the biting cold caught him up short. No jacket, dummy. His balls would turn to ice, but some things were more important. He veered away from the building to the corner where they’d find a cab.
“Gabe?”
“Jo, it’s good. You’ve worked for this and I’m proud of you. The rest of it we’ll figure out.”
“I’ll have to go to L.A. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“It won’t be forever.”
“I know that too.”
He stopped walking and faced her, blocking her path to the corner so he’d have her full attention. “Whatever needs to happen, we’ll make it happen. We’ll be bicoastal if we have to.”
“With your schedule, how would we do that?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”
“I could say no. If you asked me to, I would. I’d walk away.”
And didn’t that slay him. Say no. It’d be easy. Just to tell her he wanted her here with him. Something deep in his gut twisted. From the day he’d met her, she talked about a nationwide initiative against counterfeiting. And he wanted to take it away from her. Selfish prick.
Resisting the urge to touch her because someone inside the building would see them, he folded his arms, pressed his fingers into his biceps trying to draw heat. “You need to do this. It’s the start of everything you want. As much as I want to tell you not to go, that I’ll miss you and worry about you, I’m not doing it. I’m not taking on that responsibility. I love you and this is your dream.”
Finally, she smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Gabe Townsend.”
“Don’t spread that shit around.”
Jo waggled her eyebrows. “If I get lonely out there we can send each other dirty pictures.”
“Uh, not happening. Just don’t go getting busy with some other task force guy. That’ll piss me off.”
“Not a chance.”
A gust of wind ripped into his bare arms and he hunched against the cold. “Besides, I’m sitting on three weeks’ vacation. California in January sounds pretty good. Are you in?”
She grinned up at him. “Oh, I’m in, Mr. August. I’m in.”
– THE END –
Thank you for reading The Evasion. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please help others find it by:
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And now for a sneak peek at
STEALING JUSTICE
A Justice Team Novel
by USA Today Bestselling Authors
Adrienne Giordano and Misty Evans
Coming January 2014!
Justice “Grey” Greystone was fired from the FBI for insubordination. Now the FBI wants him to use his renegade skills to take down a serial killer who’s above the law. To trap the Lion, he’ll need to send the perfect woman undercover.
Sydney Banfield runs a women’s shelter and bends the law daily to help victims of abuse escape their painful lives. Three of the women she’s recruited for government jobs have become victims of the Lion. If Syd has her way, the vicious killer will never touch another woman again.
Grey and Sydney set a trap—with Sydney as the sexy bait—but the Lion adds a complex twist to his homicidal agenda. With Sydney’s life on the line, Grey must race against the clock to catch a killer who’s as unstoppable as he is evil.
Chapter One
Justice “Grey” Greystone stood in the shadows near the main staircase of the mammoth mansion, his ear bud in place, his security service badge in plain view, and his eyes roaming the crowd as senators, diplomats, and other male politicians moved past him. In a sea of navy, brown, and black suits, pops of red, pink, and bright blue caught his attention.
Beautiful women, their taut young bodies dripping with diamonds, brushed seductively against the men, offering a drink, a snippet of conversation, a laugh.
A private encounter behind closed doors.
Inside the Panthera, sixteen miles north of Washington, D.C., drinks flowed, deals were made, and powerful men ignored the fact that one of them was a killer.
A woman bumped Grey’s arm. “Oh, excuse me.”
Her dress, nails, and lips were a matching wine color. Her brown hair was twisted and pinned on top of her head. But those eyes, even with the getup, screamed young. She couldn’t have been legal, and yet according to the Smoking Gun Escort Service, they never hired anyone under twenty.
Yeah, right. And he was the Pope.
The woman grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waitress. “Do you know when the entertainment is supposed to be here?” She turned her big eyes to him over the rim of the glass.
Hazel. Just like Molly’s. Grey stuttered. Not now. Don’t think of her now. “Entertainment?” Didn’t she know she was the entertainment? “You mean the actor running for a senate seat? I believe Chas Loughlin is simply attending tonight’s function to talk to the politicians, not to perform.”
Hence the increase in security
“Oh.” She gulped the champagne, her gaze now scanning the crowd. “Damn, I was hoping for a distraction.”
The vibe she gave off made him curious. Not just young—inexperienced. “First night at the Panthera?”
“How did you…oh, shit,” she ducked behind him. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Moving so he blocked the woman from Ahmed’s view, he reined in the instant anger boiling inside. “He giving you trouble?”
She waved a hand in the air, signaling a waitress. Another glass of champagne. Another big gulp. “He’s handsome and charming and very, very rich.” She chuckled. “He’s also … intense.”
The sound of her soft laugh was so similar to his sister’s, Grey flinched. Molly…
Not. Here. “If he’s bothering you…”
She downed the last of the champagne and set the empty glass on a nearby bookshelf. Hiked up the fur shawl that had slipped down her shoulders. “I can handle it.” Her gaze lifted to his once more. “Thank you.”
Before she whisked away, Grey touched her arm and handed her his business card. He resisted telling her she should lay off the booze; that in this place a drunk woman would be easily compromised. “Here’s my card if you need…assistance. My personal number is on the back.”
She gave him a look that told him she thought he was flirting with her. If she only knew the truth. Sticking the card in her tiny evening bag, she sauntered away, deliberately avoiding The Lion and cozying up to an overweight representative from Alabama.
Grey locked his back teeth and resumed his stance, keeping an eye on her and The Lion.
Romantic Suspense Books Available
by Adrienne Giordano
The Private Protectors series
Risking Trust
Man Law
A Just Deception
Relentless Pursuit
Opposing Forces
Negotiating Point (novella)
Justifiable Cause series
The Chase (novella)
The Evasion Page 10
