Page 92 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

I peek over his shoulder and nod at Julian, who seems calm for someone in the middle of a shoot-out.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I hiss to Gabe, chest heaving.

He smells like gunpowder and laundry detergent. I’ve missed it so much.

“Neither should you.” His grip tightens, eyes burning into mine. Up close, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. There’s a bruise along his jaw, fresh stubble on his face, and murder tucked neatly behind every breath. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. I’ve been fucking terrified.”

He huffs out a laugh that does not even pretend to be real.

“Guess I didn’t need to be. My little killer can take on the whole damn Eligere with a walking stick.”

He is trying to tease me.

He is hurt because of me.

I haven’t been able to get away. I haven’t been able to answer him. I haven’t been able to do anything but smile at monsters and act like I’m on their team.

“It’s part of the plan,” I say.

His jaw flexes. “Don’t.”

“Gabe.”

“No.” He leans closer, voice rough enough to scrape. “Do not Gabe me with your sexy-as-fuck voice. Frost was going to marry you off. He said it like he was discussing livestock.”

A bullet slams into the SUV window, spiderwebbing the glass.

I shove Gabe down by the shoulder, rise just enough to swing my staff over the hood, and catch an enforcer across the throat. He drops, choking.

This needs to end.

“Julian,” I snap. “Did you give your blood yet?”

“No.”

“Good, we aren’t bound.”

Gabe narrows his eyes at me.

“Did you give your blood to be married to him?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and shoots an enforcer crouching over the hood of the SUV.

“Lee,” Julian says.

“She is already moving,” I tell him. “Riley said she sent him coordinates. She told him what you did. If she doesn’t kill you, Riley and the other guys might. You drugged the woman you love and expected her to stay put so you could give yourself to the Eligere?”

His expression does something complicated and guilty.

I snort. “Men are so cocky when they make plans for us.”

Gabe gives me a look.

I ignore him.

A car engine sounds followed by tires on the dirt.

“Fuck, Frost got away,” Gabe spits out.