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His gaze searched mine. Then he exhaled. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“I mean it. I swear.”
“Okay.” He gathered me close again. For a few seconds, we clung to each other, and then he set me away. “Let’s go rescue that brother of yours.”
* * *
We reached Manhattan a little after nine a.m. and wended our way through the heavy traffic, Tomas right behind us. A short while later, the blue sedan peeled off toward Fifth Avenue and Central Park while we continued north to Gabriel’s penthouse on the East River.
Tomas was going to stake out the building while Gabriel waited to hear from the Fagans.
My knee started jumping. In fact, I could barely sit still. I wanted to leap out of the car and race across town to Fifth Avenue and Joey.
Gabriel set a hand on my knee, stilling it. “We’ll get him back.”
I threaded my fingers through his. “Yes.” I refused to believe anything else.
Gabriel started speaking calmly, not saying much at all. Trying to soothe me.
And I appreciated it, even though it didn’t work.
Outside my window, New York was going about its business. We passed a woman in a short pink skirt walking a shih tzu with a matching pink leash. A man in a dark blue suit strode by, brief case in hand, and hailed a taxi.
Around 80th Street, Gabriel nodded at an eight-story high-rise on the river. “That’s my building.”
He’d explained earlier that he kept the top three floors for himself. He lived in the penthouse, and the two floors below housed his offices, a gym, and living space for his staff, including his Manhattan housekeeper. The lower five floors were rented to local businesses. For security purposes, Gabriel’s three floors were separated from the bottom five floors and could only be reached by private elevator.
“You’ll be guarded at all times,” he added. “There are security cameras in all the main rooms, and I’ve already alerted my people that you’ll be in the penthouse. Two guards will be on duty in the foyer.”
I’d listened to most of this with only half a brain, but when he paused, I sent him an incredulous look. “You own the whole building?”
“Yeah.” He headed down the ramp into the underground garage.
I blinked. Who the hell owned an entire Manhattan apartment building? “Just how rich are you?”
He lifted his shoulders, let them drop. “Fuck if I know. I’d have to ask my accountants.”
I shook my head. “Vampires.”
We took the elevator up to the penthouse. The foyer ran the length of the building and was lush with tropical plants lit by a trio of colored-glass skylights. Normally, I would’ve been all over it, but today I only spared a brief glance around.
Two black-uniformed vampires stood to one side of the elevator, hands clasped behind their back. When Gabriel nodded at them, the closer man dipped his chin.
“Everything’s quiet, sir.”
“Good. This is Camila,” he said, addressing them both. “You’re to treat her like she’s the most precious thing in the goddamn world, understand? Anything happens to her, and I’ll have your heads.”
Their expressions didn’t change. “You can count on us,” the first man replied.
As we headed into the living room, Gabriel’s phone buzzed. “It’s George Fagan,” he said, glancing at it.
I grabbed his arm. “Joey?”
“Yes.” His grin all teeth. “He’s there.”
20
Gabriel
