Seal of Honor(60)
God, he was beautiful.
A modern avenging angel.
As if sensing her gaze, he turned away from the window slowly, gold eyes focusing all that intensity on her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think that jerk of his shoulders was his breath catching. Maybe the dress wasn’t that awful after all if it elicited such a reaction.
Goading him a bit, she did a little turn and prompted, “So?”
“You look…” He seemed at a loss for words and rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. “Beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice stopped her mid-twirl and pleasure warmed her blood like a shot of good Southern whiskey. He might not be ready to admit they had something more than sex, but the emotion behind that one simple compliment came close. “Thank you. Now, do you need help with that bowtie?”
He shook his head and asked softly, “Are you still angry with me?”
How one man could be capable of the cold ferocity she witnessed at the guerilla camp and also such childlike sweetness, she couldn’t begin to fathom. But, Lord, was it endearing to know her SEAL was not always one-hundred-percent sure of himself.
“Oh, Gabe.” She crossed to him and soothed her palms over the lapels of his jacket. “I was frustrated, not angry, and it was over nothing you did. It’s the situation.”
“It is a sucky situation,” he agreed.
“It is, but the shower helped relax me.” And so did the look on his face when he saw her in the purple prom bomb of a dress. If she could have captured that on canvas, she’d call it, Lovestruck.
Silly man just didn’t realize he was a goner yet.
She knotted his bow tie, then stood on her toes to kiss him as the door popped open. No semi-polite knocking this time. Liam Miller stood there with a scowl fit to kill. “Out.”
Gabe tucked her in close to his side and together they left the tenuous safety of the bedroom to dine with the devil himself.
Chapter Sixteen
LOS ANGELES, CA
“So how is Bryson doing?” Despite the phone conversation going from strained to explosive in a matter of heartbeats, Danny Giancarelli kept his voice as even and calm as a late-night radio announcer urging people to enjoy some smooth jazz as they drifted to sleep.
The HT, who wanted to be called Angel, had not liked it when he demanded to speak to Chloe Van Amee and Danny answered instead. He’d liked the suggestion that he let Bryson talk again even less.
“He’s fine,” Angel said in thickly accented English. “But he won’t be if you keep stalling.”
“Nobody is stalling, okay? We’re working as fast as we can to raise the funds for Bryson’s release, but it is going to take some time.”
Angel swore in Spanish. “You’re lying. He’s rich. The money is already there.”
“He has money, yes,” Danny conceded. “But Chloe can’t just walk into the bank and withdraw such a large sum from his accounts. The bank has rules and regulations that need to be followed.”
“What about his insurance? The insurance company can pay.”
Insurance. How could the HTs possibly know about the kidnap and ransom insurance policy? Danny gazed up at Frank Perry, who looked completely befuddled. Useless. The insurance rep wasn’t in the room at the moment, and O’Keane gave him a nudge in the side and mouthed, “I’ll find out more about it.”
Danny nodded and sidestepped the insurance question, saying instead, “We’re working as fast as we can through all the regulations, okay? But while we’re doing that, I need to know Bryson is still alive. Can I please talk to Bryson again?”
“No. I’m done with this. You will pay the ransom tomorrow at noon or else I will kill him.”
“I understand, but tomorrow is Sunday and it’s a holiday weekend here in the States. The banks won’t open until Tuesday.”
“It will be tomorrow or never. I have no problem killing him, Agent Giancarelli. I can find another family that is willing to pay.”
“Okay. None of us want that. How about you let me speak to Bryson? I only want to hear his voice, Angel. You can understand why I want to make sure he’s still okay, right? I simply want to ask him some questions.”
“Ask me.”
Danny snapped his fingers for the list of proof-of-life questions that O’Keane and Chloe Van Amee had spent the last hour working on. They had to be very specific, uncomplicated questions, with an easy answer that the HTs wouldn’t be able to guess. Coming up with a viable list was always a lot harder than it at first seemed, especially in today’s technological world where a quick computer search could turn up loads of personal information.