Page 13 of Seal of Honor
Her head lolled against his shoulder, her hair tickling his nose. Balancing her in one arm, he used his free hand to smooth back the silky strands, which were not so much brown as the color of the finest gold rum. He got his first clear look at her face and felt a tug of familiarity. Freckles dappled the bridge of a nose that he could only describe as “cute,” like something on a doll. High cheekbones, a wide mouth that she probably thought was too big for her face if she judged herself by society’s standards of beauty, but that he found fascinating. He suddenly very much wanted to see her smile.
And then it clicked. He had seen her smile before. In a photo while briefing the men.
This was Audrey Van Amee. His hostage’s sister.
Gabe had a moment of no-fucking-way, but then the door slammed open again, and Jean-Luc, his nose bleeding down the front of his shirt, skidded to a halt.
“You got her.”
“What are you doing?” Gabe demanded. “I ordered you to hold your position.”
“She was in Van Amee’s apartment.” He holstered his gun, then tried to staunch the blood flow with the edge of his shirt, which gave his voice a nasally sound. “She spotted me and took off. What else was I supposed to do?”
Gabe shut his eyes and drew a calming breath. Patience, he reminded himself, was a virtue. “Follow orders.”
“Fuck orders. We’re not the military, and I didn’t have time to get you on the horn.”
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
Shit, as if this couldn’t get any worse.
“We’ll talk about this later.” Talk. Yeah, that’s what they’d do. After he reamed Jean-Luc a new one. This sort of reckless shit was not happening under his command. “Get the car.”
“What about her?”
He looked at the unconscious woman in his arms. Her freckles stood out in stark relief against her pale face. Her eyes moved restlessly behind lids fringed with some of the longest lashes he’d ever seen.
The police sirens screamed closer.
“Well?” Jean-Luc asked.
Poor woman would wake up with a hellacious headache from the pressure-point KO, but not for at least a half hour. Leaving her unconscious in this alleyway was just not an option.
“She’s coming with us.” They needed to talk to her and find out what she was doing in Van Amee’s apartment. She’d also benefit from a once-over by Jesse when she woke up.
Jean-Luc grinned. “If you really want a date, I know plenty of willing women. We don’t have to kidnap one.” He stopped grinning and studied Gabe’s face. “Fuck, you’re serious.”
“Car. Now.”
Jean-Luc shook his head and broke into a jog. “And here I thought we’re the good guys.”
* * *
“What the…?” Quinn’s jaw didn’t drop open when Gabe limped into the safe house carrying the unconscious woman, but came pretty damn close. In typical Quinn-like fashion, he shook off the shock fast.
“Help him,” he ordered Marcus, who stood beside the door with a cup of aromatic Colombian coffee in hand.
“I got her.” Gabe waved everyone back.
Marcus DeAngelo, with his California surfer good looks and brimming with all of that Italian lover charm, was not laying even a pinky finger on her. He angled through the group, heading toward the nearest bedroom.
“What happened?” Jesse asked, trailing behind, medical bag in hand.
“Long story.”
“No, it’s not,” Jean-Luc said as he shut the front door and propped Gabe’s cane against the wall. “I found her in Van Amee’s apartment.”
“So, what the hell, Jean-Luc? You knocked her unconscious?” Jesse said.
