Page 115 of The Spy
Tabatha turned to glare at me. "What the fuck?"
Tabatha
When your world had upended, sometimes you had to bring out the knives. I’d accepted the ride from enemy number one, but someone needed to bloody explain.
Drake Webster was relaxing on the couch with his feet up. He kept a shrewd narrowed gaze on me because, in this situation, I was the unstable one.
"Tabs, it's not what you think," Gabe began.
"I'm waiting for one of you to start talking."
Webster just shrugged. "Well, it won't be me. But I would assume that the first rule of spy school is not to admit that you're a spy."
I glowered at him, and he winked at me. The son of a bitch actually winked.
I turned my knives on Gabe, and he held his hands up. "Tabs, remember how we talked about all the stuff that I can't talk about? This is one of them. I'm sorry that you feel like I lied. I'm sorry that I had to."
Someone was going to talk or someone was going to lose a nut. "Explain what the fuck he’s doing out of cuffs walking around free.”
Drake shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just being a good Samaritan. I saw some people shooting at some other people, so I thought I'd help. But now, I think I should call the police."
I released one of my knives, and it hit the couch right next to his shoulder, just an inch from wounding him. He stopped moving immediately and lifted a brow.
"Oh. Well, aren't you a surprise? You look like Ariel's spicy cousin. But oh no, you're better than that aren't you? You are the blueprint."
I narrowed my gaze at him. "Gabe probably should have warned you that charm does not work on me."
"Well, I think charm works just fine, doesn't it? You are his, after all, aren't you?"
I lifted my brow. "That knife hitting the couch wasn't an accident, FYI."
Webster chuckled then. "She has spunk, Gabe."
Gabe’s voice was low. “Leave it be, Webster. Don’t make it worse.”
I lifted my brow. “Pretty sure it can’t get worse than tonight.” I had no idea what was happening, but Gabe was keeping some big secrets.
Drake chuckled. "Now, if you two kids are done, and everyone has checked on their bumps and bruises, I'll be going because I'm supposed to be somewhere else entirely."
I laughed. "You will do no such thing."
Webster pushed to his feet and stalked toward me. There was menace in his eyes. He knew that I wouldn't release another knife until I was sure. He, on the other hand, had no such compunction. He was the devil. He was the villain of the story.
I released another knife without even thinking. This one nicked his shoulder. Which, to be fair, sent him into action. When he reached for me, Gabe was between me and him in seconds.
Drake cocked his head. Gabe stayed unmoving.
The whole scene unfolded like some twisted tango as the two men danced around the room, exchanging blows, and I watched them, fascinated. It was a chaotic ballet, and I was front row center, the reluctant audience. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
They were rolling on the floor. My only option was the tranq gun.
Jesus. How did this happen?
I fired the tranq gun and hit one of them.
Unfortunately, it was Gabe. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but he would certainly be loopy. Drake tried to roll out of the way, and he got hit on the ass when I fired a second time. "Now, both of you are going to calm the fuck down and somebody tell me what's going on."
Gabe pulled out the tranq. "You fucking shot me?"
