Everything happened fast after that, but Gabe didn’t ease his hold on Andrew until an officer had him cuffed.
Gabe crossed the room and pulled Felicity up into his arms. She clung to him, shaking. Then her hand found the blood soaking the sleeve of his shirt.
Her gasp cut through the chaos. “Oh my god! You’re bleeding!”
One of the officers radioed for medics, and more people rushed into the space. Felicity stood back, watching, her hand pressed over her lips.
“Hey.” He held out his good arm that the medics weren’t trying to staunch the flow of blood on.
She drifted near, leaning into him.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “It’s just a graze. I’ve had worse paper cuts taking your sister’s art class.”
A rough sound burst past her lips, part tears, part amusement, and threaded with shock. “This is not a paper cut, Gabe.”
He winced as the EMT pressed gauze to the wound they’d exposed by cutting through his shirt sleeve.
“Okay, maybe a big paper cut.” He gently pressed his knuckle beneath her chin, lifting her shimmering eyes to his. “I bet it doesn’t hurt as much as your feelings.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“When you realized I was right about Andrew.”
Another laugh burst from her. “You are such an ass.” Tears spilled over. “And I love you.”
His chest tightened with something better than the terror of losing this woman. He lowered his forehead to hers, letting the EMT work around them. “I love you too, bookshop. And I am never letting anybody get that close to taking you from me again.”
* * * * *
When they finally headed for home—the Black Heart Ranch and Willowbrook—Gabe drove one-handed, his bandaged arm resting carefully against his side.
Felicity kept glancing his way, afraid if she looked away too long, she would have imagined that he was okay.
The highway stretched in a long gray line ahead of them, and mountains rose in the distance, greeting them like old friends.
She didn’t realize she’d dozed off until Gabe shook her shoulder gently. “Felicity. We’re almost home.”
Home.
She pushed into a straighter position in the seat and reached for her bottled water. Then her phone buzzed, jolting her the rest of the way awake.
She threw a look at Gabe. “It’s an unknown number.”
“Put it on speaker.” His jaw flexed again, but this time it wasn’t from pain.
She answered on the second ring.
“Ms. St. James?”
“Yes.”
“This is Harold Klein, the estate attorney for Henry Alder.”
Her stomach tightened, and her gaze connected with Gabe’s for a heartbeat. “Yes. Hi.”
“I’m calling with…developments.” Papers rustled on his end. “After the events of yesterday, I’ve been in discussions with the district attorney and with Henry’s financial trustees. I wanted you to hear this directly from me.”
Gabe slanted another look at her.
