Addison Fox - The Royal Spy's Redemption

“Someone’s damn quick with a pick.”

Brushing off the small shiver, she turned the lock once more, then leaned down and latched a second small bolt at the bottom of the door frame. It was invisible from the outside, and the only way anyone was getting in now was by coming through the glass.

“I said I’d handle it.”

The dark tones, rich and cultured, slithered over her skin as she straightened. For the first time, Gabby was forced to wonder if the real threat was already inside.

* * *

Knox St. Germain ignored the shot of heat that sizzled through his veins at her glorious ass still pointing heavenward. He loved women—all of them, regardless of age or size—but there was something about Gabriella Sanchez that gripped him with fierce claws.

He kept a hand over the towel at his shoulder, but a combination of steady pressure on the wound and a few moments of downtime had gone a long way toward restoring his equilibrium.

Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for the temptation standing before him.

His vision cleared as Gabriella straightened, and he didn’t miss the wary expression that filled eyes the color of a rich espresso.

“You don’t appear capable of handling much right now.”

He couldn’t quite tell if the statement was meant to put him in his place or reassure her she wasn’t in danger.

Don’t let the gunshot fool you, love.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. He was in pretty bad shape. But after a few more hours of downtime he’d be ready to move again.

He had to move again.

And he had to figure out how Richard Moray had gotten the jump on him.

He’d come to Dallas under the auspices of MI5, to retrieve the recently recovered Renaissance Stones, but the mission had gone sideways barely before it had begun. His boss and leader was attempting to secure the stones for his own selfish gain.

Knox had suspected Moray—the intelligence they’d gathered was pretty clear—but until he’d actually come face-to-face with Richard, some small part of him had denied it. Had ranted and railed that it simply wasn’t possible.

But no longer.

Reassessing, Knox took in Gabriella’s tall form, still standing before the door. “Get away from there. This area’s too dodgy to be standing around all night looking for trouble.”

“My brother’s a cop. He patrols this dodgy area—” She broke off with a small smile edging those lush lips. “Regularly.”

“As someone who grew up in plenty of dodgy areas, trust me—things can change in an instant.”

He saw the curiosity flash in her eyes and cursed himself for the slip. Why in bloody hell did he offer up that tidbit? He’d worked damn hard to leave his Manchester background behind. And now he was offering it up on a platter?

It took a minute for the bigger part of her comment to register, and Knox took in the admission that her brother was a cop.

More good news.

He already knew he was in deep with Reed Graystone, Dallas PD detective and the fiancé of one of the women caught up in this whole mess, Lilah Castle. Reed’s stepfather, Tripp Lange, had been revealed as the local mastermind behind the initial theft of the stones.

The moment Graystone got word back to his cop buddies that Knox had taken the stones during the exchange in the park, they were going to hunt him down.

And no amount of arguing that he was working under the authority of MI5 was going to change that.

“Are those my thousand-thread-count catering napkins you’ve got wrapped around your shoulder?”

He shrugged and paid for the wave of fire that lit up his wound. “Are those the ones in the cabinet nearest the counter you left me against?”

“Yes.”

“Then these are your thousand-thread-count catering napkins.”

“I can’t serve anyone on those ever again!”

“Then I’ll buy you some new ones.” He pulled a second pilfered napkin out of his pocket and made quick work of wrapping it over the layer at his shoulder, fashioning a makeshift bandage. With a final tug on the tie with his teeth, he lifted his head. It stung—flesh wounds always did—but the blood had already stopped.

His hands now free, he reached for his back pocket to give her some money. As his fingers closed over a pair of handcuffs, he remembered he’d left his wallet and ID back in his hotel room. “When I get my wallet back, I’ll give you the money to buy some new ones.”

“You need to go to the emergency room.”

“No.”

“But you’re hurt. I saw the blood seeping through my napkins, and that’s on top of the one I gave you from the front counter.”

“The bullet was clean, and I’ll get to it later. I’m not going to the hospital.”

“But you could barely walk three minutes ago! And now you’re up and around and—”

The fear that had flashed when she’d turned from the door lit up her gaze once more before those dark eyes shot around the room. Gauging the distance to the back door, no doubt.

He wasn’t sure why the real evidence of her fear struck him like a spear low in the gut. She was an inconvenience—an incredibly attractive one—and nothing more.

“Look. Gabby. I need your help for just a little while longer.”

A string of rapid Spanish fell from her lips, and he smiled in spite of himself. He quickly translated the prayer—an appeal for help and the strength to maintain her patience.

“And while I appreciate the request to a deity, you’re sort of stuck with me for the moment.”

Fear morphed to anger in the space of a smile. “You understood me?”

“Every word.”

“Why me?”

Why had he come here? He could give himself any number of excuses—namely, that she’d been handy since her shop was a safe place to regroup and close enough to the park where the events had all gone down.

But that wasn’t the full truth.

He knew he was a bastard of the highest order, but Knox made every possible effort not to lie. Especially not to himself. “I needed help.”

“Try again.” Her gaze flashed once more toward the back door before it shifted to him. He felt her perusal as clear as a brand, from head to toe and back up again.

Damn if it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d felt in a long time. Too long.

Focus, man.

He had a she-cat on his hands and he’d do well to remember that. This wasn’t a woman who backed down. “It’s the truth. I needed somewhere to lay low, and I remembered how to get to your shop. I’m just lucky you were still here.” Something unsettling flashed across her face like an ephemeral mask, and Knox stilled at the dark cloud that seemed to hover over her.

But it was her words that revealed even more than the look. “I’m always here.”

Was that pride? Resignation? Perhaps an odd mix of both?

He’d made a rather successful career at reading people, yet he couldn’t quite get a grip on this woman. Everything about her screamed confidence and competence, even as vague disillusionment tinged the edges. They’d met a few days before, and he’d gotten a nebulous impression of the same, but it had taken this comment for the impressions to form into a more cohesive thought.

She’s not your problem, mate.

The thought beat a rapid tattoo in his mind, but even a thousand warnings to himself couldn’t still the curiosity that had begun to run rampant about the luscious caterer with the long, curling hair that made a man itch to grab several fistfuls.

Her brother’s a cop.

He tried that internal warning on for size, and even the promise of a gun-wielding, protective sibling couldn’t quite eradicate the image of running his mouth over those generous breasts or burying himself at the apex of those long, long legs.