Page 23 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

FIFTEEN

Gabriel

Wednesday

“It took two of you human brutes to bring this beautiful gal in?”

The veterinarian, Pedro Morales, was adorable. He was probably in his late thirties and was Gabe’s height but slender. And unless Gabe’s radar was broken beyond repair, he was gay. Bi at the very least, considering the way he caught Gabe’s amused glance and shot him a flirty grin in return.

Gabe smiled back even harder and added a wink. Next to him, Casey cleared his throat, and Gabe knew without looking that he was rolling his eyes. Didn’t the man know there was nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting? Apparently not. Could he be jealous? Food for thought.

“She’s a survivor, that’s for sure. I love the orange girls. I think they control the shared brain cell.” The vet continued running first the electronic wand and then his hand across the cat’s body. He glanced at the wand and frowned up at them. “No chip.”

“Good. That means Keith is meant for me,” Gabe said. Until that moment, he hadn’t known he wanted to give the cat a home or a name. But now that he’d said the words, he wasn’t taking them back.

“Keith?” Casey sputtered and coughed.

“Yep.” If Casey’s reaction was anything to go by, it made Gabe even more certain that Keith was the right name.

“Look at Keith Richards, he’s still hanging around after all these years.

If Keith is good enough for him, it’s good enough for the cat that saved my life.

Besides, your dog is Bowie. They can both be rock stars. ”

“And how is my best doggo?” Pedro asked, forestalling the inevitable bickering that would normally follow Casey and Gabe’s exchange. Gabe was just a tiny bit sad about that.

“Good, he’s good,” grumbled Casey.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the lobby and Gabe was peeling off several hundred dollars in cash for vaccinations, a microchip, the exam, and everything else the cat needed—he was marking it down as go-bag expenses.

Keith was unhappily loaded into a carrier and made her displeasure known with hearty yowls.

Picking up the box and the rest of the supplies—which put him back another couple hundred—Gabe headed to the parking lot. Once they were all tucked inside the Wagoneer, Gabe said, “Okay, spill. What did you learn this morning? And how? The fire was less than twelve hours ago, did you not sleep?”

“I promised Elton, and I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

“Oh my god,” Gabe huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine, Step on it.”

“There is literally no traffic on the island this time of year,” Casey told him.

“Which means you can step on it.”

Casey ignored him. “What was that with Pedro?” he asked instead.

Was Ranger Man jealous? The man was a puzzle—Gabe loved unraveling puzzles.

“What was what that?” asked Gabe, blinking at Casey. He knew perfectly well what that had been. And he’d do it again just to get a reaction out of Casey.

“The smiling and”—he lifted a hand off the steering wheel and waved it around—“glinting shit.”

Gabe snorted. “Glinting shit? What, it’s illegal to smile now? Pedro is a nice guy, why wouldn’t I smile?”

Casey growled. “It is not illegal to smile. It’s the way you smile, and you know it.”

Because he couldn’t help himself, Gabe smiled again. But he directed it away from Casey.

“I bet you have a great smile, not that I’ve seen it. Hold it, maybe I have, but it was so fleeting that it didn’t make an impression.”

He was gifted with another deep-chested growl.

The raspy sound had Gabe’s fucking heart doing a weird flip-flop.

Worse than the flip-flop, it made him want to poke the bear even more.

If flirting with the cute veterinarian made Ranger Man cranky…

it meant there was something here. Gabe wasn’t imagining it.

Of course, it could also mean that he hadn’t gotten enough sleep or enough coffee in the past two days, but Gabe was choosing to believe this particular brand of Casey Lundin grumpiness originated from a different source.

One that had nothing to do with sleep or trespassing and everything to do with one Gabriel Luke Karne. Note to self .

Gabe allowed himself a smirk and enjoyed the rest of the short, un-trafficky drive to Elton’s, checking out the houses and small businesses they passed by.

Maybe right now wasn’t the time to test whatever this was between them, but it would be soon enough.

If there was one thing Gabe was good at, it was being patient.

There were few impatient con men, it tended to cut their careers short.

And if there was another thing Gabe was certain of right this minute, it was that his radar was not broken, and it was telling him that Ranger Man’s antennae—vibe, whatever—was angling toward Gabe.

Oh, he was fighting the draw, but with every growl, grump, arms crossed over that broad chest, Gabe knew he was closer to something.

You’d better figure out what you want before you jump, Chance.

He blew out a sigh and snuck a glance at Ranger Man out of the corner of his eye. Solid. Stalwart. Smart. Damaged.

Want.

Gabe had a private theory that everyone—even the poor little rich kid—was damaged one way or another.

They just all wore their scars differently.

When he’d floated the idea past Peter during the course of a rare conversation that hadn’t been centered around money, his ex had scoffed and told him to stop already with his wanna-be psychology bullshit.

Which had told Gabe he was onto something.

Casey Lundin was unlike anyone else that Gabe had been even remotely attracted to over his lifetime, but Heidi’s voice was right—Ranger Man wasn’t fuck-around-and-find-out material. Luckily, before he said or did anything outlandishly stupid, they arrived at Elton’s.

“Keith?” Elton’s eyebrows rose close to his hairline. “Whatever floats your boat, I suppose.”

Keith had been released from her box and was currently stalking the perimeter of Elton’s living room.

“I had the vet put your address on the microchip, just until I get myself sorted out.”

“About that. Not that I’m not happy to have you here.” Elton sat forward in his chair. “I know it’s not the Ritz, or whatever else you’re used to, but Bill has an opening at Smitty’s, and I can put in a good word for you.”

“Beggars and choosers. I’d appreciate that,” Gabe said lightly, knowing he would accept. He wasn’t too proud to accept help or live in a mobile home park; it wouldn’t be the first time. “I need coffee.”

“There’s a fresh pot, help yourself. But also, you know you’re more than welcome to stay here with me, of course, for as long as you need.”

Gabe dismissed Elton’s offer. With Peter dead—murdered—and the Ticket reduced to floating rubble, not to mention Gabe and Keith barely escaping with their lives, he wasn’t about to place Elton in more danger than he already had, even if it hadn’t been on purpose.

“Do you need a warm-up?” he asked Elton.

“I think I’m fully caffeinated. I’ll pass.”

“That is crazy talk, old man.”

The day was shaping up to be a three- or four-cup day. Hell, maybe even a fiver. In the kitchen, two clean mugs sat next to the coffee pot, so he filled both of them and headed back out to the living room. He was ready to learn what Casey had discovered.

The irritating man had made himself comfortable on the couch, which forced Gabe to sit at the table. He smirked. Gabe shot him a mischievous glance.

“Casey’s got space for us on that big boat of his.”

Casey’d been lifting the full mug to his lips, and Gabe’s outrageous statement had him jerking his arm and splashing some of the liquid onto his hand.

“Gotcha,” Gabe said.

“Am I going to have to separate you two?” Elton chuckled. “Quit screwing around, Gabriel, I want to hear what Casey has to say.”

“Let me get this straight. Your ‘contact,’ who did the background check on me—illegally, I’m just gonna point out—told Peter enough information that he sussed out I was here on Heartstone.

On top of that, the Shangri-La is his dad’s boat.

Was his dad’s boat.” Gabe frowned. “Or rather, was his mom’s boat that his dad paid for.

Boy, that’s really a lot to wrap my head around. ”

Gabe sent a raised eyebrow Casey’s direction and was rewarded with a glower and a flicker of guilt.

Not undeserved. Gabe could have died last night, maybe Casey too.

Whoever firebombed the marina wasn’t fucking around.

On the other hand, it wasn’t a target difficult to hit, so maybe it had been a crime of opportunity.

But Gabe knew the fire had been a message. To whom was the question.

Gabe was working to process the information Casey had shared with them. Dammit, he’d been concerned that a background check would lead the Colavitos to him, but this was—he didn’t know what this was. An attempt on his life or a message to John Stevens? Maybe both.

“Okay, so who the fuck killed Peter?” Gabe asked. “And why dump his body on a boat they just turned around and burned to the waterline anyway? Seems a bit extreme.”

“Maybe the killer and the arsonist aren’t the same people?” Elton suggested.

“And let’s not forget that Peter’s father is the prosecutor who put your brother behind bars.

That might not give you motive to kill Peter, but what about tossing a match on the sailboat?

I know you didn’t, Casey, but none of this makes sense, and the cops are surely going to want to find someone for this.

We’re missing something important, something big. ”

A humming interrupted him, the buzzing of a cell phone.

He stared at Casey; it had to be his since Gabe’s newest was at the bottom of the bay along with his car keys, and Elton didn’t have one.

Although Gabe was going to take care of that as soon as he could.

It was a two-way street, he could take care of Elton too.