Page 33 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

TWENTY

Gabriel

Sometime after midnight, not too far into Thursday

Gabriel blinked up at the bedroom ceiling, uncomfortably aware of absolutely everything.

His breathing. Casey’s breathing. The coarse sheets brushing against his skin.

The fucking ticking of a clock somewhere in the house.

Where the fuck was the damn thing? Bowie’s breathing.

The patter of rainfall and the creak of siding.

Keith making herself comfortable under the bed.

Everything was not fine. Half of his body was on fire, and the other half was freezing.

Casey Lundin was a blanket hog. Casey Lundin was hot.

He shifted for the twentieth time and reconsidered the recliner but dismissed it—again—because, as he’d pointed out, it was Elton-shaped.

Gabe was a natural-born cuddler, which, considering who was next to him in the bed, was also an issue.

He felt like every single cell in his body was literally reaching for Ranger Man.

When they’d first retreated to the spare room, he’d managed to drift off fairly quickly after the day they’d all experienced.

But eventually, the insanity of the past few days had interrupted his slumber, repeating an endless loop of Casey’s still form on the ground, and soon enough he’d fully woken.

Now he was on his back and wide fucking awake.

Intensely and uncomfortably aware of Casey’s massive slumbering form mere inches from him.

His sexy, complicated, slumbering form.

Now Gabe’s brain was demanding a cuddle. It would be so easy for him to roll over and tuck up against Casey’s strong back. Then the replay loop would end, Gabe was certain.

There was a spark between them, Gabe was pretty much almost one hundred percent certain of it.

It was that tiny almost part which kept him from doing anything massively stupid.

Carefully, he repositioned himself again, putting a few more inches between their bodies, and reminded himself that he hadn’t fled to Heartstone just to fall into bed with the first available human. Or unavailable one.

Especially not one who’d chased him out of the park his first night and cited him for trespassing—which, fine, was a ticket he’d earned and still needed to pay.

And accused him of being a con man—which, okay, was the truth, even if that was his past. And didn’t trust Gabe on general principle—Gabe was always drawn to smart men. Casey Lundin was smarter than most.

The mattress shifted and a grumbly voice came out of the dark, “Jesus Christ, what do I need to do to get some sleep over here? Injured, remember? What the hell has you all wound up?”

Shit. Gabe scrambled to come up with something before his mouth opened and he word-vomited.

“It’s just?—”

“You are gay, right? Or at least bi? A man occupying the same bed as you isn’t out of the ordinary?”

“Ah—no?”

A chuckle escaped Casey. His laugh? Also, sexy. Dammit .

“You mean you don’t know?”

Casey flipped over so he was on his side and facing Gabe’s profile, and Gabe abruptly was even more aware of him than he had been seconds earlier.

“I mean, yes . Fuck you, yes, I am a happily bisexual man. And therefore, no , a man in my bed is not unusual. As you well know, considering my ex was the last body we found. But I never imagined a scenario where the man would be you. Not that I don’t find you attractive.

I do.” Oh, fuck, his mouth had gotten away from him after all.

“I just, never mind, this conversation is ridiculous—I’m going to sleep now. ”

He moved to flop over onto his side and face away from Casey, even though he knew that sleep would now prove to be impossible. Fine. He could sleep when he was dead.

The mattress jiggled, and Gabe twisted to look over his shoulder.

“The hell?” he whispered.

Casey was right there, looming over him. Gabe opened his mouth again, to say something smart like Menacing is not conducive to sleep. But before he could utter a single word, Casey leaned in and pressed his lips against Gabe’s.

Oh. Oh .

The kiss was all tongue, sloppy, and over too fast. Who cared if it was sloppy?

Not Gabe, he was greedy, he wanted all the messy kisses Casey would give him and turned toward the man to chase all that messiness.

But Casey pulled away, and in the dark, Gabe couldn’t read Casey’s expression.

Reaching out a hand, Gabe found his chest and felt the jackhammer of Casey’s heart against his splayed fingers.

“Do it again,” he demanded.

For once, Casey didn’t argue with Gabe. He leaned in, and they were kissing again.

Thank fuck. Gabe could’ve kissed Casey for the rest of the night, either more of that first sloppy-messy or this slow-intense, but reason reminded him that they needed to sleep and that Casey was injured. This time it was Gabe who stopped.

“We keep going and no one is getting any sleep. And, as much as I adore Elton, I don’t want him in the audience.”

Casey snorted. Laying back on the bed, he scooted them both around so Gabe was the little spoon. Which didn’t take that much effort; the bed didn’t offer a lot of extra square footage.

A large warm hand landed on Gabe’s hip and stayed there.

“That was okay? And this?” Casey wiggled his fingers.

“God, yes,” he hissed. “That was incredible. I want to do more of that, with you.”

Somehow, even with Casey’s hand burning a hole through his skin, Gabe managed to fall asleep and stay that way.

Up until all hell broke loose a few hours later.

Loud banging against Elton’s front door was immediately followed by Bowie barking and growling like the knocks had personally offended him.

“Motherfucker,” complained Gabe when he fully resurfaced. “Why? What the fuck time is it?”

A man’s voice called out, “Sheriff, open up!”

“Just a dang minute,” Elton yelled.

Daylight had not yet made its presence known to Heartstone, so it couldn’t have been later than seven or so.

Gabe rolled to standing and spent ten seconds digging out his absolute last pair of jeans and tugging them on over his long underwear, then pulling his grubby Mariners sweatshirt over his head.

Yet another piece of clothing he’d left behind at Elton’s that he was thankful for.

For his part, Casey settled for the clothes he’d worn the day before. Keith had been perched on a windowsill but shot under the bed at the racket, from where she hissed at them all.

“I kind of want to join her,” Gabe said morosely.

“Yeah, well. Let’s see what fuckery is going on now.”

Gabe followed Casey out into the living room.

Elton had the door open a crack but was blocking it with his body.

A uniformed officer stood on the stoop, and another was standing out in the rain.

The top-step officer Gabe recognized as the one and only Sheriff Rizzi, and the one getting soaked was Deputy Eagan.

Rizzi spotted Gabe and Casey over Elton’s shoulder and pointed at them. “Gabriel Karne, you’re under arrest for the murder of Peter Vale, also known as Peter Stevens.”

Gabe blinked. Being arrested for murder had not been on his to-do list for the day. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“Eli,” Elton began, “what is this? You know Gabe didn’t have anything to do with Peter Vale’s death.”

Rizzi shoved some paperwork into Elton’s face, presumably a warrant, but he whipped it away too quickly for any of them to read.

“The fuck you’re arresting Gabe,” growled Casey, grabbing Gabe’s biceps.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Ranger Lundin, but Karne is coming with us. Eagan, this is your time to shine, cuff him.”

Dropping his hand from Gabe’s arm, Casey stepped between Gabe and the door, either to block Rizzi from coming in or to keep Gabe from leaving, Gabe wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter which because either one would end up with both of them arrested.

“Casey, don’t do anything stupid. Let me be in charge of that.”

Casey turned on him, his expression something close to devastated. “How can you crack jokes right now?”

Gabe stared back at him, trying his best to telegraph that all would be okay. At least Eagan was there, right? Suddenly, he wondered if this was how Mickie Lundin had been arrested, ripped from his home in front of Casey and his family.

“I got you and Elton in my corner, right, Ranger Man?”

Casey nodded.

“Then everything will be fine,” Gabe said with a great deal more confidence than he felt.

Rizzi, apparently satisfied that Gabe was coming without a struggle, moved down the cement steps to wait next to Deputy Eagan.

“Let’s get this over with.” Gabe slipped his feet into his work boots, grabbed the jacket Casey had lent him, and stepped outside to place himself in the custody of the one person on Heartstone Island he trusted the least. He didn’t trust Spurring either but there was no sign of the chief deputy.

At least Deputy Eagan was present; Gabe sensed the younger deputy was a good person.

He turned back to the door. “We’ll get this sorted out.

You two got this. I’ll be back by lunchtime, and you’ll regret it.

Maybe make that call to a lawyer friend. ”

He tried to figure out a way to insert the word backpack but failed. But he knew Elton and Casey would keep it safe, for now anyway.

With that, Gabe stepped out into the rain and held his hands out in front of him.

Until recently, Gabe had never deeply considered the phrase all hell breaking loose . It had just been one of those sayings that was tossed around. And now he’d thought it twice in less than thirty minutes.

“Sorry about this, sir,” Deputy Eagan whispered as she snapped the handcuffs around Gabe’s wrists. “It’s protocol.”

“Ah yes, protocol. One of my favorite words.”