Page 55 of Gabriel

“Regret and moral superiority, more likely.” I blew a loose piece of hair away from my face. “Honestly, I’m surprised his men aren’t around.”

She shrugged. “He underestimated you. His mistake. But then, menaredumb, so no surprise there.”

We finally reached the yacht and heaved him onto the deck. I turned around and faced the waterfront, searching for signs that we’d been tailed.

Elira wiped sweat from her brow and asked, “You sure he’s not gonna wake up mid-sail and strangle you?”

I didn’t miss a beat. “He’ll probably try.”

Elira snorted as we dragged Gabriel’s unconscious body down the deck. “Just don’t fall for him. Hopefully he won’t develop Stockholm syndrome and fall for you. That would be… unfortunate.”

“What the hell do you know about Stockholm syndrome?”

“Everything,” she deadpanned. “I actually use it as a form of torture.”

I shook my head. “Jesus, Elira. You’re so scary and criminally undervalued. I pity any man who captures your interest.”

“Yeah.” She gave a soft, tired laugh. “Anyhow, let’s focus on you and your lover boy.”

“He’s not my lover boy,” I corrected her, glancing her way. “We should probably cuff him just in case he does try to kill me.”

She went quiet for a moment, our footsteps the only sound on board. We instructed the crew to keep out of sight tonight.

“Do you think this is smart?” she asked, voice lower now, the edge fraying.

“Probably not, but we trust Jet, and Gabriel is definitely hiding something,” I said. “Am I worried? Yeah. Every damn second.”

Elira nodded, jaw tight.

I shifted Gabriel’s weight, mentally going down the laundry list of my “to-dos”after I handcuff the prisoner: get supplies of clothes and toiletries, and whatever else to ensure our prisoner was somewhat comfortable. After all, he wasn’t just anyone, but the heir to the Santos Cartel.

“I love you, sis,” she whispered, and my head whipped to her. Elira wasn’t the sentimental kind and rarely expressed her feelings.

“And I love you,” I said softly. “You’re my favorite criminal.”

“Wow. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get emotional. We’re still dragging two hundred pounds.”

“I swear to God,” Elira huffed, adjusting her grip on his legs. “Next time Jet recommends we snatch someone, it better be a skinny twig of a man.”

“Get in line.” My arms ached and my breathing heaved. “The yacht is fueled up, right?”

“Yes, everything is ready. Supplies replenished and route set.”

We finally entered the cabin and deposited him onto the mattress when Elira said, “I still can’t believe you kissed him.”

“I was creating emotional dissonance and distraction. It’s a tactic.”

“It’s a kink.”

“Maybe.” I looked down at Gabriel, limp and silent, his breathing steady. I sighed. “Gosh, he really is so beautiful. Such a waste of triceps.”

“Then make him yours,” Elira deadpanned. Maybe our moral compass had gone to shit over the years.

That fleeting kiss played on loop in my mind, reliving every part of it. I’d burned many bridges in the past, but I instinctively knew this one would hurt.

Gabriel