The Evasion Read online

  Bev sighed. “You’ll stay out of trouble?”

  Victory. “Yes.”

  “Promise me. Because if something goes wrong, I’m telling the mayor you went rogue. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  Jo held up three fingers. Not that Bev could see, but hey, it was the effort that counted. “I promise. I’ll stick with law enforcement down there. You may not believe me, but I did learn my lesson after the broken hand and the fire. I’ll be careful. I’ll stay at the damned P.D. all day so they can watch me.”

  Maybe.

  “Jesus,” Bev said. “Mr. August is gonna go apeshit.”

  Jo laughed. They’d originally given Gabe his moniker and if Bev had a clue about Jo wrapping herself around all that male perfection, she hadn’t let on. Unprofessional? Absolutely. But months before Jo and Gabe started their affair, Bev and Jo had secretly commented on the level of hotness contained in that six-foot-three package. To suddenly stop that banter would raise questions and Jo wasn’t ready for that.

  “I’ll take care of Mr. August. I’m not afraid of him.”

  Not much anyway.

  —:—

  Two hours later, Jo stepped out of the lobby doors of her office building into the biting cold of a January day. She stopped on the sidewalk and smiled—not hard to do—at the man leaning against his unmarked NYPD cruiser. None other than Mr. August, dressed in his tactical uniform—navy cargo pants, honking big gun strapped to his thigh and a heavyweight NYPD jacket. The jacket alone should have alarmed her. The man was a self-proclaimed furnace who never wore anything heavier than a windbreaker.

  In the back of her mind, something snapped and that something told her his presence wasn’t accidental. Not when she was on her way home to pack a few things for her trip to South Carolina. A trip she fully intended on sharing with him.

  From the airport.

  Seconds before takeoff.

  She waited for rushing pedestrians to hustle by and crossed to him. “Hello, handsome.”

  He gave her that sly grin, the one that hinted of talents she’d recently been made aware of. Shark Gabe.

  “Afternoon, Counselor. Heading to lunch? Thought I’d treat.”

  Lunch. Um, no.

  A gust of wind howled and Jo held the collar of her coat closed. “How long have you been out here?”

  “Not long. Ten minutes maybe.”

  “Huh. Why didn’t you come up?”

  This time when he smiled, it was the real Gabe smile. The silly, boyish one that turned her into a puddle. “I’m illegally parked.”

  Cop humor. She rolled her eyes.

  “So,” he said, “we’d better get moving before I get a ticket.” He lurched off the car and opened the passenger door. “Hop in. I’ll take you to lunch. Your choice.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  He stepped around the open door and squared off with her. “No? How come?”

  Okay. This was a problem. She had never—and would never—lie to him. Not purposely. Then again, was it possible to not purposely lie?

  Don’t get distracted. With Gabe’s intelligence, this conversation would take every one of her brain cells to navigate. She shook her head. “I have a meeting.”

  Which she did. With an airplane.

  Slowly, he nodded. Those dark eyes like focused lasers as he took in her face, looking for clues of deception. Uh-oh.

  “A meeting.”

  Jo stood still. Don’t react. If she moved, he’d sense her discomfort. He was brilliant that way, every little nuance of her personality had been figured out. After months of working together and, more recently, enjoying a personal relationship, he’d identified all her signals: happiness, sadness, anger. He knew all the cues.

  “Fine. I’ll drive you. Get in.” He waved her into the car. “Get a move on. Don’t want you to be late.”

  And then she caught it, the quirking smile. He knows.

  She marched right up to him. Even with her wearing heels, he looked down at her. Terrible position of weakness. Still, she squeaked out a few more millimeters by holding her head high. If he wanted to play, she’d let him. But she wouldn’t make it easy.

  She walked two fingers up his jacket to his collar and tugged. “What are you up to, sergeant?”

  “Me? You’re asking me what I’m up to?” He stepped back, clearly wanting to break the contact. “That’s classic, Jo, considering you’re trying to bullshit me right on the goddamned street. You are busted.”

  A few pedestrians glanced their way, spotted the giant man wearing a gun and kept going. My heroes.

  “Why are you yelling?”

  He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and leaned toward her. “Because I’m upset. I’m communicating.”

  Jo made snoring noises. Communicating. Funny man. Two weeks ago they’d argued over something—who knew what—and she’d scolded him for failing to communicate. “Okay, smartass. Fine. You’ve communicated. Now I have to go.”

  She made a move to step around him, but he blocked her path. Not in an aggressive way, just a minor hindrance that she could avoid if she wanted. She glanced up at him expecting to see the normal ferocity and tight skin that were so much a part of him. Instead, his mouth sagged and his eyes—those were the killers—his eyes didn’t have that normal heat. He looked…sad.

  “Gabe?”

  “You were going to fly off to South Carolina and not tell me?”

  He knows.

  She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “No. I’d never do that.”

  “I just caught you.”

  “You caught me going home to pack. I planned on calling you from the airport.”

  “So I couldn’t get there in time?”

  “Yes.”

  “And somehow that should make me feel better?”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, she supposed not. She supposed, she’d be furious and more than a little hurt if he’d done something like that to her.

  Damn, Jo. This was the problem with them. They were stuck in this loop of her trying to do her job the only way she knew how and him trying to keep her out of harm’s way. If she had any issues with their relationship, this was it. In order to give Gabe peace of mind, she’d have to be sidelined. Being sidelined, in many ways, meant giving up her ambition.

  And she couldn’t do that.

  “No. It shouldn’t make you feel better. This was horrible of me.” She squeezed his arm again. “I’m sorry. My mind got ahead of my common sense. It’s not an excuse. I’m just telling you what happened. I was so focused on doing my job, I didn’t think about the collateral damage.”

  “I asked you not to go.”

  “You told me not to. Big difference.”

  He huffed. “Either way, you knew where I was on this. This guy tried to make kindling out of you.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No buts.”

  Time to convince him. If he’d even let her. When he dug in, chances were slim he’d change his mind. “I took precautions. I’ve spoken with the sheriff down there. They’ll do the leg work. I’ll stay behind. I need to see if Martinson is moving product or if he’s just hiding. That’s all. I promise you, I’ll stay out of the way. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I always worry about you.”

  “I know.”

  He gestured to the still open car door. “Get in.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have a plane to catch.”

  Jo opened her mouth and he gently laid his fingers over her lips. “No talking. You didn’t think Bev was gonna let you go down there alone did you? The minute she hung up with you she called me. We, honey, are taking a trip. Romantic, don’t you think?”

  “Bev double-crossed me?”

  Shark Gabe grinned. “You bet your life. Now get in.”

  —:—

  Gabe stood in the bright afternoon sun on the tarmac at Teterboro, an airport twelve miles outside of Manhattan that catered to private planes. Frigid January air
slapped at his cheeks as he gazed up at the gleaming Gulfstream G550. He glanced at Jo. “There’s our ride.”

  And if he were in a little bit of awe, too bad. Being a middle-class kid from Queens, not to mention a cop, didn’t offer the luxury of a spin on a private jet. Particularly one in the $55 million dollar price range. Yeah, this city boy would enjoy the ride, even if he had to come to Jersey to get it.

  A pilot stepped around from the aft side of the aircraft. A good six inches shorter than Gabe, he wore a pressed blue uniform, no cap on his thinning gray hair. His body was lean. Fit. Gabe pegged him at around fifty.

  “Afternoon, folks. Great day to fly.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” Jo cracked.

  Leave it to her. Always breaking balls. He loved it. Gabe grinned. “Sweetheart, let’s not scare him off.”

  She held her hands out. “I’m just saying.”

  The pilot laughed. “I’m Hank Stearns. Climb aboard. I need to check a few things.” He gestured to the fold-down stairs on the plane’s door.

  Gabe held out a hand for Jo. “Let’s go get this guy.”

  “I hear that.”

  With Jo ahead of him, they climbed the steps into the plane and the rich scent of leather and polish alerted Gabe’s senses.

  “Gabe, quit pushing me.”

  He glanced down. “I’m not.” But, yeah, he was damned near on top of her.

  “You’re hovering. And you’re a big guy, so hovering is…well…hovering.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m…I’m…”

  She dumped her briefcase on the shiny wood table centered between four plush seats. Opposite the table sat a long credenza—and behind all that, toward the back of the plane were two very comfortable looking sofas. Wood grained walls with a tie-back curtain separated the front seating area from the sofas. Something told him those sofas had beds inside them.

  He glanced down at Jo, who’d stripped off her long coat and set it on one of the chairs. She still wore the gray slacks and silky button-down blouse from earlier. She could stand to give a guy a gift and undo an extra button.

  She tilted her head, gave him that smile that told him she knew his mind had gone to the gutter. “What?”

  Admission time. He could blow off the question. Let it hang there. A lot of guys would. Not him. He had no issues pertaining to being on a $55 million dollar plane with Jo Pomeroy. “I’m excited.”

  Apparently she liked that answer, because she grabbed his hand and linked her fingers with his. “Are you?”

  “Yep. I’ve got you, no cell phones and a ride on an outstanding private jet. My life is good.”

  She glanced around, twisted her lips. “It is pretty cool, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is, baby.”

  The pilot stepped onto the plane and pulled the door closed. Ten minutes later he’d gone over all the flight safety instructions with them and gave them a tour of the galley. There’d be no cabin service, which was just as well. Gabe shot Jo a look. He had things in mind they didn’t need a flight attendant for.

  “Sit back and enjoy the ride,” old Hank said. “Flight time is a little over an hour.”

  Gotta love flying private. This trip on commercial, between parking, security and flying time would take five to six hours.

  “Thank you,” Jo said, already pulling files from her briefcase.

  Gabe stayed quiet while he analyzed the sofa.

  “Let’s talk about our plan when we get there,” Jo said.

  Plan? He checked the cockpit door. Closed up tight. “I have a plan. As soon as we take off, I’ll fill you in. You’re gonna love it.”

  After takeoff, Jo unbuckled from her single seat across from Gabe’s and moved to one of the sofas toward the rear. She brought two file folders with her and although Gabe was distracted and experiencing that childlike joy he sometimes let slip, it made Jo smile. She simply adored this side of him. The big bad ESU sergeant, who, on a daily basis faced depravity that would drive most insane, somehow was still able to allow himself moments of silliness.

  She gestured to the seat next to her. “Come sit with me and we’ll figure out what we’re doing when we get there.”

  He dropped onto the sofa and turned sideways, stretching one arm across the back and fingering her hair.

  Uh-oh. She knew that horndog look. He had to be kidding. “Absolutely not.”

  Feigning ignorance, he held his free hand out. “What?”

  “I know what you’re doing. And the answer is no. I’m not messing up my clothes.”

  He inched closer, right next to her ear, as that free hand wormed around her waist. “Come on, Jo.”

  She smacked him with the file folders, zinging him on the side of his face.

  “Ouch! You’ve deafened me. How will you ever make amends?”

  Such a horndog. “That has to be the worst line you’ve ever tried.”

  The hand at her waist inched up and he made a move toward her neck. “Usually I don’t need a line. Usually you’re extremely willing.”

  Out of habit—right—she angled her chin up and he licked the spot behind her ear. The one that drove her mad. Don’t let him do this. She smacked him again.

  “Allow me,” he said, grabbing the folders and tossing them on the floor.

  “I need those.”

  “Not right now you don’t. We’re negotiating.”

  “Negotiating my ass. We have work to do, and I’m not having sex with you on this plane.” She poked her finger toward the cockpit. “The pilot is right behind that door.”

  “Pfft, he won’t come out. He’s flying.”

  “Auto pilot,” Jo shot.

  “I’ll close the curtain. We’ll be quiet.”

  She rolled her eyes. “When have we ever been quiet?”

  “That’s true. We do tend to enjoy ourselves.”

  He dipped his head, got close to her ear again while his fingers skittered over the top two buttons of her blouse. The normal eruption of heat slammed around inside her, knocked her a little sideways. Damn this man. Every time he put his hands on her she went up in flames. Every time.

  She grasped his fingers, the ones that had just unfastened two buttons and dipped into her cleavage. “Stop. We can’t do this.”

  He ran his tongue over that spot by her ear again—rowr—and she let go of his hand.

  “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said. “The Mile High Club. If I can do it with you, in this particular plane, my life is made.”

  “That’s a little sad you know. That sex in an airplane is on your bucket list.”

  “I also have running with the bulls on the list. This is safer. And a whole lot more fun.”

  She rested her head back, let the heat of his fingers on her breast sink in. How she loved when he touched her.

  “Jo,” he whispered, “you know you want to. I can feel it. You’re body gets all tense. You’re about to snap.”

  “I have to finish reading a deposition. And the notes on Martinson.”

  “Screw that. Make my dreams come true instead. I’m a cop on a $55 million dollar plane with a woman I can’t get enough of. In every way. Let’s live a little.”

  He pushed his hand further into her shirt, then kissed her neck. “Come on, Jo. I’ll take you places.”

  Places she loved to go. With him. Because, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she’d fallen in love with Gabe Townsend. A man who continually worried about her and hindered her attempts to do her job. All out of concern.

  Which she appreciated, but his over-protectiveness and her need to take risks had caused plenty of arguments. Arguments she didn’t see ending in the very near future.

  She glanced down to where he’d worked every button loose and her blouse hung open. Master. “Damn you.”

  “I know. I suck.” He rolled sideways, reached for the curtain separating the two cabins and whipped it closed. “Get naked, Jo. You’re about to make my dream come true.”

  He had to hand
it to her, she’d put up a bigger fight than he’d expected. When it came to sex, there weren’t a whole lot of mixed messages between them. They both wanted it. All the time.

  And as Gabe watched Jo shimmy out of her slacks, her long legs gliding along the fabric, his need for her exploded. She did this to him. Every movement, every touch sent him to an immediate erection. In the office, it had become treacherous territory. Nothing like sitting in a meeting with Jo and the mayor of New York and trying to figure out how he’d get out of the room without his boner waving hello to everyone.

  Sexual connection aside, Jo filled his mind throughout the day. What they’d have for dinner, if they’d sneak off to a movie in a town where no one would know them or if they’d stay at her place. She’d never been to his home yet. Considering his parents lived in the apartment two floors below him in the three-story house he’d grown up in, they’d avoided going there and igniting his mother’s interest.

  Now it was time to meet the folks. He wanted Jo to be part of his life. All of it. And that included his parents.

  When a man fell in love, it was time to move on it. Stake his claim.

  That’s what he’d do.

  Jo set her clothes neatly on the other sofa and turned back to him, her amazing body free of any clothing, and he sucked in a breath. She was no waif. Her hips and ass rounded nicely and the rack—yoi—that thing made him howl.

  “I love how you look at me,” she said. “I’ll thank the surgeon.”

  He grinned. She liked to joke about her fake tits, but down deep he knew it made her happy that he couldn’t get enough of them. She’d been flat-chested into her twenties. Being Jo, she decided she wanted an A-list set of knockers and made it happen. “Thank him for me too.”

  “I will do that.”

  And then he was on her, moving fast and reaching her in two strides, running his hands over said rack and down around her waist to her ass, pulling her closer. A naked Jo against his fully clothed body was one of the thousand things that did it to him every time. This was the dance, her slowly removing his clothes after letting him watch her get butt naked.