"Do you normally make-out with the people you're hired to kill? It doesn't strike me as very professional."
"Put the gun down," Gabriel panted, not answering her.
"Why on earth would I do that?"
"Because you're not going to shoot me," Gabriel rep...
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Gabriel woke to sunlight streaming through his window. Stretching, he turned to look for Elle, only to find his bed empty.
She must be cooking something or watching the sunrise on the beach.
He got out of bed and threw on a pair of sweatpants. Last night was unexpected. He had definitely gotten carried away. That woman was like a drug – when she was with him, he could feel her running through his veins, making him act irrationally and impulsively. And now he wasn't sure where this left them. How could he kill her after everything that had happened between them?
But letting her go was a terrible idea too – if Alexander Duchont found out he had slept with his mistress, Gabriel would probably find himself the target of an assassin himself. Alexander didn't like others touching what he considered "his property," which absolutely included his mistresses.
He walked out into the living room and looked around. "Elle?" he called. No response.
She must be outside.
He hoped she wasn't upset about last night. It was some of the best sex he had had in a long time, and he had tried to make sure she had enjoyed it too. She certainly seemed as though she had.
Whatever doubts he had about her being someone's mistress had been eliminated after last night – sex like that was hard to find, so it made sense that Alexander would have claimed her as his.
Gabriel exited the house and walked onto the sand. "Elle?" he called again. Still no response. A slight panic began to set in. There was no way she could have escaped. The helicopter was still here, his phone was locked and hidden, he had deactivated hers...and she wouldn't have been stupid enough to try to swim away, especially not at night.
He went back to his bedroom and checked his closet, only to realize the lock had been picked and her backpack was gone. An icy chill went through him. She was gone. How? How could she have gotten away? They were the only ones on this island, she had no phone, she didn't even know where she was.
Gabriel walked around the island, not willing to give up the search just yet. He checked every corner of the island, inside the helicopter, down by the beach. It wasn't until he was walking back to the cottage that he noticed a set of ashes. Then he noticed another. He scanned the area, finally finding the third. A triangle of fires – the international signal of distress. She had put him to sleep and spent the night signaling for help. She really was smart. And infuriating.
Gabriel stormed back into his bedroom, desperately searching for answers. He began haphazardly tearing things apart - he rifled through his drawers, tore apart his closet, threw things in his bathroom. He wasn't sure what he was even looking for...but tearing everything apart was, in a way, therapeutic.
It wasn't until he ripped the comforter off his bed that he froze. The sheets were stained with a small amount of what was certainly blood. Gabriel felt his heart pounding in his chest. She was a virgin. She was a virgin and she hadn't told him.
