Expression dark, Gabriel grabbed the phone. “Who is this?”
He crouched down beside her as he listened, his hand on her icy one and his eyes intense. “Gabriel Bishop.” Another pause after he identified himself. “Yes.” This pause was longer. “I’ll take care of it.” An alert, focused silence, then, “You’ll notify us if your patrol guys pick up anything?” Ten seconds, maybe twenty, Charlotte couldn’t quite tell, her mind still not functioning right, before he said, “Yes. No, I’ll make sure of it.”
Charlotte stared at Gabriel as he hung up after giving Detective Lee his own contact numbers. “Can I have my phone?” It seemed very important that she have it, that it be in her hand.
PLACING THE PHONE ON Charlotte’s palm, Gabriel curled her fingers over it.
“Thank you.” She held it like a talisman that could ward off evil. “Did Detective Lee tell you?”
“Yes.” Gabriel stood. “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”
“You can’t. You have the Henderson conference call in”—she glanced at her watch—“fifteen minutes.”
“It’ll keep.” His phone already in hand, he made a quick call and postponed the meeting. “Charlotte.” Gabriel frowned when she didn’t respond. Changing tack, he hardened his tone. “Ms. Baird.”
A stiffening of her shoulders, her lashes flicking up. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go for a walk.”
“I need to go for a walk.” He raised an eyebrow when she still didn’t budge. “There are going to be more people heading to the break room very soon.”
That seemed to get through. Slipping her phone into a pocket of the tailored black trench coat that she still wore over an oat-colored linen shift, she came with him. He wanted to take her hand, but a number of other staff members had arrived on the floor and he knew the action would make Charlotte even more uncomfortable when she was already shaken. The woman who’d kissed him good-bye with a smile, who’d cuddled so sweetly next to him for hours, had been buried under shock.
Gabriel wasn’t about to allow that to stand.
Taking the elevator to the ground floor, he led her out and toward the waterfront. The sidewalk was active with those who worked in the city, but not yet thronged with shoppers. Except for the coffee shops and bakeries, the stores wouldn’t open till nine, so it was easy enough to stride down toward the water.
“Gabriel, did you mean sprint when you said walk?”
He looked down when he heard the acerbic question and realized he’d been taking swift, long strides in his anger. Charlotte was a little breathless but the spark, it was back in her eyes, so this was one mistake for which he wasn’t sorry. “Did you get to drink your coffee?” he asked, the scent of roasting beans reaching him from a café a couple of doors down.
“No, but I don’t want any.”
He bought her a frothy thing with chocolate on top anyway, having seen her with something similar when she’d come back from her lunches with Molly a couple of times.
Folding her arms, she said, “Are you planning to drink one from each hand?”
“Don’t be a bad-tempered cat,” he said, holding out her coffee. “I even asked them to put extra chocolate on top.”
Her eyebrows drew together, arms remaining mutinously folded.
“Or I’ll drop it in that trash bin.”
“Oh, give it to me.”
Watching her sip at the frothy concoction, he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she was back to her usual self. The shock had been severe, the bruises deep. But the fact she’d been able to snap at him was a good sign that his Ms. Baird was in there. Maybe a little dented, but whole.
They didn’t talk as they crossed the street at the lights.
Heading past the people pouring out of the train station, they went across the street that ran along the waterfront and turned left, toward the ferry building. That section was busy with commuters. He continued to stroll onward, Charlotte a quiet presence at his side. Quiet, but potent. He was aware of her every move, her every breath.
Reaching the Viaduct, they turned right and walked through Wynyard Quarter until they came to the wide pedestrian bridge that covered the channel out of the marina to their left, the bridge’s white arches sharp and stylized.
“I like watching the bridge open up to let the tall-masted yachts through,” Charlotte said, leaning with her forearms braced on the railing as they faced the sea rather than the marina.
He pointed out a yacht on the water. “Someone’s taking the day off work.”
“I hope it stays sunny for them.” Charlotte fiddled with her coffee cup. “I’m sorry for how I reacted in the break room.” A shuddering exhale. “I’d managed to convince myself that Richard was out of my life forever.” If she’d ever permitted herself to think about it, she’d known this day would come, but the only way she’d been able to get past the fear enough to have any kind of a life was to pretend it wouldn’t.
“Hell, Charlotte, you’re dealing with this better than anyone has a right to expect.” His arm brushed against hers, his suit jacket a dark gray. “But you have to know I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She felt her lower lip tremble. Catching it between her teeth, she shook her head. “I can’t do that, Gabriel. I can’t let you take over, not after I put so much effort into becoming independent.”