Free The Evasion by Adrienne Giordano Page B

that.”
    Another gust of wind blew her hair and he peeled the stray strands back again. “Settled then? Next week, you’ll come over and meet my folks. You’ve never been to my house. That’s nuts.”
    “Yes. Next week. I’d like that.”
    As a tried and true Queens boy, Gabe saw his folks once a week when he took his mom grocery shopping and they all had dinner together. If they all got lucky, maybe he’d see them a second time.
    But his mom had spectacular radar. When he had a woman in his apartment, she sensed it and hoofed up three flights of stairs, making up some bogus excuse to bust in. Given her heightened perception skills, he’d avoided bringing women around unless he intended them to meet his mother.
    And that hadn’t happened much.
    At least until now.
    Jo’s phone beeped. She reached into her pocket, but stopped, glancing back at him. “Can I get this? It’s probably Hillary’s rap sheet coming through.”
    “We’re good. Go for it.”
    “It’ll take a second for the photo to load, but we’ll need to stop somewhere so I can print it.”
    She punched the screen a few times and came back to him. “Gabe?”
    “Yep?”
    “I’d like a weekend away with you. Being down here makes me realize we miss out on a lot. My folks have a house in the Hamptons. We should go there. Even in the winter it’s beautiful.”
    The Hamptons. Jo Pomeroy was so far above his pay grade he didn’t know what to think of it. “Is there a king-sized bed?”
    “Two of them.”
    “Sold. Get some dates together and I’ll work it out.”
    “Good.” She squeezed his arm; let her hand stay there, skin-to-skin. Just how he liked it. “I’d like that. A lot.”
    —:—
    “Okay, Tim,” Gabe said after Little Timmy had requested not to be referred to as Timmy.
    Jo resisted an eye roll. Whatever. All they needed was Little Timmy—Tim—to look at the picture and give them a thumbs-up or down about Hillary being the one who’d hired him to deliver that package.
    She slid the mug shot she’d printed, complements of the office supply store that doubled as a pharmacy, across Tim’s kitchen table. “Do you recognize this woman?”
    “That’s Thelma. She’s the one who had me deliver the package.”
    Behind her, she heard the rub of fabric that was Gabe shifting around in the tiny kitchen. Heaven help them all if the man’s overactive system would let him relax for a full five seconds. There couldn’t have been ten feet of space and his presence managed to claim every inch of it. “You’re sure?” he asked.
    “Positive. Her hair is darker now, but that’s her. No doubt.”
    Jo nodded. “Thank you, Tim. One more question. How about this man?” She passed him the photo of Martinson. “Recognize him?”
    Tim analyzed the photo, tilted his head left then right again. “I don’t think so.”
    Huh. Doesn’t sound confident. Jo inched the photo closer. “You seem hesitant. Which is okay, I just want you to be sure.”
    “I’ve never met him, but he kinda looks like a guy I saw coming out of Thelma’s office last night. He came out as I went in. I didn’t pay him too much mind though. That’s why I’m not sure.”
    Jo didn’t bother looking back at Gabe. She didn’t need to. His hyper-awareness flooded the room and the surge must have been rising to epic heights.
    Time to go.
    “Thank you, Tim. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
    She slid her chair back and stood. Timmy’s gaze tracked her then moved to Gabe. “So, am I in trouble?”
    This poor guy. All he wanted was to raise extra money for his growing family. Jo leaned forward, patted his hand. “I don’t think so. If you are, I’ll help you. Don’t worry. Okay?”
    He glanced at Gabe, who remained stoic, arms folded, face revealing nothing—zippo. The man was a New York City cop. One couldn’t expect him to have reactions to every situation. With the horrors he faced on a daily basis, continually getting emotional would get him locked in a