“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
Gabe moved in front of Rachel so he could speak to the woman. “Uh, yeah. My name is Gabe Torres. I’m here to volunteer.”
Rachel was a little surprised the woman didn't know Gabe already, but chalked it up to the woman perhaps not having been working when Gabe had volunteered before.
“Of course! Welcome,” the woman gushed. “I didn’t recognize you without your uniform on,” she said, an obvious element of flirting infused into her tone. “I’m Sheila. I’ll call for Micah to come give you a tour.”
“Thank you,” Gabe said as he turned back to face Rachel.
“Haven’t you been here before?” Rachel asked.
“What?”
“You told me you’d been volunteering. Why would you need a tour of a place you’ve been?”
Gabe’s eyes darted around before landing back on her. “I, um, I was pretty much still in the planning phase of volunteering. This was one of the one I looked into helping out at, but I haven’t actually been here yet.”
“So you haven’t been to this shelter yet?”
“Nope.” He shrugged. “I figured it would be fun to start at a new place together.”
Rachel smiled at Gabe’s cuteness. “Do you think you’ll keep any of them?” she asked.
“Any of what?”
Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at how weird Gabe was being. “The dogs.”
“Oh. Right. The dogs. No, no, I wouldn’t be a very good dog owner. I’m not home enough to take care of them well, and I also didn’t want to choose only one. It might make the other dogs feel bad. Plus, my building doesn’t allow them. They only made an exception for the fostering since I wasn’t keeping them there permanently. I thought sending them somewhere they could find good homes would be better.”
“Oh okay. That makes sense. I guess.” It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Rachel, but who was she to judge?
Micah came up, a smiling guy who looked like he was in his early twenties and had curly blond hair. “Hi, guys. Ready to get to work?” he asked as he rubbed his hands together.
“Yup. Totally. Can’t wait,” Gabe said as he quickly followed Micah.
Rachel trailed behind them, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
***
Gabe was trying—and failing—to pretend he wasn’t making all this shit up as he went along. Rachel had so many questions, and it was stressing him out. He should’ve expected it. She was a journalist, after all. He’d meant to volunteer once or twice before she tagged along, but he’d been so busy with things at the club, he hadn’t had any time to follow through on it.
Micah bopped along in front of them, pointing out the different places where the animals were housed and cared for. He was so young and carefree. Gabe hated him. It wasn’t helping Micah’s case that he kept directing all his attention to Rachel. Gabe wanted to lather him in peanut butter and lock him in with the aggressive dogs he’d seen earlier.
“And this is where you’ll be working today,” Micah said enthusiastically as he used his keycard to unlock a door.
Gabe walked in to see a bunch of deep tubs and tall tables. A few people were working on dogs, clipping their nails and combing matts out of their fur.
“We’ve chosen a few of our gentler dogs for you guys to wash. Janice over there,” Micah said as he gestured at an older woman with graying hair, “will help you. But it’s pretty self-explanatory. I’ll bring a dog out for each of you. You’ll bathe them and then hand them off to the groomers who will do the rest. Sound good?”
No, it sounds close to my worst nightmare. In theory, Gabe liked dogs. In reality, he was scared to death of them. He was hoping the shelter workers would have them clean out kennels or something. Anything that didn’t involve him having to touch the dogs. But this was up close and personal, and he wasn’t into it. Not that he could tell anyone that. As far as Rachel knew, he’d been running a doggie and kitty hostel out of his place for months. There was no way he could now tell her that he couldn’t so much as pet a dog without breaking into a cold sweat. “Yeah,” Gabe said, his voice sounding strangled so he coughed to clear it. “Sounds great.”
“Sounds good to me too.” Rachel was practically bouncing on her tiptoes.
Micah smiled and clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Then I’ll go grab the pups and be right back. Janice will show you where the aprons are.” He turned and left, the heavy door closing behind him.
“This is awesome,” Rachel gushed. “I thought they’d have us doing something gross. But this will be fun. They must not want to scare off the famous athlete by making you do grunt work.”
Gabe didn't tell her would’ve preferred ‘grunt’ work. The two of them approached Janice, who showed them where the rubber aprons were and briefly showed them what to do. “It’s pretty straightforward. Micah won’t bring any of the tough cases for your first time, so there’s no need to worry.”
Gabe opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and two dogs coming in. Eying them warily, Gabe stood rooted to his spot on the ground. The dogs bounded over—literally bounded, since they were enormous.
“This is Bandit,” Micah said as he looked down at the dog on his right. “He’s a Border Collie. Super friendly.” Micah handed Bandit’s leash off to Rachel.
She leaned down to pet Bandit, who seemed to be instantly taken with her. He trotted to the tubs beside her, climbed up the steps and hopped into the tub with no problems.
“And this is Torque.” As if on cue, the dog yanked on his leash. “He’s a puller, but very friendly. He doesn’t love the water, but he won’t bite or anything.”
That wasn’t the most reassuring statement Gabe had ever heard. Hesitating a second, Gabe finally reached out and took the leash. As if sensing a shift in power, Torque yanked and nearly pulled Gabe off his feet. “What kind of dog is he?”
“He’s a mutt. He’s squat and strong like a pit bull, but his coloring looks most like a shepherd. There also may be some hound in there.”
Gabe nodded and stared down at the creature below him. Torque looked back, his mouth stretched wide and tongue hanging out as if he were mocking Gabe. “Come on, boy,” Gabe cajoled as he attempted to pull Torque toward the tubs. The dog sat down and refused to move.
“He’s a stubborn thing. Won’t be a problem once you get him in the tub, but getting him in there is tough sometimes. You may have to pick him up and put him in there.”
“Pick him up?” Gabe nearly yelled the words. There was no way he was bending down and putting his face near this dog’s teeth and picking up this beast. Nah-uh. No way.
“Yeah.” Micah looked over Gabe’s shoulder and smiled. “Want me to do it for you?”
Gabe turned to see what Micah was looking at. It was Rachel, soaping up Bandit as she stole glances at Gabe. He couldn’t let Micah carry Torque to the tubs. How would he ever explain that to Rachel? “Nah, it’s cool. I got him.” Taking a deep breath, Gabe squatted down. “Easy, Torque,” Gabe said to the dog. “You let me do this without biting my face off, and I’ll see about getting you a better name,” Gabe whispered as he slid one hand under the dog’s stomach and the other behind his back legs.
Gabe moved slowly, trying to ease the dog into the air.
“Wow, man, you must have killer leg muscles to stand up that slowly holding a ninety-pound dog,” Micah commented.
Gabe’s legs started shaking with the exertion, but finally he was standing up straight. He carried the dog in what felt like slow motion over to the tub and gingerly put him down. Looking over at Rachel’s set-up, Gabe noticed that there was a place to fasten the dog’s leash to keep him still. He attached it, and then turned the water on.
From there it was pretty easy. Torque thought it was fun to shake the water off himself every three seconds, but it could’ve been worse. He could’ve tried to maim Gabe. Instead, the dog sat there looking grumpy as hell as he let Gabe do
what needed to be done. When the bath was finished, Gabe unhooked the leash and lifted Torque again. He found himself actually starting to enjoy the dog’s company. Until Torque torqued, causing Gabe to stumble and drop him.
The dog was stunned for a split second after he hit the ground, but he recovered quickly, beginning to run around the room like he was a fucking cheetah. All the other dogs in the room went wild as Torque sped around. Gabe tried to catch him, but it was like trying to catch a greased pig. He wanted to step on Torque’s leash to stop him, but was worried he’d accidentally break the dog’s neck. That’s all this day fucking needed.
“Gabe, you go that way, and I’ll go this way. We’ll try to corral him,” Rachel yelled over the yipping and howling that reverberated through the room.
Gabe did as she said, and they closed in slowly on Torque. Finally, when they were within grabbing distance, Gabe lunged for the marauding dog. But Torque, in a move that would’ve impressed a few football players, faked one way before juking back and running through Gabe’s legs, causing his knees to buckle and sending him crashing to the floor.
Laying on his back, Gabe stared up at the ceiling for a minute. His bad knee twanged with discomfort, but he didn’t think he’d done any major damage.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” Rachel asked, alarm clear in her tone as she kneeled beside Gabe and let her eyes rove over his body. It was obviously so she could see if he was injured, but he tried to convince himself she was checking him out all the same.
“Yeah, I think so,” Gabe replied as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He was about to stand when he felt a hot breath on his cheek. He panned slowly to his right, and looked straight into the face of Torque. Just as Gabe was about to recoil from the mentally unhinged canine, Torque’s giant tongue rolled out of his mouth and licked Gabe across the mouth.
Gabe jerked his head back and wiped his mouth with a hand as Rachel laughed. “Aw, he likes you,” she said.
Gabe wished he could’ve said the feeling was mutual.
Chapter Thirteen
Even when they’d gone back to Gabe’s after the animal shelter debacle, Rachel was still having a hard time not laughing at the mental image of Gabe looking agitated while getting licked to death by a giant teddy bear of a dog. Despite the ordeal, Gabe had insisted they stay and finish out the time they’d promised the shelter, and he’d tried to put on a brave face, but it was clear he couldn’t wait to get out of there.
He’d invited her back to his place to hang out and order takeout, which she’d been all too happy to agree to. While it had been nice spending time with him at the shelter, that had been for her article. Now she’d get to spend time with Gabe simply because she wanted to.
When they’d gotten back to his place, Gabe had excused himself to shower. He’d offered her the shower in his second bathroom, but she hadn’t rolled around on the ground with a wet dog and also didn’t relish the thought of putting the same clothes she’d worn to the shelter back on afterward. She’d survive a couple hours until she got home.
Though he’d been trying to mask it, it had been obvious that Gabe was favoring one leg over the other. She knew about his injury but wasn’t sure how badly he’d re-hurt it. She’d asked him about it, but he’d shrugged it off. Hopefully the warm water would help.
Rachel wandered around his living room, unsure what to do with herself. She went over to the coffee table where a bunch of remotes sat, but there were at least five of them and she had no idea what any of them did so she decided to wait for Gabe to turn on the TV. She let her eyes drift over his place. It wasn’t the first time she’d been there, but it was the first time she’d really gotten to give the place a thorough once-over. It was very Gabe. All comfy couches, soft rugs, and sports memorabilia on the walls. The floor plan was open concept, the living room running into the dining room, which was set off from the kitchen only by an island.
She walked over and slid onto a stool and waited for Gabe, reaching her hand out to pet one of the cats who’d was walking across his counter. But as her hand landed on the kitten, it bolted, knocking some paperwork off the countertop and onto the floor. “Dammit,” she said, her tone hushed as she began picking up the papers and trying to get them back in some sort of order that resembled how they’d been before the cat had sent them flying through the air.
But as she did, her eyes landed on a piece of paper on the island. She tilted her head so she could read it. It was a bank statement, which was absolutely none of her business so she began to tear her gaze away when she noticed the name on top: Helping Hands. What the hell is that? If Gabe was getting a bank statement for a company, he’d have to have some fiscal stake in said company. But in all the time they’d spent together—over all the times they’d discussed how he spent his time—he’d never mentioned being a part of a nonprofit.
Rachel reminded herself that there was probably a very logical explanation—one that she could easily find out if she just asked him.
“Hey, what do you feel like eating?” Gabe walked around the corner rubbing a towel over his damp hair. Rachel couldn’t stop her eyes from raking over his body as he wore gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and a tight blue Premiers T-shirt. His biceps flexed as he toweled off his hair. Rachel had never wanted to be a scrap of terrycloth so badly in her life.
Gabe came around behind her, rubbing a hand along her back as he passed, and went into the kitchen. Walking over to the other side of the island, Gabe pulled open a drawer and withdrew a stack of takeout menus. “These places are all pretty close. Any of them look good?” As he spread the menus out, his eyes locked on the bank statement.
Rachel studied him for his reaction. The widening of his eyes was the only immediate physical response, but he slid his hand over the paper, and pulled it toward him as his other hand moved the menus around. It reminded her of how a magician might try to distract an audience by using sleight of hand. He pulled the statement off the island and let it drop into the open drawer.
Rachel kept her head bent down as if she was looking at the menu options, but her eyes followed Gabe’s movements carefully. All of Rachel’s journalistic senses tingled. There wasn’t a cell in her body that thought Helping Hands was something Gabe would want to discuss. And now she had to know why.
Gabe rested his forearms on the granite countertop and smiled at her.
That’s when she knew she had to get out of there. Because even though she didn’t have any reason to think Gabe was hiding something, her instincts told her differently. And ever since she’d become a reporter, her gut was the one thing she never ignored. She didn’t want to spend time with him cuddling up on the couch watching movies and sharing dinner while her mind was focused on the bank statement. She gasped and looked down at her watch with what she hoped was a believable degree of panic etched on her face. “Oh shit. I totally forgot. I have a conference call with an editor in twenty minutes.” She rose from the stool and took a step away from the island. “I’m so sorry. It’s for another freelance opportunity; I can’t afford to miss it.”
She hated how easily she lied to Gabe, who looked disappointed yet understanding. “No worries,” he said. “I understand. Raincheck? Maybe we can get together for something not-article related this week?”
She smiled at him. “I’d like that. I’ll text you later, and we can set something up.”
“Works for me.”
“Great. Talk to you soon then,” she said over her shoulder as she went to retrieve her purse and walked toward the door. When she reached out to turn the knob, she felt the heat of a presence behind her. She wanted to melt into it, but managed to restrain herself.
An arm reached around her, making her hope it would snake around her waist and pull her back into Gabe’s chiseled chest. But instead, his hand grabbed the lock and turned it. “Gotta unlock it first,” he said huskily into her ear.
A shiver worked through her. “Is that how doors work? Good to know,” she joked, hoping it would
lighten this moment that felt astoundingly sexually charged.
“Glad I could help.” He must have taken a step back because the warmth at her back disappeared. “See you later, Rach.”
She glanced quickly over her shoulder and offered a sly smile to turn the tables on him a little. “Can’t wait, Gabe.”
***
Two hours later, Rachel sat on her stiff couch with a blanket over her legs and her laptop resting on top. She’d been researching Helping Hands since she got home, but it was such a generic name that literally thousands of search results came up. She’d been painstakingly clicking through each one, but there was nothing Gabe had a clear connection to. And he’d have to have a connection if he was receiving their bank statements.
That led her to look into the bank that had sent the statement: The Bank of American Fidelity. And that was where things got interesting. It was a small branch that was in Philadelphia. But its website was… odd. Too simplistic, with no clickable links. Rachel had tried to call them, but no one answered and there was no answering service. It just continued ringing until Rachel eventually hung up. Her next step was to place a call to a friend named Jared who had a way with computers and a loose moral code. She told him what she knew, and within thirty minutes he’d called her back with the information that let her know she’d found something important.
As it turned out, The Bank of American Fidelity existed under the umbrella of a larger corporation called the Bank of Worldwide Fidelity, which was located in the Cayman Islands. It was all so cliché, it was almost hard to believe. Of course, Rachel knew that the Cayman Islands was a mecca for people trying to hide funds from the American government, especially since Swiss banks were under investigation and closing at a rapid rate. But it still seemed so…Netflix miniseries. Rachel had a hard time believing that Gabe would be using an offshore bank. It reeked of criminal behavior that he’d never demonstrated he was even remotely capable of. But the fact that he obviously hadn’t wanted her to see the statement plagued her mind.
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