Chapter 10 - Whiskey and Wounds
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The safehouse was a rustic, heavily fortified cabin hidden deep in the Wisconsin woods. By the time they arrived, it was 3:00 AM, and the rain had turned into a freezing downpour.
Gabriel locked the heavy deadbolts behind them and immediately drew the blackout curtains. Madeline stood in the center of the living room, shivering uncontrollably.
"Go to the bathroom. There are clean clothes in the closet. Take a hot shower," Gabriel ordered, moving toward a locked gun safe in the corner.
Madeline didn't argue. She stood under the scalding water for twenty minutes, trying to wash away the smell of gunpowder and fear. When she finally emerged wearing an oversized flannel shirt and sweatpants, she found Gabriel sitting in a leather armchair by a crackling fire.
He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his blood-stained shirt sleeve. He was holding a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other.
"You're shot," Madeline gasped, rushing over.
"It’s just a graze," Gabriel muttered, pouring whiskey directly over a nasty, bleeding gash on his bicep. He didn't even flinch. "I've had worse."
"Let me help," she insisted, taking the tweezers from him.
Gabriel looked up, surprised. "You don't have to."
"You saved my life tonight. Sit still."
Madeline worked carefully, cleaning the wound and wrapping it with bandages from a first-aid kit. She was so close to him she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. The smell of cedar, bergamot, and rain clung to him.
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When she finished tying off the bandage, she looked up. Gabriel was staring at her. The distance between them was practically nonexistent.
"Thank you," he said, his voice a low, rough rumble that made her breath catch.
