It was obvious by the serene look on Blake’s deceptively handsome face that he had skated beyond angry into straight-up murderous.
Gabby studied the firm press of his lips, the two deep lines carved between both furrowed brows, and the hard stare of those gray eyes not with fear, but interest.
Deep down, she knew she should already be halfway to her car, making a break for it while she still had legs—much like Cricket seemed to be wishing he could do now—but she was rooted in place, the vision of Blake’s formidable form holding her prisoner far better than any jail ever could.
