Always Been Mine (12 page)

“We’ve got this.” Ed nodded in reassurance.

*****

“I’m proud of you, Dmitry.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Grigori Zorin clasped his shoulder. “Almost three years you’ve shown your unwavering loyalty. You know you’re almost like a son to me.”

“I know, sir. Again, for that I’m grateful. You have been most generous.”

“You should marry one of my daughters.”

“Sir?”

“You’d do well to run the Zorin Bratva one day.”

Dmitry nodded tightly.

Gabe sat in the outer offices of BSI, waiting for Beatrice to be done with her meeting. It was almost 7:00 p.m. The rumors were true: Travis Blake was a slave driver. He observed Emily Shephard, who worked efficiently at the reception area fielding calls, filing documents away, and doing whatever she was doing in front of the computer.
 

He couldn’t stay away for 24 hours. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see her again. He’d met with Ashe and Duke earlier. Gabe knew he was being underhanded filtering information before any of it reached Beatrice. She was a damned loose cannon, and with Porter not answering his phone, Gabe didn’t know what he was going to do with the information. There was still that matter of Crowe having an accomplice in the Fuego gang, and if this killing had nothing to do with Beatrice’s client, it was best they kept the information classified. Luisa Delgado was killed with a garrote, while the others were killed execution style—single bullet to the back of the head. The question Gabe had was why not execute everyone with a bullet?
 

“They should be finished soon,” Emily smiled at him.

The office door opened and a blonde woman walked in. Travis’s wife, Caitlin. Gabe felt a stab of guilt. He knew her when she was Sarah.
 

“Hey, Emily, is Travis almost done? We don’t want to be late for our dinner reservation,” Caitlin said.

“Why don’t you head on back and shoo them out of Conference Room 2. Ed and I have to be somewhere as well.”

Gabe decided to re-introduce himself and got up from the couch just as Caitlin pivoted toward him.

All color leached from her face. A mixture of terror and anger took over her entire body as she leapt behind the reception area, startling Emily. Before he knew it, a 9-mm was pointed at him.

Fuck.
Gabe was not having a good feeling about this. He raised his arms instinctively.
 

“Cat, what’s going on?” Emily screeched.

Travis’s wife continued glaring at him. A stampede of footsteps rushed from the hallway. She must have pushed the panic button.

Travis burst into the room.

“Cat?” Travis’s eyes widened when they landed on Gabe. “Why are you pointing a gun at Gabe?”

“Gabe?” Caitlin asked. “What are you talking about? That’s a Russian hit man.”

Double fuck.

*****

“Cat, put the gun down.”
 

Beatrice cleared the door and froze when she saw the scene before her. She had never seen Cat look so terrified. And why the hell was she pointing the gun at Gabe?

“He’s Bee’s Gabriel?” Caitlin asked.

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to admit it right now,” Gabe said, smirking. Only Gabe would smirk with a gun pointed at him. “She’s in denial, but she’ll come around.”

Beatrice rushed to Gabe’s side even before Caitlin fully lowered the gun.

“You must have me confused with someone else,” Gabe added.
 

Lie.
Beatrice knew. She just knew Caitlin was right, and with that knowledge came a whole new level of anxiety.

“I don’t understand,” Caitlin whispered. “I saw you meet with Jase. He didn’t know I followed him. I was worried because he said he was cutting a deal with a Russian hit man. It was you.” Beatrice hated how Caitlin looked troubled. “It was you,” she whispered again.

Travis walked to his wife’s side and put an arm around her shoulder. He jerked a chin at Ed, who understood and walked straight to the exit door, locking it.
 

Beatrice felt Gabe turn solid beside her. These guys were not letting him out without answers.

“Care to tell us the truth, Gabe?” Travis said icily. “I figured that’s how the admiral got Jase’s letter?”

Gabe didn’t say anything. Fury was evident in every line of Travis’s body as he left Caitlin’s side and stalked toward Gabe.

“Tell me, Sullivan,” Travis said coldly. “Did you know my wife was alive? Were you part of the whole fucking cover-up?”

No answer.

A fist flew. And then another and then another. Travis hammered away at Gabe until they both fell to the floor. Travis straddled him and continued punching; Gabe blocked some blows, but didn’t fight back.

Beatrice yelled for Travis to stop; Ed held her back. It was Nate who finally dragged Travis away from Gabe.

“You motherfucking son of a bitch,” Travis roared. “You were my friend! My brother. How could you?”

“I wasn’t a part of the accident,” Gabe said quietly, getting to his feet. “I only found out about Caitlin six months before you found her.”

“You’re lying!” Travis growled.

“You know how it is, Lieutenant. I can’t reveal specifics of a mission.”

“You’ve been working with Porter?”

Gabe inclined his head.

“Are you Dmitry?” Caitlin asked, walking toward Gabe. “Porter called a guy named Dmitry with the coordinates for the plutonium cache.”

“Wait a minute,” Travis’s eyes narrowed. “The Zorin Bratva. Dmitry Yerzov was his assassin.” Travis’s arm wrapped protectively around Caitlin. “Fuck, Gabe. That was you?”

Gabe’s throat worked convulsively. He wanted to come clean, but he decided against it. “I’m not confirming or denying.”
 

Travis growled, dropped his arms around Caitlin and started for Gabe again.

“Hit me again, Lieutenant, but this time I’m retaliating,” Gabe warned.

Beatrice decided to step in. “Let’s calm down for a moment, Travis.” She looked at Caitlin who nodded and hugged her husband’s waist to calm him down.

“This is too much to take in for everyone,” Beatrice said. It certainly was for her. She was reeling, but she could feel the tension in Gabe right now, even some self-loathing. She should be pissed at him for being party to what happened to Travis and Caitlin, but now was not the time. She wanted to tend to his injuries, but this revelation made her wary. Did she really want to know what he did as this Dmitry Yerzov guy? She decided distance was best right now while she sort herself out. “Gabe, go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Travis balled up his fists at his sides, and Gabe squared up. He meant it when he said he was fighting back this time.

“I agree,” Nate said. “Sullivan, get out of here before we change our minds.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Gabe scowled at Beatrice.

“Bee is not leaving with you,” Nate snapped.

“Oh, yes, she is,” Gabe muttered, his arm reached out and yanked her against him. His eyes drilled into hers.

 
“I’m not leaving without you,” he repeated.

The air was charged with testosterone, seeing that the only levelheaded man right now was Ed, who would definitely side with Travis and Nate if the situation deteriorated.

“Okay,” Beatrice looked at a furious Nate. “I got this, Nate.”

“Bee—” Nate reached for her.

“Seriously? Fuck off.” Gabe shoved Nate.

“Jesus! Enough!” Beatrice yelled in exasperation. She yanked on Gabe’s massive arm and dragged him toward the exit. “Stand down, Reece, before you piss me off.”

Men!

*****

Gabe was relieved Beatrice left with him. He didn’t want her to be out of sight. Not right now. Not when he didn’t know how she really felt when he had all but admitted he was the Russian assassin, Dmitry Yerzov. He thought he was ready to tell her everything, but it was harder than he first thought.
 

“Come home with me, please,” Gabe said quietly, casting a furtive glance at her.
 

“I can’t, Gabe. Look, come over to my condo and I’ll take care of your cuts. Travis did a number on your face. Is your nose broken?”

Now that she mentioned it, his face felt like one fucking swollen pulsating lump. He moved his jaw; it hurt, but thankfully it wasn’t broken. Most of the blood was from his nose, but he didn’t think it was fractured either. “I’m fine.”

“Now is not the time to act all macho—”

“I’m not. We can swing by your condo and pick up some clothes.”

“You said you’d give me space. I’m still trying to process yesterday’s revelations and now . . . this happens.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, fighting to stay quiet and not blurt out his defense. Should he even be saying anything? He couldn’t. Not in good conscience could he volunteer information.

He heard her sigh.
 

She didn’t want to be here with him.

He felt deflated.

He had been so hopeful last night and today.
 

Right now, not so much.

Twenty minutes later, Beatrice let them into her condo. She gestured for him to head straight for her bedroom. Gabe wondered if she felt the sizzle and electricity between them, because anywhere he had Beatrice all to himself, he couldn’t help but think of doing wicked things to her.
 

It was the first time he saw her bedroom. There was a four-poster bed with a prissy canopy. Thankfully, not pink. The whole room was feminine, but not cloyingly so. He entered the bathroom. The scent of Beatrice was all over. Something floral, something citrusy. A flash of her thighs spread out with his head between them came to mind. He had a strong desire to boost her on the sink and go down on her.

“Why don’t you sit over there?” Beatrice pointed to the closed toilet seat. Gabe dutifully obeyed, staring at her ass while she moved around the bedroom. She had kicked off her heels and was in her stocking feet. Was she wearing garters underneath that skirt?
 

She came back with some soaked cotton balls on a towel.

“So talk.”

“There’s nothing really to say.”

“Are you Dmitry?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Beatrice took that moment to dab his face—none too gently—with a soaked cotton ball.
 

Gabe gritted his teeth. “I did what had to be done.”

“Did you have anything to do with Fuego’s involvement in that shoot-out that nearly got Caitlin killed?”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Gabe snapped. Beatrice made a noncommittal sound and picked up another soaked cotton ball and jabbed it on a cut near his eye.
 

“Fuck!” Gabe roared. That fucking stung. “What the hell was that?”

“Alcohol,” Beatrice said calmly. “Are you going to give me answers at all?”

“What do you want to know?”

“You killed people for the mob.”

“I told you I did horrific things. I’m working through it.”

“Are you using me as a crutch, Gabe?”

Beatrice sighed and started affixing butterfly strips on his face. “I take it by your silence, you either don’t know or you are.”

“I don’t think you’re an emotional crutch, poppy,” Gabe said gently. “You do keep me tethered to this reality. I’ve accepted what I had to do. As a hit man, I did it for the greed of an organization. But in doing that, a bigger evil was taken down. Someone had to do the dirty job to clean up shit in this world, babe; it just happened to be me. Everyone I’ve assassinated on that kill roll handed to me was guilty of a crime, I swear.”

Beatrice stared at him dubiously.

“Trust me,” Gabe whispered. He grabbed her waist and buried his face on her belly. “Just trust me, Beatrice.”

She was rigid in her posture; her arms were at her sides. Gabe burrowed his nose further, further down. She inhaled sharply.
 

Her fingers drove into his hair and tilted his head up forcefully to look up at her. “No distractions, Sullivan. You realize you put me in a difficult position with Travis and with BSI in general.”

Gabe scowled. “Babe, you need to stop pulling my hair unless you want me to fuck you afterward, because right now, I have an overwhelming desire to shove up your skirt and eat that pussy.”

Her fingers disappeared from his hair as she tried to step back, but he held her firmly.
 

“Be serious.” Her voice was shaky.

“I am being serious,” Gabe gritted through his teeth. “I’m as hard as a brick.”

Without releasing her, he let her pull away a bit so she could see the undeniable ridge pushing against his jeans.

“Umm . . . Well, you’re on your own with that,” Beatrice laughed nervously. “Let me go.”

Gabe grinned despite the ache in his jaw. Blake had a mean right hook. He watched Beatrice dispose of the used cotton balls and other litter from their little first-aid session. She strutted to the corner of the bathroom to return the medical kit, her ass taunting him in that tight skirt. “You need to stop doing that.”

His gaze lifted to hers. “Stop doing what?”

She had a knowing smile on her lips. “Looking at me like you want to eat me up.”

Is she flirting with me?

Gabe stood up cautiously; her eyes left his, lowering to his crotch.
Christ! Is she torturing me?

He cleared his throat. “You need to stop staring at my dick.”

Beatrice smirked, turned her back on him, and walked out of the bathroom. “Point made. If you’re hungry”—significant pause—“for food, I can fix you something.”

Gabe followed her to the kitchen. “What if I’m hungry for something else?”

Beatrice was rummaging through the fridge and didn’t answer for a while. After taking out some chopped-up veggies and some chicken cutlets, she said, “Sex is off the table tonight, Sullivan. So if that’s what you’re after, the door is right there, but I’m not above sharing a chicken stir-fry.”

“I’ll stay for dinner,” Gabe said quickly. Put in place again.
Dial down the teenage hormones will you, Sullivan?

“Great.” Beatrice beamed at him.