Always Been Mine (13 page)

That killer smile always did funny things to his chest.
 

Gabe ended up staying for a movie as well. A damned chick flick. It was a romantic comedy, so it was at least bearable. Beatrice didn’t ask him any more questions about his Russian alter ego. He was relieved, and at the same time, unsettled.
 

He looked over to where she had fallen asleep at the other end of the couch. Her feet were on his lap. She seemed more relaxed tonight and didn’t protest when he started massaging her soles in the middle of the movie. She had changed into flannel pajamas after dinner. If she was trying to look unsexy, she failed. She could wear a flour sack and he’d still think she was the most beautiful woman on the planet.

Gabe leaned over and stole the remote from her slackened grip and turned off the TV. He carefully lowered her feet, stood up, bent over her, and lifted her from the couch.
 

“What are you doing?” Beatrice murmured sleepily.

“Putting you to bed and then heading home,” Gabe whispered. “I don’t think Rhino will be too happy with me if I stay much longer.”

“Okay.”

He lowered her on the mattress and did some maneuvering to get her under the covers. Gabe couldn’t help himself and pressed a kiss on her lips. “See you tomorrow, poppy.”

Beatrice was already lightly snoring away.

*****

Dressed in black, her red hair in a severe bun, Beatrice stood at the back of the gathering for the funeral of Eric Stone. Security was tight, and a larger crowd stood outside the cemetery gates. Though not a national sensation, Titanium Rose had an avid following in Northern Virginia and Washington DC.
 

Gabe stood beside her. She was surprised when he showed up at her condo this morning dressed in a suit. He was one of those men who could be comfortable in whatever setting was required of him. He would look good in all-commando gear as well as an expensive suit, and judging with her experienced eyes, the one he was wearing today cost at least three grand. It was a sunny day despite the chill; he wore sunglasses, which shielded some of the bruises he had sustained last night.

Her icy walls were thawing. In a weird twist of fate, the revelation last night seemed to have released all doubts that what Gabe had done was crucial to National Security. Taking down an organization intent on selling black market nukes to terrorists who could unleash them on U.S. soil was a strategic accomplishment. Prevention rather than reaction. How could she diminish the success of a brilliant plan? It did not completely dispel her reservations of being with someone like him, like her father, but she couldn’t seem to stop him from worming himself back into her life. He was just there, allowing himself to be used. She had not promised him anything; she would see how this played out.

The gathering in front of her started moving. The funeral was over.
 

“Ready?” Gabe whispered by her ear.

She nodded.

They almost made it to their car when they got ambushed by Kelly Winters.
 

The reporter eyed Gabe appreciatively. “Beatrice.”

“What do you want, Ms. Winters?”

“Hostile.” The reporter’s lips curved in a derisive smile. “Feeling guilty?”

“Look, it’s Eric’s funeral. Show some respect.”
 

“There were rumors he overdosed and he had pictures of you scattered in his bedroom.”

Beatrice felt her temper rise but strived to remain calm. “I’m sure they’re just that. Rumors.”
 

“Are you sure?”

Gabe stepped in front of Beatrice and glared at Kelly. “You’re done.”

“Who’s this? A bodyguard or a new lover?”

“Goodbye, Ms. Winters. I’m not doing this here.” Beatrice’s tone was somber as she pushed past the reporter. Gabe enveloped her protectively in his arms as he led her to the car and deposited her into the passenger seat.

Heavy gloom descended upon her. She hadn’t really mourned Eric’s death. Their relationship was so short, so full of drama, and always in the tabloids, it didn’t feel real. But death was as real as it got.
 

Gabe got in beside her. He cursed softly when he saw her face. “Don’t let the reporter get to you.”

She sighed in resignation. “It just suddenly hit me. He was a real part of my life, however short. Now he’s gone. He had so much going for him.”

Gabe didn’t respond. He just started the car and pulled away.

*****

Kelly Winters put the finishing touches on her article and sent it to her editor. She had a couple of high-profile stories that had put her firmly on her boss’s favorite list. One was the sex scandal involving a Russian diplomat. But it was her coverage of the drama involving Titanium Rose’s lead guitarist, Eric Stone’s relationship to DC “it” girl Beatrice Porter and his untimely death that had caught public interest. It was a shame the snooty Ms. Porter didn’t want to play the grieving ex-girlfriend. She seemed to have moved on pretty quickly.

Kelly wondered what that stuck-up redhead had going for her. Sure she was beautiful, but so were hundreds of other DC socialites, but she always seemed to have the handsomest men at her beck and call. What the hell was up with that? That man she was with today looked like more than just a bodyguard. The protectiveness was more personal than professional, and damn if he didn’t look smoking hot in a suit. The bruises on his face only added to his mystery and dangerous attractiveness.

The sound of the cleaning cart rattled by in the hallway. It was almost 10:00 p.m. and the office was mostly deserted. Time to go home. She turned off her laptop. She wasn’t taking it home tonight. She deserved a break. Maybe she should go to a bar and meet a guy like Beatrice’s man.
 

Where does she find men like him?

Kelly waved goodbye to the cleaning lady and stepped into the elevator. It was a straight descent to the underground parking garage. The elevator doors opened to the cold concrete and flickering lights of the parking level. Her heels clattered noisily. There was a distant sound of a car’s squealing tires turning a corner, and the faint fumes of burnt fuel reached her nose. A man in a trench coat appeared a few steps ahead, walking toward her. He was extremely attractive. A business suit peeked from under his coat, and he was carrying a briefcase. The man’s eyes fell upon her, dark and intense. Her reporter’s instincts trilled a warning in her head.
 

“Good evening,” Kelly said in greeting.
 

The man jerked his chin in response as he passed her.

A gut reaction made her turn, but she was suddenly held immobile in a tight embrace. Objects landed on the floor, hers or her attacker’s she didn’t know. She felt a prick on her neck. She faded steadily into oblivion.
 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gabe pulled his SUV into the parking lot of a dive bar near the Cloverleaf District. It was late afternoon and the place was quiet, save for a couple of cars and motorcycles in the near deserted gravel parking lot.

Ashe and Duke were waiting for him, lounging languidly against their bikes. He stopped his vehicle beside them and exited. Rounding the front of the car, Gabe put on his sunglasses and walked up to them.

“You have anything for me?”

“Before we give you this information, Crane wants you and Porter to know that this is it. Marker is paid,” Ashe said.
 

“That’s not for me to decide.”

“Well, maybe it should be Porter meeting us,” Ashe shot back. “Our Prez is pissed because he can’t get ahold of your boss—”

“Porter is not my boss—”

“Well, why the fuck are we talking to you then?”

“Don’t waste my time,” Gabe replied coldly. “Either you give me the information or I walk.”

Duke, who had been quiet for the most part, stepped into Gabe’s space. The young blond biker was a bit shorter than Gabe, but they were mostly nose to nose.
 

“Listen, I don’t like you,” Duke said. “Ashe and I don’t trust you, but that lady friend of yours seems to trust you enough and we like her.”
 

Duke nodded to Ashe who held out the manila envelope. “If it was all Fuego, we would have gone deeper, but there seems to be some Russian involvement. We stay clear of them. We need to keep the peace.”

Russian
. Gabe’s blood turned to ice. “Do you have names?”

“It goes all the way up to the Fuego gang leader who everyone knows is Domingo Ventura, but we don’t have the name of the Russian dude.”

“What kinda fucking intel is that?”

“You have his picture.” Ashe nodded at the envelope before getting on his bike. “We’re outta here.”

Duke swaggered back to his Harley and got on as well. “Later, man.”

Gabe returned to his vehicle and just sat there for a while. Finally, he reached into the brown pouch and pulled out a set of photographs. They were grainy, taken from a distance by a low-resolution camera, but the identity of the man in the picture could not be denied. Along with the past returning to haunt him came a myriad of emotions.

The joy was short-lived, ephemeral in its manifestation because what followed was white hot rage. It was Steve Ryker—his brother-in-arms who was supposed to have died in that plane crash. He was the reason Gabe had given up his happiness with Beatrice to carry through the mission that supposedly should have been Ryker’s. Why the fuck was he alive, and what the fuck was his role in all this bullshit, and why did the Skulls think he was Russian?

His phone buzzed.

“Sullivan.”

“Gabe! It’s Doug,” Keller’s voice came over in such a rush, all his senses went on alert.
 

“Is Beatrice all right?”

“Those two asshole detectives from the MPD are harassing her again.”

“What? Why? I thought Stone’s case was closed.”

“It is, but Kelly Winters was found murdered this morning and her story depicting Beatrice in a negative light regarding her relationship with Eric Stone hit the tabloids today.”

“Damn it!” Gabe muttered.

“I’m in Richmond right now, and I can’t get to her for another two hours.”

“I got her, man.”

“Nate and Travis are not—”

“I got her,” Gabe repeated tersely. Beatrice was his responsibility, not fucking Nate Reece or Travis Blake’s.

Doug exhaled harshly. “Thanks, man.”

Gabe ended the call, started his car, and drove like crazy to get to his woman.

“Beatrice!” Gabe pounded on the door. It had taken him a damned half hour to get to her. He didn’t know what he would do if he’d found those damned detectives in there. He was feeling pretty homicidal right now. He was going to demand she give him a duplicate keycard. She could protest all she wanted.
 

What Gabe didn’t expect was Porter opening the door. Beatrice was standing a few feet behind her father.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Gabe snarled at the admiral.

“Good afternoon to you too, Commander,” the admiral replied dryly. “I could ask you the same question. Weren’t you supposed to be watching over my daughter?”

Beatrice gasped in outrage. Fucking great. Now she was thinking he was with her because her father had dictated it.

“I’ve been chasing a lead,” Gabe snapped and shoved the brown envelope to Porter. “Check that out and explain it to me. Oh, and Crane says his marker is paid up.”

He headed straight for Beatrice who had her arms crossed in front of her in annoyance. Daggers were shooting from her eyes.

“Hey, babe” Gabe kissed the top of her head. “What’s this I hear about the detectives paying another visit?”

“They don’t have a leg to stand on,” Porter said absently, a frown had creased his forehead as he returned the contents of the envelope back into it. “Circumstantial evidence is pointing to a Russian diplomat, and they’re frustrated because of diplomatic immunity.”

“Why a Russian diplomat?” Gabe asked, jaw clenching tensely.
 

“She did a story on the diplomat and his proclivities for high-class prostitutes. Crime scene photos were leaked on the internet.” Beatrice shuddered. “A Russian phrase was carved on her arms. Speculations on social media say it means an
eye for an eye
.”

Air deserted his lungs as a series of images hit Gabe.

An assassin from another rival Bratva was tied naked on a filthy bed.

He was taunting Dmitry to do his worst.

Dmitry obliged. Carving the words slowly on the man’s arms as he screamed in agony.

After he was done, Dmitry said, “Oko za oko.”
 

Afterward, he sliced the assassin’s neck from ear to ear.

Blood soaked the bed before it dripped to the floor.

“. . .
ear to ear . . .” Beatrice’s voice came back to focus. “Gabe, you okay? You’re looking pale.”

No. He felt like throwing up. Beatrice was in danger because of him.
 

Porter gripped his arm firmly, addressing Beatrice, “Sweetheart, can we use your office for a minute?”

“What’s going on?” Beatrice glared at both of them. “I’m tired of being kept in the dark, and if your crap is coming back to hit me, I deserve answers, don’t you think?”

At that moment, Gabe couldn’t speak as he was faced with the possibility that he had to sacrifice the woman he loved again. His heart was screaming
no
. There had to be another way.

Porter dragged him into the study and shut the door.

“Get a grip, Commander,” Porter ordered.
 

Gabe laughed without humor. “Get a grip? Everything’s gone FUBAR. Ryker is after me and he’s hitting me where he knows it’s gonna hurt. Beatrice. He’s getting less subtle. I’m not discounting that he took the pictures after he killed the reporter and posted them online.”

“Are we certain now that Ryker was Crowe’s man inside Fuego?” Porter asked.

“They have to be connected. I worked closely with Crowe when I was an enforcer. He provided me intel on my targets. He knew my methods. He was probably relaying it back to Ryker.”

“There’s almost no question on that point,” Porter replied. “Crowe was inserted into the Zorin Bratva before you were. I made a quick jaunt to Germany these past two days to follow up some leads with some human assets. It’s highly possible that Crowe tipped Ryker off about the hit on Zorin’s plane. He could have made an offer to Ryker then to join his boss. The reason why Crowe wanted Caitlin was because she almost discovered the identity of the mastermind when she’d been the hacker Sarah Blake. Now that she’s almost at a hundred percent of her tradecraft, she’s becoming more of a threat.”