Gabriel's Light (Doms of Chicago)

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Gabriel’s Light
© March 2013 by Dakota Trace

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Gabriel’s Light

Doms
of Chicago, Book Seven

by

Dakota
Trace

Dedication:

A special thanks
goes out to not only my wonderful editors, Gloria and Sheri but also my new
beta reader, Yvette. Without you ladies in my life this book would’ve never
come to fruition in the manner it has.
 
I
can’t thank you enough.

Prologue I: Him

Late Fall, Chicago

Stirring the simmering pot on top of the stove in his
well-stocked kitchen, Gabriel Poulanos leaned in to smell the fragrant aroma of
tomatoes, basil and oregano. His
Nonna
would’ve been
appalled to see him cooking the Italian food but his little Sara had made him
one of the happiest men the world today. Almost as happy as she’d made him when
she’d accepted his collar over five years ago. She’d told him yes when he’d
asked her on a bended knee to marry him. They’d just found out she was carrying
his child last month, but she’d asked him to wait a month before asking - to be
sure of his feelings. She hadn’t wanted to be married just because she was
pregnant. So a month to the date, he’d produced a beautiful marquis cut
diamond. Her gorgeous blue eyes had filled with tears but she’d said yes. So he
figured
Nonna
would forgive him for cooking something
other than their cherished Greek food for his soon to be wife. More than
anything she’d wanted him to have a family. And at nearly forty he guessed he
couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t a young man any more.

He was just getting ready to slip the pasta into the boiling
water when there was a knock on the front door. He paused, setting the uncooked
pasta on the counter. It was probably Sara. She had a habit of trying to carry
too much at once. Grabbing the dishtowel off his shoulder, he dried his hands
with it as he walked to the through the front hall to the door.

“Did you forget your key again,
louloúdi mou
?” He reached for the door and made his voice gruff.
Even though he wasn’t displeased with her, he knew what it did to his little
submissive. She loved the humiliation he could dish out.

“Excuse me?” Two men stood in front of him but it was the man
with sandy brown hair and an ill-fitting suit jacket who spoke.

Gabriel quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry. I was expecting someone
else. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Are you Gabriel Poulanos?” The man checked his notebook. “The
owner of
Pínaka
ti̱s
Mi̱téras
?”

He nodded. “One of the owners. My father still owns part of it.”
A frown crossed his face as a thought struck him. “Has something happened at
the restaurant? If so, I’d be the one you’ll need to talk to, since Dad retired
to Arizona last year.”

“This has nothing to do with the restaurant. I’m Detective Sean
Anderson, and this is my partner Detective Zak
Bobrow
.
We’re detectives at the 28th precinct...” He gave a sigh. “…this is never easy.
I’m here because after stopping by the restaurant, we were informed that Sara
Kempton was more than just your accountant.”

A sinking feeling filled Gabriel’s stomach. “Yes, we were
engaged. I just asked her to marry me earlier today. In fact, she should be
home anytime now.”

“I’m sorry to inform you but Sara Kempton was mugged earlier
this afternoon. We believe it may have been because the mugger thought she had
the bank deposit for restaurant…”

“Oh, my God.” Panic had him wrenching his light jacket off the
coat tree next to the door. “Since I was leaving early, I made the afternoon
deposit. Is she okay? What hospital is she in? Northwestern Memorial?”

“Mr. Poulanos, I’m sorry, but she’s dead. When the attacker
didn’t find anything of value on her, we think he took his rage out on her. She
was stabbed several times and bled out before the paramedics could arrive.”

Anguish, disbelief, even anger had him falling to his knees as
he shook his head. Detectives Anderson and
Bobrow
caught him, guiding him to the bench he kept in his hall for removing boots and
other footwear. The same bench he’d made love to his Sara on this morning. He’d
merely flipped up her skirt and sank inside her wet depths, giving her the slow
hard fuck she’d begged him for. And now his submissive was gone…there would be
no more gasping pleas from her, no more surprise blowjobs under his desk, no
more Sara…period. “No. She can’t be….I just saw her at lunch today. She can’t
be dead.” Then it struck him, he hadn’t only lost his lover but the mother of
his child as well. “We were going to get married, have our baby….” Tears stung
his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. His world was in shambles. He’d
lost everything, his soon-to-be wife, his lover, his submissive, and even their
unborn child. The gut wrenching agony in the vicinity of his heart was almost
more than he could stand. He doubted another person had ever felt like
this…alone, desolate and unable to go on.

Prologue
II: Her

Four Months Later, Southern Greece

The pounding on the cottage door had Zhenya
Sikkenga
- soon to be
Addi
, jumping. Her nerves had been on
edge since the fight with her lying, cheating husband. A marriage which she’d
thought was solid, almost perfect, had been nothing more than a ruse - pretty
foil which had no value. Ossie didn’t love her, and probably never had. He’d
wanted the perfect wife. One who would obey without question, not question when
he said he was working late.
And he found
it in me, until one of the husbands of our guests came and told me what a louse
Ossie actually was. How he walked in on the other man fucking his wife.

“God please don’t let it be another irate husband. I just want
to get my things packed and be gone before Ossie comes back.” She gazed
upwards. “Is it too much to ask to get me and my baby away safely?” Cupping her
hand over her stomach, she hoped the little one inside her understood why she
was doing this. If she couldn’t trust her husband, how was she supposed to
raise a child with him? Not that she would deny Ossie his child, she just
couldn’t be with him.

“
Kyría
mou
parakaló
̱
na
anoíxei
ti̱n
pórta
.
Eínai
i
̱
astynomía
.”

The rapid fire Greek sent chills down her spine. Why
were the police here? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Fear built inside her as
she cautiously approached the door. With trembling fingers, she slowly twisted
the knob. Opening it, she saw three uniformed officers and her father-in-law,
Sebastene
Sikkenga
. Why was he here? There was a
sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Which she was sure had nothing to
do with anything good. His prejudice against Americans was almost unreasonable.
At times she thought Ossie had married her just to piss the old man off. And
there was nothing she could do about the fact her father was an American-Greek
who’d come back to the old country, fallen for her mother, and chose to stay.

“Ossie isn’t here.” She tugged nervously at the
folds of her dress after they introduced themselves.

“Of course he’s not here. Because of you, you
american
pórni
̱,
my
son is dead
.”
Sebastene hissed, his
weathered face turning beet red, his silver hair mused and his upper lip lifted
in a sneer.

Shock hit her. Even as much as she detested her husband at the
moment, she had loved him, and there was probably still a part of her, one
which wanted to forgive and forget how he’d hurt her if it would mean he
wouldn’t be dead. Instinctively her hand went over her stomach in hopes of
settling her churning stomach. “It can’t be. He just left here less than an
hour ago.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“And was killed in a car accident.” One of the uniformed
officers stepped forward, sympathy on his face. “We believe he was drunk, Mrs.
Sikkenga
.”

“Don’t call her that! She’s no longer my son’s wife. He was
going to divorce her. He called me upset, told me he was going to a family
friend’s because she locked him out of the house again. She was the one who
drove him to drink every night, until tonight he’d had enough. My son couldn’t
take it any longer. He had to escape his
pórni
̱
of a wife. She’s responsible. Arrest her!”

Zhenya flinched. It seemed surreal. She couldn’t believe he was
accusing her of driving Ossie to his death. Maybe she had…he’d come home with
vodka on his breath, and she had fought with him, driving him out of their home
to another woman’s arms. If she’d waited until he was sober, then maybe he’d
still be alive.
Corella
had always told her there was
a responsibility for every action. God how she wished her best friend was here
now.

“We cannot arrest her for an accident she did not cause.” The
lead officer hissed.

“She killed him!”

She jumped back as he lunged at her. The only thing that saved
her were the two officers grabbing him by his arms, keeping him from attacking
her.

“Mr.
Sikkenga
, get a hold of yourself.
We let you come with us as a favor, to comfort your son’s wife, not so you
could attack her.” The lead officer scowled at him.

“Fine.”
Sebastene’s
chest heaved,
spittle flying from his mouth. “You can’t arrest the killing whore, but I want
her gone! She has no right to this home. I paid for it and it belongs to me.
Remove her from the premises! I’ll not allow the cause of my son’s death to
reside under my roof!”

Looking over his shoulder at her the lead officer spoke softly.
“Is that true, ma’am?”

Zhenya wrapped her arms around her waist, before finally
nodding. The villa was part of the family resort, and owned by the elder
Sikkenga
, not her nor Ossie. He legally had every right to
evict her. “I’ll go.” She pushed the words past her tight throat, trying not to
give in to the need to rail against her bigoted father-in-law. “If I may have a
few minutes to pack a bag?”

“No! Everything in this home belongs to my family. She gets
nothing!”

“Mr.
Sikkenga
, if you do not restrain
yourself, I’m going to have the other officers remove you.”

The man settled back down. “Fine. But I want you to check her
bag. Nothing of value leaves this house.”

“I’ll check her bag, but not because you asked. Now sit.” The
officer ordered. “Ma’am?” he gestured for her to follow.

Entering the room she shared with Ossie, she went to the open
bag. “As you can see, I was in the process of packing. In this bag, I have
nothing but clothing, which I’m sure you’ll agree has little value.” She raked
a shaky hand through her hair, hating the suspicion in the man’s eyes.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes, away. My husband and I did fight tonight, and it wasn’t
because he wanted a divorce, I did…on the grounds of adultery. And there’s the
proof.” She picked up the photos the husband of
Ossie’s
lover had given her. “I’ll not stay with a man I cannot trust.”

She sank to the bed as the officer took them. Her world was in
shambles. She’d lost everything: her husband, her Master, and now even possibly
her freedom. The gut wrenching numbness in the vicinity of her heart was almost
more than she could bear. She wondered if there was another person on Earth who
felt like this…alone, desolate, and unsure of what the future had in store.