Page 16 of Always Been Mine (Always #2)

“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.

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.”