Page 32 of Always Been Mine (Always #2)

Frank Wilkes stared at the manifest of the incoming cargo ship from Colombia via Jamaica that would be docking in Virginia Beach next week.

The situation was getting complicated. Benjamin Porter was too close on his tail and Wilkes had no idea who the admiral was working with, only that an incursion group had found the old laboratories in Colombia and was aware of the virus.

Wilkes thought of keeping his daughter hostage in exchange for the man Porter had in custody—the medical examiner who did the autopsy cover-ups for Wilkes.

But since the ME had no idea who he was working for anyway, he was in no way a problem.

Besides, Wilkes had been too late to bargain for his man back because the fool had revealed the existence of the ST-Vyl virus.

Zach Jamison assured him it was better to keep Beatrice Porter alive since Zach had easy access to her anyway. The admiral’s daughter was too precious to kill immediately, and it was better to keep them off-kilter with what other nefarious plans they had planned for her.

His phone buzzed.

“Wilkes.”

“It’s Zach. I have the updated rotation on customs inspection. We’re clear with our upcoming shipment next week. Our man inside Customs and Border protection is on duty.”

“Excellent.”

The line went dead. Short, quick communication had become the norm.

The benefit of having Zach Jamison working with a senator on the Homeland Security Senate committee was easy access to border security strategies.

All Wilkes and his crew had to do was work around those strategies.

There was also the added bonus of keeping tabs on the political maneuverings in Colombia, which was beneficial for Wilkes who was navigating the treacherous slopes with his business partners—drug traffickers and dirty businessmen.

However, sharing this intel with Fuego sweetened the deal he had with the Latino group.

The derailment of the peace talks between the Colombian government and the other players in the armed conflict ensured an uninterrupted influx of cocaine into the country.

So in a way, Wilkes and Fuego shared the same agenda.

For now.

Beatrice thanked her lucky stars that coffee was allowed while she was on painkillers and antibiotics.

Gabe had enough to deal with besides adding a caffeine-deprived banshee, which she tended to turn into when she didn’t get her fix in the mornings.

The aroma wasn’t the Colombian Excelso coffee beans she was used to.

She took a sip, hoping it would taste decent.

Her tongue balked at the flavor and she ran to the sink, spewing out the coffee.

“What? What?” Gabe’s alarmed voice came from the doorway. He had let Rhino outside to take care of early morning business.

“What kind of coffee was that?” Beatrice screeched.

Gabe scowled at her and pointed to a supermarket brand on the countertop. “That’s all they had at the convenience store. I can go pick up the ones you like later.”

“Don’t bother,” she snapped. “Doug can pick them up for me.” She grabbed her phone to call her assistant, but Gabe’s hand closed over hers as he gently, but firmly, pulled her close.

“Stop being a brat about it. It’s just one morning—”

“You don’t understand!” It irked Beatrice that some people didn’t grasp the concept of good coffee.

“I’m beginning to understand,” Gabe replied levelly. “I understand now that you’re picky about your coffee. I guess I didn’t realize that before because you’re always stocked up with that shit wherever we are.”

“I can’t drink this.” She dumped the offending beverage in the sink and went to the refrigerator, praying there was soda. Sighting a chilled caffeinated cola, she immediately started feeling better.

“Soda in the morning?” Gabe frowned at her.

“Would you rather I be a bitch all morning?”

“Beatrice—”

“I’m high-maintenance, Gabe,” she cut in. Now was a good time to show him what he was signing up for. “Best you know now. I have creature comforts. I want things a certain way; I want my coffee a certain way—”

“Stop,” Gabe said softly, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. “You’re doing it again, trying to scare me off.”

“I’m not. I’m just a bitch when un-caffeinated.”

“Maybe you should drink less of that shit. Not a good idea to be addicted. What if there’s a shortage?”

“Of coffee?” Beatrice thought in horror. “You’re talking about an apocalyptic end.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

She narrowed her eyes when she noticed his lips twitching. “You really think it’s funny, don’t you, Sullivan? You really want me this mouthy first thing in the morning? ”

“Believe me, you can be mouthy with me all you want,” Gabe drawled, “especially around my dick.”

She rolled her eyes, but had to admit she walked straight into that one. “Can I call Doug now? You don’t have a coffee grinder, do you?”

Gabe scrubbed his face in amusement and frustration. “Jesus Christ, Beatrice, you are high maintenance.”

“Told ya.” She grinned slyly at him and called Doug. Her assistant once more proved why he was invaluable. He had already picked up two pounds of her favorite coffee beans and packed up her coffee machine including the grinder from her condo.

“You know, you probably need to write down the name of the coffee beans and your roaster,” Gabe said when she got off the phone.

“Why?”

He affectionately tapped the tip of her nose. “Because, poppy, when I said I’d take care of you, I meant every word. And if caring for you includes keeping you supplied with your favorite brew, so be it.”

Her heart fluttered.

An hour later, Beatrice managed to make herself useful and made some French toast and bacon for breakfast. Gabe heartily ate what she prepared.

Her man could eat. She guessed it took a lot to maintain all those stacked muscles under that tee.

She didn’t think he deliberately wore tight shirts, but more like he simply filled them out.

Beatrice was tall and not many men managed to make her feel dainty and secure. Gabe managed to do so effortlessly.

“Okay, that’s the second sigh in five minutes.” Gabe eyed her warily. “What’s wrong?”

She blinked. “Is it a crime to sigh?”

“Beatrice— ”

“Okay, okay,” Beatrice laughed lightly. She noticed his eyes grew heated. She smiled smugly. It didn’t take much to get her man riled with lust. “If you must know, I was thinking about your muscles.”

“What?” he croaked.

“Not many guys make me feel safe. You do it with no effort at all.” This time her tone turned serious. “I play hardball with all these macho-security guys all the time; there’s very little room to feel feminine. But with you, Gabe, you make me feel all woman and beautiful.”

Gabe was the picture of male satisfaction. She could have imagined it, but it appeared he’d puffed up his chest. He linked their fingers together and kissed the back of her hand. “Pleased you feel that way.”

Beatrice’s smile disappeared when she noticed the bruise on his hand. “What happened here?” Her thumb stroked the light scratches on his knuckles.

He looked away. “Nothing.”

He tried to pull his hand from hers but she held on.

“Gabe, tell me the truth. Did you punch something?”

“I couldn’t get it out, babe,” he said quietly.

“Please don’t hurt yourself anymore.” Her heart was breaking. This wonderful man was trying so hard not to lose his shit in front of her. “I know you feel anger, and frustration. You may even blame yourself, but it’s on them, not you.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Gabe swore vehemently.

“Easy, sport,” Beatrice said gently. “They’ll pay one way or another.”

Before Gabe could reply, her phone buzzed.

Why was Caitlin calling her?

“Cat?”

“I’ll be at your safe house in five minutes.”

“What?”

“Travis is a few minutes behind me, and just a warning, he’s pissed. ”

Shit.

Travis was a minute behind Caitlin, or maybe even less. Just when Caitlin was pulling up in her Audi, her husband’s Escalade was bearing down the driveway.

“Did she say what’s going on?” Gabe asked.

“I have no idea,” Beatrice admitted, but she was very curious. Caitlin kept Travis on his toes every single time. It was fun to watch them clash. Travis definitely met his match in his wife. If there was someone who could stand up to his arrogant ass, it was Caitlin.

Caitlin slammed out of her car and stalked up to the front of the house. Travis exited his vehicle, and was glaring at his wife’s back.

“Okay, it seems there’s trouble in the Blake household,” Beatrice quipped.

“Tell them,” Travis snapped. “Tell them what you did, Cat.”

“Uh-oh, what did you do?” Beatrice asked.

Caitlin huffed angrily, craning her neck toward her husband but not looking at him. “I’m just trying to be helpful. Shall we take this inside?”

They retreated into the house. Beatrice was a bit worried because she had not seen Travis this angry in a long time.

“Okay, what’s this all about?”

Caitlin actually looked excited. Ignoring the dark scowl on her husband’s face, she said, “You know I hang out in hacker chatrooms on the Black Plane?”

Not that she did, but Beatrice shrugged, prodding her to continue.

“There’s been chatter for some weeks now about this bioweapon about to be auctioned off. I thought it was just someone stirring up rumors until the admiral mentioned it last night.”

“What? There’s an auction site for bioweapons now?” Gabe scoffed.

“Not on the Black Plane. You can be anonymous there but for something like coordinating a terrorist strike or communicating in top secret, you need to delve into a more complex setup we call an IP-MESH.” Dramatic pause.

“Okay . . . spit it out, Cat.” Beatrice noted briefly that Travis was pacing impatiently behind his wife, as if wanting to throttle her but controlling himself so she could explain herself.