Page 24 of Gabe (Blue Team #2)

“We were homeless,” Gabe blurted out and my body jerked in shock.

“Not at first. It took a few years after Dad died. We went from our house to an apartment. Then a smaller apartment. Then an apartment in a shitty area. Then to sleeping in my mom’s car.

That went on for a long time. We’d shower at truck stops.

Every once in a while to give me a bed she’d rent a shitty motel room or get us into a shelter.

It wasn’t smart, her wasting money on a motel, but she still did it—for me.

So I’d have a bed. Before that, when we were still in the last shitty apartment we had a neighbor.

She was a nice old woman. Straight-up good to her soul and when I was so hungry I couldn’t stand it I’d go to her place and she’d feed me.

The woman was dirt poor and she’d still give me something to eat. ”

“That was very kind of her.”

Sweet Jesus, really, that’s all you can think to say. She was kind, really ?

“I survived off the kindness of others. I had to beg for my next meal. My mom tried the best she could. She worked her ass off and hustled. But once you’re so far down in the hole it’s damn near impossible to get out.

If she didn’t have me, have the responsibility of taking care of a kid, it would’ve been easier for her. ”

That might’ve been the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I bet her having you got her through the dark times. I bet it was because she had you that she never gave up. And I bet you were the only good thing in her life at that time. So it might’ve been easier on some level, her just having to look out for herself.

But she still would’ve been worse off because she wouldn’t’ve had you. ”

Gabe’s eyes lifted from his lap and he gave me a sharp nod.

Then he started his car and we went back to silence as he pulled out of the parking garage.

When we got back to the Severn River Bridge I scanned the shoreline wondering which house was his.

All of the homes were big and beautiful.

All of them lit. I vaguely wondered if his outside lights were on a timer.

Then I noticed every house had a dock and wondered if he had a boat.

Zane had mentioned cars—that was plural—a house, and money, but not a boat.

I wanted to ask but didn’t.

We made it over the bridge and I forced myself to think about Delilah. That was why we’d gone to the office in the first place. Or was it? The scene had played out like a carefully crafted ambush.

I shoved those thoughts aside and made a mental note to ask Anaya about Zane the next time I talked to her. She and Kyle would be home from vacation in a few days. Maybe Kyle would bring her and Maxine over for a cuddle—that was, I’d cuddle Maxine, not Anaya, that’d just be weird.

“I didn’t ask,” Gabe broke the silence. “Did you finish the article?”

Gah. Work. That was something else I’d been trying to keep up with.

Thankfully, my boss had not thrown a fit when I lied and told him I had to take an emergency trip to see my parents.

I didn’t need to be in the office to work, and plenty of my co-workers preferred to work from home and that was allowed as long as they didn’t miss their deadlines and came in for staff meetings.

I’d missed a staff meeting but I made my deadline so my boss was being lenient.

“Yes, I sent it to the editor this afternoon. And I called my boss and told him my father’s condition hadn’t improved and asked for another week off.”

“Your boss was okay with that?”

“He was.”

But I wasn’t. I hated lying. Then there was the fact that I totally sucked at it.

The story we’d come up with was that my father was ill.

Which of course led me to the question of what my father’s supposed illness was.

Gabe told me to go with something simple like a heart attack.

That led to me researching what caused a heart attack.

I was deep into the rabbit hole of causes when Gabe pulled me back and explained the less I told my boss the more believable it would be.

That sounded like good advice so I stopped researching.

But again, I hated lying and it felt wrong to lie about my dad being sick.

Like it was bad juju lying about a loved one being sick. However, I couldn’t tell the truth.

The funny thing was, I didn’t think my boss would believe the truth, it was so crazy. And if he did, he’d want the story and that was never going to happen.

“Good. Now that Delilah’s reached out, hopefully, she’ll be amenable to sharing information. ”

That was interesting.

“So, you believe she’s on our side?”

“No. I don’t believe anything when it comes to your safety. But I’m willing to use her if it means this ends for you sooner rather than later. I want her close so we can keep an eye on her. I want to know what she knows. But I don’t trust a goddamn person outside of my team to have your back.”

And now that he brought it up I wasn’t going to miss my opportunity to ask him questions.

“Zane said—”

“Zane is the nosiest sonofabitch I know. Don’t let his attitude fool you. He puts up a, I don’t give a fuck front but it’s a lie. He butts into everyone’s business like a commando-cupid.”

“Why?”

Gabe’s thumbs drummed on the steering wheel and he took a moment before he answered.

“I can’t imagine the weight Zane feels. Day to day he runs Z Corps.

No, Ivy runs the day-to-day operations. But Zane, he measures risk.

Every contract that comes across his desk holds a certain level of danger.

Every contract Zane accepts he knows when he sends us out one of us may not come back.

He buries that knowledge under layers of sarcasm, attitude, and assholeness.

But under all the bullshit is a man who cares deeply.

He feels the weight of his decisions and takes them personally and seriously. ”

Well, that didn’t actually answer my question but it did scare the pants off of me.

“And has someone not come back?”

Please say no. Please say no .

“Yeah. Eric Wheeler. He was on the Red Team. We lost him on a mission in South America a few years back.”

Eric Wheeler .

“Zane’s son,” I whispered.

“Yeah. Zane named his boy after Eric. Before Ivy, Zane was…I can’t explain who the man was except to say he was a fortress.

He locked himself away from everyone, including his brother Lincoln.

Now he’s a busybody who can’t keep his trap shut and gets in everyone’s business.

His normal way of doing it is by ma king snide comments and pushing buttons.

Apparently, he’s trying a new tactic and I’m the lucky test subject. ”

“It wasn’t cool what he did,” I murmured my earlier assessment.

“It wasn’t. But I understand why he did it.”

Well, that was very magnanimous of Gabe. If Zane had called me out in that manner I didn’t think I’d be so understanding.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gabe continued. “I’m pissed at him. But in a way he was right.”

“In what way was he right?”

“You don’t know me.”

My heart sank and my stomach clenched.

“What does that mean?” I asked even though I was rapidly changing my mind about having this conversation.

Gabe didn’t answer. He reached up to the visor and hit the remote and I realized we’d made it home.

We waited in silence as the garage door lifted.

More silence as he pulled his fancy car in and shut it down.

He said nothing when he got out. So I once again followed his lead and followed him into the house wordlessly.

But that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t spinning.

Delilah Watts, work, Gabe, a dead man, all swirled together but not in that order.

Self-preservation had not kicked in. My life was in danger and all I seemed to be concerned about was Gabe. Me and Gabe. Gabe and I. Gabe and his cars, his big house, his money, his sadness, his need to overcompensate.

And for some unholy reason, I wanted to show him how right Zane had been—money and things were meaningless. But Gabe had made himself clear. We were a dead-end road.