Page 106 of Gabriel

I let the silence stretch just long enough to confirm it.

“Well, they’re in Europe, just not where we expected them to be.”

A pause.

“Why am I not surprised?” Her voice was soft and controlled. Liana Volkov had learned the hard way to keep her composure.

“Elira and Amara purchased a yacht.”

“Ah, yes,” she grumbled. “They told me that.”

“Well, they took it to Colombia. And at this very moment, they’re approaching my shores.”

Another beat of silence. “Vlorë? That’s… unexpected.”

“It sure is, especially since neither one of them has given me a heads-up on the visit. However, they’ve done weirder things before.”

“At least the three of them are together,” she muttered.

“Well, there are three on that boat, plus the crew.” I paused, wondering how to break this to her. “But it isn’t the three you’re thinking of.”

“I’m not following.”

“Elira and Amara kidnapped Gabriel Santos.” I sighed and leaned forward, propping an elbow on my knee.

“He must have deserved it,” Liana rushed to say.

“Maybe so, but I came to an agreement with Raphael Santos long ago that their family would be protected on my territory. Anya, I shall remind you, is his daughter.”

“Do whatever you need to sort this out, but if Gabriel hurts either one of them, kill him.”

I let out a sardonic breath. “He isn’t that kind of man, Liana.”

“And where’s Jet?” she questioned, her breath hitching.

The alarm in her voice was unmistakable.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If you didn’t like that, you’re going to like what I’m about to tell you even less.”

“You’re scaring me. Please don’t tell me he’s d?—”

“No, no. Jet’s not dead, but when Raphael Santos or Gabriel get their hands on him, he might be.”

I could practically hear her gulp over the line. “I don’t follow. What are you saying?”

Standing up, I turned away from the window and pressed my palm to the back of my neck.

“I’m saying that Jet decided he’s in love…” I said slowly. “With Anya Santos.”

She cursed—once, low and vicious.

“Are you sure? How do you even know this?”

“I called him and he told me.”

“What? He’s not answering my calls,” she said, and I heard her start to pace. “You told him to cut it out, right?”

I laughed, although there was no humor in it. “I sure did. And I told him if he sets foot in Albania, I’m going to wring his neck.”