Page 27 of Gabriel (Legacy of Heathens #4)

Amara

D espite it being late September, it felt slightly chilly due to the breeze coming off the ocean. The low hum of the engines was the only sound in the office while I considered our choices, Jet’s device sitting on the table.

Gabriel had been our prisoner for twenty-four hours, and I was surprised he wasn’t making this difficult. In fact, he’d been very pleasant, almost behaving as if he were on vacation.

I didn’t like it. Or maybe it was the whole thing with Jet that made me anxious because we were following the trail he’d laid out.

Reckless? Definitely. But what other choice did we have?

If my parents knew what we were doing, they’d lock me in the old Irish estate until Jet either showed up or didn’t. Either way, they’d be too terrified of losing their only child.

Elira and I following Jet’s lead and whatever chaos he’d run us straight into was the only viable option.

I stood by the window, my hand trembling slightly as I gripped the frame, the glass cool beneath my fingertips.

A tight knot of frustration curled beneath my ribs, coiling tighter with every shallow breath. I told myself it was because of Jet, but I wasn’t a good enough liar to believe it.

It was him . Gabriel Santos. My prisoner.

The heir to the Santos Cartel I’d spent years trying to ignore.

My mind replayed and mocked our first kiss, the way his eyes burned into mine. Why couldn’t I let it go? I’d only crossed that line to distract him, to get close enough to drug him. Right?

It should have meant nothing.

His mouth had met mine, although he suspected I was up to something. And he kissed me anyway. It was as if he wanted to prove he could make me falter.

And for a heartbeat, I had.

I felt it, the jolt of heat that went through me, the way my fingers tingled with the need to touch him. I hated how easy it was to lose myself. For the way my thoughts kept drifting back to the taste of him on my lips. And most of all, for how part of me wanted to do it again.

I couldn’t keep drowning in this. I wasn’t some romantic who dwelled on affairs of the heart, even if it was likely just lust.

Turning away from the vast stretch of blue, my gaze settled on my sister who was slouched in the corner, spinning her knife like she was waiting for the world to give her permission to use it.

“What were you thinking about just now?” she questioned, causing me to tense.

“Nothing.”

I answered too quickly, and Elira’s lip curled into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Sure. I bet you my entire bank account that you were daydreaming about a certain prisoner.”

I shot her a narrowed gaze. “Why are you all of a sudden constantly bringing him up? And why are you pushing him toward me?”

“Maybe because you need to get laid,” she drawled. “And who better than the man you’re attracted to who happens to be shackled to a bed. Mount him and?—”

“Jesus, Elira, what the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped. “I’m not going to fuck a handcuffed man, especially since he probably no longer wants me after…”

I bit my lip, irritated at myself for slipping, but Elira smiled knowingly.

“Oh, sis, I’d bet my money that he wants you.

He’d thank all the saints if you were about to climb him and ride him like a goddamn bull rider.

” My mouth practically touched the floor.

She winked, then continued. “I bet he’s good in bed with that Latin blood running through his veins. ”

“Maybe you’re attracted to him since you keep bringing him up,” I pointed out dryly, trying my best to smother images of me grinding against Gabriel.

She shrugged. “He’s not exactly my type, but I’d shag him if there was nobody else.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Elira,” I hissed, and knew I slipped again when I saw her victorious smile. “You’re so fucking annoying, I swear.”

“But you love me,” she deadpanned. “You love Jet too.”

“I do.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation. “Although, I can’t help but feel like he’s playing us and leading us into a clusterfuck.”

“Pfft. What could possibly go wrong?”

I didn’t look at her.

“So many things,” I breathed. “But we can’t let anything happen to Gabriel.”

“He’s Gabriel now, huh?” I turned to face her, her eyebrows raised in challenge as she flicked the knife up and down, the metallic clink echoing ominously.

“And how do you think this will end with that well-dressed cartel heir? Wedding bells? No, the moment this is over, Gabriel will demand all our heads on a platter.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my jaw clenching. “If only we knew why Jet instructed us to snatch him.”

Elira leaned forward, her voice quieter now.

“We have a man you desire handcuffed to a bed. Do yourself a favor and make your journey to Albania slightly more exciting. Stop being so damn uptight.”

I could practically hear alarm bells ringing in my skull.

“Your contradictory actions make no sense.”

Elira smirked. “You’re a grown woman and you can handle yourself as well as the man you do or don’t fuck.”

Silence settled between us again and I watched her curiously, but then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen: Mother Liana.

I winced. I should’ve known. She and my mom had been tag-teaming their concerned check-ins all month, thinking they were subtle.

Spoiler alert: they weren’t.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“If we don’t answer, it’ll be worse,” Elira muttered, already lowering her voice into pleasant mode.

I answered the call and tapped the speaker button. “Hello, Mother Liana.”

“Hey, Mom,” Elira chimed in, sugar-sweet and suspiciously cheerful. Much like me, she was terrifyingly good at being a trained killer one moment and a normal daughter the next.

“My darlings,” came her voice—strained, sharp, and wrapped in guilt. “Where in the world are you? I thought you were in southern France, but when I called the hotel, they said you never arrived.”

I glanced at Elira. She just shrugged and made a face.

“Southern France? Yeah… we’re staying on my yacht,” I said, like it wasn’t the dumbest thing I’d ever blurted out.

“Yacht?” Her voice pitched up. My pulse spiked and Elira shook her head, mouthing, Really?

“Hm. Yeah. We bought a yacht.”

“Just because?”

I dropped my chin to my chest. Shit . “Yeah.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

I grimaced. “I probably forgot.”

“We’ve been super busy,” Elira chimed in, and I wasn’t sure which excuse was lamer.

“Don’t lie to me, you two. I expect better from you both,” she snapped. “What is going on? Why are you off the grid? And why is Jet still not answering his phone? Is he with you?”

I froze. My throat was dry.

“Yes. Jet’s with us,” Elira cut in brightly, and my head whipped her way with wide eyes. “You know him when he sleeps. It’s like he’s dead.”

“Ah, good, have him call me when he wakes up.”

I looked at her pointedly, but she just waved me off.

“Sure thing,” she chirped happily, ignoring my silent scolding.

There was a pause and then a sharp inhale from the other end. “Good, good. You know how I worry about you all.”

“I know. But there’s nothing to worry about,” Elira said, smooth as silk. “We’re just enjoying some quiet time. European waters. No drama. Just seagulls and sunscreen.”

I stared at her. She smiled at me like I’ve got this , and mouthed, You’re the one who brought up the yacht .

“Send me the name of the boat so I can track it.”

Elira lifted her brows in slow horror, folding her arms and mouthing, Your move, geniu s.

“Hello? Girls? Can you hear me?” Mother Liana snapped.

“Yes, we’re here,” I said quickly. “We’ll… we’ll send it. Promise.”

The line went dead, and for a beat, the room was still.

Then Elira snorted. “We’re so screwed.”

I exhaled and slumped into the chair. “Why did you tell her that Jet will call her?”

“I panicked,” she grumbled, then shrugged, slipping her knife back into its sheath. “Let’s just worry about today and make sure Mom never learns what Jet’s doing.”

“ We don’t even know what he’s doing. And anyway, if we get caught in Albania, she’s definitely going to know.”

She smiled optimistically. “But the good news is that Albania is in European waters, so technically we won’t be lying.”

I slapped my palm against my forehead. “Jesus, are we really going for a technicality here?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

“This is reckless and stupid, following these dumb clues and kidnapping the heir of the Santos Cartel.”

“Probably,” she agreed. “But it’s too late for regrets, so…”

This would no doubt end in a disaster of epic proportions.