Dark Tide, page 10
Why did he tell me that?
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you briefly considered doing the right thing by letting me go then changed your fucking mind?” I throw a punch, and the bag slams into him, making him wobble and almost fall backward. “Fuck you, man.”
I step back and grab my bottle of water from the floor. Two cold gulps help calm my breathing but not the racing of my heart or the anger begging me to lash out at him again.
He watches me and waits for me to return my focus to him. “You know I've been working with Rose’s sister, Sofia, right?”
I take another drink. “So, she is his sister?”
He offers a slow nod.
“Wow. He wasn't kidding when he said he was giving us someone important to him, then?”
Preacher shakes his head. “No, he wasn't. And she's good, too.” He snorts. “I would love to say she's not as good as me but—”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “But?”
He smirks. “She might actually be better.”
“Well, I'll be damned. Those are words I never expected to come out of your mouth.”
Preacher is anything but modest. And he has no reason to be. He’s the best the CIA ever had, and if it hadn’t been for his injury and the time he needed to recover, he may well have stayed working for them, in some other capacity, forever. But after the attack, he changed. We all did, and it bonded us in a way no other incident or mission ever did for me with any of my brothers in arms.
Maybe it was because it was my final one. Maybe it was because I almost lost Preacher and Cutter and did lose twenty-seven other men that day. Maybe it was the screams and smell of burning flesh or the blood soaking the sand that was so far and away worse than anything else I experienced during any deployment. Whatever it was, that day changed all of us, which is why what he and Cutter did hurts so damn much.
His admission that the Rose girl is better than him is his peace offering. He runs a hand back through his hair. “You and me both, but in the short time she's been here, she's already managed to get further than I could in weeks.”
“Is that why we need to talk?”
“I volunteered to tell you because I figured I was the least likely for you to bite my head off.”
I snort and take another drink. “Don't bet on it. So, what did you find?”
Any humor in his face drains instantly. “It's not good, man. We don't have everything, but what we do have is enough to tell us we’re potentially in deep shit.”
My hand freezes with the bottle halfway to my lips. “Why?”
“They've launched a full-blown investigation. It looks like several of the girls they interviewed from the ship gave statements about the men who boarded.”
I tighten my hand around the water bottle, and the plastic crinkles and collapses. “Shit. Do they have IDs on Cutter and E yet?”
They were the only two who went down into the hold. The only two who any of the girls we left to be rescued by the Coast Guard might be able to pick out of a line-up. Once they’re identified, it will likely only be a matter of time before the FBI discovers their ties to us and the evidence starts to pile up.
We’re careful, but we’ve made a lot of mistakes lately, walking into situations we weren’t expecting.
Preacher shakes his head. “It doesn't look like they’ve identified them. If they had, I highly doubt we’d still be standing here. They’d probably have us all locked away by now if they had any clues who we are.”
I wander over to the weight bench. I drop down on it, and Preacher follows me over and rests his elbows against one of the metal poles of the weight rack.
It’s definitely disturbing news that some of the girls have been talking and giving information that could lead them to us, but the fact that we haven’t been arrested means they either don’t know who we are or don’t have enough to indict us on anything. It means we have some time and maybe a glimmer of hope.
I look up at Preacher. “So, what's the plan?”
He shrugs. “I’ll keep working on trying to get into the rest of the files, and in the meantime, I guess the plan is pretty much the same.”
“Lay low and pray?”
His chest heaves with his chuckle. “Basically. Only we might not be able to lay low.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
“Why is that?”
He sighs and rubs his beard. “Because we got a call from Cutter last night.”
“A call from him? Where is he?”
“Chicago with Valentina.”
There’s nothing unusual about that. These days, it seems like he almost spends more time there than here does here.
“He’ll be back tomorrow with Valentina. They don’t want to stay in the city right now.”
“Is something going on?”
He nods again, and his shoulders tense. “Like Valentina mentioned the other day, our new friend, Michael, has been stirring up shit.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that she's called a meeting of the families.”
I let out a low whistle and shake my head. “Wow. She didn't even do that when she took over for Il Padrone.”
“I know. But this doesn't just concern her. Michael seems intent on shutting down as many rival groups as he can. It is not just the Italians. The Irish, the Russians, Rose, and the Colombians. Everyone seems concerned about what our new Albanian friend is up to. Enough that everyone wants the meeting.”
It isn’t exactly unexpected. When we made our deal with Michael, it was to keep the peace at the time. We knew it was too easy and would come back to bite us in the ass at some point. His predecessor may have been trafficking women, but he knew his place in the hierarchy in Chicago and stayed in his borders. Michael doesn’t seem to give a fuck about anything but expanding his powerbase.
Now we’re going to have a sit-down with the major crime families in Chicago who all have a common enemy—one we helped put there. “When and where?”
He pushes off the equipment and shrugs again. “It's looking like a couple of days from now in Chicago. They're trying to agree on a meeting location. Somewhere in neutral territory.”
I snort and shake my head as I climb up from the bench. “Is there really such a thing as neutral territory anymore down there? Isn’t pretty much everything controlled by one of the families?”
He follows me toward the door. “Yeah. As neutral as it can possibly be might be the best description.”
“Are we invited to this little get together?”
Preacher pauses for a second, telling me exactly what I suspected.
The guys are still concerned about me—about what I might do or say. I grab the doorjamb and curl my fingers around it tightly until they whiten.
“I really wish everyone would stop treating me with fucking kid gloves. You and Cutter know what I've seen and what I've done. What I've lived through. I'm not some fucking newb fresh off the bus who can't handle the situation.”
He reaches out and claps me on the shoulder. “I know that, man. But things have changed a lot in the last few months. You can't deny that.”
I grit my teeth and bite back the argument on the tip of my tongue. Because he isn't wrong. Because things have changed in the last few months. We've done a fuckload more killing, taken a lot more hits, and found ourselves acting as a fucking death squad on behalf of a man we all despise.
Definitely not what we signed up for.
But that doesn’t mean they can’t count on me to do my job. Be the muscle and keep them alive if anything goes wrong. I’m just as good at taking a life as I am at saving one. They just need to trust I can still do both.
“I'll be ready when it's time to go.”
Preacher squeezes my shoulder before releasing me. “I know you will, brother. I never had any doubt.”
That's a lie, and we both know it, but I let it slide. He’s non-confrontational by nature, so it makes sense he was the one they sent to talk to me. The only problem is, all it did was make me angrier at the rest of those fuckers for not trusting me in the first place.
I storm away from him and toward my room. My phone rings on my nightstand almost the moment I step through the door.
Pretty much anyone who would be calling me is here, which leaves Cutter or someone I really do want to talk to. I feel the corners of my mouth twitch, seeing Gabriella’s name on my screen instead of Cutter's. But the grin disappears quickly when I register the words of the text.
I need to see you.
It's not the usual breezy, carefree Gabriella. Even with four simple words, I know something's wrong. But given everything going on around here right now, I probably shouldn't leave. It would only prove to the guys that I can't handle the situation if I bail now.
My fingers fly over the keyboard.
What's going on? I can't make it to you, but I'm texting the address if you want to come here.
They’ll be pissed I’m bringing a girl here, but they’ve all done it. I’m not going to miss an opportunity to spend some quality time with Gabriella, especially if something is bothering her.
I'll do whatever I can to ease whatever is on her mind. And seeing her might just help ease my own.
14
Gabriella
A hard wall of warmth presses against my back as I wake—a welcome reminder of what I needed so badly last night and what Rion was so willing to provide.
I yawn and stretch, my body aching from the hours we spent rolling around his bed last night. And this morning.
Five times? No…six?
I lost count after I ran out of fingers on one hand. The man is a machine, one who works very well. And I feel every single touch and thrust through every fiber of my being.
Staying in bed today with him would be a dream, but that’s impossible. Especially after my blow-up with Robert, I can’t keep putting off the real reason I’m even in this shithole town.
I force my eyes open. Early morning light filters in around the curtains hanging in the windows. It was dark and late by the time I texted him last night. I didn't get to see much when I arrived. Just the long, tree-lined gravel drive in here and a massive warehouse.
In the dark, I thought this couldn’t possibly be where he lived and must belong to the fishing company he works for, but as he led me across the large warehouse floor and into his room, it became abundantly clear this was his place.
And what a place it is…
Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I scan the room, taking in everything I wasn't able to see last night. The rustic, masculine features fit Rion. I watch him sleeping beside me.
His deep, heavy breathing assures me he’s out cold. After the night we had, I don’t want to wake him unnecessarily. But I'm starving. Either I need to find some grub here, or I need to go eat.
I slide out from between the covers and slip back into the jeans and T-shirt I had on last night. My eyes never leave his body as I tiptoe across the room and ease open the door.
He's out like a light, and I pull the door closed behind me and check to my left. A door to the bathroom stands open, as does one that appears to be to a gym.
The smell of frying bacon hits my nose, and my mouth waters, leading me down the hall to my right. Someone is cooking breakfast.
My stomach rumbles the further I make my way down the hall. I pause outside the next open door.
Holy shit.
Row after row of monitors and massive computer towers line one side of the room. It’s a major set-up, not something most home computer users could even fathom. Screensavers dance on the monitors—it looks like various Biblical verses.
What the fuck?
“Can I help you?”
I jump and whirl toward the voice to find a petite woman covered in tattoos staring at me with raised eyebrows.
She examines me from head to foot. “Who are you?”
Shit.
“Sorry, I…” I extend a hand. “My name is Gabriella. I’m a friend of Rion's.”
The girl takes my hand in her heavily inked one and shakes it slowly as she peers over my shoulder toward Rion’s room. “And you spent the night here?”
A hot flush floods my cheeks.
Why am I embarrassed?
We’re both grown adults. There’s nothing wrong with us enjoying ourselves together.
I force a smile at the awkward question. “I did. I came late last night. Everyone else was probably asleep.”
She releases my hand. “I’m Everly. And this,” she waves toward the room with all the computers, “is my room.”
“Oh, do you do IT?”
She laughs and shakes her head, sending her dark hair flying around her. “God, no. I'm a tattoo artist. My boyfriend, Preacher, is the total computer nerd. I don't know what ninety percent of the stuff in there does. Short of checking my email, I'm completely computer illiterate.”
I like this chick.
Cool. Laid-back. Self-deprecating.
I smile at her. “I wasn’t trying to pry. I woke up starving and then smelled bacon.”
“I assume Rion is still asleep?”
I motion back toward his room. “Yeah, I didn't want to wake him.”
“E isn't here to make his usual breakfast spread, but Grace, Eva, and I threw something together.”
E? Grace? Eva?
Now I feel like a real asshole.
I shrug. “I'm sorry. I have no idea who you're talking about.”
She chuckles and gestures for me to follow her. “Sorry, I guess Rion didn't tell you much about us?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. “No.”
We haven’t been doing a lot of talking.
Except we did at my place. I thought it had given me a real glimpse into who Rion is and what kind of life he’s had. He may be working as a fisherman now, but that look in his eyes told me he’s seen things while in the military. Things he’s trying to run away from. Probably the reason he spends so much time at the bars in this town.
But it doesn’t explain this place, or why he appears to have multiple roommates. Most men his age would want their own places, somewhere private.
“How many people live in this place?”
Everly snorts and shakes her head. “Too many. The guys started here together, and slowly the women have been pecking away at them and inserting themselves into what was once very testosterone-only territory.”
I chuckle as I follow her out into the vast warehouse space. Now in broad daylight and with the lights on, it's completely different than how it appeared last night. My eyes drift over a large hand-made wooden table and chairs in the center of the space and up a set of metal stairs to what appears to be some sort of office set-up above the concrete floor.
Then they shift to the far side of the warehouse, where two boats float next to docks that extend inside.
My breath catches in my chest for a second. I clear my throat and point. “What’s with the boats?”
Everly pauses outside what smells like the kitchen. “Oh,” she swallows thickly and forces a smile at me, “one is an old fishing boat Warwick retired from the fleet. The other is his personal boat.”
No. It can’t be…
Everly nudges my arm. “Come on, let's eat.”
She leads me into the kitchen where a redhead leans against the counter with a small baby in her arms, and a petite, dark-haired woman with deeply tanned skin stands at the stove stirring something. Both turn to check me out.
Everly hitches a thumb at me. “Look what I found in the hall.”
I offer a wave.
“She's Rion's friend.” The emphasis she puts on the word friend brings grins from the two other women in the kitchen.
The redhead waves. “I’m Grace, and this is Will.” She motions toward the woman at the stove. “That’s Eva.”
Eva throws a wave over her shoulder.
“And I’m starving.” Rion’s grunted words have me turning back. He waltzes into the kitchen, buck naked, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes dart to me immediately. “But, you bailed on me.” He waggles his dark eyebrows suggestively and leans forward to press a hard kiss onto my lips. He pulls back, and his hand drops low to my ass and squeezes. “I don't like waking up to a cold, empty bed.”
The words grumbled in my ear send a little zing of heat to my core remembering what he did there only a few hours ago.
“Sorry,” I shrug, “I was hungry.”
Don’t these women care that he’s walking around nude?
There’s no way I could concentrate on anything but how large he is…all over…if he were constantly swinging that thing around. But they don’t seem to even react to his nudity.
He presses another kiss to my cheek and stalks across the kitchen. “Me, too, and I need some coffee.” He grabs the pot and a cup from the cupboard above it and pours some as he looks between the girls. “Where are the guys?”
Everly casts a furtive glance at Grace before she focuses back on Rion. “Preacher and our visitor are outside. She’s a smoker, and he won’t allow that near his computers.”
Rion chuckles and leans against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not surprised about that.”
Grace smiles and bounces Will on her hip. “And Warwick went out to get diapers.”
The laugh that rumbles from deep in Rion’s chest shakes his entire body. He reaches out his free hand and tickles the infant who giggles at him. “That’s not a sentence I ever thought I would fucking hear.”
All the women laugh at what is apparently an inside joke I’m missing. It appears I’m missing a lot, given what I’ve seen this morning.
Eva peeks over her shoulder. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
Rion takes another sip of his coffee and waggles his eyebrows. “Excellent.”
A door slams somewhere in the warehouse and Everly leans out of the kitchen to check it out. “Perfect timing because Preacher and Sofia are back, and so are Cutter and Valentina.”
I freeze.
Valentina?
No…
She can't mean…
Eva waves us away. “Come on, everyone out. I’ll bring it out when it's ready. It's too crowded in here.”
