Dark Tide, page 16
His eyes narrow on me and then on my hand still sitting on the knob of the open door. “You looking for something?” His low tone isn't exactly an accusation, but there's definitely skepticism. “Because I’m right here.”
“I couldn't find Everly in the warehouse, so I was looking to see if she was in here.” I plaster on my most innocent-looking smile.
It’s a plausible excuse. He should buy it. But the deep set of his dark eyebrows suggests otherwise.
“And you thought you would just let yourself in?” He approaches me in the hallway slowly, the slight limp noticeable in his step.
Now that Rion’s told me the whole story, now that I understand what they’ve all been through, it certainly puts things in a totally different light. Preacher isn’t a soldier like Cutter and Rion. He was thrust into a war zone to do important work, but he could never have anticipated what would happen. He came back with one less leg and a whole lot of bad memories and pain. They all did.
My heart goes out to him, but I can’t let what I now know affect how I act around him. I have to keep my guard up at all times.
Preacher stops a few feet from me and inspects the bank of computer screens through the open door…with the bouncing screensaver on them.
Thank Christ.
The silent prayer of thanks is the only thing I allow myself because I can't let him see that I’m really shitting my fucking pants right now. “Do you know when Everly will be back?”
He narrows his eyes on me. “I’m not sure. The girls don’t want to leave Eva and E there alone, so I imagine they’ll stay until the hospital kicks them out again today. Is there something I can help you with?”
I step back from the door. “Oh, no. I kind of wanted to get some advice from her about how to handle the Rion situation.”
He raises a dark eyebrow at me. “The Rion situation?”
“Yeah,” I force an uncomfortable chuckle and shove a hand through my hair. “He isn't exactly being cooperative with me. He left the hospital AMA and doesn't seem to want to relax at all. I practically had to force him to lie down when we got back yesterday, and he barely slept. Now he wants to get out of bed again.”
Preacher crosses his arms over his chest and assesses me. “Rion isn’t the type of guy who takes orders well.”
I chuckle and shift my weight, trying to look nonchalant. “That's why it surprised me so much when he told me he was in the Army.”
“Yeah, well, ask him the story about why he's not in the Army anymore.”
Huh?
That certainly piques my attention. Though I’ve managed to get Rion to open up to me about a lot, he hasn’t told me anything other than that he got discharged after the attack. “You don't want to tell me?”
He shakes his head. “You and Rion have your own thing going on. I'm not gonna get in the middle of it.” For a second, it looks like he wants to say more, but instead, he pushes past me and pauses just inside the room to look back at me over his shoulder. “And I suggest you don't go wandering around the warehouse unsupervised in the future.”
It's a subtle warning that he doesn't quite buy my story.
Shit.
Not that I really thought he would but being caught red-handed immediately outside his room didn’t leave me with a lot of avenues. And now I'm on his radar. Not in a good way.
After what went down in Chicago, the shit is really going to be hitting the fan. The families have had a somewhat tentative truce over the last couple of decades. One that has kept the violence between them at a minimum. This will bring old grudges to the surface and create new enemies out of old friends. I need to figure out an exit strategy as soon as possible. Because if I don't, I might go down with the ship.
A door opens behind me, and I turn to find my worst nightmare approaching us from the hallway—Cutter looking every bit as dangerous and hostile as always. Maybe even more with the fresh cuts and bruises on his face and arms.
He glares at me and stops next to me outside Preacher’s door. “My sister just called. She's on her way here. She should be here any minute.”
Preacher turns to face him with a raised eyebrow. “Nicki's coming here? Why?”
Cutter clenches his jaw. “Your guess is as good as mine. I returned her calls and told her I was fine, but she says she needs to talk to me and that it’s important.”
Shit.
Unease crawls up my spine and settles between the vertebrae. There's only one thing I can think of that Nicki would need to talk to Cutter about. Which means I need to get out of here.
I slowly walk backward toward Rion's room, where I left my shoes and purse. “I'll let you guys talk. I'm gonna go check on Rion.”
Cutter sneers, his continued distaste for me evident in the curl of his lips even if the glasses hide his eyes. “Rion doesn’t need a fucking nurse.”
“Believe me, I know.”
The man has fought me tooth and nail every time I’ve tried to help him since we got back here. I thought after what happened the other day, when he let me in and shared his sorrow, when he let me comfort him and took me out on the water, that he was done shutting me out. But apparently, some things can’t be changed. Maybe I should have taken it as a sign that this was doomed.
I push open Rion’s door and find him propped against the headboard, flipping through television channels.
He blinks at me, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Where did you go?”
“I was looking for the girls, but they’re not back.”
He pulls back the sheets, exposing his naked body and all the damage done from the explosion. “Come join me in watching shitty television.”
My heart yanks me toward him, toward the soft comfort of his arms, but I move away from the bed and slip on my shoes. “I'd love to, but I actually forgot I have a few errands I need to run tonight before the stores close.”
“You're leaving?” His brow furrows, and genuine disappoint tilts his lips down. “I thought you were going to nurse me back to health.”
I don't know why the question bothers me so much, but I can’t shake the lump lodged in my throat. Not that long ago, he was fighting me tooth and nail to get me to stop treating him like an invalid, and now he wants me to stay.
The smile I give him is forced, but he’s either too doped up on pain meds or too tired to notice. “I'll be back.”
It's a lie. But it's all I can think to say.
I lean over the bed and press a deep kiss to his lips, savoring the flavor and scent that is all Rion. It might be the last chance I ever get. The memory will have to last a while.
“I'll see you later.” The lie hurts even the second time I tell it, and I try to shift away, but he grabs my hip in his strong hand and drags me down onto the bed with him.
“Don’t go.” His whispered words against my lips make me sink even deeper into his embrace.
Every fiber of my being wants to stay in this moment, this place, for as long as possible. In another world, I would. I would remain here until the sun fully goes down and the night settles in around us. Until the only sounds are the lapping waves of the nearby lake and the calls of the seagulls flying over the beach. But I can’t, so I force myself to push away and give him another kiss goodbye. I take one last look at the big, beautiful man in the bed.
He gives me a cocky grin and winks at me. “I'll see you later, sugar.”
I wish that were true.
23
Rion
“Rion, wake up.”
Preacher's voice jolts me from my sleep, and I jerk up and cringe at the pain in various areas of my body.
Christ, I feel like I got hit by a truck.
And actually, the force of the bomb was more like ten times what it would be to actually get hit by truck, so I'm pretty lucky to still be breathing right now. Even the drugs I took—very reluctantly—aren’t helping much.
Preacher stands over my bed, a scowl twisting his lips, apparently waiting for me to do something. All I want is to roll over and fall back asleep, though it would be a lot nicer if Gabs had stayed to play nursemaid.
He kicks the side of my bed. It jostles under me, aggravating every bruised and battered bone and muscle in my body.
I roll toward him slightly, holding my ribs on the right side. “What the fuck, man?”
“You need to wake up.” The low, stern sound of his voice sounds all wrong for Preacher.
I groan and rub a hand over my face. “Why?”
“You're needed out in the warehouse.”
“Why?” Preacher is really starting to get on my nerves.
Just answer my question already or let me go back to sleep.
He crosses his arms over his chest. “We need to talk about Gabriella.”
“Fuck, man.” I shake my head. “I'm not doing this again. She just left and—”
“No, she didn't.”
I jerk my head toward him. I may have nodded off, but it couldn’t have been that long ago. “What do you mean?”
He sighs and runs a hand along his beard. “I caught her snooping in my room.”
“What?” I can’t have heard that right. Gabriella wouldn’t have any reason to be in there. “She was in your room?”
“Well, more like she had just been in there and stepped out. I caught her red-handed—hand literally on the open door.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Then, you didn't actually see her in there?”
“No, but—”
Fucking eh already.
I climb from the bed with another groan and wince. Pain slices through my head and ribs. “No but. Fuck, I don't know why everyone has such an issue with her.”
She’s done nothing to draw such ire from the guys. I get that I was kind of a dick at times when they found their women, but once I saw how important each of them was, I accepted it and moved on. I didn’t harp on it constantly like the fuckers are doing to me.
“Rion, shut up for a second.” Preacher’s words are harsh and short. Not like him at all. “Cutter got a call from Nicki.”
“His sister?”
“Yes. And she just got here and told him not to let Gabriella leave.”
Don’t let her leave?
Either the meds I took when I woke up are fucking with my head more than they ever have in the past, or I’m missing something major here. “What the fuck?”
Nicki has never exactly been friendly with any of us because of her history with Warwick and rocky relationship with Cutter, and she never wanted Gabriella and me to hook up…but this is taking it to the fucking extreme.
I walk around the bed and move to push past Preacher, but he grabs my shoulder. Pain radiates down my arm and through my ribs. I wince and squeeze my eyes shut for a second as nausea roils my stomach.
Fuck.
He cringes, and his gaze momentarily softens to the Preacher I’m used to seeing. “Sorry, I forgot.”
I audit the various scrapes and bruises over my exposed chest, visible even through all the ink. “How could you forget, man?”
“Look,” he releases a slow breath, “just calm down. Let's hear what everyone has to say before you freak out on anyone, including Nicki or Cutter. We don't need you Hulking out.”
“It's been a long time since I've done that.”
A long time.
The last time was on the Neptune’s Daughter when that pissant little man who worked for Grace was fucking with our plans. I snapped, and I would have killed him if Warwick hadn’t stopped me. Even what happened with Cutter the other day in the kitchen was nothing compared to me in full Hulk mode.
He nods. “It has, but you seem to get pretty riled up where Gabriella is concerned. And you haven't been yourself lately. You even admitted that. None of us can afford to lose our shit right now, especially after what happened at the meeting. We don't know who we can trust.”
He's right. Except, I know I can trust Gabriella.
I push past him and storm down the hallway with him at my heels. But any ability I may have mustered up to keep my cool disappears the moment I see Cutter restraining Gabriella from behind, her arms twisted back in his.
“Let her go.” My words boom around the warehouse.
Gabriella’s head jerks toward me. Our eyes connect. “Rion…”
Cutter twists his head toward me and tilts his head toward a very nervous-looking Nicki who stands near Warwick and Valentina, with Milo sitting at her feet, looking concerned. “Listen to what she has to say.”
I study Nicki.
Her blue eyes, so similar to Cutter’s, shimmer with unshed tears. “I'm sorry, Rion…I thought you all needed to know.”
“Know what?” The words come out of my mouth more like a growl, and the poor girl flinches. I didn’t mean to scare her, but this situation seems to be heading in a direction no one wants to go.
She gulps and meets Cutter’s glare before continuing. “A guy came by the bar a couple of nights ago looking for Gabriella. There was something off about him. Not local. Didn't really seem to fit in at Smitty’s. I got a bad vibe from him. He started asking about Gabriella. I didn't give him any information about her.”
The dude sounds like a creep, and whoever he is, Gabs seems scared of him. Nicki did the right thing running him off and not telling him anything. “That's good.”
A flicker of fear flashes through Nicki’s eyes. “Only I saw her talking to him at the hospital.”
“What?” I jerk my head around to face Gabriella, who pleads with me with dark eyes.
What are you hiding, sugar?
“They were off in the hallway together and looked very…close. It looked heated, and it made me suspicious.”
Close. Heated. Suspicious.
What the hell is she trying to insinuate?
I fist my hands at my sides, unease starting to creep over my skin. “Suspicious about what?”
She holds up her hands. “I didn't know. It just felt wrong. After you left with Gabriella, I hung around and looked for him. And I found him…” She swallows and considers everyone before landing on Gabriella. “With a bunch of FBI agents who were interviewing various victims of the bombing.”
FBI?
Everyone stares at Gabriella, who has remained still and silent through all of this. A slight blush colors her cheeks, and she shifts in Cutter’s hold as I approach and stand in front of her. Even on her feet, I tower over her. I could break her with one hand, and the temptation to do just that fills every fiber of my being.
“FBI?” I lock eyes with her and hold her stare. The same bourbon eyes that looked into mine while we fucked now stare at me with fear. “Are you working with the FBI?”
Gabriella shakes her head. “No, Rion, she's lying. I—”
Nicki takes two steps toward us. “I hung around in the hallway and overheard the guy who was looking for her tell another agent that they were pulling her from undercover.”
Fuck.
An inferno rushes through my veins, searing my nerves and tightening my skin. It’s a feeling I'm all too familiar with and one I've tried to avoid. One I just told Preacher I was in control of. “You're a fucking FBI agent?”
She sucks in a deep breath, and I'll give her fucking credit—her lip doesn't even tremble as she says the word I know is coming. “Yes.”
My hands find the chair next to me, and I smash it against the concrete floor so hard, splinters and chunks of wood fly across the warehouse. The whole world goes black, and the screaming voices around me muffle into nothing but garbled background noise. All I hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the letters FBI over and over in my head.
FBI. FBI. FBI.
Every fucking moment we spent together. Every kiss. Every touch. It was all a fucking act. It was all just a ploy to get in here and get information. To set us the fuck up.
“What did you fucking tell them?” The question rips from somewhere deep in my chest, an animalistic roar that might scare even me if I were able to form any sort of conscious thought.
I grip the edge of the table and flip it. The loud crash of it colliding with the floor mixes with a gasped plea from someone. They barely break through the dark fog. Then strong arms tug at either of mine while my hands find the next closest thing.
Someone jerks me back, and I swing out. My fist connects with whoever’s the closest. It doesn't fucking matter who it is. They’re fucking stupid to try to stop me when I’m like this. No one can without being caught in the blind rage.
The gunshot reverberates through the warehouse, and the pain to my already damaged eardrums freezes me for a second. Milo barks in response. Valentina stands with her gun pointed to the ceiling while Warwick rubs his jaw.
Cutter’s in my face so fast I can't back away. “Are you fucking insane, Rion? She's a fucking FBI agent. You need to calm down. If you kill her, things are only going to get ten times worse for us.”
I suck in a deep breath, trying to stop the pain in my chest. It only worsens, and the fire scorching my veins won't dissipate. I zero in on Gabriella, sobbing and collapsed on the floor after seeing me lose my shit. “That fucking bitch.”
I’ll kill her.
Cutter pushes on my shoulders, forcing me back a few steps. “I know you’re pissed, Rion. Believe me, I'm fucking pissed, too, but we have to think rationally about this. We need to know what she's told them. We need to know what they know if we’re going to make it out of this.”
I stare at my reflection in his glasses. The wildness in my eyes is something I haven’t seen in a long time. Something I’ve drowned in copious amounts of alcohol. Something I’ve managed while working this job for the last five years. Something I thought I had moved past once I had found her.
“Make it out of this?” A dark, mirthless laugh floats from my throat. “We’re not making it out of this, Cutter. Don't you fucking see this is what I've been saying for weeks. I knew something like this would fucking happen. I knew something was coming. I just didn't think it would be her.”
How could she?
After all this time. Everything I’ve suffered. I thought I’d finally found a reason to get away from all of this. An escape from it, even if I can’t leave permanently.
