Dark Tide, page 17
But it was all a lie.
All of it.
Every word.
Every breath.
Every touch.
Lies.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise. With everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve to have anything as good as what I thought I did with Gabriella. I should have seen the truth—that it was all a mirage. A carefully constructed façade designed to lure me in. To get me to open up and reveal the deep, dark, intricacies of the crew and what we do. She was building a fucking case against us while I thought we were building a relationship.
I have to hand it to her. She’s a great fucking actress.
“Rion…” My name comes out on a strangled gasp, and she stares up at me through her disheveled hair with wide, frightened eyes begging for forgiveness.
Well, she can beg someone fucking else. She isn’t getting that from me.
24
Gabriella
I don't know what hurts more—seeing him turn from the man I thought I knew into a violent, out of control animal or the way his hard, black eyes just looked at me.
Like I'm the enemy.
Like I betrayed him.
Like he fucking hates me.
Because all those things are true.
There's no denying any of them.
I am the enemy. I'm the definition of enemy. I was sent here with one purpose—find the Great Lakes Pirates and get enough evidence on them to bring them down and put them away for life.
But he'll never really hear the truth. None of them will.
They’ll never understand what’s happened in the last few weeks. They’ll never believe I didn’t know who Rion was when we hooked up. They’ll never accept that I truly fell for him and never had a clue he was exactly who I’d been looking for. They’ll think it was all a setup. From day one. And there won’t be any convincing them otherwise.
If the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t believe me either.
Cutter pushes on Rion’s shoulder, refocusing him away from me. “Let me question her.”
Rion’s nostrils flare, and he flexes his fists at his sides. “Fuck no, man. I'm doing that.”
“No, you're not.” Cutter pushes at him again. “You're too emotional about this. You can't do this right now. And we can't wait for you to calm the fuck down. I don't know if that'll ever happen.” Cutter glances over his shoulder at me then looks to Warwick. “Tie her to a fucking chair.”
Warwick disappears down the hallway where the bedrooms, bathroom, and workout room lie—undoubtedly to find supplies to secure me.
I take a shaky breath that burns my throat and cough. Cutter is going to interrogate me. This isn't going to end well. That man is cold and calculating and heartless, and he's not going to hesitate to do whatever it takes to get what he wants from me.
A shudder rolls through me as I push myself to a sitting position. I look over to Rion, where he still stands with Cutter holding him back. His massive hands clench and unclench at his sides. I never thought those hands—the ones that were so gentle and loving and passionate and brought me so much pleasure over the last several weeks—would ever bring me so much pain. But what just happened isn’t the man I know. That violent, mindless beast who might have tried to kill me if they hadn’t stopped him isn’t my Rion.
Although, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Not with what these guys do. Not with what these guys are. They’re pirates. Plain and simple.
They may have something good in them. I’ve seen it in Rion. I’ve seen his struggle with what he's doing. But he's also built for violence, as he just demonstrated. He’s a massive man who has killed more than I ever want to know. And I’m the one in his sights now.
Warwick returns with zip ties and ropes and heads straight for me. He grabs my arm and jerks me up to my feet.
“Please, don't do this.” I try to whisper the words to him, hoping I can appeal to the only one of the crew who seems to have a weak spot.
He squeezes his fingers into my arm until I whimper and shoves me into the chair. “Don't, for a fucking second, think that I’m weak just because I have a child.”
Warwick reaches down and zip-ties my ankles to the chair then does the same with my wrists behind my back. But he's smart. He knows I'll be trying to get out of that, so he uses the rope to ensure even if I break the zip-ties, I'm not fucking moving.
His dark eyes connect with mine as he gives the final jerk on the rope. “You made a mistake, thinking you could come here like this. Whatever your fucking plan was, you can forget it now. I wouldn't want to be on the opposite end of Cutter.”
I stare at the man in question, where he talks in low tones with Rion. My eyes drift to Nicki, who has been watching the scene unfold with wide, terrified eyes. “Nicki! Please help!”
“Shut the fuck up.” Cutter points a finger at me then marches away from Rion and over to his sister. “Thank you for warning us, Nick.”
She runs a hand through her blond hair and gives Cutter a tight smile. “You and I may not be on the best of terms, Cutter, and you may not believe it…but I do love you.” She looks at Warwick, who gives her a kind smile, unlike anything I’ve seen from him. “And I did love him once. I don't want to see you guys go to prison, even if you have been up to things you shouldn't be.”
Her pale eyes connect with mine one more time before Cutter escorts her out of the warehouse. The door clicks shut behind her, and Cutter makes his way back over toward me.
Valentina has remained quiet during all of this. The woman who heads one of the most powerful mob families in the country leans back against the massive wooden table in front of me and assesses me. With the sweet, wrinkly dog sitting at her feet, it would almost be comical if my life weren’t in danger. “If you know what's good for you, you will answer his questions. You don't want him to have to force them out of you.”
A war rages inside me. Between what I think is right and wrong. Between what I knew was right and wrong. Between what used to be right and used to be wrong and is now no longer so black and white. Everything is now just various shades of gray. Ones that make everything murky and hard to decipher.
Rion steps forward until he's directly in front of me. Cutter watches him suspiciously but doesn't make any move to intervene. At least, not yet.
The man who flirted with me so easily over the bar at Smitty’s squats in front of me. He reaches out, and I flinch away. He freezes for a second and continues his approach. Rough fingertips brush the hair off my face and tuck it behind my ear.
That gesture used to mean something else.
Only a few hours ago, it meant something else completely.
Now, it almost feels like a final goodbye.
Rion stares at me, searching my eyes for something he can’t seem to find. “Answer his questions.”
It's the only warning or advice he gives me before he pushes to his feet and lumbers over to drop into a chair on the other side of the table to watch my interrogation. Warwick lowers himself into a chair next to him. Likely to have somebody there in case they need to restrain Rion again.
But Cutter steps into Rion's place in front of me quickly and squats. He pulls the glasses from his eyes and tucks them into the front of his T-shirt.
Without the reflective aviators to conceal the violent and horrifying scars that cover the right side of his face, it’s almost hard to look at him. The natural reaction is to cringe and look away from something like that. Not to mention the dead white eye that stares back at me from amongst the craggy reminders of what happened to him.
He points to it. “Pretty fucking ugly, isn't it?”
I gulp but don't answer. I don't know what he wants me to say.
Does he want me to admit that it is or lie to him so he doesn't fucking kill me?
“Well, you know what, Gabriella, if that's even your real name. Life is fucking ugly.” He spits the words at me like bullets. “Rion and I almost lost our lives more than once, fighting to defend this fucking country. We almost died, saving other people’s lives, including Preacher’s. And when we came back, what did we have to show for it?” He shrugs. “I got these fucking scars and a discharge, and Rion got kicked out for losing his fucking temper with his CO.”
I glance over at Rion, who just continues to stare me down.
He was discharged for fighting with a CO?
Cutter’s eyes widen. “Oh? He didn't tell you about that?” He snorts and peeks at Rion. “After the RPG attack that did this and almost killed Rion and Preacher, Rion got into it with the CO who basically said he could've done more to save more of the guys. Rion took that a little hard, as he should have. And the CO ended up getting thrown through a fucking wall.”
Oh, my God.
“The only reason he wasn't court-martialed was because of his extensive and valiant service record with the Rangers and the fact that he did save so many fucking lives.” Cutter hitches his thumb over his shoulder at Rion. “All we're trying to do is live our lives here now. But you weaseled your way in here using your fucking cunt to get information to send us away. Well, we aren't the type to go down with the fucking ship. So, you're gonna tell me everything from the beginning. Everything you know. Everything you did. Everything you told your superiors. Every fucking word.”
I suck in a deep breath and scan the faces in the room. There are no sympathetic gazes. No friends here. Not even the man I was in bed with such a short time ago. Now he looks at me with disdain. I can't say I blame him.
These guys have done some bad shit. There's no question about that. They've stolen. They've killed. They've helped advance criminal enterprises…probably more than one. I should want them to go away. Forever. I should want them locked up or even executed for what they've done.
But the thought of Rion behind bars, of that beautiful man, locked up after everything he sacrificed, all those men he saved…it makes bile climb up my throat.
Still…nothing is as simple as choosing him or my job. I clear my throat and swallow thickly. “I can't tell you anything. I have a sworn duty.”
Rion slams his fist against the table, the sound vibrating through the space. “Answer his fucking questions, Gabs. You don't want to know what he's capable of to get them out of you otherwise. And I don't want to watch that.”
Well, shit.
Even as angry as he is at me, he doesn't want to watch me tortured. That warms my heart more than I could have imagined it would. That hard, brutal, beautiful man does care. He just doesn't want to fucking admit it right now.
I shrug as much as the restrains will allow me. “I don't know what you want me to say.”
Cutter clenches his jaw. “I want you to tell me everything.”
“Honestly, there's not that much to tell.” Maybe I was naïve in thinking I would ever figure out a way out of this for all of us because sitting here now, nothing comes to mind. “I can't give you information on the investigation or any of the other agents involved. I can't put my fellow agents in danger like that.”
Cutter mirrors my shrug. “What about us? You’re putting us in danger.”
I let out a sardonic laugh. “You put yourselves in danger. You chose to do this. You chose to break the law. You chose to steal and to kill people. You chose to work for the mob.” I incline my head toward Valentina, and a smile curls her lips. “None of this was forced on you. There have to be consequences for your actions. You've gotten away with it for too long. You couldn't have thought it would last forever.”
Rion's brow furrows.
Shit.
Clearly, I struck a chord with him. Maybe he was looking for a way out. Maybe he was sick of this lifestyle. Maybe the drinking was his way of coping with what he was doing day in and day out.
It would certainly explain a lot.
And the history he shares with these men explains his loyalty and why he’s still here despite any reservations he might have. And as much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, I don't believe he would be friends with these people if they were all bad. I just can't see Rion doing that.
I’d love to have worked out some brilliant plan that protected Rion, but it wasn’t in the cards. I can't talk, either. That leaves me with no other option.
I square my shoulders and try my best not to look as terrified as I feel. “If you want information from me, you're gonna have to take it.”
A slow grin spreads across Cutter's face, twisting the scars on the right side of his mouth into a sinister Joker-like smile. “Remember, you asked for it.”
He pushes to his feet, but Valentina steps away from the table and grabs his arm.
She leans into him, but not so close that the rest of us can’t hear her words. “Before you get started, give me a few minutes with her.”
He growls low and angles his face almost to hers. “What the fuck are you doing, principessa?”
With a tiny smirk, she leans in and kisses him gently on the scarred cheek. “Trying to save us some bloodshed.”
She checks in with Rion and Warwick, who both give her a short nod. They climb to their feet and follow Cutter and Preacher back down the hallway with the dog padding after them, leaving me alone with the woman the entire FBI has been after for a long time.
Valentina drags a chair over to face me and sits. “You really care about him, don't you?”
Unshed tears burn my eyes, and I shake my head and try to blink them away before I let this woman see me cry. I open my mouth to disagree with her, but my bottom lip trembles so much I have to clench my teeth together to keep from releasing a sob.
She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought so.” A moment passes where we simply stare at each other before she cracks a small smile. “Cutter and I were in very much the same position.”
“What? How?”
She chuckles and inspects the hallway, but there's no sign of the guys. “No one knew I was Il Padrone’s daughter. When I came over to the States, my father had planned to have me learn the business secretly and remove Arturo so I could take over.”
“But Arturo acted too fast.”
Her slow, sad nod of acknowledgment steals my breath. “And I found myself alone in this country with no allies. I set out to try to find proof of what Arturo did and ended up running headlong into Cutter.” A wistful look fills her golden eyes. “He saved my life. Though not necessarily willingly.” She chuckles and leans forward slightly. “He and I have a very…unusual relationship. It was very much love-hate even before he knew who I was. I used them,” she waves her hand around the warehouse, “I used this crew to get me into a position to take out Arturo and step up as head of the family. They never would've helped me if they knew who I was. And I knew that once Cutter found out, he was likely not going to forgive me if I were lucky and would kill me if I wasn't.”
“But you're still here…alive…and with him.”
She smiles. “It may not seem like it, but all these guys…they're not bad people. And despite what you may think about my family or me, neither are we.”
I can’t withhold my snort. “We might have to agree to differ on that point.”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “Agree to disagree. But I can tell you care about Rion. And I can see how happy he was with you. How different he's been. If there's any way to resolve this peacefully, I think it's in everyone's best interest that we take that route.”
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes closed. “There is no way to resolve this peacefully. If there were, I would've already done it. I would've already figured it out. I'm a sworn federal officer—”
“And you love a pirate.” Her words are so strong so definitive. So final. It isn’t a question. “And it seems as though you have a decision to make, bellezza. But I would make it fast because Cutter is more lethal than anyone I've met in my entire life. He scares the crap out of me on a daily basis, but I still love him.”
Shit. Where the hell does that leave me?
25
Rion
Valentina appears in the doorway of Preacher’s room, where we've been waiting, and leans against the jamb casually. Milo climbs from his spot at Cutter’s feet and goes to press himself against her leg. She reaches down and pets the top of his head.
Warwick raises an eyebrow at her. “Well?”
She smiles and looks to me. “I think Rion should talk to her.”
“What?” Cutter stands from where he's been leaning against Preacher’s desk and stalks over to her. “He's not going to do this, principessa.”
She reaches out and taps the side of Cutter's face like a mother scolding her child. If anyone else did something so condescending to him, they'd be dead in a split-second, but when she does it, it's almost like she's calming a wild animal. “He needs to talk to her because she cares about him.”
“Bullshit.” Cutter's word mirrors what I was about to say.
That woman doesn’t care about me. All she cares about is her case. Getting evidence to arrest us and send us away.
Valentina shrugs. “I can see why you would be cynical, but I don't think she wants things to end badly.”
Cutter snorts. “A little late for that.”
She shakes her head. “Not if you let Rion talk to her.”
Warwick, Cutter, and Valentina turn to assess me, and Preacher spins in his chair to do the same.
Fuck.
With four sets of eyes on me, all I want to do is crawl into a bottle of the hard shit and forget this ever happened. Forget she ever happened.
They wait for me to do something, to say something, but I still can't manage to wrap my head around what's happening here.
“Cutter's right. I can't be the one who talks to her. Not when we’re trying not to kill her.” My hands flex with the words, remembering the feel of her soft skin under them before I knew the truth. Hands that wanted to destroy her only moments ago.
Something I very well might do again, with a much different end.
