Dark Tide, page 20
Valentina raises her eyebrows. “But what does she know, really? Nothing she has any proof of.”
Cutter nods his agreement. “She’s right. Gabriella doesn’t have any evidence to back up anything, and even if she did, Rion’s relationship with her would be a defense attorney’s dream if they ever tried to charge us.”
Warwick rubs at his jaw. “Which is why we’re not charged with anything and she is. Her boss is pissed and wants someone to pay. Looks like it’s her.”
“Motherfucker!” I slam my fist against Preacher’s desk, rattling the screens.
“Hey,” he holds up his hands, “simmer down! Don't hit my babies.”
“Fuck.” I jerk my hands back through my hair and pace what room is left with all us in here. “We should warn her.”
Cutter snorts. “Why the fuck would we do that?”
“So maybe she can get away before they arrest her.”
Warwick sighs. “And what, Rion? She's an FBI agent. You think they’re not gonna find her? She’s going to hide in some non-extradition country and start a new life? Come on.”
Shit.
“I have to try to warn her.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial her.
One ring. Two.
Come on. Come on. Pick up.
Three.
The call finally connects. “Rion, what's wrong?”
We haven’t spoken. Even if she had tried to call, I wouldn’t have answered. Any information she had been able to gather could have just as easily been given to Cutter or Valentina or anyone fucking else.
“There's an arrest warrant out for you.”
“What?”
A loud knock sounds behind her. “Gabriella, open up.”
The voice is muffled, but the intent is clear.
“Fuck, it’s Robert.” Panic laces her voice, something I’ve never heard from her before.
We're too late.
“Gabriella, if you don’t open the fucking door, we're gonna break it down.”
She sucks in a shaky breath, a sound that tightens a vise around my heart. “I have to go with them, Rion.” The resignation is clear in her voice.
There’s no escaping now.
I clench my eyes shut. “I know.”
“I won't say anything.”
My hand tightens around my phone. “I know.”
“I'm sorry.”
The line goes dead, and I chuck my phone across the room. It shatters against the wall, the pieces falling to the floor in a clatter.
When I look up, Cutter, Valentina, E, Preacher, and Warwick all stare at me.
“They were already there to arrest her.”
Warwick smacks his palm on the table. “Shit. So what do we do?”
Even if she had time to get us any information, there’s no way to pass it to us now.
Preacher turns back to his screens. “Well, I haven't had much time to explore yet, but I started with the files we knew existed on the Great Lakes Pirates. She was telling the truth. They really don't have much. They have a list of the hijackings, a couple of descriptions Cutter and E from the girls on board the Wanderer.” He motions to this screen. “Most of it looks like it was filed before Gabriella came here. She sent in a few reports, but she kind of petered off on her reporting and went dark. I'm assuming her volatile relationship with Robert led her to reduce how often they spoke because her reports get fewer and farther between and become much more formal simply saying she’s still hoping to find information.”
Warwick glances at Cutter. “That's good, though, right?”
Preacher and Cutter both shrug. “Yeah.”
Cutter holds up a hand. “But…we were at the meeting that was bombed. That connects us not necessarily to Valentina but at the very least to organized crime—one of the families. Everyone who was there is wanted for questioning.”
Warwick raises an eyebrow. “Warrants?”
Preacher shakes his head. “Not yet.”
I run a hand through my hair. “So, what do we do?”
The flood of information being thrown at me swirls around my head.
What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?
There’s only one person who knows we are the Great Lakes pirates. One person who might be able to lead the FBI to us. Even if they can’t use anything she found or suspects as evidence, they can use it to form a plan to collect something admissible.
I can’t let her sit there and be questioned over and over again. Be put on the stand and forced to incriminate herself to protect us. Because they would do it. They would offer her immunity for her conduct in order to get whatever information they could about us—including the location of this place and anything else she knows.
It comes to me so strongly and so clearly, there isn't any question.
“I know. I know what we're gonna fucking do.”
Cutter removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What's that?”
“Gabriella was going to fall on her sword. She was going to help us and try to find a way out of this. We owe it to her to do the same.”
“Like hell, we do.” Cutter's anger reverberates in his words. “That woman set us up. I know you may have some feelings for her, but I'm not putting my fucking neck on the line or letting any of you guys do it for her.”
I growl at him and take a step closer. “Fuck you, Cutter. How many times have we all risked our lives for Valentina? How many times have we done it for you?”
He sneers. “That's different.”
“How?” I throw up my hands. “The only reason we’re still involved with Valentina is that you're with her. If you weren't, once War’s debt was wiped out, we would have all gone on to live normal lives instead of doing this any longer.”
Cutter snorts and shakes his head. “You really think that? You really think any of us have anything else we can do?”
Preacher raises his hand. “I do.”
I motion toward him. “Preacher does.” I point to Warwick. “And Warwick still has his dad’s business. He could go legit. Especially now that Grace and Will are in the picture.” I motion to E, who leans against the wall in silence as per usual. “E can cook anything anywhere, and I sure as hell could get a job as a paramedic with all my experience. But we didn't. We stayed on because of the deal we made with Valentina because you’re fucking her.”
Cutter issues a low warning growl. “Watch yourself.”
“What? You can trash talk my woman, but I can't say anything about yours?” I snort. “That seems fair.”
“Life isn't fair, Rion. You would think with everything you and I have been through, you would know that by now.”
“I more than know it. But I'm not going to let Gabriella go down when she's trying to help us. I can't.”
Warwick leans back against the desk. “So, what are you suggesting?”
That’s a good question…
I consider my words carefully.
Cutter is going to stand against me no matter what I suggest, but the other guys may be convinced if I play my cards right.
“They're going to have to transport her, right? From wherever they’re holding her to court?”
Warwick nods.
Cutter just scowls. “I don't like where you're going with this.”
Milo lifts his head and watches us, almost like he wants to add his input.
“Well, too fucking bad. I’m going to hit that transport. With you or without you.”
28
Gabriella
The metal of the cuffs bites into my wrists, and I rotate them slightly to try to find a more comfortable position. All it does is make things worse.
Christ, I never thought I would be in these instead of slapping them on some scumbag.
Things went south so fast that I didn’t even have time to get my bearings. I thought I’d have time. I thought I’d be able to come up with a way out. For me. For Rion.
But after I woke and found myself alone in my bed—without Rion and with an aching body and broken heart—all I was able to do was skim the surface of the reports on the bombing. I barely had long enough to read them all, let alone begin to put anything in any sort of order enough to know how to take the heat off them.
Apparently, all I did was put the heat on myself.
Robert has been watching. Waiting. Hoping I would do exactly what I did…search for a way to help Rion.
Now the DOJ has launched a full-scale investigation, and I’ve spent two horrible nights in custody, locked up like a common criminal on the charges they were able to issue right away.
And maybe I am one.
I was willing to throw away everything—my reputation, my career—to ensure Rion got away.
What does that make me?
Besides uncomfortable in these damn cuffs, bouncing over potholes on this road on my way to court. The van hits another one, sending me flying sideways on the hard bench seat.
I grit my teeth.
Robert turns around from his position in the passenger seat in front of me. “Don’t look so angry, Gabriella. You did this to yourself.”
He’s spent hours over the last few days trying to get me to crack, trying to get me to admit what I’ve done to make the government’s case against me easier and to get a line on Rion and the rest of the guys now that they’re on the FBI radar. Only he’s the one who has become frustrated, not me. I’ve just become more determined not to let him win.
“Smug doesn’t suit you, Robert. Never did.”
A grin spreads across his lips—the same cocky one I used to actually find attractive in what felt like another lifetime. “You were presented with a chance to get information and get in on the ground floor with one of the major families of Chicago. You had to fuck it up because you couldn’t keep your legs closed.”
I growl low at him. “That’s what you think?”
“That’s what I know.” He sneers. “Do you really think I didn’t have eyes on you the entire time you were in that shithole town?” He shakes his head. “I knew you were fucking the guy. It pissed me off, but I let it slide because I thought you might be right, that he might be able to get us some information about the pirates. But once I saw him at the hospital in Chicago after the bombing, I realized this is so much bigger than we ever thought.” His lips twist down. “And you helped him slip away.”
“You could still find him.” Even saying the words twists my stomach, but playing devil’s advocate seems like the best option in this situation.
He shakes his head and returns to his seat. “Now that he knows he’s on our radar, after you’ve no doubt told him everything about our investigations in Chicago, he’s gone into hiding. Rion Gates is a Ranger, a well-trained one. He’s gonna disappear, and there’s nothing we’re gonna be able to do about it.”
Robert’s probably right.
With what Preacher can do, not to mention the skills both Cutter and Rion have, they all could disappear, and it will be like they never existed.
My chest tightens at the thought. Almost like it’s screaming except for right here. I’ll never be able to forget Orion Gates. I’ll never be able to forget what happened between us. Even if I spend the rest of my life in a jail cell, I won’t forget what he did to me that night. What he did to me over all our time together.
The way he found my desire and joy deep inside of me and dragged it out with every orgasm. The way he touched more than just my body…
It was all so much more than physical.
“I’m sorry it had to come to this. Maybe if we stayed together and you listened to me…”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Christ, you’re naïve, Robert.”
And dense.
And blind.
Brakes squeal.
I jerk forward in the seat, and then I’m weightless.
The world tumbles and rolls.
My head hits something hard.
Glass shatters.
Metal crunches.
Something sharp cuts my skin.
I reach out but can’t brace myself with my hands and feet cuffed.
When the van finally comes to a stop, I groan and shake my head slightly to try to clear my fuzzy vision.
Our driver and Robert dangle from their seatbelts. Neither is moving. Blood trickles from a wound on the side of Robert’s head.
What the hell happened?
I examine my arm. A piece of glass sticks out of it. I pull it free. The gush of blood makes my stomach roll, and I heave. The motion sends pain shooting through my head.
“Robert?”
He doesn’t move. The driver doesn’t budge, either. They’re either unconscious or dead.
I try to push myself up, but I can't move with the restraints and the way the van has almost collapsed around me.
“Help!” My voice comes out strangled and weak. I cough and try again. “Help!” The unmistakable smells of smoke and gasoline hits me. Smoke billows into the van. “Help!”
I scramble with the cuffs but don’t have anything to take them off with.
Something slams into the door above me. Metal creaks and groans. It finally gives way. Bright sunlight streams in, and I raise my hand to block it out. I blink away the spots in my vision and look again.
The face staring back at me is the last one I expect to see. “Cutter?”
He scowls at me as he climbs in and down to me. “Don't move. I need to cut you out of here.”
I must be fucking hallucinating.
It’s the only explanation. That or the smoke filling the van is starting to affect my ability to process thoughts.
Cutter produces a pair of bolt cutters and cuts me free from the floor restraints, then hands them back to someone. He grabs me and lifts me through the opening.
Strong, familiar tattooed arms wrap around me and pull me close to a solid, warm chest.
Rion.
His familiar scent and heat instantly calm me despite the pain spreading through my body and the blood seeping from it. He cradles my face in one palm. “Are you okay, sugar?”
“I think so.” I glance back at the van mangled in the ditch and then around us at the barren stretch of road. “What happened?”
Cutter climbs from the van and nods at us. “We're ready?”
Rion strides toward one of three black SUVs positioned across the road. Warwick carries a large bundle of what looks like spike strips and tosses them into the back of one of the SUVs before he climbs in.
A man who must be E sits in the driver’s seat of the second SUV, watching everything like a hawk. Cutter and Rion approach the third.
“You set this up.” It isn’t a question. Seeing all this makes all the pieces fall into place.
Rion looks down at me. “Preacher’s been monitoring the FBI channels and files.”
“He got in?”
Rion nods. “We knew you had your arraignment this morning. Preacher traced the route they took for all the other transports. We knew where to hit it.” He climbs in the open rear door of the SUV and settles me across his lap.
Cutter climbs behind the wheel and tears out of there with the other two SUVs following closely behind. I peek back at the wreck through the back window. Smoke billows from the van. It’s only a matter of time before the whole thing goes up.
Either Robert and the driver are already dead, or they will be soon. I should feel bad about that. There should be some pang of regret or guilt. Should be. But there isn’t.
The only thing I feel is a tremendous sense of relief. Only it doesn’t last long.
“Where are we going now? We don't have much time before they’ll come looking for me.”
Rion tightens his hold on me and examines the side of my head. “You might have a concussion.” He inspects the blood flowing from my arm. “Fuck.” He wrestles the hem of his shirt from between us and rips off a piece of it then ties it around my arm tightly. “I'm sorry. It was the safest way to stop the car without firing on it. I couldn't risk that.”
Pain laces his words.
He was worried about me.
“I'll give you a full exam when we get to where we’re going.”
“Which is where? It won’t take long for someone to notice the van is missing. Once they do, they’ll search the route and discover I’m gone.”
Rion looks unconcerned. “The closest marina. We’ll take one of Warwick’s boats north through the lakes.”
“But…what if we’re stopped? The Coast Guard…”
I must've hit my head harder than I thought.
“I don't understand what the plan is here, Rion.”
Cutter glances at me in the rearview mirror but doesn’t speak.
Rion's hold tightens around me. “The plan is to get you the fuck out of here. I'm not letting you go to prison for trying to help us. Trying to help me.”
Holy shit.
My eyes burn, but it’s not from the smoke back in that van. “While I appreciate the gesture, really I do, after everything…how will any of this work? How will I get out of the country? They’re going to check my ID at the border—”
“Preacher took care of everything.”
“He what?”
“He already got us new identities, new passports. We won’t have any trouble getting out.”
All the moving parts necessary to make that happen and the small-time window Preacher has had to accomplish this is mind-boggling.
How did he manage it?
“Are you serious?”
Rion nods, and Cutter turns a corner, tires squealing. The lake lies in front of us, shimmering in the morning light. We can't be far from the marina now.
“So…I'm just going to leave? Go start a new life somewhere?”
I'll never talk to my mom again or see any of my friends. I've had to step away from everyone during this entire time I’ve been undercover, but I always thought I’d be back. I'll never be able to return to this life.
