Dark Tide, page 5
Cutter casts me a wary look before returning his attention to Rose. “What's so essential about having your expert meet with Preacher in person? Why can't this be accomplished remotely?”
It’s a no-brainer.
One would think that to protect both parties, doing things without coming face to face would be the best course of action.
Rose smiles. “Given what my expert has told me, access to Preacher’s set up is essential as these files and the system he's trying to get into are quite problematic.”
The truth hits me with his comment. “Your expert doesn't want it to trace back to you or him if they get caught. Doing it from Preacher’s computers means if it does get traced, you all are in the clear.”
He chuckles and bobs his head. “You're smarter than you look, Mr. Gates.”
That same chill I always feel when he uses one of our real names rolls down my spine. He has a lot of information, and if he ever chose to turn on us, there's not much we can do to protect ourselves.
He leans forward and rests his elbows on his desk. “I understand your hesitation, but I promise, this is no trick. My expert is…” he pauses and locks eyes with every one of us, “very important to me.”
Cutter's eyebrows fly up.
Well, that's interesting.
For him to admit that someone is important to him leaves him open and gives us an avenue to attack him in the future. By offering us that information, he's trying to demonstrate how serious he is about the situation working out. That eases some of my concerns.
Rose sighs and relaxes into his chair. “I understand your being cautious, and I can guarantee you this is no trick to try to gain information about your operations or somehow to set off tracking that will get you guys caught. We've come to a very mutually beneficial relationship. Why would I want to mess with that?” He raises an eyebrow and shrugs.
Mutually beneficial, my ass.
The only thing we got out of this was Everly’s return without a fight we probably could have won—or at least tried to. Preacher might think it was worth it, but I doubt anyone else feels that the trade was even. Rose is making millions—maybe even more—off this deal. And while I love Everly and would never want to see anything bad happen to her, I’m also confident we could have come up with a way to get her back without this asshole becoming our fucking coworker for all intents and purposes.
Valentina assesses Rose and glances up at Cutter and me. “What are you suggesting?”
He clasps his hands together on top of the desk. “I understand you want to keep your location secret for various reasons. My suggestion is this—we’ll meet in Milwaukee and make an exchange.”
“An exchange?” She raises a dark eyebrow at him.
A slick grin tilts his lips. “If I'm going to give you someone important to me, it's only fair that I'm given someone important to you.”
Fuck. I knew it was too easy.
Cutter growls again and takes a step toward him. “Are you fucking crazy? We’re not going to give anyone to you. The last time anyone was in your hands, you threatened to fucking kill her.”
Rose chuckles and shakes his head. “That's not exactly true. First, I only took Everly because you killed my crew and took my product. And second, I'm sure if you asked Everly how I was as a host, she would tell you that I was quite respectful and provided her with as much comfort as I could at that location.”
Neither Cutter nor I are convinced by Rose’s smooth response. The man is an animal disguised in a perfectly tailored suit.
Valentina scowls and stares down Rose. “And just who are you suggesting we turn over to you?”
He gives us a look that tells us he knows he’s in control. “I would be comfortable with you making that decision.”
Shit. Who are we going to give to Rose to make this deal happen? Does Preacher really need this that badly?
No doubt, Cutter has the same question because he's looking at me like a guillotine is hanging over our heads.
Valentina presses her lips together firmly. “We need to talk about this with everyone else.”
Rose pushes to his feet. “I completely understand. Please call me when you have a decision, and as I said, I expect to have my expert available to you in the next couple of days at the most, so make your decision fast. Oh, and one more thing. I’ll need my expert back in one week. Too invaluable to be gone any longer.”
“A week?” Valentina scoffs. “What if that’s not enough time?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “That’s not my problem. Remember, make your decision about who you’re sending soon.”
Fuck. Who's going to be our sacrificial lamb?
There's no fucking way it's going to be one of the girls. One of us is going to have to go to Rose. And while I think any one of us would make that sacrifice for his woman, there's no way Warwick is going now that baby Will is in this world, and we need Cutter and Preacher at the warehouse to make sure we stay safe.
That just leaves E and me.
And I'm the only one without a warm body waiting for me, something to keep me there. It wasn’t anything I ever considered or wanted before. Not sure I even am now, but a vision of Gabriella leaning over that bar and shamelessly flirting with me pops into my head.
We’re nothing to each other, though, which means I'm going to be the one to go.
Motherfucker.
6
Gabriella
“I don't know what you're doing with your life, mija.” Disappointment soaks Mami’s words, heavy enough to drown me if I hadn’t built up a resistance to it over the years.
“Jesucristo, Mami…” I shake my head and fight the urge to scream.
It’s the same thing every damn time. Just because I haven’t gotten married or given her grandchildren yet, the woman thinks I’m adrift with no purpose. It couldn’t be further from the truth. My purpose and goals just aren’t the same ones she has for me.
Her sharp intake of breath floats clearly through the phone. “Don't use the Lord's name in vain.”
I clench my teeth to bite back a nasty response. She means well. I’ve told myself that so many times over the years, and it usually helps calm me down and keeps me from saying something that she would hold against me for the rest of her natural life and probably into the afterlife too.
“I’m thirty years old, Mami. I think at this point, I'm old enough to decide on what words I want to use and how.”
At this point, I can practically feel her seething through the phone. If there's anything Alejandra hates, it's her children talking back to her or using God's name in vain. I've just done both. If I were in the room with her, she’d probably try to wash my mouth out with soap like I’m five again.
She sighs deeply. “I'm worried about you, mija.”
The real pain and concern in her voice tugs at my heart. “Don't be, Mami. I’m fine. Really.”
Just stuck here until something breaks. Until something floats to the surface that helps me end this.
“Then why haven't I heard from you for over two months? You used to call me twice a week.”
I did. And part of me feels bad about not being able to. But with so much going on in my life and so many major changes, I just couldn't bear to answer the questions I knew she'd have or tell her lies when I couldn’t give her answers.
The simplest way to handle this is with the basic truth. “I've been busy, Mami.”
True.
“With Robert?”
Shit.
That familiar tightness pulls at my chest, and I drop my elbow onto the table and press my face against my palm. “I told you I don't want to talk about that.”
She scoffs. “Why not, mija? You can't just pretend the man doesn't exist. You need to go home.”
Dammit.
The woman has no idea. She doesn’t comprehend the way the world works now. Old school, life-long commitment—that’s all she understands. She can’t grasp that there are reasons people may be apart—and with Robert, there are many of them. “It's not that simple, Mami.”
Not by a damn longshot.
“Yes, it is.”
Her insistency isn’t anything I haven’t had to deal with my entire life, but it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier.
God, she’s a stubborn woman.
“This is why I didn't call you, Mami.” There are things I can't explain about what happened between us and things she would never understand. I feel like I'm only going to make her more upset the longer we talk with the little to no information I can give her. “I'm sorry, Mami, but I have to go.”
“Mija, when will I hear from you again?”
I scrub my hand over my face and lean back in the chair at the tiny table in the back room of the bar. I never should've picked up this call. Not when I'm in the middle of the shift. But her constant calls and frantic messages were starting to get to me.
Since Miguel deployed, she's all alone, and my going radio silent doesn't help her anxiety or loneliness. I wish I could hug her right now, despite my current frustration over her judgmental tone.
“I'll try not to make it so long before my next call, Mami.”
She releases a familiar sigh. One that makes me squeeze my eyes closed against the sting of tears. This is harder for her than it is for me. I have to remember that.
“I love you, Mami. Talk soon, I promise.”
The words are meant to appease her, even though it's one promise I might not be able to keep. There’s no telling how long I’ll be here until I find what I need. It could be days, weeks, months…
I end the call and shove my phone back into my pocket.
Nicki sticks her head into the back room and raises her blonde eyebrows. “What the hell are you doing? It's busy as hell out here tonight. I need your help.”
“Sorry.” I just told her I was going to the bathroom. Abandoning her completely for longer than ten minutes on a weekend night really isn't fair. “I'm coming.”
I push to my feet and make my way back out to the bar. At least the assholes haven’t played “Don’t Stop Believin’” tonight. It's still early, and I'm sure it'll come on at least once, but if they try to pull that bullshit on me again, I have no problem kicking everyone out. Nicki may have something to say about that, but I don’t have the same patience she does for douchebags trying to mess with me and make a long shift feel even longer.
I shuffle down the bar, taking orders and refilling drinks for what feels like hours but is probably only a couple of minutes. My aching feet make it seem so much longer than it actually is, but this place isn't so bad compared to some of the other bars I've been at in the last few months. At least the people here are relatively friendly—though none have been able to give me what I’m after.
Yet. Orion Gates is by far the most interesting man I've met in a long time, and he may have the information I need if I can work it out of him, maybe while working out some of my sexual frustration with him.
How stupid is it that I keep glancing at the door, hoping he’ll walk through it? When did I get so damn desperate?
This need for human connection on any level seems to be a direct result of the constant moving around that's happened over the last six months or so. I always enjoyed a little hot, carefree sex, but the dull ache between my legs when Rion Gates and I are flirting is bordering on desperation.
The low timbre of his gravelly voice and the spark of mischief in his eyes just draw me in…even though there's something dark underneath it all.
I saw it that first night—something haunting him that wouldn’t let him go. But it didn’t return the last time he was here. The second night, he was lighter, more carefree. Maybe he really did just have a shitty day that first time. At least if he has another one, he knows where to find me, and I’m more than willing to make it better.
Almost as if on cue, the door opens, and the man himself steps in.
Damn. And he looks good, too.
A long-sleeve Henley clings to the massive muscles in his arms and chest, accentuating just how big he really is. It's been a long time since I've seen a man that large, and it does things to me that are definitely not ladylike. Like wonder if he’s that big everywhere.
He fights a grin as he stalks across the bar and takes his usual seat at the end.
Play it cool, Gabs.
I refill several more drinks before making my way down to him. Nicki casts me a look of warning, but one of us has to serve him. And she doesn't want to, that's for sure.
When I reach Rion, I lean forward and rest my elbows on the bar. “What can I get for you, stranger? Your usual?”
I've never seen him drink anything other than IPA, though he sometimes varies his brand.
His lips curl slightly. “I've had another shitty day. I can use something stronger tonight. I'll take the Jack Daniels Single Barrel-Barrel Strength.”
“Damn. 130 proof. You’re not playing around tonight.”
He shakes his head and runs one of his big hands back through his already unruly hair. “I told you…shit day.”
I bite my lip. “Well, if the drink doesn't help, I can think of something else that might improve your mood.”
And mine…
That's about as direct as I can possibly be, and his pupils dilate while he holds my gaze. Heat crackles between us, and I fight the urge to look away from the intensity of the connection.
He leans forward across the bar, resting his elbows and mimicking my position. “Are you propositioning me?”
I can't fight the smile that spreads across my face. “Proposition has such a dirty connotation.”
A smirk plays at his mouth. “Only if you make it dirty.”
“I'm just making an observation.”
He shrugs, and his eyes dip to my mouth. “An observation, huh?”
I nod slowly.
“Well,” he leans even closer, “then I'm going to make an observation of my own.”
“Yeah, what's that?”
“You have absolutely beautiful lips. I haven't been able to stop picturing them wrapped around my cock since the first night I met you.”
Sweet mother of God.
Warmth spreads between my legs, and I shift to rub them together against the dull ache forming. “Well, now. Who is propositioning who?”
He barks out a laugh and pulls back, shaking his head. “You're funny, Gabs. I like you.”
I push off the bar top and throw up my hands. “Everyone always does.”
Ha! I knew he thought I was funny.
And him saying he likes me it shouldn't make me giddy like a fucking teenager, but I can’t ignore the fluttering butterflies in my stomach and the way my heart's racing.
I grab the bottle of Jack Daniels and poor a double. When I turn back, Nicki is standing there, tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest.
“What's going on with you two?” She tips her head back toward Rion.
“Nothing. Just getting him a drink.” I hold up the glass.
She narrows her eyes on me. “That didn't look like nothing. The way you two leaned across the bar toward each other. Please tell me you haven't fucked him.”
I drop my mouth open and gape at her. “First of all, it would be none of your fucking business if I did. And second of all, for your information, no, I have not fucked him.”
With a sigh, she drops her arms and takes a step toward me. “I'm not trying to mother you. It's just…” she glances at him then waves me off. “You know what? You're right. It's not my business. You do whatever you want.”
“Gee, thanks.” I bump into her shoulder lightly as I push past her to make my way back over to Rion.
He watches me, and then he studies Nicki. “There a problem?” His dark eyebrow wings up, and I set down the drink in front of him.
I press my palms against the bar and shake my head. “No. She's just a little…I don't know…wound up.”
“Maybe she needs to get laid.”
Don’t we all?
I incline my head toward him and rap my knuckles against the bar. “It treats a lot of things. Being wound up too tight, having a shitty day…it’s the magical cure.”
He lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a sip. His tongue snakes out across his lips, and a low rumble of appreciation comes from his chest. “That sounds good to me.”
Me fucking, too.
Nicki motions for me to join her at the other end of the bar.
Bad fucking timing, girl.
I shift away from Rion and make my way down to her. “What do you need?”
She motions to the taps. “The MGD is out. We need to hook up a new keg.”
“Uggg. Why didn’t Smitty check that before he left?”
He really should have. He can’t expect two small women to do it, especially on a busy night when we will need to leave the bar unattended to do it together. As a boss, he leaves a lot to be desired. And with the way the place is packed tonight, there’s no way Nicki and I can both go get the new keg connected.
But there is another option…
I peek back at Rion and then turn to Nicki. “I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyebrows pop up. “You’re going to drag the keg out of the fridge and connect it all on your own?”
“Nah,” I wave a hand at her, “I’ve got help.”
Big. Muscular. Hulk-style help.
7
Rion
Gabriella makes her way back over to me, a wicked grin on the lips I can’t stop imagining wrapped around my cock. She leans against the bar next to me and bats her long, dark eyelashes. “Can I borrow your guns?”
I narrow my eyes at her and scan the bar. “Who are you shooting?”
She drops her head back and laughs, and the rich, playful sound goes straight to my dick. “No,” she squeezes my bicep, “these guns. I have to move a keg.”
Well, that certainly makes more sense.
It would have been weird for her to ask to borrow firearms. Even if she had needed the real thing, I don’t think it would have been wise to pull my piece from my ankle holster and hand it over in the middle of the bar. That might draw some unwanted attention, and we’ve done our best to stay under the radar around here. As far as anyone knows, we’re just guys working for Pike Fish coming in here to enjoy a drink after a long day out on the water.
