Gabriel (Legacy Series Book 2)

by RJ Scott

  Cam heard a chair move, imagined Six as he’d known him fifteen years before. Tall, strong, he’d been brought in by the family as a personal bodyguard after an attempt at kidnapping one of the Stafford kids had been foiled. Then, when Cam’s eyesight had deteriorated, Six had become Cam’s protector, and then friend. He used to turn chairs and straddle them with his arms on the back, and that was how Cam was picturing him now.

  “How much gray do you have in your hair now?” Cam asked.

  “Enough so I look devastatingly sexy,” Six snarked back at him.

  They laughed together, the stress of Cam’s dad slowly slipping back to where it belonged.

  “I need to get on to Charlie and make sure the terms of grandpa’s will are still airtight.”

  Charlie had been the family lawyer, but Cam had outbid his dad a long time ago to retain Charlie’s services.

  “Shit, Cam, not that again.”

  “Yeah. Implication is at some point I’ll want to give up the Royal, that I won’t be able to cope.” He air-quoted the word “cope” and sighed noisily. “He wants Mitchell to co-manage, despite the Royal being the most financially lucrative boutique hotel that the Stafford’s run.”

  He rolled his neck and heard the crack, feeling the tension slip a little. This was why he hated family events at his hotel, but given that Chloe had chosen to go to college in Dallas, then fallen in love with Luke at an event at this hotel, it was inevitable that the Dallas Stafford Royal would be the center of celebrations.

  “Okay, so we check with Charlie. Nothing has changed since last time we all met up.” Six spoke confidently, but Cam hadn’t been totally honest with his best friend. The small amount of peripheral vision he had was becoming more blurry.

  Inevitable degeneration, they said to him. Was that enough for someone to insist he had to leave the Royal?

  I couldn’t handle that.

  “Can I ask you another question? It’s about Sophie.”

  “Your sister Sophie? What about her?”

  “Gabriel said something about Mitchell, about how we should look out for Sophie.” Six stayed suspiciously quiet, and dread began to build. “What aren’t you telling me, Six?”

  “I don’t like Mitchell with her, I think since they married she’s got quieter, and sometimes…” He trailed away, and Cam grew impatient.

  “What? For god’s sake, Six.”

  “I think he has a hold on her that I don’t like.”

  Cam thought for a moment. “Find out more. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “That could be a can of worms you could never put the lid back on.”

  “I don’t care, she’s my sister.”

  “On it.”

  “Also, I need the number for Gabriel.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I do.” How was that for a snappy comeback?

  Six huffed. “What are you, four? Give me your phone.”

  Cam passed over his phone and there were some noises—beeps from the phone, soft curses about Gabriel’s parentage from Six, and Cam’s own breathing, which was loud in his ears.

  “There, but I’m fucked off with you for wanting it.” That was Six, cutting to the chase with a complete lack of respect. Which meant Cam had to be completely honest right back at him.

  “Six, I’m fucked off with myself.”

  “Then why do it?”

  “Because there’s something there—heat and desire and need and something forbidden.”

  Six huffed again. He was doing a lot of that at the moment. “I will label this your hooker stage, and we will never refer to it again after you’re done.”

  He meant it for real. Six was very good at compartmentalizing his emotions.

  Back in his room, Gidget next to him, his hands buried in her fur, Cam decided that until his dad and Mitchell had gone, he would be taking Gidget with him everywhere. Just so she could bite either of them if needed.

  He scrolled to his sister’s number listening for the code for her entry; he just wanted to let her know he was there for her. She didn’t answer.

  “This is all shitty,” he said as he scruffed Gidget’s neck. She nosed at his leg and said nothing back to him. Which was a good call, because he had so much inside him that needed to come out.

  “The one thing I can’t handle is pity,” he murmured to her, and she butted his leg again. “I’ve had enough pity to last me a lifetime. You know what I need right now? To fuck someone, to be fucked, to replace the shit in my head with sex. Is that wrong?”

  This time Gidget laid her head on his leg, and he knew she would drool on his pants.

  That was the least of his worries.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hey, baby, you awake?”

  Gabriel turned over in bed, his left knee twisting in the covers, the twinge of pain enough to remind him that he needed to stretch out before doing anything dramatic like getting out of bed.

  “Yeah,” he called, and shuffled to sit upright a bit more. He wanted to be respectful to Stefan and give him the attention he deserved. It wouldn’t be right to be slouching about in bed when Stefan was probably bringing in coffee and toast, or something like that anyway.

  Stefan pushed in with a mug in one hand, mail under his arm, and his iPad in the other.

  “I have something to show you,” Stefan said, and sat on the side of the bed. “The money came in from that client at the Stafford Hotel.”

  “Good.”

  “He sent us a lot of money, more than I was expecting. You know anything about why he’d do that?”

  “No,” Gabriel said.

  “What did you quote him when you agreed to it all? It’s a lot of money sitting in the account.” Stefan sounded proud, and Gabriel smiled at him. There was nothing better than breakfast in bed with Stefan talking over how well Gabriel had done in the few days previous.

  “Six hundred; I never thought he’d take it,” Gabriel said.

  “Six hundred, eh? For four hours.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s sent us a thousand—that’s some tip.”

  Stefan reached out a hand and circled Gabriel’s wrist, and Gabriel knew better than to pull away even when it tightened fractionally and burned a little. Stefan rubbed his thumb over the scar there, right on the wrist.

  “I did a good job,” Gabriel defended himself. And he had. He’d played his part, and Cam had seemed happy when Gabriel left. Added to which he’d come all over Gabriel’s hand and the expression of bliss on his face when he’d peaked was something Gabriel could keep locked away in his head. The expression had been pure pleasure, untouched by darkness in any way.

  “You were his escort, his companion. No sex, right?”

  “Stefan—”

  “The parameters agreed, the rules we listed before this, said that there would be no sex, like he asked.”

  “I know, but—”

  “What did you do, Gabriel?” The grip on his wrist tightened and fear flared inside him. He’d done this, fucked up again, gone against what Stefan had said. Why did he even think he could make decisions like that for himself?

  “He was pissed off with his family, so I gave him a handjob and got him off.”

  The hand holding his wrist flew up and slapped him around the face, the coffee in his hand slopping over the side and onto his bare chest. He couldn’t help it, he yelped, a strange, twisted sound that he couldn’t keep in. Stefan hated it when he made a noise. Another slap pushed his head back to the headboard, and he tried to put the coffee away from him only to have it yanked from his hand. Another slap turned into more of a punch, right on his shoulder, and he moved sideways in the bed, his trapped knee twisting.

  “Fucking idiot,” Stefan snapped. “You break the fucking rules and no one will want your ass, not even me.”

  “Stef—”

  “If he doesn’t repeat request, then it’s your fault for fucking off a cash cow, you stupid fucking idiot.”

  Another hit. This one conn
ected with his chest. And there was more shouting. “You want to go live on that fucking farm with all the other victims? Huh? You want to go stay with Kyle who writes to you about horses and barns? You want to give up the chance of a new life and shovel shit for the rest of your life?”

  Stefan yanked back the covers, exposing his naked body to the cold air.

  “No, I don’t,” Gabriel said. He writhed away from Stefan, but Stefan was bigger, stronger, and filled with righteous anger, and Gabriel knew this was all his fault. He shouldn’t have fallen for sapphire eyes and a sad expression; he should have done what Stefan had agreed to and left.

  Stefan shoved his iPad to the floor and straddled Gabriel, pinning his hands above his head and holding them there with one of his hands. With his free hand, he circled Gabriel’s throat.

  “I don’t want to,” Gabriel said.

  “Did I not make it clear?” Stefan snarled. “Was I not one hundred percent fucking clear about what you needed to do? You were a broken soul, and I saved you, and you repay me with this shit?”

  He pressed hard against Gabriel’s windpipe, held his hand there, his eyes inches from Gabriel’s and his mouth constantly moving. Gabriel’s vision blurred and darkened. Was this what it was like for Cam? Pure, blue-eyed Cam, with his broken gaze. Gabriel could see spots, knew he was losing consciousness, and only at that moment did he stop struggling.

  He hadn’t been wrong. What he’d done for Cam had been because he’d known he could make someone else’s pain vanish. It’s not wrong. I wasn’t wrong.

  Silence, and Stefan was climbing off him, wiping at the mess he’d left coming on Gabriel’s belly.

  “Look what you made me do,” he said with genuine regret in his tone. Then he pressed a kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. “I’ll make you a new coffee, baby,” he added.

  And he left.

  Gabriel wanted to curl onto his side and cry, but if Stefan was coming back…he needed to move.

  Then he saw the letter on the floor, addressed to him, the envelope torn open. Another letter from Legacy Ranch. He reached over to push it under the bed. There couldn’t be an excuse to upset Stefan anymore.

  That move had the cum on his belly pooling and sliding off onto the covers. He wiped at the mess with the corner of the sheet, knowing he would put every piece of fabric on this bed in the wash. Stefan never usually got angry like that inside Gabriel’s bedroom; not in his sanctuary.

  Stefan came in, all smiles, flinging open the curtains to a bright new day, talking about their healthy bank balance and how Gabriel’s percentage would be nearly two hundred dollars.

  That wasn’t much, but he had fucked up.

  Now if only Cam would call again; then he could make everything right with Stefan.

  “Remember you’ve nothing booked for today. You may want to get yourself ready and get out into the real world. You can’t stay in bed forever.” He tutted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can’t have you going out looking like you got into a fight. I’m out for the rest of the day. Have fun.”

  Stefan left, and only thirty minutes after the front door slammed did he dare to pull out the letter; it was dated two days ago and in different handwriting than usual, although the tone of it suggested the same author, maybe dictating. He read on.

  Gabriel, this is Jason, Kyle hurt his hand yesterday and had to have stitches which makes it all kinds of painful for him to hold a pen. The idiot. I told him not to try and pull that nail out of the wood without protection, but no, he had to do it anyway. Anyway, he’s sitting next to me so I have to write what he says. Some guy turned up looking for Mistry yesterday. Said he’d lost her and did we have her, and Kyle called up to the house and Darren and Jack came down and went all bad ass on him. I didn’t like the guy, looked a bit shifty, but Kyle said we should try and be polite. Sometimes I think Kyle is too nice for his own good.

  Ouch, Kyle just smacked me one. The ass. So, yeah, picture this, Jack is saying that it was convenient that this guy wanted Mistry back after we’d all spent time and thousands of dollars on getting her all fixed up. Darren added that he could give a full accounting of the costs that would need to be repaid, and Jack said that as soon as the guy handed over papers of proof, and a check, that he could have Mistry back. He left, but I think he’s trouble, watch this space.

  Kyle just told me to write to tell you to visit, like he does all the time.

  He just smacked me again, I swear, this is getting out of hand. But you gotta love the guy.

  Anyway, that’s the latest news, and Kyle says hi, and more next week.

  The letter was signed with a scrawl that looked something like the name Jason. This was letter thirty-three. They’d begun to arrive a year ago, charting Kyle and Jason’s messy, happy home life on a ranch.

  Gabriel ached with the need to see the place, but he would never go.

  Seeing the name Darren there was too much. It had been Darren’s brother Hank who had abused Gabriel at the Bar Five Ranch, and Darren had sent a check to Gabriel to pay him off. The letter with it had spoken of sorrow and guilt, and how Darren would always be there if Gabriel needed him.

  Fuck that.

  Stefan had taken the letter and the check, cashed the check, and laughed when he burned the letter.

  “Like anyone else cares about you the same as me,” he’d said.

  So no, Gabriel didn’t want to hear what Darren fucking Castille was doing.

  He showered and dressed, making sure his clothes covered whatever bruises there were. They’d be gone soon; not much marked his sun-bronzed skin. And all the time he thought about the ranch, and Stefan, and that pure, perfect moment when every care and worry had disappeared from Cam’s face as he was coming.

  He wasn’t ever going to Legacy Ranch.

  I’m not going there. Stefan needs me. Stefan saved me.

  Then he caught sight of a bruise he couldn’t cover, high on his forehead—nothing too obvious, but he could see it if he looked closely enough.

  Stefan pulled me from that street corner and brought me home. Gave me food. Gave me a bed. Saved me.

  He picked up a jacket and left the apartment, his cell in his pocket and no destination in mind. Sometimes he liked to walk the streets of Dallas, dressed in his smart jeans and nice shirt, but today he wanted to get into a different headspace. He stopped for a coffee, sitting with a whole load of tourists all taking selfies in front of the building which, he picked up, had been used in an episode of Dallas way back in the eighties. For the longest time he nursed his coffee and people-watched and tried really hard not to think of anything.

  But that wasn’t possible, because he had too much to think about that he couldn’t push to one side.

  When he thought back to the day of the trial, he just remembered crying.

  The words had been there, explaining what had happened to him, and he recalled seeing the two others who had suffered at the hands of a sadistic bastard—a young kid, Daniel, and a man older than him, Kyle. Neither of them had cried.

  But Gabriel had cried when he arrived there, cried as he spoke, and sobbed in the car afterward.

  Stefan had held his hand in the car, driving one-handed and reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. He’d even bought Gabriel a suit.

  “You have to look like a normal person, Angel,” he’d said as he’d knotted Gabriel’s tie before they left the apartment. The tie had hurt because the bruising on his neck was new, and Gabriel always knew that was when the crying started.

  Stefan said he looked so pretty when he cried, talked about his dark eyes being soft.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” A voice broke into his reverie, and he looked up into the face of a kid, no more than ten or so, with a family behind him.

  “I was just leaving,” Gabriel lied, and stood up, picking up his cup and then wondering what the hell to do with the delicate china he’d been given. He went back inside and placed the cup on the counter, then left, walking past the family of four�
�mom, dad, two sons—laughing over something on a phone in the middle of the table.

  Familiar feelings of envy rose to the surface, and he pushed them away. He hadn’t ever needed a dad, or a brother, but he’d loved his mom.

  Now he loved Stefan, and if he wasn’t careful Stefan wouldn’t be part of his world. Getting those letters from Kyle was causing a problem. At first Stefan had been intrigued, telling Gabriel he should make an effort with the obscenely rich Campbell-Hayes family, adding that they owed Gabriel. How he figured that, Gabriel didn’t know, and he’d said so. He had a tenuous connection to Darren, who worked for them, and that was it.

  Ever since then, when a letter arrived there was a rage in Stefan that scared Gabriel.

  The letters needed to stop.

  He pulled out his cell and the last letter, which was folded in his pocket, and with no thought other than to make it all stop, he dialed the number written carefully at the top of the paper. The phone rang three times, and relief began to manifest in his chest when it seemed that there was no one to answer. Then the ringing stopped and the call connected.

  “Legacy Ranch,” a voice announced.

  “I need to talk to Kyle,” Gabriel said before he could second-guess himself.

  “Kyle! Phone for you!”

  There was a clatter as the phone was clearly dumped somewhere—a table, or a counter, or the floor, maybe. Then another noise as it was picked up.

  “Kyle Braden. Can I help?”

  Kyle had a soft voice. Gabriel remembered the tone from the trial. The skinny guy had had green eyes that were sunken, and he’d looked gaunt and exhausted. The only part of the story of his life that Gabriel knew was the fact that they’d both suffered at the hands of Hank Castille.

  “You have to stop writing those letters,” Gabriel snapped.

  There was a moment of silence, then Kyle spoke. “Gabriel, is that you?”

  “Stop writing the letters. My friend Stefan doesn’t like it.”

  “It’s real nice to hear from you,” Kyle said. His tone was less business and warmer now, the cadence of it soothing.