Always Been Mine

by Victoria Paige

  Gabe shook the images away and spotted the exit for Chevy Chase. He really shouldn’t be doing this, but he needed a reminder that even when he was at his vilest, he had a shred of humanity left. He pulled into a relatively affluent neighborhood and parked a couple of cars up from a Tudor-framed house. He waited, sipping from a thermos of hot coffee he had brought with him.

  Two hours later, a boy of about fifteen emerged. He was bundled up in a hoodie and an overlay jacket, wearing jeans and sneakers. He was dribbling a basketball on his way to the side of the house. There was a ring fixed at the center of a two-car garage.

  The boy started playing hoops.

  Gabe watched.

  *****

  “Here’s your coffee, hon.”

  The barista handed Beatrice her order. It was good to leave the condo this morning because she had remained holed up in her unit all day Saturday after her disastrous encounter with Gabe. Something wasn’t sitting right with her. She should be feeling the sweet triumph of revenge, not this unsettling guilt for what she had done.

  She ran a couple of miles this morning to clear her head, trying to remove the unsavory taste of how she left Gabe so callously. He did the same to her, why couldn’t she pay him back in kind? Damn it, why couldn’t he leave well enough alone? He was forcing her to become the biggest bitch in history. The stricken look on his face right before she turned away almost made her reconsider. If he wasn’t all hard-ass male perfection, that would have been a kicked-puppy look. Why did he have to remind her of how good he was with his cock? He filled her perfectly, stretching her between the point of pleasure and pain, and hammering out her orgasms effortlessly.

  Nowhere near serene and still as conflicted as ever, Beatrice walked into the lobby of her condominium. An anxious concierge rushed toward her.

  “Ms. Porter!”

  “What’s going on?” she asked, baffled.

  “There are two detectives here to see you.”

  Detectives? That was when Beatrice noticed the two trench-coat clad guys rise from the lobby couches. Not missing a beat, she nonchalantly walked to the concierge desk to pick up a newspaper and tucked it under her arm before she faced the approaching detectives.

  “Detectives Moore and Smithers of the Metropolitan Police Department.” Both detectives flashed their badges.

  “To what do I owe this visit?”

  “Can we talk somewhere private, Ms. Porter?”

  The penetrating look on Detective Moore’s face indicated that the matter was grave. She tried to wrack her brain on what could be wrong?

  A knot of anxiety formed in her gut.

  She nodded to the elevators to take them to her condo.

  Beatrice set her keycard and coffee on the foyer table, turned and folded her arms in front of her. “What’s this all about?”

  “Where were you between three and seven a.m. yesterday morning?”

  Oh, my God, did something happen to Gabe?

  “Did something happen to Gabriel Sullivan?” she blurted out, panic in her voice.

  Both detectives frowned; one of them started writing on his notepad.

  “Well?” When she heard herself shriek, Beatrice forced herself to calm down. But the silence of the two detectives was making it extremely difficult.

  “Were you with this Gabriel Sullivan?”

  Warning bells and self-preservation trilled in Beatrice’s consciousness. “Do I need a lawyer? If you don’t tell me what this is all about, I’m not saying anything else.”

  “Eric Stone was found dead last night. Time of death initially puts it around the early hours of Saturday morning.”

  Beatrice felt the room spin. Shocked at Eric’s death, relieved that Gabe was okay, it was too much. She forced her unsteady legs to walk across the foyer toward her living room and sat on the couch. The detectives followed but remained standing.

  “How?”

  “We can’t disclose the circumstances for now,” Detective Smithers said. “So, were you with this Gabriel Sullivan?”

  “I was drunk; I’m not sure of the time frame.”

  “Do you have his contact information?”

  “No.”

  “Really? That’s—”

  “He was a one-night stand.” She had the resources to track him down, but linking Gabe to Eric was not a good idea given the two had an altercation a few days ago. The detectives might eventually find out. She didn’t even want to dwell on her reasons for wanting to protect Gabe.

  “Oh.” Detective Smithers smirked.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have more information to help you,” Beatrice said. She wasn’t even going to volunteer information about Eric’s drug use. “Eric and I broke up a few weeks ago.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  Beatrice clenched her jaw.

  “I understand he was harassing you two days ago,” Detective Moore pressed immediately after Smithers’s question. “Even after you’d threatened him in a voicemail to leave you alone or else.”

  Shit.

  “You’ve got connections with private security groups—”

  “Gentlemen, either charge me with something or this meeting is over. I will not entertain any more questions without my lawyer. Got it?” Beatrice snapped.

  “Very well, Ms. Porter,” Detective Smithers said, still sporting an annoying smirk. “Don’t leave town.”

  With that parting shot, the two detectives left.

  Beatrice called her father.

  *****

  It was early evening when Gabe let himself into his house. Poor Rhino must be ready to explode. If he had been thinking straight, Gabe would have thought to bring his dog along. After his stop in Chevy Chase, Maryland, he just drove around until his gas tank was almost empty.

  After walking Rhino for half an hour, he returned to the house. Admiral Porter was waiting for him. The admiral was sitting on the top steps with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

  “Admiral?”

  The older man looked up and rose from the steps. “Where were you, Gabriel?”

  “I’m not accountable to you,” Gabe answered coldly as he moved past the admiral to unlock the door. Porter followed him in without waiting for an invitation.

  “Is it true you were with Beatrice Saturday morning?”

  Gabe stilled, suddenly unsure where this was going. “She told you?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Yes,” Gabe bit out. “If this is some form of belated fatherly outrage, you can turn around and walk out that door. It’s between me and her, and I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking telling you.” His nostrils flared. “Unless you had one of us followed.”

  “Fatherly outrage is the least of your concerns right now,” Porter shot back. “Eric Stone is dead. Beatrice is a person of interest. She left a damning voicemail on that man’s phone, threatening him.”

  All the anger leached out of Gabe as concern for Beatrice took over. “They think she killed him?”

  “Or hired someone to do the job. Woman scorned and all that,” the admiral said dismissively. “I know Beatrice had nothing to do with it. Besides, autopsy and tox screen show death by natural causes.”

  “Which is?”

  “He died in his sleep.”

  “Fuck!” Gabe muttered.

  “Exactly.”

  The degree of separation from Eric Stone to the admiral and even to Gabe was too close, and death by natural causes, too suspicious in the world of covert ops and assassins. “You’re thinking it’s a professional hit?”

  “I’m pulling some strings to have our own techs run some tests to check for lesser known toxins.”

  “Hybernabis,” Gabe said softly. “It’s untraceable, makes the victim look like he died in his sleep, or if he has an existing heart condition, a heart attack. There’s a chemical you can add to flush it out so it’d show up on the report.”

  “Are you breaking the assassin’s code, Gabriel?” Porter asked.


  “No. That compound is on the CIA watch list. One of the elements is hard to procure, which is why it’s a very unpopular popular drug if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you use it?”

  “You know I did, Admiral.”

  “Beatrice doesn’t want to use you as an alibi.”

  “Why ever not?” Gabe growled.

  “She said you had a confrontation with Stone last week and it might shift the investigation to you.”

  Gabe inhaled sharply, not sure whether to feel elated that she cared for him enough to protect him, or annoyed that she would think he’d let her go through this alone.

  “It’s time for you to get your head out of your ass, Commander.”

  His eyes narrowed at the older man, pretty sure he knew what the admiral meant, but he was feeling masochistic right now. He needed a push.

  The admiral snorted. “I’ve left you well enough alone these past few months, Gabriel. I know coming back from being Dmitry Yerzov is tough. But, son, you’ve gone all the way to the other end of the spectrum, a level above being a pussy. You should be ashamed to be called a Navy SEAL.”

  “Now wait a goddamned minute—”

  “From what I’ve gathered from my daughter, you’re nowhere near getting through to her—”

  “Yeah? Well, her daddy issues ain’t helping, and I’m really uncomfortable talking to you about your daughter. She’s an adult. Fine time for you to be showing concern—”

  “I’m more concerned about you.”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you hear a thing I said?” Porter huffed in irritation. “You’re not the man you used to be, Gabriel. The man three years ago was the man my daughter fell for. You’re not even close. You treat her with kid gloves. Hell, if she takes you back the way you are right now, she’ll eat you alive. Drag you around and spit you out like a chew toy. Don’t make me regret helping you with my daughter.”

  “Back the hell up,” Gabe snapped. “I do not treat her with kid gloves. What do you think I should have done to her when she kneed me in the balls?”

  Porter froze; then his eyes crinkled at the corners before he burst out laughing.

  “Glad you find it amusing,” Gabe grumbled. “I can take it from here, Admiral. I’ve done some soul-searching so to speak. I’d appreciate it if you let me handle Beatrice from here on.”

  “Handle?” The admiral quirked a brow.

  “The woman needs some wooing and a firm hand. I’m handling her with care this time, Ben.”

  The admiral’s brows shot to his hairline. “This should be interesting. You may still be the right man for her after all.”

  “What the fuck, Ben? I don’t care what you think, especially since you didn’t give a shit for most of her life.”

  “Tread carefully, Gabriel,” Porter warned.

  “No. You need to come to terms with a few home truths,” he shot back. “Your fuck-ups as a father are not helping my cause with your daughter at all. I’d prefer it if you stay away from me while I’m trying to get Beatrice to take me back.” Gabe felt pain lance through his chest, thinking of the girl she used to be. “I don’t get it, Admiral. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and larger than life. How can you not cherish and protect someone as precious as her?”

  The admiral paled, his face was a mask, but the tension rolling off him was palpable. Gabe knew he’d gone too far, but someone had to say it. Someone had to fight for Beatrice, for the girl she had been who needed the love of a father.

  “You think I don’t cherish her?” Porter said softly. “The second biggest mistake of my life was getting in too deep with the CIA and then realizing I’ve made enemies. Having personal attachments had suddenly become more complicated. Protect her? Why do you think I’ve hooked her up with so many security firms? Do you know how many allies she has made, willing to protect her?”

  He regarded the admiral skeptically. “No matter how you emotionally detach yourself from Beatrice, the threat will always be there by association. Are you sure this is not a defense mechanism on your part, so if anything does happen to Beatrice, you would be as you are—apathetic?”

  “I’m warning you, Commander.” Porter’s face was etched in tense lines.

  “I guess I’ve made my point.”

  The admiral sighed in resignation. “It’s too late for me, Gabriel, but not for you. Be the man you used to be. Protect her because I can’t do it forever. One of these days, my enemies are going to catch up with me. She will get caught in the crossfire.”

  It chilled Gabe that nothing had happened as yet. He knew several missions the admiral had orchestrated that threatened serious blowback.

  “I’m sure Beatrice knows this. She’s not obtuse.”

  Porter nodded and walked to the door. “She’s at the condo right now—”

  “I don’t get it, Admiral, why are you helping me so much?”

  “I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made.”

  “What?”

  “The greatest mistake of my life.” An expression of regret flashed across the admiral’s face. “I didn’t fight for the woman I love. I let her go.”

  “You divorced her when you had seventeen years to fix your marriage,” Gabe scoffed, angry and confused at the admiral’s words.

  “I’m not talking about Beatrice’s mother.”

  And with that bombshell, the admiral left. Gabe stared at the door for a while.

  “Well, hell,” he muttered.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The intercom buzzed in her kitchen.

  Beatrice hurriedly wrapped herself in a robe. It was 11:00 p.m. Travis, Caitlin, and Nate had just left. They didn’t waste time showing their solidarity with her current situation. Before they had arrived, she spent almost an hour on the phone with Doug, who wanted to fly back from Florida tonight. Beatrice convinced him not to change his flight and just return the next day as he originally planned.

  “Yes?”

  “Hey, babe, buzz me in.”

  Gabe.

  “It’s almost midnight. I need some sleep, and I’m in no mood for a booty call.”

  “I won’t touch you. Well . . . unless you beg me to.”

  In your dreams, Sullivan.

  “Go home, Gabe.”

  “I made hot chocolate,” Gabe cut in abruptly. “Old-fashioned way. Just how you like it.”

  Beatrice paused. “Bittersweet?”

  “Seventy-percent Belgian chocolate, babe.”

  That sneaky bastard. She could feel her mouth drooling.

  “Poppy?”

  Damn Gabriel Sullivan.

  Five minutes later, she opened the door to a tousled-hair, scruffy-jaw, hot as hell man holding a thermos of liquid ambrosia. Gabe had learned to make proper hot chocolate—thick and bittersweet—from a friend who lived in Paris. Beatrice had never tasted anything quite like it. But hot cocoa aside, she thought this was the perfect opportunity to give him a logical argument to his idea of getting back together. He needed to stop turning up at her condo, announced or unannounced.

  “Hey,” he whispered, tawny eyes, warm and melting like caramel, gazed down on her.

  She said nothing, just stood aside and waved an arm to let him in. Closing the door behind him, she walked to the kitchen to get some mugs. Beatrice was very aware that Gabe was checking out her condo.

  “Nice place, great view,” Gabe murmured. “Must have cost a mint.”

  “It did.”

  Beatrice consciously tugged her robe together as she sat on the couch. Gabe took the armchair adjacent from her. This surprised Beatrice because there was plenty of room on the couch. “The hot chocolate was a sneaky move.”

  Gabe chuckled and unscrewed the top of the thermos. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  Oh, yes. The aroma of hot cocoa was intoxicating.

  “I didn’t even hold out for a proper dinner date.”

  “I can take you out to dinner tomorrow, if you’d let me,” Gabe responded instantly.
>
  “Why are you pushing this? Isn’t what happened Saturday morning enough?”

  “That was a mistake.”

  Beatrice bristled. “Excuse me, but didn’t you get off three times?”

  “So did you. But I should’ve stopped you.” Gabe handed her a cup. “We weren’t ready, emotionally—”

  “Where is this all coming from? Have you grown a vagina or something?”

  Gabe scowled. “I’ve been to see a shrink.”

  Beatrice didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “I’ve been back for four months now,” Gabe continued. “Gone for three years, I can’t tell you what I did, but know that”—he paused and inhaled sharply before pushing the air out slowly—“I did things, Beatrice. Horrific things.”

  “Gabe—”

  “The last thing I want from you is pity,” he said. “I’m dealing with it. I think I can be the man you need, but I can’t prove it to you unless you give me a chance.”

  “You can’t waltz back into my life and expect to pick up where we had left off. You’re not the only one who’s changed. The woman you knew three years ago was willing to bend her rules by dating a man like you. That woman now wants something else altogether,” Beatrice said. “It’s not about what you did, Gabe. It’s what you represent. You’re everything I don’t want, and I have to remember that.”

  Gabe’s eyes wavered from hers and stared at a spot on her carpet. His jaw was set in a tense line. “I’m not your father, Beatrice.”

  She smiled sadly. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  His eyes returned to hers. “Can we at least be friends?”

  She didn’t trust him, or maybe she didn’t trust herself. “Gabe, I don’t know.”

  “I heard about Eric Stone. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. Tears welled up in her eyes and she didn’t dare respond. Even if she didn’t love Eric, some part of her still cared for him despite how it ended between them.

  “How’s it going with the investigation?”

  “I think they’re going to declare it death by natural causes,” Beatrice said. “I’ve gone to the station with Dad and his lawyer. Given my statement. The lawyer assured me I’m not a suspect.”