Taking Meghan: Disciples 5

by Sweet, Izzy

  Putting a pleasant smile on my face as I cross the street, I head directly for the front door of the dimly lit restaurant. It’s looks just like I remembered, old and out of date. Still clinging to the past. Fuck, that sounds a bit like me if I’m being honest with myself. Old and out of date. Clinging to a past full of hurt and anger.

  Pushing the door inward, I stand there for a moment, allowing my eyes to acclimate to the dim lighting inside. The décor is straight out of a 60’s upscale restaurant. Except now it’s comes off as skeezy. The old-world tiling has lost its luster, and the paint on the walls has a thick coating of cigarette smoke. Even the chairs and tables look out of step with the world outside.

  Walking toward the small waiting area, I poke my head around the corner to peek inside the dining area. As I thought, it’s half-full of old men, relics of the Soviet era. More than likely a few old KGB sitting there.

  I watch as they all eat food slowly from their plates or take long drinks from glasses containing a clear alcohol. Vodka. They sure do love that shit.

  Looking down to my bag, I grin. This should work out just like I want. I don’t give a shit if these old men are really connected to Alexei. I just want to fuck with his money operations, and I want him to know I don’t care about collateral damage. I’m just here to have a fucking good time while I hunt his dumbass.

  I’ve got enough C-4 in the bag to level the whole building, and probably more than that. Haven’t used it in a long time, so my memory is a bit fuzzy on what kind of damage I’m getting ready to cause.

  Kneeling down to the floor, I push the bag across the old world tile then grin as it quietly reaches about the midway mark of the dining room.

  Standing up from where I’m crouching, I head back to the front door. Time to move.

  And fuck.

  Some little old lady is getting ready to come in the door.

  Stepping quickly to the door, I flip the closed sign before I open it just enough to let myself out of the door.

  Looking down at the woman, I give her a frown.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I was just informed they’re closed for the day. Something about a gas leak from one of their grills,” I say, trying to be as unoffending as possible.

  As small as Meghan is, this little old lady looks even tinier.

  “That’s no good,” she says with a frown, looking past the door.

  “No, ma’am, but better safe than sorry, I think.”

  Turning to get her to move away from the door, I suggest, “How about I help you back to your car?”

  “You’re a good boy. My grandson used to be, now he’s too busy for me,” she says with a sigh.

  Reaching up, she takes my arm, and I slowly walk her toward the street light. “I’m sure he still thinks about you, though.”

  “Bah, he thinks of me for my money. But I’m too smart to give it away,” she ends with a grin.

  As we slowly cross the street, I look up to see Meghan gawking. Her eyes are as round as saucers as I wink at her.

  “Thank you, young man,” the little lady says as we reach her car.

  “My pleasure. As I said, better safe than sorry.”

  Walking back to my truck, I wait until I hear the little old lady’s car take off down the street before I push the detonate button on the little device in my pocket.

  The resounding concussion affect nearly knocks me off my feet as I jog over to the truck.

  Hopping into the passenger side, I give Meghan a grin. “She was a really sweet woman. Said I remind her of an old movie star,” I say as I motion for her to start driving. “Time to go, babe. No need to stick around here any longer.

  “Holy fucking shit,” Meghan mutters as she puts us the truck in drive and whips us out of the parking spot.

  When a second booming sound goes off, I snicker. I wonder if that was a gas main.

  13

  Meghan

  A huge cloud of smoke darkens the sky behind me. The street is littered with chunks of stone and other debris. People run out of the surrounding buildings with looks of shock and worry on their faces.

  My foot presses hard on the gas and the engine of the truck rumbles as I race away from the scene of the explosion.

  Once I’m a few blocks away, I manage to sneak a quick glance over at Gabriel.

  He’s leaned back in his seat, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

  I almost do a double take, but there’s so much traffic in front of me I’m afraid I’ll rear-end somebody.

  How can he be so fucking relaxed? So fucking happy after what he just did?

  My foot pushes harder on the gas, the need to get away from what’s behind me causing my heart to beat frantically.

  When he talked about collateral damage, I stupidly assumed he was blowing something up with no one in it. But I know there were people in that restaurant. I watched him walk an old lady out for Christ’s sake!

  Bile rises up in my throat and I have to swallow it back down a couple of times before I manage to ask, “So, how many people did I just help you kill?”

  Fuck. I’ve never killed anyone before.

  Out of the corner of my eyes I see Gabriel shrug his shoulders nonchalantly, like the body count is no big deal. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Can you at least guestimate?” I ask a little too shrilly, the need to know bordering on hysteria.

  How much blood do I have on my hands?

  I sense him stiffening beside me before he offers slowly, almost carefully, “I don’t know. Probably less than a dozen.”

  Probably less than a dozen… So I just helped him kill at the most eleven people…

  My hands tighten around the steering wheel, finding the grooves he’s already made in it.

  “Meghan,” he says, his voice heavy with worry. “Pull over, I’ll take over.”

  I shake my head and my foot pushes harder on the gas. I can’t let him take over. No, I can’t let him have control.

  Who knows what he’ll do next?

  First it was the church… and now this… and who knows how many before I even met him…

  He’s a psychotic murderer, and I fucked him.

  Oh god.

  I’m married to him.

  I blow through three more lights, seriously considering pulling over, popping the door open and shoving his big ass out.

  Guns don’t work, nor do knives. He’s like some horror movie monster that can’t be killed.

  I doubt he’d survive though if I ran him over with the truck.

  But then again, maybe he would…

  “Take the next left,” he says, but I’m so stuck in my head I miss the turn.

  He repeats my name a few times, trying to get my attention as I think of all the ways I could off him.

  I know he didn’t use all the C4. If I can get my hands on what’s in the back, I could shove it down his pants…

  “Meghan,” he finally growls menacingly.

  My eyes snap to him.

  “Take the next left.”

  I’m half-tempted to take the next right out of sheer obstinance, but maybe once I get him to wherever he wants to go, he’ll get out of the truck and I can drive off into the horizon.

  A girl can only hope.

  “Now take the next right,” he says after we drive down the road a mile or so.

  With a sigh, I hit the blinker and slow the truck down as I pull us into a parking lot.

  He jerks his chin toward a dark building sitting at the edge of the lot. “Park in front of there.”

  I do exactly as he says. I pull into one of the empty spots in front of the building and then put the truck in park.

  Releasing a deep breath, I stare ahead at the building. The place looks like some kind of grungy dive bar. The sign reads: The River Waters.

  I avoid glancing over at Gabriel as I wait for him to make the first move. I’m hoping he’ll get out without realizing I still have the truck running.

  As if he knows exactly what I’m
thinking, he reaches over and twists the keys out of the ignition.

  Damn.

  “Get out of the truck, Meghan,” he says, so close his warm breath brushes against my ear.

  I shiver and immediately hate myself for still being affected by him. He’s a murdering monster, yet my body doesn’t seem to know or care.

  The stupid thing still wants him.

  Seeking to escape his presence, I yank on the door handle and quickly slide out of my seat.

  Once my feet hit the ground, I’m filled with the overwhelming need to run. To escape this fucking madness.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, my knees are pumping and my lungs are aching as I take off across the parking lot.

  Gabriel bellows my name.

  I don’t stop though, I can’t stop.

  I run so fast, so hard, I gas myself within a couple of minutes. I manage to make it to the very edge of the lot before I feel the ground thundering beneath my feet.

  A second later what feels like an iron bar wraps around my chest.

  I scream and flail as Gabriel yanks me off my feet and begins to drag me backward.

  My heels drag across the asphalt as I wail out, “Let me go!”

  Another iron bar wraps around me and his big palm slaps over my mouth.

  I try to bite him, try to kick him, but it’s fucking hopeless.

  Once again, I’m forced to face the crushing reality that I’m not strong enough to fight him off. This isn’t an action movie, and I’m not a genetically enhanced superwoman. Pure physics is working against me, and it sucks so fucking bad.

  Gabriel drags me all the way back to the truck then pushes me up against the door.

  Flipping me around, he drops one arm from around my chest.

  “Where the fuck are you going?” he huffs out as he cages me in.

  With his hand still slapped over my mouth, all I can do is snort and glare up at him.

  His jaw tenses with frustration. “What the fuck is the problem now?”

  “You,” I pant out as soon as he slides his hand off my mouth. “You’re the fucking problem, Gabriel. Just let me go!”

  I take a cheap shot at his shin, catching him off guard. He grunts and slaps his hand back over my mouth.

  Shaking his head, he looks at me like I’m some kind of alien creature he doesn’t understand. “How the fuck am I the problem? What the fuck did I do?”

  How can he not know?

  Without giving me a chance to respond, he keeps his hand firmly against my lips and asks as if he’s finally figuring it out, “Is it because I blew up that restaurant?”

  I glare up at him some more.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re pissed because I blew up a bunch of fucking Russians?”

  Ding, ding, ding. We have a fucking winner.

  “What the hell, Meghan?” he growls as he slides his hand off my mouth.

  Still panting, I take a second to lick my dry lips, then immediately regret it when I taste a hint of his skin.

  “It’s not that you blew up a bunch of fucking Russians,” I explain, though Lord knows I don’t owe him an explanation. “It’s that you just killed a bunch of people and made me an accomplice!”

  He frowns as he stares at me. “So you’re worried about getting busted and doin’ time? Well, don’t you worry your—”

  “No… yes. No!” I cut him off. “I don’t want to get busted and don’t want to do time, but that’s not why I want you to let me go.”

  His eyes flash, growing colder, icier, and he presses his body into me, crushing me against the truck. “I’m not fucking letting you go. Do I need to remind you again what you mean to me?”

  I swear this is just an exercise in futility. He just doesn’t get it. How can he when he’s a psycho? But I push on.

  “You… you… you tricked me into helping you kill people!” I finally blurt out while hot tears start to sting my eyes.

  Goddammit, I hate that I feel like this. Hate that I’m on the verge of crying over this. I’m not fucking weak, and never thought something like this would bother me, but it does.

  It’s one thing to imagine killing someone, especially someone who deserves it. Someone who’s hurt me.

  It’s another thing being deceived into helping someone kill a group of strangers.

  Gabriel reels back from me as if I just slapped him in the face. “You held a gun to my chest and pulled the trigger…’

  “Yes!” I snap at him, not denying it.

  He’d be dead if there was a bullet left in the chamber.

  “You held a knife to my heart and threatened to cut off my balls…”

  “I did,” I agree, blinking my eyes to fight back the tears.

  Gabriel shakes his head slowly, his confused gaze never leaving my face. “You’re sending me mixed signals here, babe. Have you never killed anyone before?”

  “No!” I snap out and then suck in a deep breath.

  I’ve never killed anyone before. There’s never been a reason to. As a woman in my family, I was sheltered, protected while the men did all the dirty work. The risk, the danger, never touched me until my mom was killed in that car explosion.

  Gabriel’s eyes soften, filling with sympathy, and I instantly can’t stand it. I don’t need him feeling sorry for me over this.

  Stiffening my spine, I explain, “All those things I did, I did them in self-defense. It wasn’t cold-blooded murder.”

  There’s a difference, a huge fucking difference. One is done for self-preservation.

  And one stains the soul.

  “There was nothing cold-blooded about it…” Gabriel says defensively, the softness fading from his eyes as he pushes back into me.

  I shake my head and look away.

  Grabbing me by the hair, he tugs, forcing me to look up at him. “This is war.”

  I almost laugh. So that’s his excuse? That’s his reasoning? The route he’s going to take to make me feel less guilty about this?

  “War is full of atrocities,” I counter. “It’s full of sick, powerful men who use it as an excuse to get off… to fulfill their depraved fantasies.”

  Gabriel’s blonde brows begin to inch toward his hairline and his lips twitch with amusement. “I don’t need war to get off when I have you.”

  I open my mouth to tell him he doesn’t have me, but he tugs on my hair, stopping me.

  “This is kill or be killed,” he practically croons.

  I snap my mouth shut and stare up at him.

  “And I’ll kill every motherfucker on this planet to protect you. The streets will run red until I know you’re safe.”

  I know he probably meant that statement to be reassuring, but honestly it’s rather terrifying. I search his face, search his eyes, for any sign that he’s joking, but he looks completely serious.

  My skin prickles with goosebumps and a chill travels down my spine.

  “How does blowing up that restaurant and killing innocent people protect me?” I ask, hoping to push him more towards reason.

  He doesn’t even blink before he states gruffly, “Not a bastard in there was innocent.”

  “Yeah, but how do you know? How you can be sure?”

  Both brows pulling down, he practically growls as he pushes his hips into me. “Because I know, Meghan.”

  That answer just isn’t good enough for me. I need proof. I need something, anything, to relieve my conscience.

  “Did you look them up beforehand? Was that entire thing planned?” I continue to push.

  Gabriel makes a frustrated noise. He’s pressed so close, I can feel almost every muscle in his body tightening with tension.

  Grabbing me by the face, he stares hard into my eyes as he says, “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

  Trust him? How can I trust him when he didn’t even let me in on what he was doing in the first place?

  I open my mouth to tell him just that when he cuts me off. “If you don’t, we’re dead men walking.�
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  That brings me up a little short.

  I blink up at him. “What do you mean?”

  His lashes lower and his eyes pierce through me like two sharp shards of ice. “It’s them or us, Meghan.”

  Them or us… a familiar excuse I’ve heard my father give for his decisions. His whole reason for going after the Italians and starting the feud in the first place. A feud that took my mother’s life.

  All of a sudden Callum’s face flashes through my mind, followed by all the dead men in the church. My father… my father was shot. I don’t even know how injured he was. He could be dead for all I know.

  I start trembling as the reality of what happened yesterday washes over me. So much has happened to me since the wedding that I haven’t really had time to think about it. To process it.

  Scowling, Gabriel drops his hands from my cheeks and reaches down, gathering me up in his arms and pulling me close. I stiffen at first, not wanting his comfort, but I’m so cold all of a sudden, and he’s so warm.

  I’m drowning… sinking… and the only thing I can grab onto is the fucking shark in the bloody waters.

  His hands travel over me, tender, soothing.

  Too fucking tender and soothing for a man so willing to commit murder.

  “I don’t want anyone else to die,” I admit softly.

  Especially in a fiery inferno…

  I shudder, unable to repress the memory of what happened to my mother… what probably happened to those people in the restaurant.

  Gabriel releases a huff of air that whispers across the top of my head and gives me a tight squeeze before he pulls back.

  Eyes finding my eyes again, he looks almost regretful as he asks, “Not even Alexei?”

  I suck in a breath and just stare at him, the truth of that question slamming into me.

  Fuck.

  I do want Alexei to die, and it probably makes me the biggest fucking hypocrite in the world.

  I try to look away, try to hide the truth inside me, the bit of shame I’m feeling, but his gaze traps mine, holding me captive.

  “People are going to die, Meghan. A lot of people are going to die before this is over with, but I’m doing my damnedest to make sure it’s not us.”