In response to his lame question, she peeled her lips back from her teeth and sank them into his palm, her foot going back again for another heel kick. He grunted and hissed when it connected.
He brought the back of her head to his shoulder and squeezed her waist so hard she moaned.
“Your spirit is impressive as hell, but pointless. Now stop this before you hurt yourself.”
The expectation that she would obey just because he said so made her see red, and she shrieked in outrage behind his hand. He was going to kill her. Or maybe he would sell her into sex trafficking. Or just pass her around to his friends. Either way, she was done for.
She’d almost resigned herself to the horrible fate that awaited her when he said, “Fine, here goes nothing.”
Gabriel braced himself as Eva bucked against his hold yet again. His temples were pounding with worry. If she was acting this way and she hadn’t even heard the story . . .
How could she not hate him when he was done?
He shoved the words from his throat. “I’ve known your father since I was thirteen years old.”
Immediately, her struggles ceased. Her only movement became the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she sucked for air. Her precious heart was slamming against his forearm so strongly he almost didn’t go on. But he no longer had a choice.
“His name is Vasily Tarasov, and he’s head of one of the most powerful Russian crime organizations in the United States. He brought me in to watch over you two months ago because he was leaving the country. Didn’t want you left without protection in case his enemies got to you—” Shit. He did not want to do this to her. “The way they got to your mother. Kathryn’s car wreck wasn’t an accident, Eva. She was deliberately run off the road. She was murdered.”
The sound that tore from her throat was something Gabriel knew he’d never forget as long as he lived. The anguished, hoarse, keening cry ripped into him like a white-hot blade. Her head moved slowly from side to side and her legs crumpled so that he had to take her full weight on him.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered through his tightening throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He removed his hand from her mouth and turned her around to face him, half expecting a fist to fly at his jaw. But all she did was fall toward him, her hands grasping the front of his shirt to help hold herself up.
“You’re lying,” she challenged, her eyes imploring.
“I’m not. And deep down, you know it.” She was breathing so hard, for a moment, Gabriel thought she might hyperventilate.
“Why . . . why her?” she whispered, as if still in shock. “Why my mom? She was all I had . . . all I ever had.”
Helpless didn’t even come close to describing what he felt as she began to cry, her gut-wrenching sobs shaking him, the tragic questions burning his ears.
“I swear to God I would take this from you if I could,” he whispered into her hair. “Would give anything to save you from this pain.” Meaningless words to her, no doubt, but true all the same.
After what seemed an eternity, her grip loosened and she pushed herself back so she could see his face. He dropped his arms and allowed it, hoping her need to bolt had passed. Her red-rimmed eyes were still shimmering. Her face raw with emotion. But it was the cold, detached look she leveled him with that chilled him to the bone. She braced her shoulders and demanded hoarsely, “What else.”
“Eva—” He raised his hand, but she stepped back with a jerk.
“Don’t. You. Dare. Just finish what you have to say so I can get the hell out of this nightmare you’ve dragged me into.”
So she could get out?
Right then he knew he had a choice to make. Continue this, feeling every single emotion she was feeling, as her lover. Or he could once again become the man his father had raised with pride so many years ago—that cold, ruthless being who refused to allow emotions in for fear they might get in the way of what needed to be done.
Gabriel turned his back on the broken woman, walking over until he was between her and the door. When he faced her again, it was through the lens of a lethal man who’d made a promise to a deadly Russian leader.
“You are not leaving here.”
She spun, grief and anger on her face. “The hell I’m not! You can’t stop me. So quit all of this screwing around and finish this!”
A pitiless smile curved his lips. “Don’t for a minute fool yourself into thinking I can’t stop you, Eva. From here on out, you’re mine, whether you like it or not.”
Her gasp was sharp, her expression icy in her outrage, those eyes hardening to azure diamonds. And suddenly all Gabriel could see was . . . her father.
Who, no doubt, would be leveling him with the same glare once he found out what Gabriel had done, right before Vasily killed him.
“Tell. Me,” she demanded.
A faraway part of his mind continued to reel from the stunning genetic resemblance as he obliged with a careless shrug. “For the past couple of months I’ve been Vasily’s eyes and ears where you’re concerned. I’ve watched you, followed you, had people following you, every step you’ve taken. There hasn’t been one second of one day since your father came to me that your movements haven’t been monitored by me or one of my boys.”
She stumbled back, until she couldn’t go any farther. The backs of her knees hit the bed, and she went down heavily, bouncing slightly on the mattress. What little color remaining in her face leeched out. “No . . . Y-you’re . . . crazy . . .”
“Caleb Paynne is on my payroll. You were right. We know each other. He agreed to go to New York to keep an eye on you for those times when I couldn’t be there. If you don’t believe me, call and let him confirm it.”
“That can’t be . . .” Her voice was barely audible from the angle of her bowed head.
“Everything you’ve done, and still do, is put into a report I put together at the end of every week. Everyday stuff that your father used to see himself before he left. I know about your penchant for double-raw-skinny-lattes from Starbucks. I know you prefer OPI nail polish to Zoya. Like your father, you’ll sit with your back to the wall rather than the room, every time. You drive carefully but like speed. Your favorite color would be blue, unless we’re talking clothes—then it’s black. Yoga pants and tank tops are what you’re most partial to when going casual, jeans and too-small shirts if you’re going for a ride on that asshole’s bike. When a man checks you out, the second his back is turned you roll your eyes because you never fail to notice. For some reason, you enjoy cut green beans the way others enjoy an expensive steak, and you’ll almost always stop when you pass by a store that has shoes in a window display. If someone is walking a dog, I’ve yet to see you go by them without mauling the thing for at least a minute.”
“Oh, my God.”
His heart tightened as he watched her trembling hand whisk a lone tear off her ashen cheek.
Closing his eyes against a wave of self-loathing, he let the rest fly. “Your father has known you your whole life. Has loved you and loved your mother—enough to leave you so that the dangers of our world could never touch you.”
Which they did anyway.
Gabriel recalled one of the conversations he’d had with Vasily since learning his mentor had a daughter. He shared the information with Eva now. “He may have left you to keep you safe, but he was never far away. He told me about the day you lost your first tooth, said you were in a park. You were five, and he was there. And the day you had your first haircut when you were three? He was standing in the shadows across the street watching because he didn’t want to miss it.”
She brought her hands up to cover her ears, so he raised his voice. “He was there every year on your first and last days of school, birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving. Told me it nearly killed him watching you and Kathryn cry together the time she brought you and Nika to some girl’s summer camp you’d insisted on attending. You were thirteen. And that fat estate deposit you receive every month
? The one your mother used to get before her death from the wealthy uncle that passed away without a next of kin? The uncle never existed. It’s from your father. Just one more way he arranged to take care of you two.”
“Stop it,” she whispered, dropping her hands from her head. “Please, stop. Oh, my God. Stop this. What are you doing? How do you know these things?”
He didn’t stop. “Vasily chose me to protect you because he trusts me. He knew I was more than capable. But what neither of us realized was that your connection to me might bring you into more danger than your connection to him.” He watched her push to her feet. “My father was the head of our . . . crime family, and the last job I did for him was to leave a truck filled with explosives in front of a factory owned by one of his enemies. Long story short—my brother’s woman was in the building that blew up. The day I left New York, he vowed to kill any woman I got involved with the same way I’d killed the woman he loved.”
With Eva now directly in front of him, her expression tormented, Gabriel skidded down the last stretch.
“The man you met at Caleb’s place the day you left New York.” He paused, frowning when her eyes fluttered. “Stefano Moretti is my brother, Eva. And he’s coming for you.”
He caught her as she went down.
“Eva!” He swore and swore as he lifted her into his arms and quickly brought her back to the bed, brushing her hair away from her face. He knew this would happen. Had known she couldn’t take so much at once. But he’d had to get it all out there.
He quickly whipped the covers from beneath her to tuck her in, terrified by the icy feel of her skin. He straightened and jogged out to the living room. Snatching his phone from the floor where he’d dropped it earlier, he shouted for the boys as he hauled ass back to Eva, knowing one of them would have stayed on his door. In seconds, Alek, Jak, and Micha were all barreling into the bedroom, their heavy boots pounding like thunder on the tile.
“What happened?” Micha asked, cursing as he went to his knees beside the bed.
Gabriel was about to level him for his gall, but then remembered the guy had been a medic in the army back in Russia. “She passed out. Dead faint.” He also remembered that Stefano’s underboss had escaped their custody, critically injuring a man in the process. “How’s Abel?” he demanded of Jak. “And you’d better tell me someone found Furio.” He snapped the throw blanket from the chair in the corner and stalked over to drape it over Eva’s still form.
“Abel’s in surgery. Jerod said he’d call but it doesn’t look good. Furio is still MIA.”
Gabriel saw red. “That fuck! If Abel dies, too, I’ll . . . Jesus Christ,” he growled, deflating at the thought. “I should have sent someone else out with them. I knew what Furio was capable of, goddammit!”
“The twins have never needed a third, G,” Alek said. “That’s why we have them. This isn’t your fault. You can’t control everything, my brother.”
“I haven’t controlled shit since this one came into my life!” His voice cracked like lightning bolts in the quiet room as he flung his arm toward Eva. She didn’t budge.
“Her pulse is slowing.” Micha got to his feet and looked down at Eva. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Moretti. She’s Vasily Tarasov’s kid. This is totally doable for her.”
Fuck, he hoped so. He sank onto the edge of the bed and took a few deep breaths, slowly counting to ten. Very gently, he rested his hand on the flat expanse between Eva’s hips and measured her breathing.
“I sent Vito and Bobby T to the airport, and Maksim is monitoring everything else under the sun. We’ll find him.”
He looked up at Jak and was grateful the guy was getting on with it. “Furio is as good as we are. I never should have underestimated him.”
“We’ll find him,” Jak repeated. “And clear out of here and leave you to it. I doubt she’ll want an audience when she comes to.” He motioned for Micha and Alek to follow him to the door, then halted midstep and palmed his phone. He read what had to be a text and then sighed in a way that could only mean one thing. “Abel’s out and, barring anything unusual, should be fine.”
Gabriel sent up a silent prayer of thanks. He didn’t want to be responsible for breaking up the two brothers. “Thank fuck.” He only wished Eva’s neighbor’s life had also been spared.
Jak slapped the doorjamb on his way out. “We’ll call if we hear anything else.”
“Not if it’s her,” Gabriel stipulated before Micha could close the door. Three sets of eyebrows rose. “She’s going to need to let the steam out. And I have a feeling it’s going to come in the way of a few hundred choice words in my direction.”
“Protect the jewels, brother,” Micha muttered as they left.
Awareness returned slowly to Eva, thick layers of cloying darkness separating, stretching apart, and then dissipating altogether. An odd sense of comfort battled with anxiety as she opened her eyes.
“. . . come on, sweetheart, you’re killing me here.”
She blinked. That explained the warmth. Gabriel was holding her, and they were wrapped up like a Christmas cracker. One of his arms was thrown over her middle. One of his heavy legs trapped both of hers amid the tightly wrapped blankets. She attempted to move and he reared back, dislodging their cocoon.
Their eyes met.
“Finally.” He sounded so gut-wrenchingly relieved that her stomach tightened.
“Gabriel . . .” She stiffened as it all came rushing back.
“Shh. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said calmly, cupping her cheek. “Please stay calm. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Fine? She’d never be fine again.
She jerked away from his touch.
Her father? This psycho expected her to believe he knew her father? Who just so happened to be some Russian mobster? And not just any Russian mobster, like that wouldn’t be enough, but the head of some dangerously powerful organization?
Eva’s mind spun. Her mother’s accident two months ago had been . . .
Right around the time Gabriel said he’d been contacted by . . .
Watching her . . .
Following her . . .
Everything clicked into place. Caleb’s apartment that day. Stefano Moretti knowing who she was. Unknown men with their unexplained warnings and messages.
Her mother, murdered.
Her father, protecting her.
Gabriel and Stefano Moretti, brothers.
Gabriel in the mafia.
People were trying to kill her.
What. The. Fuck.
With a swift shove, she slipped out from under Gabriel’s hold and ripped her way out of the sheets. She barely made it to the bathroom before her stomach unloaded. She wretched and wretched, but not having eaten anything in hours, she basically had dry heaves that wouldn’t quit. She felt Gabriel pull her hair back and settle a cool, damp cloth to the back of her neck. His warm hand stroked her back, the touch seeping through her shirt to heat her clammy skin.
Pulling away, she fell on her ass next to the toilet and stayed there, wrapping her arm around her knees as she wiped her mouth with the cloth. She stared up into Gabriel Moretti’s immobile features as he squatted in front of her.
Her beautiful liar.
“Eva.”
She shook her head fiercely, nearly waving the damp fabric in a sign of surrender. “Please,” she croaked. “I can’t take any more.”
“There is no more, sweetheart,” he assured her gently.
Sweetheart.
She’d come to love hearing it from Gabriel’s lips, but now it just left her feeling empty.
Hit by a wave of dizziness, she dropped her pounding head to her knees. She was suddenly too exhausted, too confused, and so scared she would have gladly welcomed a hard punch to the temple if it would have guaranteed another reprieve from the mess jamming up her brain.
She stayed slumped over and curled in on herself for who knew how long, until Gabriel�
��s strong arm burrowed under her knees. Another braced her upper back as he gathered her to his chest and rose to his full height. With no more fight left in her, she let him carry her back into the bedroom.
After all, according to him, she was trapped. A prisoner. Even if she tried to run, he and his men would be watching. The same way they had been for the past two months.
She was too damned numb to care about any of it.
When he laid her on the bed, she had just enough energy to roll over so that her back was to him. She curled her legs up and hugged a pillow to her chest as she stared at the wall by the bed.
Her father, a man she’d never even seen a picture of, a man she hated, a man who’d intentionally walked out on her and her mother, had in fact been somewhere in the background of their lives, protecting them, watching over them, providing for them, without either of them ever having been aware of it.
“Where is my f-father now?” Her voice came out froglike as she struggled through a word she’d never before used in conjunction with my.
“In Russia.”
“The people responsible for my mother’s accident. Does he know who they are? Where they are?”
“They’re dead. All but one. By his hand.”
Eva’s heart slammed into her ribs. Dead? Her father had killed them? Because they’d killed her mom? And how evil a person was she for finding more satisfaction than censure in that? But they’d murdered her mother, causing her to burn alive while trapped in her car by the seat belt . . .
She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to try to make sense of it all.
Stefano Moretti.
Gabriel had explained, somewhat, why he’d been in Caleb’s apartment that day. At least it solved the mystery of how he’d known her when she’d never met him before, and why he’d said they’d meet again.
Yeah, so he can kill me.
But the other man? “You knew about that day in Caleb’s apartment?”
“Yes.”
Of course he had. “The one with the long hair. Is he your friend?”
“He’s one of my best friends. His name is Vincente Romani. Aside from Paynne, he was another of your shadows when I couldn’t be in New York.”
A Love of Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 1) Page 20