A Love of Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 1)

by Nancy Haviland

  “He’s going through it now,” Quan assured him as he hung up.

  “Alek, call our guy at SeaTac. I want two choppers on the roof yesterday. Caleb?”

  The biker came over. “Yeah, man?”

  As much as he wanted to kill the guy for allowing this to happen, he knew it wasn’t his, or Aron’s, fault. Free will, one’s God-given right to do whatever the fuck one pleased, was a cunt he despised right then. Besides, if this didn’t work out the way Gabriel had every intention of forcing it to work out, guilt would do the trick. The biker would suffer all on his own until his dying breath.

  He looked into Caleb’s shadowed eyes. “Did she take her cell with her?”

  “Yeah. Back pocket.”

  He nodded, then ripped out his phone and dialed Eva’s number. He listened to the generic voice mail message and then spoke. Or tried to. But he suddenly clenched his jaw so hard he couldn’t. He shook his head to loosen it and growled, “You call me the second you get this. Get your naive, trusting, or is it noble and self-sacrificing, ass someplace safe and stay there. I’m coming for you, and you better hope I’ve calmed the fuck down when I find you.”

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that she may have faked the supposed call from Vasily, and taken off on her own in an effort to defuse the situation. He was coming to learn Eva wasn’t one to sit around playing trigger point to a family feud that really didn’t involve her.

  God, he hoped that was what she’d done. At least she’d be on her own.

  Or maybe she’d just had enough of him and had run like hell to get away from him first chance she got. He swallowed hard, unwilling to entertain that painful thought.

  He carefully tucked the phone back into his pocket, even though he wanted to smash the thing to pieces. If he destroyed it, she might not be able to contact him.

  “In the elevator, she was acting . . . fuuuck. I knew something was up. But she said she was stressed and I believed her.” Paynne brushed his knuckles over the top of his dark hair and dropped his bomb. “She said she loves you.”

  Gabriel’s life ended with those words.

  “I wondered why she was telling me. Now I think she wanted me to let you know, in case . . .”

  A truly helpless pain slashed him wide-open, making him feel vulnerable. Like a sitting duck in front of a firing squad.

  She loves you.

  After everything he’d done to her, she loved him.

  And she was gone. She hadn’t fabricated the call. Declaring herself proved it.

  He grabbed the room phone from the desk, ripped the cord from its base, and smashed it against the nearest wall. The loud crash, followed by debris raining to the floor, did little to dim the helplessness eating through him.

  He searched out Maksim.

  “Call me if you get a hit,” Maks said to whoever he was speaking with before he hung up.

  “Put a trace on every credit card in her name. And you’d better be able to link something that can track check-ins. If she makes it out on her own, I want every hotel within a hundred miles to glow like the fucking sun if she walks through their doors.”

  Maks walked over. “Already done, brother. If she uses anything but cash, we’ve got her.” The hand he placed on Gabriel’s back was all about support. “If she’s on her own, we’ll pick her up in no time.”

  “She doesn’t have her wallet,” Caleb said, nodding to where Eva’s slim wallet sat next to her purse on the coffee table. She’d taken it out before she went to Vincente’s suite so Quan could get her information through to their TSA connection so they wouldn’t have to wait once they reached the airport.

  “Knowing her, she has one of her credit card numbers memorized,” Gabriel returned. He then snatched up a heavy crystal vase laden with flowers and beamed it across the room, right into the flat screen mounted above the fireplace. The sound of shattering glass and popping of water hitting suddenly exposed electricity was a little more satisfying than putting the phone through the wall, but not much. “Why didn’t she come to me when she got that fucking call? Or you!” he shouted at Paynne. “Why the fuck didn’t she tell you what was happening?” Jesus Christ! He felt as if he were being dragged under the surface of an ocean of scalding tar.

  Vasily sat heavily on the arm of the sofa, and the added misery of a tormented father tore into Gabriel, magnifying his pain and adding that much more guilt to his load for failing to protect the man’s daughter. If Vasily was pissed off at Gabriel’s intimate relationship with Eva, there was no telling what he would do after this.

  “Because, Gabriel,” he said in a measured voice, “she wasn’t raised to be who we are. Furio had to have threatened us. That’s what I would’ve done. He threatened us, gave enough evidence to make his story plausible—because no doubt she questioned it—and once she had what she thought was irrefutable proof, she took him at his word . . .” A crack formed in the armor the Russian wore so well, and he squeezed his eyes shut, finishing in a whisper. “And walked right into his fucking trap.”

  Jak banged his way into the suite with a laptop under his arm and barked, “Get the fuck over here.” The stone-faced former Navy Seal stalked to the desk and slammed the laptop down, the scar across his face standing out against his paler-than-usual skin. “As soon as Quan called, I went and scanned the security footage of all the exits.”

  Everyone warily leaned in when the “Play” button for the security feed was clicked.

  A slash of light illuminated the dimly lit area just enough to showcase Eva, who was wearing black yoga pants and a little green tee, slipping through the door. Gabriel’s stomach cramped at the sight of her, worsening when he saw a man step into the frame at her back.

  “Furio, that son-of-a-fucker,” Vincente growled as the Mohawked bastard grabbed Eva’s arm. They exchanged a few words, the fear, and then relief, in her face unmistakable. Eva then, crazily, spit in his face and landed a very nice right hook to the prick’s jaw that had him staggering. She went for the door, but he grabbed her before she could make it back through and slammed her hard into the cement wall. She hit with her shoulder first.

  Vasily’s curse mingled with his own.

  “No!” Gabriel reached out, as if he could stop what he was seeing as Furio pulled his arm back and hauled off, hitting his innocent beauty across the face with the cast that covered his left hand. Her head snapped back, hitting the wall, and she fell limp right into the fucker’s arms. Furio dragged her down the ramp and into the backseat of a black SUV that pulled away the second the door was closed . . . revealing two male bodies lying motionless on the concrete.

  “They’re gone,” Jak supplied, his voice solemn at two more losses.

  Icy black rage formed a funnel cloud that spun wickedly through his chest, creating a damaging rime around his madly speeding heart. And in that instant, Gabriel Moore, respectable businessman, ceased to exist. Gabriel Moretti was all there was, and all there ever would be.

  He slammed into a level of command he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of right then and walked over to stand with his back to the windows, emotions cut off, panic wiped out, fear severed clean. Like none of it had ever existed. He met Alek’s pale eyes. “Find out how much longer on the choppers.” He turned to Vincente. “I want you to contact every member of the organization who might know Stefano’s exact location. I want it now.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll take orders—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you think you know, Romani. You start dialing that goddamn phone and you tell them the head of this family wants that fucking information. I don’t give a shit if you have to threaten every loved one they have right down to their newborn children—I want that cabin. If they don’t give it, tell them to draw up a will. Make it clear and make it quick.”

  “Gabriel?”

  He looked to Vasily, noting the raised brow, and knew exactly what it was about.

  “If claiming my rightful place in t
he family will get her back, and remaining there will prevent this from ever happening again”—total conviction rang crystal clear in his declaration—“then that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  Grunts of approval were heard around the room.

  “Good,” Vasily said, his tone lethal. “Because I’d rip that motherfucking brother of yours limb from fucking limb myself over what he’s done to my daughter—I’d call down the goddamn Apocalypse tonight—but my crew is in New York and Russia, which means my resources here are limited. So you do whatever the hell you have to do. I want that sonofabitch brought down. Right now. Through any means necessary.” He paused a moment, his voice going even deadlier. “And, Gabriel, you damn well better succeed.”

  Something they both agreed on. Because if he couldn’t save Eva, life wouldn’t be worth living.

  And not only because of the crime war that would no doubt break out between the Morettis and the Tarasovs, and whoever the hell decided to get involved, if this ended badly.

  But because he could not lose Eva.

  His cell rang and he snatched it up. “Eva?” he barked, desperate for it to be her.

  “It seems as though you’ve lost, Gabriel.”

  Stefano. His blood cooled. “You listen to me, you piece of shit. You touch one hair on her head and I will deliver a vengeance unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. I’ll make what you’ve done to me all these years seem like a night out with the boys. When I find you, Stefano, and I will, I’m going to do things to you that our associates will be talking about for deca—” Gabriel cut his threat short when he heard a muffled voice through the phone.

  “Furio called. Said he’s twenty minutes out and no tail.”

  Seemed someone in Stefano’s crew was sloppy—and would certainly pay the price because of it. Blurting out information like that when the boss was on a call was an absolute crime punishable by law.

  Twenty minutes out. Gabriel looked at his watch. Had to be Enumclaw. Timing worked.

  He hung up—his brother already dead to him, his only regret now that he’d let Stefano live as long as he had. He was furious at himself for not admitting sooner there was no hope for reconciliation between him and his only sibling.

  Eva would be the one to pay for his delusions. The most important person ever to enter his life was twenty minutes out from a hell she’d never known exited until she’d met him.

  “Disregard feelings when it comes to your women, mio figlio. They’ll only get in the way of you doing what you know deep down must be done. The harder you become in here”—he thumped his chest—“the easier it will become in here.” He tapped his temple and smiled that cold, emotionless smile—the Don’s trademark look.

  Never more had Gabriel regretted not heeding his father’s most touted advice.

  Stefano stood in the darkened woods, more than a dozen men milling about, smoking and talking shit, some looking around as though they thought the Grim Reaper himself was about to float out from the trees and steal their souls.

  Apparently, the backstabbing fucker was on his way.

  He reached up to rub the frown away before it could form. Erasing the hollow feeling invading his chest wasn’t so easy. Nor was stopping his little brother’s rant from echoing in his head, over and over.

  “. . . what you’ve done to me all these years . . .”

  Why did that group of words continue to skip like a scratched old LP? And the emotion he’d heard around the fury in Gabriel’s voice? Utter and complete devastation. Jesus Christ.

  When headlights bounced off the trees in front of him, he turned his head to see the black SUV pull into the makeshift drive.

  The agony in Gabriel’s voice sounded off in his head again, and it was all Stefano could do not to rub at what felt, funnily enough, like pain invading his chest. He didn’t get what he’d heard. Didn’t understand it at all.

  But he felt it. Deep.

  The sadness—anger, mostly—he’d felt when Adrianna had actually been killed five years ago had been nothing compared with what Gabriel was clearly feeling right now. And nothing had happened to Eva yet. His brother’s reaction was only to thoughts of what might happen to her. And it was that strong.

  He’d been wrong to think Gabriel would harm her as he had the others. Obviously, that was the last thing on his brother’s mind when it came to this woman.

  In all the years Stefano had ridden Gabriel’s ass, making him pay for the sins of his father, never once had he retaliated. He’d always turned the proverbial cheek.

  Until now.

  Because of the threat against the lovely, innocent pawn Furio was now carrying toward him, Stefano had finally broken through Gabe’s impressive, steadfast loyalty.

  His teeth ground together when he met Furio’s dark, triumphant stare. Why was the guy so fucking satisfied? By the look on his face, you’d have thought he had Jimmy Fucking Hoffa in his arms.

  Stefano watched, trying to detach himself as Furio climbed the two steps and entered the cabin with Eva. He followed more slowly, streams of clarity finally breaking through the heavy shroud of hostility and resentment he’d lived under for most of his life.

  Why now?

  He’d spoken to his brother twice in the past week, when he hadn’t exchanged two words with him in almost five years, and suddenly he was getting soft?

  Why?

  Because he was regretting? Regretting his actions, regretting what he’d done to Gabriel’s childhood . . . the way his shrink had said he one day would?

  I don’t want you to be upset when I say this, Stefano. But you’ll see one day that you caused your young brother to suffer, simply because you were. It’s not uncommon for a child to want to share their misery. To not be alone in it.

  He felt a sneer curve his lip as he remembered her sympathetic smile. What the fuck did she know about his reasons for doing what he’d done? For acting out as he had.

  A lot, a voice in the back of his head whispered. Because she’s the only one you’ve ever told.

  Impatience clawed at Gabriel. They now had the location of the cabin from the first call Vincente had made to a guy he’d recruited into the Moretti camp himself. A guy who, at the time of the call, just so happened to be standing in the woods by the cabin taking a piss. Quentin, better known as Q-tip, was part of the crew Stefano had brought to Enumclaw. Apparently, Vincente had already known that and just hadn’t bothered to share until it was necessary. The fucker.

  “Didn’t want to get your hopes up until he’d actually reached the destination,” Vincente said in his defense. “You’d have been pissed if I told you he was in, and then came back to tell you he never made it out of Seattle.”

  True enough, but still.

  He looked at his Breitling again. Where the fuck were the choppers?

  His phone vibrated in his hand, another private number displayed. Why did he bother looking anymore? “Go.”

  “Moretti.”

  “Lucian?”

  “They’ve reached the cabin.” The Romanian was difficult to hear over the sound of blades spinning in the background. “I have a guy with her who’ll make sure Stefano doesn’t kill her, but he can’t do much more than that without giving himself away and losing his own life.”

  Gabriel grabbed the lifeline. “I don’t give a fuck about his life, Fane! You order him to get her the fuck out of there!”

  “No can do. Now, I’ve just landed on your roof. Get your ass up here because I won’t wait long. And hey.”

  Gabriel was already out the door, everyone scrambling to catch up. He jerked the phone back to his ear. “What.”

  “Have you spoken to Vasily? I heard he was on his way—”

  “He’s right here.”

  A deep sympathetic chuckle sounded.

  They arrived on the roof to see two sleek and expensive choppers on the pads. Gabriel ducked under the blades and went straight for the one that held Lucian. The dark-ha
ired ballbuster threw open the door of the Sikorsky to admit him, Vasily, and Vincente. Maksim, Alek, Quan, and one other man disappeared into the second bird. The others were already on the road, driving to their destination.

  “Go!” Gabriel snapped before the door was even closed.

  Lucian closed the door and double-tapped the pilot’s seat to signal him to move.

  “We’ll get to your daughter in time, Pakhan,” he said to Vasily. He nodded at V and then turned his ocher eyes to Gabriel. “There’s a clearing about two miles from the cabin. A couple of Hummers are waiting there to take us in on the logging road that leads to it. I had only two others to spare, and they’re already getting into position around the perimeter. Too bad my transport was faster than yours. No doubt you’d be in those woods without proper backup as we speak.”

  Of course he would be. But then, his own boys were all the backup he needed.

  Even though it probably crossed one of the many lines he was supposed to tiptoe around, Gabriel had to ask. “How are you so well organized for this, Fane?” The roof of the hotel shrunk as they rose into the sky.

  “I don’t like when things don’t make sense,” Lucian said as he settled into his seat. “And the running of your family was one of those things. So I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

  Well, that didn’t tell him much, but right then, Gabriel didn’t care enough to ask him to elaborate.

  The howling wolf tattooed on Vincente’s forearm caught his eye. He shouldn’t be here. Not with the bounty Stefano no doubt had on his head—something Gabriel would put the kibosh on as soon as this was over. “V? You should’ve—”

  A closed fist banged hard on his knee. A silent shut-the-fuck-up if he ever felt one. “Don’t worry about me, brother. S’all good.”

  Switching back into Don mode, Gabriel turned his mind back to the task at hand: taking out as many assholes as he could before he got to the main course.

  His brother and that Mohawked sonofabitch.

  CHAPTER 24