“I don’t know if I can. I don’t deserve to,” I whisper. With a swallow, I force myself to look at her and confess. “I don’t deserve you. I’m so sorry, Bella. So fucking sorry.”
She hugs me again, cooing at me. “It’s okay, we’re gonna be okay. We’re going to get through this, and then you know what you’re going to do?”
I shake my head.
“You’re going to be the best Gabriel Jackson you can be. Don’t dishonor them by forgetting them . . . but don’t let their ghosts stop you from living the life you are meant to have. Don’t let the past stop you or make you afraid.”
She jostles me a bit, like she’s going to rattle the pep talk into my brain. It works a little bit, but mostly, it’s just this amazing woman loving me. She should be running from me, getting help from just about anyone but me, but against all odds, she chose to trust me to help her. And I won’t let her down.
I take her hand, pulling her around to sit in my lap. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.”
Her brow crinkles cutely, “What? Uh, I need a shower. That fake blood mostly came off, but still . . . ew.”
I look at her. Bare-faced, hair a mess, running for her life, and trusting a monster, she’s never been more stunning, inside or out. And she’s mine.
I set the truth free, hoping she’ll believe it. “Beautiful. And mine, Bella.”
Her lips part in surprise, and I dive in, taking her mouth and promising her that I’ll fix everything as I explore her with my tongue. I nuzzle into her neck, leaving a line of biting kisses. She tastes sweet and sharp from the fake blood, but underneath, it’s her.
My Bella.
Her breathy agreement is a balm to my monstrous heart, giving me hope. “Yours.”
Chapter 26
Isabella
I can’t believe what just came out of my mouth, but as soon as I say it, I know I’m right. Forget the scene, forget the dirt and the sweat and the fake blood. Forget all of that.
Gabe needs this.
I need this.
I kiss him hard, taking away any chance he has to protest, and he pulls me on top of him as he lies back on the rock, his hands grabbing my ass and squeezing me through my jeans as our bodies press together.
Like that first time in the woods, there are just too many damn clothes in the way. But as he kneads my ass, his thigh pressing between my knees and up against the zipper of my jeans, I moan into his mouth.
But I want more than a grinding orgasm this time. I want all of him.
I realize that’s truer than it should be. I had fallen for him, but when I saw him attack Russell, my heart had shriveled up and retreated in confused fear. And though it’s only been a short time, my heart has opened back up to him as we’ve talked and bared our souls—the good, bad, and ugly. Though his is certainly tipping more toward the bad and ugly than mine.
But I understand what he was doing and who he is. He is going to such lengths to help me and keep me safe, including the whole thing with Russell. Gabe really does mean that he’ll do anything for me. Truly . . . anything.
The weight of that settles me down, emotionally grounding me in him and this moment.
I slide down his body until I reach his waist. He watches, his eyes dark with hunger as I unzip his pants and free his thick cock.
I run my tongue up the underside of his throbbing shaft, and he moans, grabbing a handful of my hair to guide me back where he wants me.
“That’s it, Bella . . . fuck, your mouth feels so good on me,” he moans, his words disappearing as I inhale him. I can’t get enough. The taste, the velvety steel texture, the way he stretches my jaw as I take more and more of him inside me . . . the power I feel.
Here I am with this sexy, powerful, deadly man at my mercy. He’s not perfect, that’s for sure. No, he’s every bit the dangerous hunter, but he’s mine. Poor Izzy Turner, the girl everyone made fun of and pitied, who never had a single thing go her way and struggled just to eke by. But that’s not who I am with Gabe, and maybe he doesn’t have to be the Fallen Angel with me. We can just be Gabe and Bella, ourselves.
I suck him, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing up and down over every inch of his manhood, devoting myself to him. Even as I pleasure him, I can feel the heat building between my own legs.
I look up to him through my lashes, and he thrusts deep into my throat before pulling me off. “Hey, I wasn’t done,” I protest.
But he pulls at my shirt, signaling me to take it off. I step back, making quick work of the tee and my bra. My nipples tighten in the fresh air, standing at attention and begging for Gabe’s tongue, hands.
I glance down to my jeans to work the button and shimmy them off, kicking my shoes off in a mess I’ll straighten out later. When I look back up, Gabe is stroking himself as he watches me strip. If I’d realized, I would’ve done it more gracefully or sexily, but judging by the red, angry color of the head of his cock, he liked my fast stripping just fine.
“Hands and knees, Princess,” he commands. It’s the first time he’s called me that since our painful conversation in my living room, and it feels symbolic that we’re back on course, on the same team. Even if the team is Hell’s Angels. If that’s what it takes to be with him, I’ll gladly trade a bit of my soul, darken my spirit to match his intensity.
Dropping to my hands and knees in the soft pine needles, I toss my hair over my shoulder so I can see his approach. Gabe’s eyes are on me at first, but as he lowers to his knees behind me, his gaze sinks to my ass and I can see his hand twitch. I arch my back, inviting him, and moan when he slaps my ass, loving it.
“Say it again,” he begs, sliding my panties to the side. My wet lips clench as the cool air hits them, and Gabe spreads me open with his thumbs. “Whose are you?”
“Yours.”
In a heartbeat, all my breath leaves me in a whoosh as Gabe shoves his thick cock deep inside me in one smooth stroke.
He’s huge, and each time we’re together it’s like being split open, but the initial pain electrifies my body. I feel alive while he pounds me, hammering my pussy as my fingers claw at the rich, moist earth underneath me and I’m pushing back into him, crying out with every slap of his balls on my clit.
I don’t need the roughness . . . but I love it and trust him to not go too far. He takes me, completely and fully, and when I clench around him, crying out my orgasm, he grinds deep inside me, letting me ride it out before he starts again.
I can feel each plunging stroke, the throb of his cock and the pulse of his heart as his fingers dig into my waist. He smacks my ass again, and I yelp, loving it and throwing my hair back.
“Gabe . . . please!”
I need him. He needs me.
I am his. He is mine.
Both flawed and scarred, damaged beyond repair, but somehow perfectly matched.
Gabe swells and thrusts hard as he cries out, warmth filling me as he finds his ecstasy. He groans my name, triggering my own shattering. I spasm around him, my eyes rolling up in my head and the shakes coming over me again as I keep him inside me until it passes. I feel Gabe gather me in his arms, holding me close and safe off the forest floor.
"Fuck, Princess.” His voice is ragged. “I feel like I’m damning you to hell with me.”
I cup his face. “I feel like I’m pulling you out of hell to be with me.”
The walk back to the house feels different. Our plan is already in action, and it makes me nervous. I trust Gabe, but even he says this is a risky gamble and the stakes are high. Our lives.
I’d hoped our return would feel more triumphant, like we’re taking life by the horns. Instead, I feel like I’ve grabbed on to the tail of a bull and am just holding on for dear life as I slingshot around.
Gabe kisses my forehead, more sweet than sultry. “Go rinse off and we’ll head back. You’re sure Mia won’t mind our dropping in?”
I give a small smile, laughing softly. “Mia won’t mind us stopping in with a moment’s notice, but she’s gonna flip whe
n I tell her what’s going on. But she’ll get on board. Probably have a statistical analysis of every angle in five-point-three minutes and a half-dozen suggestions on ways we can proceed from here. It’s who she is.”
He nods, letting me go clean up while he packs up the house and removes any trace we were ever here.
Alone, I pick up the burner phone Gabe told me to use for the call. It rings and goes to voicemail the first time I call, which I’d expected. Mia isn’t the type to answer to random phone numbers. So I hang up and dial again immediately, and she picks up.
“What? I ain’t buying whatever you’re selling,” she says in her fake Russian accent.
“Mia? It’s Izzy,” I say, and the floodgates of her fury open.
“Where the actual fuck have you been, girl? I called Martha to check on you because I haven’t heard anything in a couple of days and she tells me that you went on vacation. Vacation?!” she says incredulously. “Do you even know what that word means? And with some guy we haven’t even met, much less vetted? Charlotte is having a fucking cow about this. And not the cute black-and-white dairy ones, but like a big ass, horned monster of a cow. W. T. F. Iz!” She says the actual letters, like double-u, tee, eff, and then finally takes a breath so I can get a word in edgewise.
“I know, I’m sorry. But I’ve got reasons. Can I come by in a bit? We need to talk.”
I hear her inhale, and I’m sure she’s got her hand on her chest in worry. “What’s wrong? What did he do? I’ll fucking kill this Gabe character, string him up by his ball sack, slice and dice him open, and make him choke on his own stomach contents.”
“Whoa, no. That is rather . . . descriptive and disgusting. He’s fine. He’s helping me, actually. But I need to talk to you. And Thomas,” I say solemnly.
“Tommy?” she asks leerily.
“I know you have a lot of questions,” I interrupt quickly before she can go off on another question-filled rant. “I have even more than you do, probably, but we’ll figure it all out soon. We’ll be there soon, so be home, okay?”
“Got it,” she says, but I can hear the worry in her voice.
Chapter 27
Gabriel
I keep an eye on the traffic behind us the whole way to Roseboro, looking for anything that could resemble a tail. I take an indirect, circuitous route to be sure, and only then do I pull into the Goldstone building’s garage, parking close to the express elevator that will take us directly to the penthouse he and Mia share.
When the elevator doors open, Mia and Thomas are standing there waiting for us. Mia and Bella instantly launch themselves at each other, screeches and wails of ‘missed you’ and ‘what the hell’ surrounding them as they hug it out like they haven’t seen each other in a lifetime instead of only days.
For Bella, I suspect it does feel like a different lifetime. Before, her life was tough, but simple and safe and predictable. Now, it’s none of those things.
While the girls have their reunion, Thomas and I eye each other. I know who he is, mostly because everyone knows of the wunderkind who climbed the ranks fast and makes a huge difference in Roseboro. I have the slightest advantage there, because while I know him, he has no idea who or what I am.
But one look in his eyes tells me that’s about to change.
It’s an odd feeling to intentionally expose myself after so many years of hiding behind masks, ensuring that no one knew the true me. Everyone only seen the part of me I wanted them to, whether it’s the ice-cold hunter or the congenial boy next door, both equally a part I merely play and the truth somewhere in the middle.
Scarily, part of me even wonders if the masks have become my reality, so pervasive, that I don’t know the difference any longer. Or worse, that this monster I’ve created is all that I am now.
But for Bella, I’ll do whatever I have to. Even if that means exposing my vulnerabilities to the people she trusts.
Because unfortunately, this is a battle being waged on a grand scale. I can handle the smaller moves and strategies, like keeping Bella by my side, safe and sound. But the true threat, Blackwell, can only be handled by working with Goldstone.
I hold my hand out, a peace offering I wouldn’t usually give. “Gabriel Jackson. Thank you for seeing us.”
Thomas shakes my hand, and in his handshake I get another measure of the man. He’s strong and confident enough that he doesn’t have to show it off with a crushing grip. “We’d do anything for Izzy. She simply has to ask.”
I like him already. He’s smooth and direct, warning me and lovingly reminding Bella that she has people, if she’ll just open up.
“I’m afraid that’s why we’re here. Can we sit? The information we need to share is rather involved and upsetting.”
“Tell me about this vacation—” Thomas touches Mia’s shoulder, breaking her interrogation of Bella. “What? Oh, yeah, we can sit down instead of doing this in the foyer, but we’re talking about this, Iz.”
We follow Thomas into the living room, but Mia is continuing to monologue the whole way. “Disappears without a call for a whole weekend. Must be some dick to get her to take off work.”
But when we sit, Mia really looks at Bella’s face and reads that this is bigger than an impromptu vacation, and the scolding jocularity disappears from her voice. “Okay, spill it. What’s going on?”
Bella looks to me, so I begin.
“Like I said, my name is Gabriel Jackson, Gabe. But people call me something else too . . . The Fallen Angel.”
Thomas’s eyes narrow, and I can see his inner alarm bells going off. Somehow, I’ve actually overestimated and underestimated him at the same time. My research since finding out Blackwell’s true motivation showed Thomas to be relatively clean, but you don’t get to his level of influence without being aware of the murky waters business often entails.
I’d wondered if my professional name would even mean anything to him, but it seems it does. Smart man, but given what I know of him, he’s a good man too and has achieved his success the ‘right’ way.
He’s also incredibly brave, because I can see that he’s willing to fight me, if need be, to protect his woman and Bella too, going so far as pushing Mia behind him in preparation. The man’s got big brass ones, I’ll give him that.
“Izzy.”
He reaches a hand toward Bella, and I growl. But before things can turn overly ugly, Bella reaches over to me and entwines her arm through mine, taking my hand rather than Thomas’.
“Thomas, I know exactly who he is and what he is.”
Mia peeks from behind Thomas, confusion in her voice. “Okay, for those of us not in the know, can someone tell me why some cheesy nickname—no offense there, Gabe—is making my man go all uber-protective caveman?”
I chance taking my eyes off Thomas, the most significant threat in the room, to look at Mia. “I’m a hitman.” She gasps, but I keep the shots going, getting it all out at once. “I was sent to kill Bella but fell for her instead. I was hired by Blackwell.”
Thomas drops back to the couch in shock, but he recovers faster than one would expect and his eyes flare back to life, looking from Bella to me to our locked hands. “Start at the beginning and tell me what the fuck you’re doing here. All of it.”
What follows for the next hour is an uncomfortable and awkward exposé on all my sins and faults. It’s painful but necessary as I tell Thomas what Blackwell said about using Bella to hurt him and Mia, revealing the depths and the backstabbing connivery that Blackwell’s willing to go to in his quest for power.
Mia moves to hug Bella several times as we both share the story of the last few weeks, stopping at the point of us running away.
Thomas is understandably furious that someone is watching him from the wings, pulling strings and strategizing threats, both with the corporate saboteur and with Bella. “I had no idea. Fuck, why does he even give a shit about me? That makes no sense. We’re both doing well in Roseboro. Hell, I thought we were doing well for Roseboro. Sure, we we
ren’t friends, but . . . is he insane?”
“I’ve noticed that most of my employers are either psychopaths or sociopaths,” I reply, finally smiling grimly. “In Blackwell’s case, he’s a little bit of both, I suspect. Definitely a narcissist.”
While Thomas mulls that over, Mia looks to Bella, gesturing to me with a toss of her head, making her purple hair swing. “You sure about this, about him?”
My breath hitches sharply. It’s a moment of truth for us, because while I am confident in her answer, there’s still that uncertainty, a lack of understanding of why she would choose someone like me when she deserves so much better. “I’m sure. We’re . . . together.”
Bella looks to me, her eyes shining brightly, and though we still haven’t said the words, I can see them in the depths there. I hope she can see the truth in mine too.
I expect there to be arguments, at least a few protests that she’s throwing away her life with a criminal. Or even that this is a ploy at Blackwell’s behest. Something to pull Bella and I apart. It’s what I’ve come to expect in the world, harsh coldness and indifference.
Instead, Thomas and Mia quickly go into analysis and planning mode, and inside my chest, I feel a warmth build. Is this what trust and friendship feel like? I don’t know, but maybe I’m getting more out of this than just a girl and a cat.
“Okay, so we understand why you came to us. We can provide security and more resources—” Mia says, but Bella jumps in.
“We already have a plan. Well, part of one, so Blackwell will think I’m dead. It’ll give us some time, we think.”
Mia’s brows raise so far on her forehead, I think they might disappear into her hairline. “Seriously? Your grand plan is to fake your death?”
She mumbles something in Russian I don’t understand, but the eyeroll and palm-to-forehead smack are pretty clear.
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