“He’ll go after my father.”
“He’s the likeliest next target, especially now that my father doesn’t have Bane at his disposal.”
“So, basically you’re saying we have until tomorrow and then every minute beyond that is sheer luck.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to him. Or to you. Ever again.” He brings one wrist to his mouth, his lips feather-soft against the welts. “It’s like you were made just for me,” he murmurs more to himself.
“Really? This was my calling? Do I need to remind you how we met? You’re a scoundrel and a criminal,” I say dryly, but cap it off with a mischievous smirk.
He reaches out to brush a wet strand of hair off my forehead. “But you’re here to turn me into a decent man.”
“I have my work cut out for me then.” A tiny spark ignites in my stomach. After the ordeal I’ve been through, this playfulness is nice, familiar.
Gabriel collects the sponge and smooths it over my neck and collarbone again, though he’s already washed there. He continues on, tracing the swell of my breasts. I see a glimmer of interest, but he doesn’t take it further.
“You know I won’t break, right? You can touch me.”
He inhales deeply, and lets his fingertips slip down to graze my skin. It’s a fleeting move though, before he pulls back. “I know that’s how this all started, but we’re more than that.”
“We are.” I reach out to collect his hand in mine, bringing it to my lips.
He watches the move. “You, gone for these few days… me, not knowing if I’d ever see you again? Not knowing if you’d want anything to do with me if I did get you back? I can’t live without you, Mercy. I know that without a shadow of a doubt, and I don’t ever want to try.” He hesitates, a rare nervous look dancing over his face. “I want you to—”
A knuckle raps on the door a moment before Caleb pokes his head in, interrupting Gabriel midsentence. “How’s our sexy little killer doing?”
Some things never change. I sink lower in the tub to ensure the pervert can’t catch a glimpse. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Now get out.”
“Ouch. Came back from the desert with a little extra salt, huh?”
“Better listen to her. She’ll pull the trigger,” Gabriel warns, his eyes never leaving mine.
“But I come bearing gifts.” Caleb waves a first aid kit before tossing it onto the nearby counter. “There’s some ibuprofen in there, but if you want the good stuff, say the word.” He winks at me.
“Advil’s fine, thank you.” At least Caleb’s being considerate—a rare occasion. Though, he’s offering me heavy narcotics.
Gabriel jerks his head toward his brother. “Come on, get the fuck out. You’re interrupting.”
“Nothing good, from the looks of it.” Caleb’s phone rings. “Oh look. It’s the club calling my number again, because you’ve decided to stop answering your phone for the day.”
Gabriel smirks. “They must think you have something to do with running it.”
“I don’t know why they’d think that,” Caleb mutters and, instead of leaving to answer the call like any decent human would, he answers it right there. “Gabriel Easton’s answering service. What’s up, Mike? Let me guess, the booze truck is late.”
But it isn’t the club manager whose voice carries over the receiver. It’s a female and she’s hysterical.
“Woah, Ryley, slow down.” Caleb pauses to listen, his brow furrowing. Whatever he catches in her frenzied rambling causes the color to drain from his tanned face. “When?”
Gabriel, sensing an issue, shifts his attention to his brother. “What’s goin’ on?”
But Caleb doesn’t acknowledge the question, his expression turning grimmer by the second. Abruptly, he says, “I’m on my way,” and ends the call.
“What is it?” Gabriel’s shoulders are tense. It’s clear this is far beyond anything to do with liquor deliveries.
Caleb’s mouth opens and closes several times, as if unable to find the right words. When he speaks, his voice is gruff and hollow. “Ryley went in early to meet the delivery truck and found Mike in our office. Doesn’t look like he ever left last night.”
“Mike. Our Mike.” Gabriel looks like he’s been punched across the face.
“There were two other guys there. She didn’t recognize them.”
“When you say found….” I let my words trail, my stomach sinking as the true gravity of his words settle in.
More victims, more dead bodies.
With a rage-filled roar, Caleb throws his phone across the bathroom.
15
Gabriel
Voices buzz over radios and in conversation. Empire must be hosting half the Phoenix police department this afternoon, with every uniform from beat cops to forensic lab rats to this soft-bellied detective in a golf shift and tan pants, leaning against my bar.
“Are we almost done here?”
Detective Huxley pauses scrawling across his notepad to offer me a flat look. “You got somewhere more important to be?”
“Yeah.” I don’t bother denying it. Home with Mercy. The last thing I wanted to do was leave her and come down here, but if I didn’t, the cops would be on my doorstep within hours to question me. There’s a guard on every access point to our property and house, but it doesn’t matter. A thousand of Farley’s men guarding Mercy wouldn’t bring me comfort.