Gabriel and Breah

Chapter 8: Gabriel

This whole shit show began with a killing. 

I've killed men before. Did it when I was Special Forces, did it for the Lords on rare occasions. Don't like it, but I do it without blinking when I have to and when it's necessary.

Four years ago, I killed a man. It was needed. He deserved it. Given what he was doing, he deserved to be tortured first, for several weeks, so a bullet between the eyes was a kindness to a man who did not merit an ounce of mercy. Over and done, or so I thought. I never imagined the repercussions it would have all these years later, or the fucking convoluted, intricate revenge scheme that it had spawned.

Right now, I was trying to keep my shit in check. Since Colton had texted me twenty minutes ago, I couldn't help heading in his direction. Knew I shouldn't, should just let him keep running point on Breah as he had been since she'd been kidnapped, but I needed to be there and knew updates weren't going to be enough in this situation. She was sitting in a diner with motherfucking James. I'd been out with Heather and Garrett getting ice cream for my boy, keeping up appearances, when I got Colton's text about what was going on in a little diner thirty minutes away. I grabbed up Garrett and his ice cream cone and told Heather we were going for a drive. I figured I could use the opportunity to spread a little disinformation.

"Got word James was in a diner not too far away."

"Is he alone?" she asked sharply. 

I knew why she had that tone in her voice. She wondered if Breah was involved, if Breah was the real reason we were heading for the diner. But she couldn't ask, because she didn't know that I knew she'd found out about my girl. It was a fucking mind fuck trying to keep the pieces, players and lies in place. Right now, she thought I believed James and the Lords of Mayhem were the enemies.

"No idea," I lied. "All Colt told me was he'd trailed James to a diner, and we could try to plant a tracker on his car while he was inside. We're going there to distract him while Colt gets things in place. Otherwise, we're going to have to bug his office on Friday night."

More lies. More lies on top of more lies to keep straight.

"Is this going to take long?"

I hoped not. By the time we got there, some of the other brothers would be in place. Hidden, but in place to take out James if needed while Colt extracted Breah. 

Colt had orders to take her straight to the clubhouse, and I didn't care if she was kicking and screaming the whole time. In fact, given Breah's temper lately, I suspected there would be kicking and screaming involved. But I was done. I was done with having her apartment under surveillance and getting reports of James knocking on her fucking door every night. It didn't matter that her apartment "manager" had replaced her door with a bullet resistant armored door and state of the art locks. It also didn't matter that her apartment had more security inside and out than fucking Fort Knox. She was now on James's radar and I wanted her at the clubhouse, even if it was just for a few hours tonight.

I'd been swimming in shit so long that seeing her, even for an hour, even if she tried to gouge my eyes out, would lift me out of the cesspool temporarily.

From the minute Breah had stumbled into my office, I'd known this woman was the one. I'd heard of men talking like that before, but I'd never believed in it. Prior to Breah, women were temporary relief, a way to blow off steam. Not one woman tempted me into anything deeper. The knowledge that she had come into my life at just about the worst time was not lost on me, either. But I didn't let that matter and was cocky enough to think I could keep her safe, keep her out of the shit show and she'd be there at the end of it all, my reward for a year of absolute hell.