Gabriel
By the time my men leave, I'm tired and pissed. While the hit on the Russian went well, something about it doesn't sit well with me.
I've never known the Russians to situate themselves in Savannah. Atlanta, sure. Miami, of course. But a small tourist city on the ocean, where there is little criminal activity or industry?
Something is off.
But the drink I had is taking the edge off, at least until my cell rings. It's Andre, who's gone home for the night. I tap the screen and he's on speakerphone.
"Sir, I have news on the girl."
I stifle a growl. "Yes?"
"She did go straight to Catherine's gallery. She stayed for about an hour and a half, and according to our guy, she's headed in your direction now. He's following her at a discreet distance."
"Good. Anything suspicious? Did anyone talk to her? Anyone besides the obvious, of course?"
"She spent most of her time with Catherine. It seemed as though it was all on the up and up, they talked about art and Riley's job as a reporter. One of the State Representatives gave Riley her business card. Riley had one drink, a small glass of champagne. She refused the smoky cocktail."
Not as awful as I thought, considering the fiasco at the bar a while back. "Anything else?"
Andre clears his throat, and I know I'm in for a gut punch. "There was a man."
"A man?" I clench my fingers into a fist, twisting my arm so I can see the veins pop on the underside of my wrist.
"Apparently his name is Beckett Sinclair. He owns a bookstore near the gallery. He approached Riley and they had a conversation for a few moments. He's the only person she spoke with alone, other than Catherine. All the other conversations were in groups."
I click a pen a few times.
"Sir?" Andre finally says.
"What did they talk about?"
The sound of papers rustling hits my ear. "Uh, they discussed art, and going to school in New York. Apparently it was awkward because Riley was staring at..."
"At what?" I spit.
"At a giant portrait of you. Catherine's lined the walls with her paintings, and many are of you."
"Oh Jesus Christ." I roll my eyes and sigh. "Thank you, Andre. That will be all for tonight, get some sleep."
I hang up and shut my eyes. Lately it seems like when one problem is solved — like the Russian piece of shit that we killed tonight — two others pop up. Tonight, it's this Beckett character and the fact that Catherine has my face plastered all over her gallery.
While I'd given her permission to use a couple of paintings she'd done when we were in college, I wasn't aware she was planning on wallpapering the place with my likeness.
What had Riley thought when she saw that? "Fuck," I mutter aloud.
Had we been together, I could've explained it to her. Could've told her that Cath used to sketch me while we were studying, that Cath had always been sketching in those days, that it was nothing.
At least, I hadn't thought it was significant. To Cath, it was something entirely different, as I've since discovered.
And what about this Beckett guy? While I'm not inclined to feel threatened, I do have a jealous streak. It's not something I'm eager to show Riley, though, and I've tried hard to keep it under wraps during our relationship.
But tonight, I'm annoyed and now pissed, and it's going to be difficult.
I'm pouring a scotch when I hear the distant sound of the front door swinging open. It must be Riley. She's the only one with a key, and if it's not her at this hour, I've got some bigger fucking problems than I thought.
No, it has to be Riley, because I have a bodyguard near the gate. I hear canine nails against tile, and an overjoyed woof.
"Hello sweet boy, I missed you." It's Riley's unmistakable voice. I can picture her kneeling and giving Reese a kiss.
The sound of footsteps gets louder, then stops, then resumes again. She's looking for me, starting in the kitchen, then the living room, then the theater room. She'll find me soon enough.
My heartbeat kicks up as the footsteps grow closer.
"Gabriel?" Her tone is soft and almost makes my heart soften.
Almost.
I take a sip of my drink, reveling in the bitter taste. "In here."
Riley enters the room, her eyes wide and searching. She looks as stunning as ever, her blonde hair like spun gold in the low light of my desk lamp.
I don't move a muscle, don't stand up to greet her as I normally do. I remain seated, sipping my scotch.
"Hey. Hi. How was your night?" Riley walks over to the desk and leans her hip against it. She's probably expecting me to pat the seat next to me on the leather sofa or open my arms for her to sit on my lap.
I do neither. Instead, I lift a shoulder. "Productive. You?"
A half-smile spreads on her face. "I went to Catherine's gallery opening. It was interesting."
"Oh? In what way?" I rattle the ice in my glass.
She licks her lips. I wonder if she'll tell me about Beckett.
"Well, for starters, you were everywhere. On every wall. That was weird."
"I can imagine." Normally I'd apologize or explain, but I'm not feeling charitable.
Riley sets her purse on a chair and wanders over to the bookshelf, pretending to inspect a title. She whirls around.
"What's the deal with that, anyway? Did you model for her at one time? The paintings are beautiful, I have to say that. You should buy one?"
I huff a little laugh. "And do what with it?"
"I dunno. Put it on the wall somewhere in the house?"
"Like I want to see my face anywhere at home."
"Anyway, it was strange. It made me feel strange. But Catherine was ecstatic that I showed up."
"Hmm."
She paces the room but doesn't say anything. Now she's at the antique floor globe, spinning it slowly. The piece used to be my grandfather's.
"Seriously, did you model for her?"
"No." I stare openly at Riley's ass, which looks incredibly curvy in that jumpsuit. Probably the air between us would be cleared if we could just fuck. But we can't, so we're bickering.
No, I'm truly pissed for putting her life in danger.
"No? No explanation? Or just no?" Riley stops fiddling with the globe and sits in a leather wingback chair opposite me.
"No."
She nods slowly. "I can tell you're pissed that I went out."
I shrug. "It's your health. Your life."
"Yeah. It is. I had one drink. That's all."
"Hmm."
"Gabriel, I feel fine."
"I see." I'm trying to be as noncommittal as possible, but the fact that she's copping an attitude annoys me even more. "Want to tell me about Beckett Sinclair?"
Her jaw drops, and her gorgeous face is overtaken with shock. "You had me followed. Shadowed. Surveilled. Oh my god."
I tilt my head and smirk. "I asked you not to go out, mostly due to your health, but also for safety reasons. We are in a war with the Russians and yet you defy me, going to a party without security. You put your safety at risk, which means my safety was at risk."
"Oh, that's what you care about? Your safety?" She snorts. "Figures."
I think she mutters selfish bastard under her breath as she rises to her feet, and that's the point I snap.
"Get over here," I say in a low, menacing tone.
She stops in the middle of the room. "What?"
"Get. Over. Here. Now."
"I don't take orders." She holds her head high, a haughty expression on her face. She goes to pick up her purse from the chair. "Maybe try a please."
"Riley. Now. Please." I'm speaking through gritted teeth.
She struts over and stands, looming over me. She looks at me with narrow, defiant eyes. The expression is sexy on her, and the blood in my veins begins to heat up. I also can't stop staring at her cleavage.
"What? Are you going to punish me for being bad?"
My lip curls into a sneer. This is the first time that we've truly had an argument, and it's tinged with pent-up sexual tension.
Our eyes lock, and I detect the familiar spark of electricity between us. I'm powerless to look away, feeling as though her gaze is tugging me closer to her. Her mouth is slightly open, and my body leans forward before I realize what I'm doing. I'm helpless against my emotions when it comes to her. Part of me wants to reach out and caress her soft skin, but restraint is winning at the moment.
I take a deep breath and try to remember why we're truly arguing: she's been careless and needs reminding that her health should be a top priority.
I force myself to sit back and appear more casual.
"No," I say in a ragged voice. "I'm not a daddy. I don't punish women for being bad. But if you want to stay safe, you need to be more mindful of your surroundings and the people around you—especially when you leave the safety of the compound without security or me accompanying you. You know the rules."
"Maybe I don't. Given that I don't think you've told me everything about you and Catherine."
"That's a low blow, and you know it. I have told you everything." I stand up and stare down at her.
"I'm not sure... I believe you," she says softly, still staring into my eyes.
"If that's the case, then you need to walk out that door and never speak with me again."
"You know I can't do that."
I beckon with my finger, motion for her to come closer, and she tentatively takes a step forward. I cup her face with both hands and tilt her head back slightly so that we are looking into each other's eyes. The air between us is charged with electricity, the sexual tension in the air palpable as we stare into each other's eyes.
I finally break the spell and move my lips to hers for a hard, punishing kiss. Our mouths fit perfectly together, our tongues exploring, caressing as I embrace her against me. We deepen the kiss, exploring every inch of one another's mouth hungrily.
It's been too long, and I'm too angry right now. I shouldn't be kissing her, but I can't help myself.
It's raw emotion resonating from me to her, and her back to me. The circle of lust and love.
We remain locked together in this kiss until I eventually have to come up for breath, panting heavily as I reluctantly release Riley from my grip.
For a moment, she looks so angry that I think she's going to slap me across the face.