Always Been Mine

by Victoria Paige

  Gabe sat tensely beside her. He attempted to hold her hand earlier, but she pulled away. When he tried to touch her face, she flinched. He probably thought it was because of her torture. It wasn’t. It was what she found out. Maybe that was why she was keeping her emotions on lockdown. She was actually hanging on by a fragile thread.

  “This is it,” Gabe muttered as they finally reached the house at the end of the long unpaved driveway. “Your father should follow us here in a few hours.”

  “And you’re sure we’ll see my dad, again?” Beatrice had told them what her captors wanted—to flush out Benjamin Porter. Gabe and her father didn’t seem surprised with her revelation.

  “Beatrice, I know you’re angry at the admiral,” Gabe said. “You’re also probably blaming me.”

  She didn’t respond, just walked into the house when he opened the door. She could feel his gaze burning against her back, but she didn’t turn to face him.

  “I’ll go get Rhino,” Gabe sighed with her continued silence. His footsteps faded back to the truck.

  Beatrice took off her coat and grimaced at the bandages on her arms. She knew what lay underneath were puckered zigzagged lines laying in stark contrast against her fair skin. They would heal and she could have them surgically erased, but would the horror of having her flesh mutilated ever leave her mind? She had screamed until her mind left her body. She blinked her eyes. Not a single tear. She couldn’t even cry.

  She heard Gabe curse behind her and saw him lower Rhino on the couch. Beatrice froze as he embraced her from behind. She tried to pull away again, but he held on.

  “Don’t,” Gabe whispered hoarsely. “Don’t pull away from me, babe. It’s killing me. I get you can’t stand to be touched right now. But please tell me it’s not because you hate me and blame me for this.”

  “I don’t blame you for my abduction, Gabe. I knew what I signed up for when I agreed to take you back.”

  “Then why—”

  She turned in his arms to face him. “Did you fuck women only to kill them afterward, Gabe?”

  He flinched, but held her gaze. “Once.”

  “Was she collateral damage?”

  “No. She was a human trafficker. I didn’t even c—”

  “I don’t need specifics. I don’t think you would want to hear about all my fucks after you left me, do you?”

  An unnamed emotion flashed across his face, a mixture of anger, pain, and remorse. He was trying to hold on to his temper, and she almost regretted her callous words. But she knew she was delaying the inevitable because even if she was afraid of asking the next question, his answer would decide if she was willing to move forward with their relationship or end it.

  “Angel of Death.” His body turned rigid before his hands fell away. “Is it true how you earned that name?”

  A stoic mask fell on his face.

  “You heard that from the people who took you?”

  Beatrice nodded.

  “How much do you trust me, Beatrice?” Gabe asked softly. There was something sinister behind that question. She refused to be cowed.

  “You expect me to trust you? Stop hiding information that would ruin that trust.” She raised her chin defiantly.

  His eyes darkened. “You know I can’t give you specifics.”

  “Did you kill children, Gabe?” Might as well ask him point blank.

  “I did what was necessary to perpetuate my reputation.”

  “I’m sick of your vague answers. I’m not even sure why I let you get away with them for so long. Maybe I’m in denial!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’m tired of this roller coaster, Gabe. How can I let myself love you freely when ugly truths about your past keep cropping up unexpectedly?”

  A hand gripped her left shoulder, while the other tilted her chin up. “Believe me, Beatrice, I wish I could tell you everything, but to do so would put lives in jeopardy. You have to trust me.”

  Beatrice stared into Gabe’s eyes. There was a pleading in them she had not seen before, almost begging her not to force him to tell her. And in his eyes, she finally saw the truth he couldn’t say in words. A singular clarity replaced her earlier uncertainty: the man she loved wasn’t capable of killing children.

  She melted into him. Her hands clutched his hips. She wanted to embrace him and never let go, but her injuries prevented that impulse.

  “Thank you,” Beatrice whispered softly. “Tell me this is the worst of it, that our enemies can’t use anything else against us.”

  She felt Gabe shudder against her. “That’s all of it, babe.”

  *****

  “You won’t feel a thing. I’ll be quick.”

  Dmitry administered the Hybernabis, a precise dose to sedate the boy and keep his vital signs undetectable. If there was anything Dmitry was thankful for, it was that Zorin didn’t believe in torturing children. They still had to die, but this sleeping death was preferable.

  Zorin’s physician walked in. He examined the boy and then nodded. “He’s gone.”

  Dmitry had done this a handful of times. Each time wasn’t easier than the last. There was something gut-churning about putting fear in innocents who were in no way to blame for the sins of their parents. But that was the way of the Russian mafia.

  He carried the unconscious boy out of the cellar door and deposited him inside a van. Closing the vehicle’s back doors, Dmitry got into the driver’s seat and drove out of Berlin into a forest where he could bury the body.

  This time he had to be more careful because the boy was the son of a high-ranking lieutenant of Zorin’s who had betrayed the Bratva to a rival mob. Dmitry parked the vehicle behind a black van. A CIA operative was waiting for him.

  Without another word, the man opened the back of his vehicle and shined a light on a corpse.

  “This is the best I can do.”

  The corpse bore some resemblance to the unconscious boy, but one familiar with the victim could spot the difference straight away. But it didn’t matter.

  “The elements should take care of the difference soon enough,” Dmitry said.

  “You can’t save them all, man.”

  “I have to,” Dmitry said shortly. He went to the back of his van to retrieve the boy. The boy would find a new life in the United States. A life away from the violence he was born into. There were families who would be eager to take him in, people who had escaped the Russian mob with the help of the CIA.

  Dmitry just had to do his part.

  Gabe gingerly stretched his right arm over the back of the couch to restore blood circulation to that limb. Beatrice had fallen asleep against him and he loathed moving and waking her up. He’d been watching her sleep; disturbing as that sounded, he couldn’t help it. Her eyes had been vacant when she woke up from her drugged unconsciousness, and her ensuing disdain for his touch had driven him out of his mind. He thought he should give her space, but he was afraid she would build those walls again. Finally coming clean—well, as much as he could—about the myth surrounding his “Angel of Death” persona was a cathartic relief. A spark of life returned to her eyes before she laid her head on his chest and pressed her body into his. At that moment, Gabe felt the ultimate gift of her trust, and he wasn’t going to let her down ever again. He could never tell her straight about what happened to all those children he supposedly had killed, because even the slightest fracture in its secrecy could jeopardize the integrity of the relocation program.

  He couldn’t risk the safety of those kids for his personal happiness. This reinforced what he knew all along: there was no one else for him but Beatrice. She understood where he was coming from, not demanding detail but just the assurance that she could trust him not to have done anything irredeemable. Redemption was subjective, but he was fast gaining an understanding of what she could accept.

  The sensors in the driveway triggered the CCTV cameras. An Escalade was approaching. Travis and maybe Nate. They didn’t waste any time hauling ass to the safe house after Gabe let them
know Beatrice was safe. He didn’t have the opportunity to tell them that the admiral would also be arriving shortly.

  The situation was about to get awkward.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Awkward was an understatement; tense was more appropriate.

  Travis was clenching his jaw so hard when Porter walked into the house, Gabe thought he’d break it. It was the first time the two men had come face to face after Crowe had shot Caitlin, nearly killing her. Gabe also had to reel in his jealousy when the BSI men fussed over Beatrice, especially Nate. The shithead almost had his woman on his lap again. It was probably through extreme throat clearing—all right, growling—from Gabe that Nate must have figured it was certainly not okay.

  Caitlin stood back chatting with the admiral. Travis was casting suspicious glares their way.

  So, yeah, tense.

  Clearly, Beatrice was having none of it.

  “Okay, now that you two stubborn mules are in the same room, maybe it’s time to kiss and make up?”

  Scowl from Travis; Porter had a blank expression.

  “Seriously, guys? I’ve been carved up like a pumpkin and you two won’t finally put all the bullshit behind you?”

  Gabe tried to smother a grin; he was thrilled to see Beatrice so feisty.

  “That bullshit nearly got my wife killed,” Travis snarled.

  “You think Crowe wouldn’t have gone after her some other way?” Porter challenged.

  “You brought that piece of shit into our lives, Admiral.”

  “Only a matter of time, Lieutenant, just like all other things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nate asked, frowning.

  Porter glanced briefly at Gabe before briefing those present on Red Bridge and the ST-Vyl virus.

  “Are you telling us the same person responsible for shutting down Project Infinity is planning to sell bioweapons to the Russians?”

  “This is the perfect smart virus. It’s modified to have a suicide gene so it’ll become dormant after five days. A controlled epidemic.”

  “That’s extremely dangerous,” Caitlin said. “If it is indeed a smart virus, what if it learns to defeat its suicide gene and decides to mutate?”

  “I don’t have the technical data on the ST-Vyl virus,” Porter said. “I do know communications with buyers are being done on the Black Plane.”

  “That’ll be hard to trace,” Caitlin said.

  “Not for you,” Porter said.

  “No,” Travis growled, standing up and facing the admiral. “No fucking way.”

  “You said the virus has reached the United States?” Gabe interjected.

  “What?” Beatrice exclaimed.

  The admiral eyed Travis intently. “I’ve been on the trail of several individuals I felt were involved with Red Bridge from the beginning. One of them is the medical examiner (ME) who faked the DNA results on Sarah and Cooper’s death.”

  “And?” Travis prodded anxiously.

  “He has resurfaced in DC.” This time Porter looked at Gabe. “When you told me about how those five people were killed in the Cloverleaf District, I didn’t give it much thought at that time. However, when Ryker came into the picture, I decided to investigate further. The same ME did all five autopsies, but covered up the real findings on the official report.”

  Gabe was having a bad feeling about this. Everyone was waiting with bated breath.

  “The wounds were given post-mortem. They didn’t die from a bullet or the garrote, they died from hemorrhagic fever. Their internals looked like an IED blew up inside them,” Porter said. “Needless to say, the ME is in custody.”

  “Holy fuck,” Nate whispered.

  “That was how we were able to get a tissue sample to trace the genome of the virus.”

  “How are they transporting it?” Travis asked.

  “Cocaine shipments, that’s our suspicion,” Porter said. “We also think it’s in powder form.”

  “Wouldn’t that be too unstable?”

  “We know Ryker performed experiments. The problem is, we couldn’t find the location or the data.”

  “You keep on saying we, Porter,” Travis said. “Who exactly is we? Do you even trust anyone right now in the CIA?”

  “I am working with a covert group.”

  “Does this covert group have a name?” Gabe inquired. This was the first he had heard of this.

  “Their name is not important. They won’t want to work with anyone else at this point. But we do need someone who can hack through Red Bridge communication.”

  “That someone won’t be Cat,” Travis reiterated ominously.

  “I can speak perfectly for myself, Travis,” his wife retorted.

  “Think on it,” Porter said. “I’m sure we can manage eventually, but Caitlin can do it faster. We don’t have the luxury of time. Intel is pointing to a transaction within the next three weeks.”

  “If this has something to do with cocaine shipments, shouldn’t we be keeping an eye on Fuego?” Gabe asked.

  “We already are,” Porter said. “Especially since Beatrice disappeared. The entire gang has gone to ground.”

  “How about the Skulls? Do they have any intel at this point?” Travis asked.

  “Crane is keeping his club out of this since the Russians are involved. We’re not getting help there.”

  “Is there anything we can do besides involving Cat?” Travis asked.

  Porter sighed. “There is something. Your team is handling Senator Mendoza’s security?”

  “You don’t think the senator is involved in any of this, do you?” Beatrice asked.

  “No, but they killed his uncle for a reason,” Porter said. “The assassination was blamed on the armed conflict in Colombia, but I’m not discounting he may have been a convenient patsy to mislead us about Gabe being the real target. It would be beneficial to have ears in his office, just to keep a pulse on the political landscape in Colombia.”

  “I’m up for it,” Nate announced.

  Porter nodded in approval. The admiral turned to Gabe. “How about you, Commander?”

  “I’ll leave the security of the senator to BSI.” His gaze fell on his woman. She had an unguarded look on her face, looking so lost. Despite her earlier feistiness, she was in no way over what happened to her. “I want to comb through what we have of Beatrice’s abduction. We could be missing a clue here.” Beatrice looked at him apprehensively. She wasn’t ready to relive the nightmare, but they needed to debrief her while everything was fresh in her mind. Still, he couldn’t help adding, “When you’re ready, okay, babe?”

  She sighed in resignation and nodded.

  *****

  Gabe looked on as Beatrice’s assistant kept her company in the living room. If Doug Keller wasn’t gay, Gabe would definitely have a problem with him. Right now, Doug had his arms around Beatrice; she was leaning against him with her head on his chest. They were murmuring, so Gabe had no idea what they were talking about. He was getting impatient with people showing up, although it was understandable given how many people cared for Beatrice. Travis, Caitlin, and Nate left an hour ago. It was ironic that the person who should be the most concerned was nowhere to be found. Gabe was getting dinner ready, something as simple as popping a frozen casserole in the oven.

  “You want another beer, Doug?” Gabe called out.

  Doug raised his bottle. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Gabe went looking for Porter. He sure hoped the admiral didn’t leave without saying goodbye. Beatrice was used to her father’s indifference, but Gabe’s blood had been on a simmer since they got her back. Save for the shock of seeing his daughter’s arms brutalized, the admiral had remained mostly detached.

  The safe house belonged to Porter. Whether it was CIA-owned or not, Gabe had no idea. Before they left his house in Alexandria, Porter told him to pack a bag for himself and Beatrice, plus whatever he needed for Rhino, enough for at least a few days. Gabe agreed. Until they knew exactly what was going on, Beatrice�
�s condo and his house were not safe. This place was also equipped with state-of-the-art computers and a communications room. This was not just a safe house but a satellite op center.

  He found the admiral on the back patio, smoking a cigar in the chilly January evening.

  “Dinner should be ready in an hour.”

  The admiral said nothing for a long time. He took a few puffs of his cigar and said, “I never planned to marry Lorraine.”

  Beatrice’s mother. Gabe stilled, not sure where the admiral was going with this.

  “She got pregnant,” Porter said. “At that time, it seemed like the honorable thing to do.” The admiral snuffed out the cigar under his boot. “I didn’t want a family to tie me down, but, Gabe, when I first held my daughter, I fell in love with her.” The admiral laughed derisively. “Hard to believe, huh, Commander?”

  “What happened then?”

  “I loved Beatrice, but she was a reminder that I was trapped in a marriage I never wanted, and that love slowly grew into resentment. When I realized what was happening, it sickened me. Why blame an innocent girl for my mistake? Seeing you with her now, how hard you’re fighting for her, reminded me of my failures. I failed to fight for the woman I loved, failed to cherish my daughter, and failed to make my marriage work.”

  “Ah . . . Beatrice doesn’t know of this other woman, does she?”

  The admiral’s eyes flashed a warning. “No and she never will. This is between you and me.”

  “Of course. Where is the woman now?”

  A pained look crossed the admiral’s face. “She died about six years ago. Cancer. She didn’t want to be the wife of a career military man. She wanted me to quit after a few years. She married someone else, never had kids.”

  “Do you still resent Beatrice?”

  “Oh, that resentment didn’t last long. It quickly ended soon after her fifth birthday, which I had missed.” Porter’s lips tipped in a rare smile. “I missed almost all her birthdays. When I came home a few weeks after she had turned five, she made it known exactly how unhappy she was with me. Feisty even at that age.”