by Kaylea Cross
Gabe wouldn’t be taking one.
Coming up on his knees, he began packing away the rifle, aware of Colebrook’s stare on him.
“What are you doing?” his teammate finally asked.
“Leaving.”
“But… You’re not going to finish him off?”
“Can’t.”
“Can’t?” He sounded confused.
“Weapon malfunctioned. Must have jammed or something.” He took the scope off, tucked it into its case.
It took Colebrook a moment to catch on. “God, I hate it when that happens.”
“Me too.” Standing, he slung the rifle over his shoulder, pausing to look down into the valley below. At this distance Montoya was nothing but a tiny black insect inching across the ground.
A mortally wounded and paralyzed insect who wouldn’t last much longer. Maybe ten minutes, tops. Barely enough time for the Mexicans to reach him.
But in those final few minutes while his heart continued beating, Montoya would suffer. And hopefully he was as terrified right now as his victims had been.
He wouldn’t suffer as much as he deserved to, not after all the atrocities he’d committed, but shattering his spine and making him slowly bleed out before the Mexican SF team could move in was better than nothing.
It was the best Gabe could do.
He didn’t say a word as he turned away and headed down the ridge to where Taggart and the others waited. Colebrook scrambled to catch up with him.
Gabe didn’t care what consequences he would face for his actions, though he doubted they would be that bad. His conscience was clear.
The monster responsible for destroying Oceane’s life was gone. That was all that mattered.
All he cared about was that he had just given the woman he’d fallen in love with the chance to find some peace now that Montoya had been given what he deserved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“You ready?”
Oceane glanced up into Gabe’s face as they stood next to the SUV he’d borrowed from headquarters twenty minutes before. She reached for his hand, something catching in her chest when he immediately curled his fingers around hers in a solid grip. “Yes. Thank you for doing this.”
Her father and el Escorpion were both gone, no longer threats to her. And a few hours ago, thanks to Victoria’s keen insight, Montoya had been killed by Mexican forces. Or at least that was the story.
Oceane eyed Gabe. He had called her himself to tell her the news, on his way to the airport in Chihuahua. She had flown back here to Veracruz with most of his team, except for Taggart and Colebrook, who had been with him, and Brock, who had been sent back to D.C. on a transport. Victoria was with him but leaving D.C. in the morning. So Oceane had lost someone else today as well.
Gabe scanned the quiet cemetery. Still on guard even though the men hunting her were all gone. It was deserted at this hour, the moonlight transforming the sad and somber place into something totally magical. Palm trees swayed in the warm breeze, the heady scent of jasmine and gardenia perfuming the air.
This was the most beautiful cemetery in Veracruz. Oceane had come here many times with her mother to visit her grandparents’ graves over the years.
Now she had come to say goodbye to her mother.
“It’s just over here,” Oceane told him, leading him toward the third row on the left.
The beautifully maintained grass was soft beneath the soles of her shoes. She felt as if she was in a dream as she walked toward the graves of her family. Her heart drummed in her ears, a sense of dread coiling inside her. She’d wanted to come here for months. Had hated not being able to be here to lay her mother to rest.
When the new white marble headstone came into view she faltered and let go of Gabe’s hand. Her entire body was numb, the pain in her chest eclipsing everything as she stopped in front of the grave and saw her mother’s name on the stone.
Anya Marie St. Fleur, beloved mother and friend.
Pain knifed through her. A white-hot blade slicing through her chest.
She made a choked sound and dropped to her knees in front of the stone, lifting a trembling hand to touch the letters engraved in the cold marble. She had thought she had done her grieving for her mother. But seeing this made it so final. Brought all those horrific memories back.
Her mother had deceived her for years, yet Oceane had long since forgiven her. She had loved her mother more than anyone in this world. The thought of going the rest of her life without ever seeing her mother again was too heavy a burden to carry.
Tears spilled down her face as the sobs wracked her. Everything hit her at once. All the fear. The violence. The loss. And somehow, she had to find the strength to move past it, figure out a way to go on and live her life.
But not here in Veracruz, or even in Mexico. There were too many painful memories here. She needed to start over somewhere else. Wished it could be in the U.S.
Warmth registered through the haze of pain. She slowly became aware that Gabe was hunkered down behind her, both his arms wrapped around her. Supporting her. Comforting and sheltering her. She turned into him and let the grief pour out of her along with the tears, sheltered in his solid embrace.
When she’d finally calmed she sagged against him and stayed like that for a time, staring at the headstone. “At least he made sure her final wishes were carried out,” she said, referring to her father. Why had her mother given Oceane his surname, rather than her own? Maybe because she thought it would offer some sort of protection throughout her life. Oceane still didn’t know what she felt about him, it was all so mixed up and contradictory.
Maybe it always would be. Everything about him confused her. Even her feelings about his death. She wouldn’t be attending his funeral, however. Forgiveness only went so far.
Gabe didn’t say anything, just stroked a soothing hand over her hair. His quiet, solid presence eased her.
She had thought a lot about what she would say to her mother if she ever got the chance to come here. She said it now, the Spanish words flowing from her, gradually easing the ache in her chest. “I love you. I’ll always love you and carry you in my heart. But I’m going to find a way to let the past go now and start living my life. I know you would want that and be proud of me.”
She got up, Gabe helping her, and set the single pink rose on top of the headstone. Her mother’s favorite. “I have to go now. Love you.” Before she could start crying again, she turned away and walked toward the SUV.
Gabe stood at the door when she climbed in. When she straightened from doing up her seatbelt, he was there, taking her face in his hands, his pale gaze searching hers. She wasn’t sure what he saw, or what he was looking for, but then he bent his head and kissed her and she stopped thinking altogether.
His thumb moved softly over her cheek as he straightened, then he shut the door and went around to the driver’s side. He held her hand as he drove her to the hotel where she was booked in under an alias and walked her up to her room. He checked it before allowing her inside.
“You okay?” he asked her quietly when he shut the door behind her.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “A lot has happened. I’m not sure what I feel right now.”
He stood beside the door, hands in his pockets. “I can understand that.”
She turned to face him fully, studied him. He wore a pair of well-worn jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that hugged his muscles. His dark blond hair was cut short, a few days’ worth of stubble on his face.
He was breathtaking. Ruggedly masculine in a way that made her insides go haywire. Always so quiet and contained. But those pale blue eyes of his told a different story. He hid his emotions well, far better than her, but now that she knew him she could read him a little.
And right now, she saw the secret in his eyes along with the masculine hunger when he looked at her.
She didn’t see the point in dancing around her suspicions now, and she wanted to know the answer to the ques
tion burning brightest inside her. So she asked him straight out. “You killed Montoya, didn’t you?”
Shock flared in the depths of his eyes, his face going slack with surprise for an instant before he put his calm mask back in place. “What? Why would you think that?”
Too late. He’d already given himself away.
Holding his gaze, she walked toward him, stopped inches away. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. “Thank you.”
He stared at her for a heartbeat, then looked away. Not answering, but not denying it either.
“How did he die?”
His gaze came back to hers. Stayed. Almost as if he was trying to decide whether or not she could handle it.
So she pushed. “Was it fast?”
He shook his head slightly. “No. Not fast. I made sure.”
It probably meant there was something seriously wrong with her, but his answer, knowing he would do that for her, was the most amazing demonstration of devotion he could ever have given her. And there was no holding her feelings back for him even a moment longer.
“Gabe.” She stepped up against him, wrapped her arms around his broad back. “I love you.”
She caught his quiet, indrawn breath, the slight jerk of surprise an instant before his heavy arms came around her. “What?”
She squeezed him tighter. “I don’t want to hide it anymore. I love you. Have for a while now.”
His hand slid into her hair, tugged her head back. When she looked up, she caught her breath at the raging hunger burning in those piercing blue eyes.
She gasped into his mouth as it closed over hers. Forceful. Dominant. Branding her along with the heat of his hands as he popped her off her feet and carried her to the wide bed behind her.
Their clothes came off in a flurry of motion, ended up scattered on the floor. Then they were naked and he was pressing her down into the bed, his hard, hot body blanketing hers, his hips wedged between her open thighs.
Yes. Please. Need you.
“I’m here. Right here,” he said, and she realized she must have said the words aloud. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
The rush of sensation and emotion were almost too much. Even the lightest brush of his hands and mouth made her burn, her skin sensitized to the slightest touch. He left no doubt as to how much he wanted her, or that he was in charge. The way he held her, positioned and pinned her made her crazy with yearning.
She was moaning, babbling to him in Spanish without realizing it, pleasure swamping her as he stroked and kissed her all over. Neither of her previous lovers had come anywhere close to this. They were fumbling boys compared to him. Gabe was all powerful, hungry man as he held her exactly where he wanted her and asserted his mastery over her body.
His hands held her hips steady as his lips released her throbbing nipple and laid a burning trail of kisses down the center of her body. Down her stomach. Her abdomen. To the secret place between her thighs.
Oceane bit her lip, her fingers tangled in his short hair, her whole body alive and aching for fulfillment.
He had her twisting, panting, her fingers clenched around his hair as his lips and tongue caressed the sensitive folds, swirled around the taut bud at the top of her sex. She made an incoherent sound and gave herself over to the sensation. To him. He built her pleasure with slow precision, licking and sucking until she thought she would go mad.
And when she was right there on the edge of release, he finally slid a condom on and stretched out on top of her, stared down into her face as he slid deep inside her.
She cried out his name, her soul quivering at the rightness of it. His mouth muffled it, his tongue twining with hers as he stretched her, filled her, making the ache inside her worse.
All too soon he stopped, withdrew and rolled her onto her knees. “Hold on,” he whispered, taking her hands and curling them into the bedding.
She did as he said, holding her breath. Waiting to see what he would do. Then she felt the pressure once more, the heat as he positioned himself and surged deep. Her cry of surrender echoed in her ears as she shuddered in his hold.
He was all around her. Inside her. His hot, hard body curved around her back. One wonderfully strong arm banded around her waist, the other reaching down to slide his hand between her legs to stroke her swollen, sensitive nub.
“Gabe, oh, please…” she gasped out, heart hammering, the pleasure building and building. Wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
His low, sexy voice spoke against her ear. Telling her how beautiful she was. How good she felt. Praising her. Melting all the remaining cold inside her and replacing it with a warm glow that suffused her whole body.
Then he said the best part.
“Te amo,” he whispered against her neck, his hips surging slow and steady, making her lose her mind as he caressed between her thighs, the dual caresses igniting nerve endings she hadn’t even known existed until now.
Release crashed through her. Her cries rang unchecked in the silence, the pleasure shattering. He followed a moment later with a raw groan against her shoulder, his arms locked tight around her.
She drifted, languorous and sated as he eased her onto her side, withdrew and left the bed. Water ran in the bathroom, then he came back and tucked his body around hers, holding her close.
Sighing in contentment, she ran her fingers up and down his corded forearm, savoring the feel of him wrapped around her like a blanket. “Did you mean it? That last part?” She had to know in case it had merely been in the throes of passion. A phrase she had never understood until a few minutes ago.
He kissed her shoulder. “Yeah. I meant it.”
She smiled in the dimness. “I was hoping so.”
He exhaled, his breath stirring the curls at her nape. “What are we gonna do about this?”
“Well.” She wiggled closer, caught his hand and pulled it up to her mouth to kiss it. “I talked to one of my marshals. Given the events of the past twenty-four hours, there’s no real reason for me to stay in WITSEC anymore.”
He stilled, even his breathing halting. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “But I don’t want to stay to Mexico. I want to start over somewhere in the States. I don’t know whether I can get citizenship or not.”
“They’ll give it to you,” he said, sounding sure of it. “What about Virginia? Would you live there?”
Now she stilled. Was he saying what she thought he was?
She rolled to face him, his features just visible in the dim lighting. “I haven’t seen much of it, to be honest. Is it nice there?”
He grinned at her attempt at humor. “I’ll show you any part of it you want if it means you’ll consider moving there.”
“I’ve never been to Oregon, either. I hear Bend is beautiful.”
He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the light coming through the window. “It’s pretty there too. We could go there for a holiday when we get back to the States, and I’ll introduce you to my mom and cousins.”
Her heart rolled over in her chest. He had utterly captured her heart. “I would love that.”
He gathered her closer. “Then we’ll go. But in the meantime, I think you should stay with me at my place.”
“I would love to stay with you, Gabe,” she whispered against his lips, then kissed him.
But he pulled back, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “What about Ruiz?” His fingers stroked lightly up and down her spine. “If he’s still alive, would it be safe for you?”
She snuggled closer, laid her cheek on his shoulder. “He’s no threat to me now. And I’m not a threat to him either.” He was safely behind bars. Would die there someday. Then all the monsters from her past would finally be gone.
****
Carlos Ruiz’s heart rate kicked up a notch as he read the newspaper article the guard had just given him. Nieto was dead. Apparently so was el Escorpion. And Montoya too.
Carlos wasn’t exactly broken up about losing the ma
n who had taken over his operations, but he sure as hell was happy about the first two being dead. Besides, there were dozens of men who would kill for the chance to take over his territory. It was just a matter of working his connections to find someone strong enough to do the job. Now that the head of the cartel was gone, it was the perfect time for someone with aspirations to take everything over, make it his own.
He couldn’t help but gloat a little. He may never get out of here alive, but he was still alive where the others were dead and he had decades left with which to savor his victory over his rivals. Make plans. Put them into action through his asset here in the prison.
“Ruiz. Breakfast.”
He got up stiffly from his bunk and crossed to the slot where the tray waited. He took it, along with the cup of lukewarm coffee. The slot slammed shut once more as he limped back to his bed.
Coffee in hand, he sipped at it while he read the remainder of the article. Interesting. A DEA agent had been taken prisoner and freed during the operation that had led to Nieto’s death. What had really happened though? Mexican officials were taking full credit for the killings, but Carlos was willing to bet the Americans had been involved somewhat.
He forked up a bite of eggs, then a gooey bit of grits—like cornmeal, but not nearly as appetizing—and swallowed. The food was tasteless but he no longer cared as long as it filled his belly.
Something hard met his tongue on his next mouthful of grits.
Pulse tripping, he pulled out the capsule and cracked it open. The tiny paper was rolled up tight, smaller than usual. He opened it, frowned at the two hastily scrawled words written there.
It’s over.
It could mean any number of things. That Nieto was no longer enjoying his takeover of Carlos’s territory. The end of the Veneno cartel in its current form with el Escorpion’s death. Montoya no longer being in control of Ruiz’s remaining organization.
At any rate, the message unnecessary and unhelpful since he’d just read about it in the paper.
Rolling it back up, he tucked it inside the capsule, sealed it, then swallowed it with a mouthful of coffee. Maybe it was because the coffee was stone cold now, but it tasted far more bitter than usual.
