Page 61 of Fragile

I jumped slightly as Gabriel’s arm tightened when Marco climbed in behind the wheel. His knuckles were now also scuffed up.

“It’s done,” Marco said.

Those two words were so simple and straightforward, but they lit a fuse in me.

What was done?

“And I found this,” Marco stated, twisting around in his seat to hand something to Gabriel. My passport. With his free hand, Gabriel took it and pushed it into the top of my dance bag which was still in the footwell.

As we pulled away from the building into traffic, a cocktail of thoughts plagued me. What had they done to Simon?

My eyes met Marco’s in the rearview mirror, and I knew that he’d been sent to rough Simon up even more. I just prayed that was all he had done.

The Google search I’d carried out on the Knight family circled me like a shark’s fin with the word gangster echoing in my mind.

As we pulled up at our apartment, Gabriel unpeeled me from his body. As he helped me down from the car, I could see that he was still fired up over the incident. Aggressive waves rolled off him.

Asher came around from the other side of the car and joined us on the pavement. “Take her inside, see she has something sweet, tea or some shit like that and maybe a bath. Stay with her.”

I felt a sense of loss as Gabriel stepped back.

“I need to walk this off before I lose my shit,” he explained gruffly. I saw Asher nod in understanding.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” he said.

Gabriel’s hands lifted and he cradled my face between his palms. Scanning my face, he lowered his head and kissed my nose before drawing back slightly.

“I never want to see you cry again,” he whispered against the shell of my ear.

My shoulders sagged as he stepped back.

“You want me to follow you, boss?” the driver who I now saw as a henchman questioned.

“No. I need to be alone.” And with that, Gabriel turned away and walked off down the street, his entire body screaming his angst.

Nine

Gabe

When I’d said I needed to be alone, Leonie looked like I’d slapped her. The need to stay close grabbed me by the balls, but I had to clear my head. When I’d seen that soulless bastard fucking molesting her, I’d lost it.

My knuckles were raw, but I hardly felt them, I was so fired up. If I hadn’t gotten there, what would that fucker have done?

At the end of the day, if I hadn’t sent a clear message, Marco would have. I flexed my injured hand. It stung like a bitch, but it was worth it.

As I walked aimlessly through Soho, I instantly knew that my day was about to get even worse when a dark SUV with blacked-out windows drew up the curb alongside me. I kept walking, my eyes ahead but with an angry rev of its engines, the car shot forward and pulled up, blocking the side street I had intended to cross. The back door opened and Sean Walsh, a thug who worked for Gerard Kinlan climbed out.

“Gerry wants a word,” he said, straightening his suit. I wondered what Gerard Kinlan would do to this guy if he heard him disrespecting his name like that.

I ran an unimpressed glower over his huge body. Was this guy for real? He was dressed entirely in black apart from the crisp white shirt. The man couldn’t blend if he tried, he looked exactly like a gangster from the movies.

Moving back a step, I took in his black tie and suit and how it strained against his beefy shoulders.

“I’d get a move on it if I were you, or you’ll be late,” I replied.

I couldn’t see his expression as he was wearing aviator sunglasses, but he always looked as stupid as fuck.

“For what?”

---