Page 39 of Terror at the Gates

“You are confusing Zahariev with Gabriel,” I said.

“Gabriel is very protective of you,” she agreed. “But thenwe all are.”

The sound of a key scraping in the lock drew our attention.

Esther’s smile widened even more. “Gabriel’s home.”

A second later, he pushed open the door. He was dressed in the same clothes as last night, and his exhaustion was evident. His eyes looked dim, and the corners of his mouth were turned down, but then he saw Esther, and his expression brightened.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said as he entered the living room, leaning down to kiss her before he looked at me and straightened. “It’s good to see you, baby girl,” he said. “You here to help me put some things together in the baby’s room?”

“So that’s why you invited me over,” I teased, arching a brow.

“Hey, I gotta snag help when I can.”

“Shouldn’t you rest first?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, then let out a groan as he stretched. “You know what they say. There ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I am going to shower though.” He dropped another kiss to Esther’s head and then started to walk backward toward the bedroom door. “Don’t bail on me now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

“I knew I could count on you,” he said, winking before he spun around and disappeared into the bedroom.

I looked at Esther. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“The same way you put up with Zahariev,” she said.

“I ignore Zahariev,” I said.

“Exactly.”

We laughed together and finished our tea and cake. Bythe time Gabriel emerged from the bedroom freshly showered, I was making more tea for Esther and cleaning a few of the dishes I’d dirtied.

He looked a little less pale, but his eyes were still red. They probably felt like sandpaper. I knew that feeling. I felt that way now thanks to that fucking nightmare.

“You ready, baby girl?” he asked.

“Yes, just let me finish Esther’s tea,” I said.

The kettle was just boiling.

“Maybe you should move in,” said Gabriel, leafing through his collection of records for something to play. There was always music on when he was home. It was his way of decompressing. “I’ll pay you to help Esther around the house. You won’t have to sell shit on the street.”

“Did Zahariev not tell you?” Esther asked.

I instantly felt dread knowing what she was going to say. It was different, telling Gabriel. Maybe because he was like an older brother.

“Zahariev gave her a job.”

“Doing what?” he asked. He looked from his girlfriend to me.

I cleared my throat, confidence wavering as I answered. “Dancing.”

His brows rose. “Dancing?”

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