Page 11 of Always Been Mine

Gabe walkedinto his house and dropped the keys on the small table by the foyer. His rescue military dog, Rhino, a nine-year-old German Shepherd, was sitting right by the small table. His tail thumped eagerly, waiting for Gabe to greet him.

“Hey, buddy.” Gabe crouched and gripped his dog’s head in an affectionate squeeze. “Ready for your walk?”

The minute Rhino heard “walk”, he started whining excitedly and shuffling his front legs. Chuckling, Gabe reached for the leash and hooked one end to Rhino’s collar. He had long since removed his tuxedo bow and unbuttoned his shirt.

It had been almost four months since he had shed his Dmitry Yerzov persona. The first few weeks were a challenge to integrate back into normal society. Gabe had no close relatives. His parents were dead and he had no siblings. This made him an ideal CIA operative. The only family he knew were the SEALs, and even then he had to give up his brothers to descend into the twisted world of the Russian mafia. He had killed all his emotions to take the job. Once he had ceased to exist as his deadly alter ego, images of every person he had assassinated flooded his dreams. It was hell. He’d been to see the CIA shrink at the NEST—the agency’s special rehabilitation center. Screw the stigma. The sooner he fixed his fucked-up self, the sooner he could go after her. Beatrice was his prize.

He exited his all-brick Victorian row house in Old Town Alexandria, Rhino at his heels. Beatrice had sold her oldhouse in this area and moved into her new condominium a few months after he’d left her. Guilt clawed at him. She loved that house and this area. He had thought to buy the same house back for her, but decided maybe it was best to start fresh. The back patio needed some work, but the front of the house had a small yard with mature landscaping and wrought-iron fencing. He remembered Beatrice stopping to gaze at this house in particular whenever they went for their walks in the neighborhood.

Confident aren’t you, Sullivan? She kneed you in the junk.

Gabe winced at the memory. His Beatrice was still a spitfire.

He walked a couple of blocks more, Rhino happily marking each tree, when he noticed a black sedan parked a couple of cars up. Rhino must have felt the change in Gabe’s body language and started growling softly.

“Easy, boy,” Gabe said tightly.

When the back door swung open, Gabe knew who was stepping out even before the figure fully emerged.

Admiral Benjamin Porter—top-level recruiter and strategist of CIA black ops and Beatrice’s father. A reminder of everything Gabe told himself he shouldn’t be, and yet he admired the man. However, from what little Beatrice had told him during their time together, the admiral was a shitty father and husband.

Rhino’s growl grew louder as the admiral approached.

“Gonna call off your attack dog, Commander?”

“Not sure.”

The admiral sighed. “We have a problem.”

“Not mine.”

“Gabriel—”

“I told you, sir. I’m done with the agency.” Rhino started snarling. Gabe decided to calm down his dog. “Friendlies, Rhino.”

The dog immediately stopped his aggression.

“My priority is Beatrice.”

“I know that,” the admiral said. “That’s why I procured your admission into the Mayflower Charity Ball. I’ve given you information about her whereabouts for the last two weeks and stood back while you stalked her.”

Gabe snorted but didn’t contradict the admiral, because that was exactly what he did. Thankfully, he didn’t catch her at a time when she was with Eric Stone. Judging from the tabloids, the relationship was a hot mess. He was so proud of how his girl handled herself with so much class against three crazed fans earlier this afternoon.

The admiral had now fallen into step by his side as the three of them continued to walk without missing a beat.

“I don’t want to fuck up again with her. I want to prove to her that I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Is that what the dog is all about? A show of your commitment?”

Gabe didn’t answer, so the admiral continued, “Or is he helping you regain your empathy. Teaching you how to feel?”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Ben,” Gabe snapped. “Rhino was a loyal military dog who was about to be classified as equipment and left behind. He may be partially deaf and blind, but he deserves a second chance.”

“Sounds familiar.”

Gabe cursed. “Look, say what you gotta say. Be done with it.”

“Someone might be aware that Dmitry Yerzov is still alive.”

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