Page 12 of Always Been Mine

“Impossible. How?” Gabe was used to the admiral’s penchant for drama and constant scheming. Gabe should know. He had let himself be a part of it.

“Philip Crowe aka Leonid Belov must have had a partner that we weren’t aware of,” the admiral said. Crowe/Belov had worked with Gabe in an undercover capacity in the ZorinBratva—a Russian arms dealer they had brought down almost four months ago.

The admiral had his full attention now. “Go on.”

“The off-shore account that Crowe was going to use to siphon the thirty-five million dollars was shut down before we could get our hands on it. All indications point to the Fuego gang.”

“Shit. The Colombian gang that we sent after Travis and Caitlin?”

“The same.”

The wheels started spinning in Gabe’s head. That would mean Crowe had an “in” with the gang. Nothing would stop Crowe from having insurance just in case something happened to him, which it did. Crowe knew most of the true identities of CIA agents involved in the Zorin Bratva takedown.

“What else?”

“Nothing as of now, but I may have to call in a marker from an old friend.”

A pained look crossed the admiral’s face.

“Something tells me this old friend isn’t really a friend.”

“A buddy from my earlier days in the Navy. We had a falling out. Or rather, his ideals didn’t align with the U.S. government any longer.”

“Look, I’ll help if I can. I don’t want a crosshair on you or Beatrice,” Gabe said. As much as he despised Porter sometimes, he cared for the crazy bastard.

“All I wanted was to give you a heads up,” Porter said. “I’m not sure if there’s anything you can do. I’m sure if Crowe gave Fuego all the information from the Zorin takedown, you’re compromised.”

“I’m adept with disguises, in case you’ve forgotten.” Shit. Did he just volunteer himself? Backtracking, and in a harsh tone, he repeated, “Beatrice is my priority. I’m not officially involved. I’m out of the agency. Don’t ask me to refersomeone to help either, because I’m not having another friend’s death on my conscience.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Gabriel.”

“I know, but for a long time, I felt it was. It’s done. He’s not coming back. He’s dead, and the people responsible are dead as well,” Gabe stated flatly. His skin prickled as his alter ego reared his head. “Are we done?”

The admiral nodded. Gabe hastened away with Rhino. There was an urgent need to distance himself from Porter.

~ Dmitry,about three years ago

The twelve-year-old boy stared up at him—bound, gagged, and crying quietly, snot mixing with all the tears. He’d been brave for the most part, defiant even. He would have made a good lieutenant for the Bratva, except his father was a traitor, and Zorin wanted the bloodline ended.

Starting with the first born son.

Angel of Death.

The poor lad peed in his pants.

For a moment, Dmitry wavered, and then he said, “You won’t feel a thing. I’ll be quick.”

Present

“Refill?”

Gabe looked up to see the diner waitress holding a carafe of coffee.

“Sure.”

“You must like our food a lot; you’ve been here for the past two weeks.”

“Yeah.”

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