Page 43 of Always Been Mine

“I’m not. We can swing by your condo and pick up some clothes.”

“You said you’d give me space. I’m still trying to process yesterday’s revelations and now . . . this happens.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, fighting to stay quiet and not blurt out his defense. Should he even be saying anything? He couldn’t. Not in good conscience could he volunteer information.

He heard her sigh.

She didn’t want to be here with him.

He felt deflated.

He had been so hopeful last night and today.

Right now, not so much.

Twenty minutes later,Beatrice let them into her condo. She gestured for him to head straight for her bedroom. Gabe wondered if she felt the sizzle and electricity between them, because anywhere he had Beatrice all to himself, he couldn’t help but think of doing wicked things to her.

It was the first time he saw her bedroom. There was a four-poster bed with a prissy canopy. Thankfully, not pink. The whole room was feminine, but not cloyingly so. He entered the bathroom. The scent of Beatrice was all over. Something floral, something citrusy. A flash of her thighs spread out with his head between them came to mind. He had a strong desire to boost her on the sink and go down on her.

“Why don’t you sit over there?” Beatrice pointed to the closed toilet seat. Gabe dutifully obeyed, staring at her ass while she moved around the bedroom. She had kicked off her heels and was in her stocking feet. Was she wearing garters underneath that skirt?

She came back with some soaked cotton balls on a towel.

“So talk.”

“There’s nothing really to say.”

“Are you Dmitry?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Beatrice took that moment to dab his face—none too gently—with a soaked cotton ball.

Gabe gritted his teeth. “I did what had to be done.”

“Did you have anything to do with Fuego’s involvement in that shoot-out that nearly got Caitlin killed?”

“She’s alive, isn’t she?” Gabe snapped. Beatrice made a noncommittal sound and picked up another soaked cotton ball and jabbed it on a cut near his eye.

“Fuck!” Gabe roared. That fucking stung. “What the hell was that?”

“Alcohol,” Beatrice said calmly. “Are you going to give me answers at all?”

“What do you want to know?”

“You killed people for the mob.”

“I told you I did horrific things. I’m working through it.”

“Are you using me as a crutch, Gabe?”

Beatrice sighed and started affixing butterfly strips on his face. “I take it by your silence, you either don’t know or you are.”

“I don’t think you’re an emotional crutch, poppy,” Gabe said gently. “You do keep me tethered to this reality. I’ve accepted what I had to do. As a hit man, I did it for the greed of an organization. But in doing that, a bigger evil was taken down. Someone had to do the dirty job to clean up shit in this world, babe; it just happened to be me. Everyone I’ve assassinatedon that kill roll handed to me was guilty of a crime, I swear.”

Beatrice stared at him dubiously.

“Trust me,” Gabe whispered. He grabbed her waist and buried his face on her belly. “Just trust me, Beatrice.”

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