Page 46 of Always Been Mine

“You have anything for me?”

“Before we give you this information, Crane wants you and Porter to know that this is it. Marker is paid,” Ashe said.

“That’s not for me to decide.”

“Well, maybe it should be Porter meeting us,” Ashe shot back. “Our Prez is pissed because he can’t get ahold of your boss—”

“Porter is not my boss—”

“Well, why the fuck are we talking to you then?”

“Don’t waste my time,” Gabe replied coldly. “Either you give me the information or I walk.”

Duke, who had been quiet for the most part, stepped intoGabe’s space. The young blond biker was a bit shorter than Gabe, but they were mostly nose to nose.

“Listen, I don’t like you,” Duke said. “Ashe and I don’t trust you, but that lady friend of yours seems to trust you enough and we like her.”

Duke nodded to Ashe who held out the manila envelope. “If it was all Fuego, we would have gone deeper, but there seems to be some Russian involvement. We stay clear of them. We need to keep the peace.”

Russian. Gabe’s blood turned to ice. “Do you have names?”

“It goes all the way up to the Fuego gang leader who everyone knows is Domingo Ventura, but we don’t have the name of the Russian dude.”

“What kinda fucking intel is that?”

“You have his picture.” Ashe nodded at the envelope before getting on his bike. “We’re outta here.”

Duke swaggered back to his Harley and got on as well. “Later, man.”

Gabe returned to his vehicle and just sat there for a while. Finally, he reached into the brown pouch and pulled out a set of photographs. They were grainy, taken from a distance by a low-resolution camera, but the identity of the man in the picture could not be denied. Along with the past returning to haunt him came a myriad of emotions.

The joy was short-lived, ephemeral in its manifestation because what followed was white hot rage. It was Steve Ryker—his brother-in-arms who was supposed to have died in that plane crash. He was the reason Gabe had given up his happiness with Beatrice to carry through the mission that supposedly should have been Ryker’s. Why the fuck was he alive, and what the fuck was his role in all this bullshit, and why did the Skulls think he was Russian?

His phone buzzed.

“Sullivan.”

“Gabe! It’s Doug,” Keller’s voice came over in such a rush, all his senses went on alert.

“Is Beatrice all right?”

“Those two asshole detectives from the MPD are harassing her again.”

“What? Why? I thought Stone’s case was closed.”

“It is, but Kelly Winters was found murdered this morning and her story depicting Beatrice in a negative light regarding her relationship with Eric Stone hit the tabloids today.”

“Damn it!” Gabe muttered.

“I’m in Richmond right now, and I can’t get to her for another two hours.”

“I got her, man.”

“Nate and Travis are not—”

“I got her,” Gabe repeated tersely. Beatrice was his responsibility, not fucking Nate Reece or Travis Blake’s.

Doug exhaled harshly. “Thanks, man.”

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