Page 96 of Always Been Mine

“Yes, for federal corruption charges. Senator Mendoza was good friends with the governor and stood by his side despite the accusations. So the senator had known Jamison a while before hiring him.”

“Man, that blows,” Travis said.

“Are we sure the senator is innocent?” Gabe asked.

“Now that’s the sixty-four thousand dollar question,” Caitlin piped in.

“Criminy,” Beatrice muttered, “if he’s dirty, I quit. I really like the man.”

“I’ve known Mendoza for years, followed his career. He’s legit,” Porter said. “Of course, as we all know, nothing is as it seems.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” Beatrice groused.

The admiral chuckled and planted a kiss on Beatrice’s forehead. “I gotta go, baby. I need to keep another team apprised.”

“So when are we going to meet this A-team of yours?” Gabe asked darkly.

“Jealous, Commander?” Porter asked; his eyes held some wiliness Gabe didn’t trust.

“No. But I sure want to get my hands on Zach and this Redrook guy,” Gabe shot back. “Don’t want to miss all the fun.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” the admiral answered enigmatically.

“Stay the fuck away from her!”

Beatrice’s eyes snapped open, her heart in her throat, pounding wildly. Gabe thrashed beside her.

“Beatrice, God, no!”

He was dreaming or having a nightmare.

“Gabe,” she whispered. Beatrice made the mistake of touching him and found her wrist gripped painfully as she was flipped over him and then under him. A hand squeezed her neck.

“Gabe!” she choked out, her concern morphing to fear as he straddled her, his dead weight pinning her legs to the mattress.

“Beatrice?” The hand on her throat slackened and moved to cup her face. “Oh, fuck.” His other hand skimmed her body as if checking for injuries. “Did I hurt you, babe? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“I’m okay. Just, um . . . surprised.”

He rested his forehead on hers. “I’m so sorry. I . . . I . . . frightened you. Maybe I should sleep on the floor.” He pulled back and linked his hands with hers, drawing them together and kissing the back of her fingers. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“Gabe, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have woken you that way when you were already agitated in your sleep.” She heard him curse softly and looked to the side. “It was about me, wasn’t it? I heard you call out my name.”

He nodded jerkily. His weight left hers, shifting to sit on the side of the bed. He hunched over, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

“I can’t decompress,” Gabe admitted. “My nerves are wound so tight right now. I just”—he exhaled harshly—“just keep replaying everything in my head, searching if there was a way I could have kept you away from those motherfuckers. Did I miss any signs?”

“Stop. It was beyond your control, Gabe.” Beatrice knee-crawled across the bed, and sat on her heels. “You need to move on from this, so I can, too. Please?”

He tilted his head in her direction, not quite looking at her. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I need some air.” He quicklyrose and ordered Rhino tostaywhen the dog moved to follow him. He left the room, his body rigid with tension. Beatrice knew he was going to visit the wall outside again.

She got off the bed and grabbed a robe to wrap around her body. She found him pacing the darkness of the back patio. He must have turned off the motion sensor lights. Beatrice watched his silhouette through the window for a while. Every now and then he would pause in front of the wall as if contemplating what to do, and then he’d resume his prowl across the patio over and over. Minutes passed. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. He was in agony over her, and her heart ached to comfort him.

She opened the door. He continued pacing; he knew she had been watching him.

“Go away, Beatrice.”

“Gabe—”

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