Chapter 23

“Bella?”

I look over, where Gabe’s sitting behind the wheel of the truck, a worried look on his face. We’ve stopped for gas, and I guess I haven’t said anything in awhile. “Sorry... I was just thinking.”

“Ah,” Gabe replies, starting the truck up and pulling back out. “You just looked... I’m not sure.”

I nod, turning to him. “How’d you get that nickname? The Fallen Angel?” He’s been telling me about his life in bits and bites as we drive, more about his work and ‘fall from grace’, as he calls it, and about who he’d been once upon a time, before his soul had been stained with his dark actions.

Gabe turns back onto the highway, leading us toward the ocean. “I think mostly because of my name. One of my first contracted jobs was with an Italian guy who was very into the Church. With my looks, it sort of stuck.”

I can’t help it—it makes me chuckle. “Your looks, huh?”

Gabe looks over, tentatively smirking. “You want to know the only thing worse than someone who’s obsessed with their looks? A good-looking person who’s full of false humility. It’s ironic, really, because I’m the least angelic man, with the ugliest soul. Jeremy was the saint, not me. Don’t get me wrong, he was a ladies’ man, but he died too young and innocent.”

“Tell me about him,” I ask as we come around a turn. We’re in the mountains, on one of those roads that really should be expanded from the two-lane overgrown logging roads they used to be, with sunlight barely drifting between the trees behind us. “What was he like?”

“Funny,” Gabe says immediately, grinning. “That kid... I was the older brother, though not even by a full year. But our whole lives, he was the one who was devil-may-care, and I spent... shit, if I have any gray hair at all, it’s because I spent so much time worrying about that kid.”

“What did he do?” I ask, grinning a little. It’s helpful and reminds me of the human side of Gabe that still makes my heart flutter in my chest.

“What didn’t he do? Have you seen the ‘hold my beer’ meme? That was him, though non-alcoholic, mostly,” he says with a wink. “If he saw someone jump their bike over something, he would be outside the next day, busting his ass and trying it. This one time, just because he saw it on YouTube, he did the flying dive... fucking still amazed he survived that one.”

“What’s the flying dive?” I ask, my imagination trying to picture it, and each picture is crazier than the next.

“He’d seen some college guy do a leap off his roof into a swimming pool, elbow dropping this inflatable zebra or some damn thing. We didn’t have a pool at home, but our town’s youth center had one. So the next time we’re there, Jeremy goes, ‘Gabe, keep the deep end clear.’ Then he gets out of the pool and goes inside, nonchalant as fuck. I’m wise enough to Jeremy’s bullshit by this point. I know I can’t stop him, so I just made sure no little kids were in the deep end. Suddenly, the big sliding window to the second-floor game room opens, and five seconds later, Jeremy comes flying out, stretched out like fucking Superman or something. Scared the shit out of me. It was at least a six-foot gap of concrete he had to clear.”

“He made it?” I ask, and Gabe nods.

“Biggest, ugliest belly flop ever, but yeah, he was fine. After we got kicked out, we walked home. His chest and stomach were pink and bruised for days. I’ve never seen anyone with black and blue nipples before him.”

He shakes his head, laughing at the memory and making me laugh at the mental image he painted of Jeremy. “Did you two look alike?”

“Jeremy took after our mother more. He had these big green eyes. He could sweet-talk anyone. Like the community center? He somehow got us allowed back in within a week, and by the end of the summer, he’d even kissed Wendy Partridge, the head lifeguard who was pretty much every teenage boy’s dream for two summers. I was too serious, too involved in studying and being the outlier to really make the same strides he did.”

I squint, trying to imagine Gabe as anything but a handsome charmer. It’s damn hard, even knowing what I know about him. “What do you mean, outlier?”

“I guess I was kind of a loner. I mean, I wasn’t bullied or anything. You don’t bully a guy my size, though I was a bit lankier back then. I just did my own thing. It was me and Jeremy, two peas in a pod, even if he did go out a bit more.”

I can feel in his words that he cared a lot for his brother. “You loved him.”

Gabe clears his throat. “He was a pain in the ass, but yes, I did. After he was killed and I started down... down the path that I’ve gone in life, I guess I started emulating some of his traits. The first time I had to stand up to a guy with a gun, that wasn’t me slickly talking my way out of that shit. That was Jeremy talking through me.”

The mountains suddenly stop, and I’m stunned at the sight before me. The highway comes almost to the beach itself, and in front of me, the wild, untamed Pacific roars and rages, crashing against the rocky coastline in gigantic sprays of foam.

Just off shore, maybe less than a quarter-mile, are a couple of rocks that are too big to be properly called rocks but too small to be called islands. One of them, the largest, is almost perfectly domed, ringed with trees and standing in the middle of the sea in front of me.

“This is... wow. I didn’t expect a safe house out here.”

“Well, it’s not an actual safe house, but we’ll be protected here. It’s a rental property, remote and isolated. Just the two of us.” His voice goes husky, and I know that there’s no way I’ll be able to resist him if there’s no one around to buffer the heat he so easily stirs up in me.

The rational side of me revolts against the idea, wanting to start over like he said and build slowly and carefully, maybe even wait until the danger passes and I can see if he disappears like fog in the sunshine. But there’s another side of me saying that if I’m going out, I’m doing it on my own terms and sexually satisfied.

I’m honestly not sure which side I want to win.

Instead of deciding now, I question him. “If it’s a rental, that means there’s a record. That’s dangerous, right? Blackwell could track us right to the front door.”

He looks over, a pleased smile developing, and then his dimples pop. “Good girl. I like the way you’re thinking.”

Warmth heats my belly and my cheeks, and he continues. “I used an alias to book the rental, so it’s not traceable to me at all.”

We keep driving, and when we turn off the coastal highway, I can still see the big domed rock. But what takes all of my attention is on the gate in front of us. Large and imposing black iron, but pretty and ornate. Gabe stops at the box and rolls his window down to tap a few numbers on the keypad. It slides open, and Gabe drives a few feet to the other side before stopping.

He gets out, waiting as the gate slides back closed, and then goes over to the mechanical box. He opens it, doing something I can’t see, and then gets back in the truck.

“Turned off the gate mechanism and took out the fuse so it can’t be turned back on without it. Now the gate won’t work electronically, and it’s too heavy to manually slide open. We’re secure against vehicles because the fence goes around the whole property.”

It strikes me that he specified ‘secure against vehicles’ because that means we’re not secure against someone scaling the fence. Because that’s an actual risk. Again, I’m struck with how crazy my life has become.

The blooming anxious fear is stopped abruptly as we come through a row of trees to a clearing and the house comes into view.

It’s stunningly beautiful, turn of the century styling but updated to be modern. Gabe makes quick work of the front door, and we walk into a foyer with two-story ceilings. A plush rug softens my footsteps as I gawk, spinning in place.

I can’t think of the last time I was in a room that was like this. Or maybe never? The walls are elegant, decorated in a slightly Victorian floral wallpaper, and as I look out the big window in front of us, I’m struck by how beautiful the view is. The ocean stretches as far as I can see to the horizon, and the beach beckons.

I realize Gabe is watching me take in the house. “This is what you deserve, Bella. Beautiful things, luxury at your fingertips, and more.”

I look away from the view to meet his eyes and shake my head. “This is amazing, but I don’t deserve it more than any other person does. All I want is to be safe, to be able to go home to my friends, who are safe, and for everyone to be happy. That’s enough.”

His smile is sad. “Let me do a run-through. Will you wait here?”

I nod and he disappears. I hear him opening and closing doors and several beeps as he messes with the alarm system. I move to the window, and staring outside, it feels like we’re the only two people left in the world.

Moments later, he’s back and follows my sightline outside. “I need to check outside too. Do you want to walk with me? We can walk on the beach?” he beckons, the hope that it’ll entice me in the gravel of his voice.

I follow his lead out the back door and down the wooden steps to the sand. The beach isn’t sugar sand, and while it’s beautiful, I can’t really see anyone using it for sunbathing. The sand’s too coarse, the breeze coming off the ocean and hitting the mountain just a little too brisk. Even in summer, it’d be too cold for a bikini for all but the most hardcore of bathers, and the waves are so wild that every breath of air is tinged with the flavor of salt as the cool mist kisses my skin.

We walk, the sand crunching under our shoes as I listen to the roar of the water, trying to let go of the terror that sneaks up on me and then fades away just as unexpectedly. It’s not that anything in particular eases me. It’s just not sustainable to live in constant fear, looking over my shoulder. I’m not built that way, jaded and scared of the world. But I get the feeling Gabe is.

We’ve spent so much time in the past eight hours talking. The thought of his own personal tragedies makes me shiver, and I tug on the sleeves of my sweatshirt to disguise the reason.

I reach over, taking Gabe’s hand. His brows lift in pleased surprise, and though his brown eyes stayed locked on me, I turn to look out at the ocean. “I miss my family too. Seems we’re both alone.”

“You’re not alone, Bella. Your family might not be blood, but they’re the ones you’ve chosen and who’ve chosen you back.”

I notice he doesn’t make the same correction about himself. Perhaps he truly is alone. The thought makes me sad.

“I try to remember my family, but it was so long ago and I was so little. I’m glad you had your brother for so long, that you were so close. For a long time, I wanted that, would wish that I’d had another year, a month, a week, even a day. To have more memories, but what little I have are faded with time.” I look down, digging the toe of my tennis shoe into the sand., “Sometimes, I can’t even remember what my mother looked like or what her voice sounded like. I’ve tried so often.”

It’s a painful confession, one I don’t share lightly or to just anyone.

“The trick is to think of context,” Gabe says. “Don’t just think of her face or voice. Think of something you did together. Think of a time you had fun together and picture the whole scene. That’ll make it come to you.”

I close my eyes, and after a moment, it comes to me. “My fourth birthday. She made orange cupcakes with Fruity Pebble sprinkles, just like I asked for. They were so sweet even half of one gave me a stomachache, but I loved them all the same. I can hear her asking me if they were what I dreamed they’d be. I remember her smile when I jumped up and down, yelling yes over and over,” I say with a teary smile.

I turn to Gabe, hugging him. “Thank you.”

“Always, Bella. I learned that from using the same trick to remember Jeremy.”

I shiver, hugging him tighter. When I let go, he takes my hand and we resume walking. “I need to finish the perimeter check. You okay to walk with me?”

I nod, but as we leave the empty beach with sightlines for miles to move into the treed area around the house, I can feel the change in Gabe. He drops my hand, his eyes scanning carefully and occasionally checking the fence line.

I follow along, useless to help, and the one time I try to speak, he gently hushes me with a finger to my lips. He whispers, “Shh, I’m listening for anything in the woods.” So I bite my tongue and trudge behind him.

The sun is low in the sky when we get back to the house, the long day taking its toll physically and the emotional roller coaster crashing over me mentally.

Gabe helps me settle on the couch and then moves to start a fire. When he’s satisfied that it’s going well, he sits beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. Too exhausted to be upset any longer, I melt into him.

This should feel wrong. I should be scared of him.

But after everything, both before this morning and after, somehow, this feels right. I feel safe in his arms. Maybe that’s stupid of me, but that ship has long since sailed, right about the time I climbed into his truck. Actually, maybe before that, when I let him into my house to explain.

Charlotte whispers in my ear again, background check.

But I am where I am, and I don’t know that I’d change it even if I could. So I sink deeper and let myself be enveloped by him, even if there’s a price to pay.

Even if it’s my life.