29. Gabriel

29

GAbrIEL

I leave work only a few hours after I arrive, well before noon. I can’t focus, and I decide that the sooner I clear things up with Bella and tell her about my plans, the better. As I walk to the car, I consider the idea of getting her something. A gift, something thoughtful to ease the sting of things ending between us—something that she can remember our time together by, as a good memory, and not something awkward and difficult. There’s a jewelry store on the way home, one that has more unique pieces than the average chain, and I stop there, checking the time as I walk in.

There’s plenty of time to choose something and still be back by the end of lunch, when Cecelia and Danny will be napping, and I can talk to Bella alone. I browse through the glass cases, finally settling on a pearl bracelet—each small pearl set in the center of a silver daisy. I know Bella loves the botanical gardens, and I don’t think either of us will soon forget the day that we went there together.

I still have that feeling of being on edge, as I wait for the sales associate to wrap it up. A prickling at the back of my neck, a faint, almost sixth sense that tells me there’s some danger. But I brush it away, chalking it up to the night before, and the emotions it brought up.

Emotions that I need to work through, away from Bella, where they can’t hurt her. That’s the reason I’ve chosen to avoid a relationship, after all. Because I don’t want to burden her with emotions that she shouldn’t have to deal with.

I take the package, slipping it into my pocket as I walk out to my car, trying not to to think about how much I would rather go home, and sweep her upstairs to bed. How I would rather give her this bracelet as the beginning of something, instead of the end.

I’m just reaching for the door handle when I feel hard metal press against the back of my head, and I go very still.

I’ve been very lucky, in my business dealings, but I’ve had the unfortunate experience of having a gun to my head once or twice before. I’ve always walked away, obviously—but there’s always that first, terrible moment of wondering if this will be the time that I won’t.

I raise my hands, slowly. “If I turn around, are you going to shoot me?”

“No, Mr. Esposito. In fact, please turn around,” a Russian-accented voice says, and cold fear spirals through me, ice forming in my gut.

I turn around, slowly, to see a tall man in black fatigues standing in front of me, with close-cropped blond hair and icy eyes, a gun leveled at my forehead. I immediately recoil, instinctively moving to knock his gun to one side, bringing my arm sharply up against his. I haven’t spent hours upon hours training to be brought down by one Bratva goon with a Desert Eagle. I feel it give way under the sharp blow, and a burst of satisfaction ripples through me.

But it’s not just one man, I realize, as the first lets out a string of curses in Russian, taking a heavy step back as he grips his wrist. “You’ll regret that, svoloch ,” he snarls, and I realize, as four more men move towards me, that I very well might.

I can’t fight them off. Five against one is far beyond me, and I’m not armed. I’ve been careful to conduct my business and handle my affairs in a way that’s meant I’ve never felt the need to be armed at all times, or have heavy security.

In a moment, all of that has changed.

The blond man rights himself, looking at me narrowly, with an expression of pleasure that tells me I’m not going to like what he says next. “You will follow us back to your home, Mr. Esposito. Now.”

I look at him with disbelief. “I will fucking not do that. If you want something from me?—”

He cuts me off sharply. “What I want is for you to obey, svoloch . And if you do not, or if you try to run, or if you try to call anyone for help or to warn them, well—” He holds up his phone, and my heart freezes in my chest. I realize that I’ve never truly known fear, until this moment.

It’s a picture of my kitchen table. Agnes, Bella, and my children are all sitting there, guns aimed at them. And sitting at the head, as if it’s his house and not mine, is Igor Lasilov.

I know what this is all about, at that moment. And my heart sinks like a stone, fear bleeding through me, knowing that I failed to take this as seriously as I should have.

I’ve never stepped wrong, in all my years of dealing with these kinds of men. I’ve always trusted my intuition, and I’ve always been careful. But this once, I’ve seen only what I wanted to see.

And now, I’ll pay for it. Someone will—and it will take everything I can manage to keep it from being those I love.

“They will take your children apart, piece by piece, if you do not obey,” the blond Russian continues. “So follow us, Mr. Esposito.”

I have no choice. I nod tightly, anger vibrating through every part of me, making me wonder if I’ll even be able to drive. It’s only the need to get home, the need to make sure they’re given no excuse to act on their threats, that keeps me going. Keeps me functioning. I slide into my car, and I follow him—his black car in front, and two more behind me, blocking me in. Watching me. Making sure that I don’t disobey.

My feet feel leaden as I get out in front of my house, fear weighing me down. Slowing me, despite the fact that in this moment, I need to be quicker than ever, more present, more able to adapt. The threat to my children is nearly crippling, as they knew it would be. But I have to move past that.

The Russians flank me, following me up to the front door, and I try to focus, to center my thoughts, to determine how I’m going to keep this from going horribly, heartbreakingly awry.

How I’m going to save my family, from the thing I always feared the most.

Bella sees me the instant I walk in. “Gabriel,” she gasps, and Cecelia and Danny look up. They start to leap up, but Bella grabs them, and I shake my head. Cecelia bursts into tears again, and it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. Like I’m looking at it, raw and bleeding in front of me, and I have no idea if I can keep this from turning into my worst nightmare.

I thought I knew what loss felt like, what hurt was, what the worst thing I could ever experience was. I never knew just how bad it could get, before this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Bella whispers, her eyes filling with tears, her entire body starting to shake, and I look at Igor, moving to stand directly opposite him. Between him, and Agnes, and Bella, and my children.

“What do you want, Lasilov?” I ask flatly, the lack of emotion in it startling me, compared to the riot of fear and anger that I feel inside. He smiles, as if we were having a polite conversation, and nothing more.

“You have a choice, Esposito.” His grin broadens, and I can tell he’s taking pleasure in this. It makes me want to kill him—the second time in my life I’ve ever wanted to kill a man.

The first was when Bella told me what happened to her. And now—this.

“You can give Bella back to me,” Igor continues, his hands folded in front of him. “For retribution for my son, to do with as I please.”

“Absolutely not,” I say automatically, without a second thought. “I refuse.”

Igor’s smile never falters. He almost looks pleased, as if this were the outcome he hoped for. An excuse to do violence.

“Then,” he says, his gaze locked evenly with mine, “then everyone you love will die.”

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