The release from earlier tonight, the calm after violence, vanishes as if it never existed. In its absence, pressure builds under my skin, the familiar itch returning with a vengeance.
I grip the throttle tighter, knuckles whitening.
Focus on the mission, not on the Alpha molding his strong body to your back. Find Tony. Get justice for Micah.
Nothing else matters.
6
Gabriel’s arm brushes mine as we crouch behind a stack of shipping containers, and I flinch away from the contact.
The night air reeks of saltwater and rust, while the steady drip of condensation from overhead pipes counts down the seconds we spend hiding from the security patrol.
Their flashlight beams cut through darkness thirty feet away, sweeping across the concrete in predictable patterns that Gabriel seems to anticipate before they happen.
“Wait for it,” he whispers, his breath warm in my ear. “Three, two, one…”
The guard turns, his light redirecting whereGabriel predicted, leaving our path clear for the moment.
“Now.” He grabs my wrist, tugging me forward, and I yank free of his grip.
I follow on my own terms, staying in a crouch and tracking his movements as he weaves between containers with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this before. Not the bumbling rich boy I expected.
We reach another stack of containers, this one offering a view of the main security checkpoint without exposing us to the floodlights.
“How do you know the patrol schedules?” I whisper, eyes fixed on the guard booth where a heavyset man with a cigarette scrolls his phone, oblivious to our presence.
Gabriel shrugs, the motion almost invisible in the darkness. “The Rockfords have been importing luxury goods for generations. Security protocols at most ports follow similar patterns.”
“Luxury goods,” I repeat, the euphemism hanging between us.
His teeth flash white in the darkness. “Art. Wine. Cheese. Antiques.”
“And guns?” I question.
The amusement vanishes. “That would be Avery’s specialty, not ours.”
“And how do you know Avery Moore?”
Gabriel checks his watch before responding. “Family connection.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“That’s all I’m offering.” He turns toward me, half-illuminated by distant floodlights. “Unless you want to be family?”
The flirtation catches me off guard, and I scoff to cover how my pulse kicks up a notch. “You never quit, do you?”
“Not when I see something worth pursuing.” His attention returns to the checkpoint, saving me from having to respond. “Seven minutes until the shift change. If someone is paying off workers, that’s when they’ll make the drop.”
I study Gabriel’s profile as he focuses on the job. Concentration tightens his handsome features, and his motions hold a certain elegance as he adjusts the zoom on a small camera he had pulled from his pocket with no explanation as to why he even carried it.
Nothing about him right now matches the pampered club patron who brings me expensive gifts to try to buy my attention. This Gabriel moves with apredator’s grace, all controlled power and quiet confidence. My instincts reevaluate him in real-time, marking him as more dangerous than I initially assessed.
“There.” He points toward a car pulling into the lot, its headlights cutting through the fog rolling in from the water. “Black sedan with tinted windows. Right on schedule.”
The car parks near the checkpoint, and a tall figure steps out, identity obscured by a hood. My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for the knife in my boot.
As if he senses my tension, Gabriel places a hand on my arm. “Wait. We need to document the exchange.”
