I dried my hands on a rag, smearing the blood more than cleaning it up. The nerves in my fingers still buzzed, but it was nothing compared to the growing ache in my chest.
Harley followed me up the stairs and out into the grimy hallway.
“Are you coming with?” I asked, turning to Harley. Anger was starting to replace the dread. If she’d played me, she would learn firsthand just how ruthless I could be.
He shook his head. “She’ll talk to you. But . . . watch your back, all right? I’ll keep an eye on things here. If there’s more fallout from this, you’ll want to be ready.”
I nodded and stepped out into the chilly evening. I’d lost track of how long we were down there, but now the air was thick withthe threat of rain, and the wind carried the distant wail of sirens and the metallic tang of burnt rubber. I mounted my bike, the engine roaring to life beneath me, and let it idle while I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what I’d say. The truth was, I didn’t know if I’d throttle her or beg her to tell me that none of it was real.
Chapter 29
Idumpedtheburnerphone into the sewer on the way home and needed some time to figure out what my next steps were. When the splash of the device hitting the water echoed in my ears, I knew I was doing the right thing. I loved Gavriel Azzaro, in spite of everything he had done, and I couldn’t deny it.
Curling up in my favorite worn leather armchair with a blanket and the fire going in front of me was just what I needed. The late-afternoon sun came through the window as I sat reading one of my favorite cozy smut books by Scarlett Teaghran. I needed something light, low stakes, and spicy as hell. This one did it every time.
A violent banging on the front door startled me, and my book slipped from my fingers, falling to the floor.
“Elin! Open the fuck up!”
Taking a deep breath, I got up, tossing the blanket back onto the chair before going to let him in. I stared at Gavriel as he took a couple steps into the house and slammed the door behind him.
He was covered in blood, his long blond hair falling in bloody, clumpy strings around his face.
“Are you okay?”
When he stepped toward me, I backed up until I was against the wall. His arms boxed me in as he growled, “Elin, is it true?”
His eyes were ablaze as he punctuated each word out of his mouth.
“Is what true?” What in the hell was he talking about?
“Don’t play with me right now, Elin. Were you feeding Hillabrand information? About my family business? Specifically, the shipments?” I felt the blood drain from my face. He knew. I didn’t answer right away, and he thumped his fists on the wall. “Answer me. Did you?”
Anger rose, hot and volatile, as I pushed against his chest. “Yes. At first, I did. You killed my father, your best friend. I was set to ruin you. Ruin your family. I told him about the Barstow shipments and a few other little ones, but stopped not long after you became my Pretty Boy.”
There was hurt in his eyes, and I crossed my arms as I stood there staring at him.
I wasn’t sure what I expected from him. Maybe putting a gun to my head and pulling the trigger, but I didn’t think he’d just put his hands in his pockets and walk out.
Gavriel Azzaro just walked out.
His back to me, his shoulders tight, he strode down the walkway, got back on his bike, and rode off. Standing in my doorway, I watched him speed away.
It wasn’t until I shut the door that I realized I was shaking.
I couldn't believe I had just admitted to Gavriel that I’d been a rat at first. I had been so angry, but now, seeing the hurt in his eyes, all I felt was regret. I knew I had betrayed his trust, but I also knew I’d had my reasons. The sound of his bike fading into the distance left me with a sickening feeling of uncertainty.
I sank down onto the nearest chair, my mind racing. Gavriel was proud, and I had just delivered a blow to his sense of loyalty.I’d known it was all a mistake not long after he’d become my sub. He was mine to protect, and if I had continued with the original plan, based on his father's threat of killing him, he would likely be dead by now.
Looking in the direction he had ridden off, I feared what he might do in his hurt and anger. I called his sister, Rhea, hoping she could find him and make sure he didn’t do something overtly stupid.
"Hi, sweetheart. What’s going on?”
“I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”
She was quiet for a moment and then asked, “What happened?”
The silence on the other end of the line was deep and thick, but I could sense Rhea’s mind working furiously, whirring through implications, calculating allegiances. I pictured her in her office, the perpetual clack of her keyboard paused, her gaze fixed on some indeterminate distance, a thousand-yard stare. It took me a full breath to keep talking, but once I started, it kept pouring out.
