Dark tide, p.13
Dark Tide, page 13
I scrub my hand over my face and squeeze my eyes shut. “Gunfire started hitting near us. One of those motherfuckers got a better angle. Max and Gabe had to lay down some suppressive fire. I didn’t think we’d make it…then Cutter appeared out of nowhere and pushed that fucking Humvee off Preacher enough to get me access to perform the amputation.”
“Wasn’t the Humvee on fire?”
I hold my breath for a second against the memory of the smell.
“If you’ve never smelled burning human flesh before…” Words seem to escape me. I take another drag off the cigar and let the smell of the smoke wash away the memory as much as it’s possible. “He withstood that fire and scalding metal against his skin for longer than any human should be able to tolerate.”
Adrenaline allows the body to do some pretty fucking impressive things. What I saw Cutter do that day is one of the most incredible displays of strength—mental and physical—that I’ve ever witnessed.
I avoid looking at her and focus on the dwindling cigar in my hand. “Between that smell and the sound of cutting through bone…” I heave out a sigh. “It’s enough to give you nightmares for the rest of your life.”
“So, that's how he got the scars?” The awe is evident in her question.
And he deserves it. It’s one reason it’s hard to stay mad at him long about anything. If anyone is a true hero, it’s Cutter.
I incline my head and finally meet her gaze. “He sacrificed himself so that I could get Preacher out. We would have all died despite all my efforts had there not been chopper support in the area that was able to give us cover fire and evacuate us.”
Gabriella watches me for a moment, and silence falls between us. Her wet eyes follow every movement I make, almost like she’s afraid I might completely fall apart at any second.
I finish the cigar and stub it out in the ashtray on the table next to me. “Please stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me. Like you pity me.”
“Jesus, Rion, no.” She pushes forward on her knees and rests her palms flat against my chest. “I don't pity you at all. I'm awed by what you've done, what you’ve experienced in your life. There's nothing you could've done for those other men, but you saved Preacher, and you saved a lot of other men during your career. I have no doubt of that.”
Logically, I know that. But that doesn't make today any easier. Nothing ever will.
She leans forward and presses a kiss over my heart. I bury my face in her hair, the soft scent of her floral shampoo filling my lungs, replacing the smell of acrid smoke, burning flesh, and the desert.
It's like a breath of fresh air I didn't know I needed.
For years, I've gone through this day, dealing with my demons and guilt alone. Cutter and Preacher and I went through the attack together, but Cutter never shows emotion. He never breaks. And Preacher well…he would just as soon forget it ever happened. His leg will never let that happen, but the last thing he wants to do is talk about it and what it did to his faith and him.
Neither do I…usually.
But somehow, telling her has lifted a weight off me I didn't even know was sitting there. One I’ve lived with for so long, it’s just become routine to always carry it around with me.
I pull back and slide my hands around her waist to drag her up onto my lap.
She buries her face against my neck. “Do you want me to leave you alone today?”
I capture her face between my palms. “Fuck no. In fact, I want to get the hell out of here for a while.”
Her dark eyebrows rise. “My place?”
I shake my head. “No. Somewhere even better.”
18
Gabriella
Soft cooling spray splashes up over the bow and falls over my exposed skin. It’s a welcome reprieve from the heat of the afternoon. On one of the hottest days of the year, there really couldn’t be a better place to be spending our time today than out on the lake in bathing suits—soaking up the rays.
Nothing but us and the water.
I stretch out, the warm wind whipping around me. “It's peaceful out here.”
Rion glances at me from where he stands at the controls, totally relaxed and at peace. “Exactly why I love coming out here on the lake.”
Seeing him look so happy after he was drowning in his memories, guilt, and pain only hours ago twists something deep inside me. A strange pull between the two parts of me—one that wants to do my job and one that wants to feel like this with Rion all the time. Because he isn’t what anyone else thinks he is.
A man who was a true criminal wouldn't give two shits if people were dying around him. Rion cares. He cares too much. He cared enough to become a medic. He wanted to help people. He wanted to save people. And his inability to save them all has created this massive burden even he can’t carry on his enormous shoulders without it weighing him down.
It explains so much about him. Why he’s hard. Why he drinks. After what he went through with Cutter and Preacher, I can even understand their continued friendship, but how he ended up with the rest of these guys doing this just doesn't add up to me.
How did you end up a pirate, Rion? How did you go from saving people to killing them and working for organized crime?
It’s a question I’ve been trying to answer for days since I first realized who he is. But everyone at the warehouse is tightlipped, and if I ask too many pointed questions, Rion is going to know something is up.
Still, I need to understand it all if I’m going to get out of this quagmire.
I tap the side of the beautiful boat…practically a yacht, really, that takes us across the water. “This is a pretty nice boat. I can't believe Warwick doesn't care if you take it.”
Rion snorts and shakes his head. “Anything that belongs to one of us pretty much belongs to all of us there.”
There.
The warehouse. Their base of operations. The place they use to plan and launch raids against ships across the lakes. Where they all live…together.
“I have to admit. You’re living arrangements are a little…unusual.” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“I know. But when Cutter and I were discharged, he wasn’t in a very good place for a while.” He rubs at his jaw. “Truth be told, I wasn’t either.” Even from behind my sunglasses, I can see a dark cloud descend over him just talking about it. “Warwick offered Cutter a job. Kind of dragged him out of the abyss he was living in. War was in financial trouble with the fishing business, and since he and Cutter go way back, Cutter offered to come to help him get things back on track. He suggested Preacher and I come on board, too, since we were both kind of adrift after coming back state-side.”
I furrow my brow. “To do what, though? What is it exactly everyone does for Warwick? Cutter and Preacher don't exactly strike me as fishermen.”
Rion barks out a laugh and tips his head back. “God, no! They aren't.” He chuckles, his mood lightening. “Preacher helped get the business side of stuff organized. He handles the books, digital security, and monitoring video surveillance cameras, stuff like that. He makes sure the equipment is up to speed with what we might need on the boats, too. Technology is always advancing, and he’s the only one who really understands it.” He shrugs. “And Cutter handles security for the properties and the boats. It takes a lot of expensive equipment to run a business like that, and since Warwick isn’t there twenty-four-seven, he wanted somebody with a keen eye to keep track of it all.”
It all makes perfect sense.
He didn't come here with the intent to become a criminal. He came to help a friend—or at least, a friend of a friend. That absolutely seems in keeping with the man I’ve discovered Rion to be. He wouldn’t turn down someone who needed help if he were in a position to offer it. In fact, he would leap at the chance.
And I’m sure his medical training comes in handy with what these guys are up to and up against. Yet, he pretends to be a fisherman.
“What about you? You just fish?”
He grins at me and slows down the boat. “What do you think?”
I scan him from head to toe—across his wide shoulders, over his huge barrel chest and the ink covering his skin on his massive arms. “My guess is you’re the muscle.”
A man with brute strength like Rion would be invaluable on a raid squad. Taking a ship isn’t easy. Anyone attempting it has to be well-armed, well-trained, and willing to use violence to complete the mission. Cutter and Rion are undoubtedly capable—the government trained them for exactly that. And it appears Warwick and E—who I still haven’t met—aren’t opposed to anything in that regard, either.
Rion stops the engine and takes the three steps over to me. He leans down and presses his lips against mine in a slow, sensual kiss. “You would be right. There's a lot of heavy lifting and moving shit that needs to happen on the boats and at the various warehouses. Sometimes I do actually fish though and help bring in the catch.”
“When you're not out here, enjoying the water.”
Raiding ships and slaughtering crews. Stealing cargo for personal gain…or, at the very least, the gain of people like Valentina.
His large hand wraps around mine, and he drags me up, pulling me flush against his warm sun-kissed skin. “When I'm not out here, enjoying the water.”
“You bring all your girls out here?”
Any humor drains from his face, and he pushes my sunglasses up off my eyes then grips my chin between his fingers. “No, sugar. You’re the only one I’ve ever brought out here with me.”
Wow.
If anyone had been monitoring my heart just now, they would’ve seen it stall. The words shouldn’t mean that much. I shouldn’t let them. Not knowing what I have to tell him. What I should be telling him right now.
Tell him.
This is the moment. My opportunity to reveal the nasty truth. A chance to come clean and let him rail and rage and do whatever he has to. A chance for us to formulate some kind of plan.
But I can’t. Not today. Not on this day that’s already so awful and difficult for him. I can’t make it worse. I’ll find another time. Hopefully, once I’ve figured out a way out for all of us so I can soften the blow that the truth will be to him.
Please, God, let there be a way.
I brush my fingers over his face. The lines etched into his skin that make him look so rugged and hard mean something completely different now. After everything he's been through.
Can I really blame him for what he’s become?
There are things I've done that I regret, but at the time, they were necessary. Things that will weigh on my conscience for a long time. Like what I’m doing now…
I can’t blame him, but it still doesn't help me know how to handle this. How to salvage anything between us.
He squeezes me and kisses me with all the desire of a man no longer haunted by his demons—at least for the time being. I groan into his mouth, and he walks us backward and sits in his chair.
I straddle his lap, and I return his kiss with a message I hope he understands. Nothing he told me this morning changes how I feel, at least, not in a negative way. If anything, it’s only made me fall farther down the rabbit hole with him. I respect him and want him even more.
He pulls away and brushes my wind-blown hair back off my face. “I won’t be able to see you for the next couple of days.”
Goose bumps break out across my flesh, and something dark slithers up my spine. The unease his words stir is something I can’t shake. “You need some time alone?”
Please let that be it.
I would understand, given everything he told me today. Anyone who has been through what he has, who has seen and touched and felt everything he has, can use some time to reflect alone.
He shakes his head. “No. Work. I promise I'll call you soon as I’m done.”
Wham.
A hard ball of lead drops into my stomach. “Anything I can help with?”
I don't know what I expect his response to be. It's not like he's going to tell me everything. Part of me wants so desperately to believe that he’ll let me in—truly tell me about his life, but if I ask or call him out with what I know, he’ll completely shut down at best.
He sighs and drops his forehead against mine. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Well,” I swallow and smile despite my apprehension, “that just means we're going to have to make use of the time left out here with this around us.” I stare out at the lightly rolling waves and the sun glinting off the water. “It really is beautiful. No one else around.”
“You know they call it part of the inland seas?”
I nod slowly. “I’ve heard that somewhere before. Probably my dad.”
He runs his fingers through my hair. “You don’t talk about your family much.”
Intentionally.
I shrug and stare out at the water. “My dad was the chief of police in a small town in northern Mexico. The cartel came in, and he wasn’t going to be paid off. He sent me, my mother, and my brother to live here where we’d be safe and stayed behind.”
“Shit.” Rion brushes his hand down my arm. “I can already tell where this story is going.”
When the cartels are involved, it’s pretty easy to predict the non-fairy-tale endings. I was too young to understand what happened—only a baby really—but I’ve seen the aftermath and lived with it. Mama never recovered. It’s why having to be away from her is so difficult. She worries. And not without reason.
I blink away the tears that threaten to fall. “I wish I could say it had a happy ending, but it didn’t. He was killed six months after we came here.”
He’s silent for a moment. The only sounds around us the lapping of the water against the hull and our breaths. “Where are your brother and your mother now?”
I turn back to face him. “My mother still lives in my childhood home, and my brother is deployed right now. Afghanistan.”
“You never told me your brother was military.”
“I’m not really close to him. We tend to butt heads a lot. Same with my mom.”
One of his dark eyebrows rises. “You do have a bit of an attitude.”
I smack his arm playfully. “That’s not nice.”
He smirks. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He waves a hand around us. “I did bring you here. This is my place—one I don’t share with anyone. You can come out here and not see another living soul for hours or even days depending on where you are. It's the perfect place to go when you want to get away—alone or with someone you care about.”
Or when you want to hijack ships and kill the entire crew.
I wish I could focus on his words—someone you care about. But bile rises in my throat at the thought that it might be what their next couple of days is about—hijacking another ship.
If Rion comes back with blood on his hands, what am I supposed to do?
Instead of considering the question, I bury my face against his neck and concentrate on the warm sun beating down on us and the soft waves of Lake Michigan gently rocking the boat.
I sigh and kiss his warm, tattooed skin. “I have to say, I could get used to this.”
The simple words might not mean a lot to most people, but they do to me. And they do to Rion. I’m not the only one who feels something here. Something more.
He kisses the top my head and squeezes me in acknowledgment of my words. A sign of agreement to my proclamation.
That's exactly what terrifies me so much.
19
Rion
Neutral territory for the meeting turns out to be an industrial warehouse just north of downtown. And even though we’ve had almost a week to prepare for this, it still feels like walking into the unknown.
I can't help but think about the Valentine's Day Massacre—how that was supposed to be a simple meeting that turned into an absolute bloodbath.
Everyone else shares my concerns, but nothing's changed since I sat down with the guys and we all decided to come. In fact, things have only gotten more complicated. Which I didn’t even think was possible.
But the more time I spend with Gabriella, the less I want to keep doing this. That means I’m going to have to make a very hard decision soon—one that may cost me my friendships with guys who are the most important people in my life. The ones who gave me purpose when I had none after the Army discharged me. The ones who have saved my life as much as I’ve saved theirs. The ones I’m walking into this damn warehouse with today.
How we resolve the situation could very well determine not only the future of the crew but what I choose to do with the rest of my fucking life. This meeting could lead to an agreement that would end the current threat against Valentina. That might free me to step away for a while. To figure out what it is I want besides a much-needed vacation.
Having Gabriella with me out on the boat the other day was pure bliss. Nothing but us and waves.
It felt so…right.
And having to come back to shore and reality and send her off to work felt like a punch to the gut. Especially knowing I wouldn’t see her again until all this got resolved. The last few days without her, while we prepared for today, was agony. I never realized I could need someone so badly until she wasn’t there.
But I can’t think about her now. Cutter leads us into the warehouse with Valentina at his side. She walks in her four-inch stilettos with her shoulders back, head held high, every bit the boss she was born to be. Warwick and I follow, with Sofia between us.
Preacher would have loved for her to stay until they accomplished their final goal, but Rose was clear about the deal. Preacher got her for one week. No longer. This meeting is the perfect time to make the exchange and get E back before any shit hits the fan. Having the crew at full power will relieve some of the stress, but we’d all feel a lot better if we knew what was in all those files. Preacher will keep working on it, but until he succeeds, all we can do is focus on one major threat at a time. And we’re heading into a meeting with half a dozen of them.
