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“You’re late.” The irritation was rife in his voice.
“There was congestion at the airport. I got here as fast as I could.”
“I abhor someone spitting out excuses, Gabriel. Results are what impresses me. I thought you knew as much by now.”
“It won’t happen again.” Gabriel Dalca leaned against the balcony, keeping his eyes on the snow-white landscape surrounding them.
Gareth didn’t have to look at him to know he was tense—not unusual for someone who had fucked up and knew he would have to pay for that mistake. A man like Sanders didn’t appreciate his time being wasted, especially when it impacted the success of his plan.
“There’s a rumor going around, Gabriel, that I find rather concerning.”
“You’re a clever man, Gareth, and should know better than to pay attention to unconfirmed rumors… Ugh! Fuck!” he grunted as Gareth slammed a fist into his gut.
“Don’t test my limits this early in the discussion, Gabriel.” His low growl drifted on the breeze with dark intent. “What I find interesting is that you didn’t ask what rumor I was referring to, which in itself is rather telling, don’t you agree?”
Gabriel stuttered but no coherent words escaped his lips.
“The thing is,” Gareth’s voice lowered as he stared at the glowing red tip of his cigar. “Not many people know what my real identity is. Many have speculated, but since I personally select individuals to be privy to the truth about who I am, I can count those on one hand.”
“Are you suggesting I ratted you out?” Gabriel gasped, still attempting to catch his breath. He had always depended on the protection of his father, Jonas Smirnoff, especially against this man. After his death, he had no one since Andrei had summarily cut him off. He believed since Gabriel betrayed the Guzuns, he wasn’t to be trusted. It didn’t even matter to him that they were family.
“I can assure you, Gareth, I’m not stupid. Besides, how would I benefit from leaking information about you?”
“Everyone has a price, and since your uncle’s death, you suddenly found yourself like the proverbial castaway stuck on a remote island. I know your cousin doesn’t trust you, which means you stand alone, with no protection or support from him.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll give him information about you. For fuck’s sake, he doesn’t even know about our association.”
Gareth turned to him, his eyes glacial. “Doesn’t he? Why am I not convinced?”
Gabriel’s sudden pallor was prominent as he leaned closer.
“He doesn’t know!”
“If that is true, then how the fuck does he know who I am?”
“What do you… how the hell does he know?” Gabriel took a cautious step back. “Isus Hristos, Gareth, I haven’t seen or spoken to Andrei in weeks. He kicked me out of the house two weeks after Uncle Janos died. I have no authority in the Red Bratva. He stripped me naked. I hate the bastard. Why would I help him gain more power?”
“Because it would be your ticket back into his good graces, my dear man.”
“Fuck his good graces. He’s fighting against what we’re trying to achieve. If he wins, he’s going to take the power meant for you, so siding with him isn’t in my best interest. I stand a better chance at success standing by your side.”
“What about the day of the wedding?” Gareth didn’t miss the slight discomfort as Gabriel moved his shoulders. At first Gareth had blocked what he had seen through the scope as he had pulled the trigger that day, but the memory had been hounding him ever since. “Someone was in that room and managed to shove theComareout of the way just in time for my shot not to be lethal. No one but you knew. How do you explain that?”
“I didn’t tell anyone, I swear. Who was it? You must’ve seen—”
“You clearly have no idea how an assassin’s brain works when he’s in the killing zone. I focused on just her, Gabriel. All I saw was a slight movement, a hand against her back since it was in my line of vision. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to warn me that I had been betrayed.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Gareth stared at him and although he returned his look unblinkingly, he was aware of the conflict in his eyes. No matter what he had said, history proved that Gabriel’s devotion to blood loyalty remained steadfast. The bonds of a Bratva soldier to his family were absolute.
He might have banked on Jonas Smirnoff’s protection, but he had hated the man. More often than not, Gareth had to listen to his complaints about being used but never receiving any credit, yet his entire life, he did whatever his father had asked of him. In the kind of world they lived, blood ruled all. In Gabriel’s veins flowed an unbreakable oath to family, no matter the cost. He suspected if Andrei changed his mind and Gabriel was forced to choose, kin would always come first.
Gareth was faced with a conundrum. He had always trusted his instincts when deciding who to allow into his inner circle. Those privy to his double identity were vetted extensively. Gabriel had passed that test years ago. Now, Gareth wasn’t so sure whether he was still to be trusted, but he couldn’t cut ties yet—not when Gabriel was his only connection to the inner workings of Andrei Smirnoff.
The fact that Andrei was back in Moldova troubled Gareth. As the most powerful Bratva Pakhan in Russia, why would he leave his territory to come here? Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he gazed out at the mountains. Someone had been in Zafira’s room that day she was shot. Someone who knew she’d be vulnerable and alone at that precise moment. Cold sweat beaded his brow. Who could possibly have such intimate knowledge of his movements at the time?
It kept coming back to instinct. It had to have been Andrei. If he was the one who had saved Zafira, why hadn’t he intervened at the sniper’s nest instead of letting her get shot? Was that why he was in Moldova now? The question pointed to one conclusion—Andrei must have taken Zafira from the hospital to prevent a second assassination attempt.
