Vengeance Unleashed - Nancy Haviland Page 0,19

elbow. She barely swallowed a shriek as she spun.

“It’s okay,” said a striking Asian man who had his hands up, palms out in that gesture men used to show a woman they meant no harm. “I’m with Gabriel,” he said, then repeated, “It’s okay.”

“That’s Quan.” The deep vibration of Gabriel’s voice carried even when he spoke so quietly. He turned his attention from the beaten man at his feet. “My security,” he clarified in a flat voice before adding, “Where the fuck—”

Before he could complete the question, another man came out of the shadows from the direction of the gardens. This one had longish tawny hair and a nasty scar on the side of his face. He was clearly angry as he stomped down the stone path and jumped up the three steps to the terrace in one effortless bound. He went right up to Gabriel, wiping at a steady trickle of blood that had to have impaired his vision as it was running down his forehead and into his eye, though he treated it as if it were nothing more than a mild annoyance. He glanced her way with an expression of regret and then said something she couldn’t hear.

Whatever it was made Gabriel’s lips tighten. He nodded at the blood. “You okay?”

Tough guy just snorted and looked insulted by the question.

She was about to ask Gabriel what the hell was going on when yet another male voice came from behind her, this one speaking a language very much not English. He was tall and well-built with dirty-blond hair that fell boyishly over his forehead. Unlike everyone else, he was dressed casually in a silky gray button-down and beat-up jeans.

Eva narrowed her eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about him. Too frazzled to figure it out, she wrote it off to his resemblance to David Beckham.

Her attention went back to Gabriel. Did all of these guys work for him? Hotel or personal security? Had the incident been captured by surveillance—

Gabriel responding to the new guy distracted her.

She swallowed a sound of disbelief.

Were they speaking Russian?

Shit. She just couldn’t get away from that, could she?

When they’d said their fill, both men turned to her, and, from what she could see in the limited light, they didn’t look happy. A gust of wind played around them, and she ignored the sudden need to hide from all that aggression. Rather, she straightened her spine and injected the right amount of censure in her voice when she suggested politely, “Maybe you can fill us in?” She included Quan and the scarred one in her clueless group. No doubt they were as curious as she was.

Gabriel came over to stand before her, gently tipping her head back with a knuckle under her chin. “Are you okay?”

The tender action and intimate tone were as unexpected as her reaction. Her chest squeezed tight and her limbs began shaking in what she could only assume was delayed reaction. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and nodded, not wanting to show what a girl she was by freaking out now that the action was over.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, quickly giving her a once-over that was anything but personal.

She shook her head, not sure she could trust herself to speak without giving away how affected she was.

“Maks sent us this guy’s info.” Quan had gone over and now stood looking down at the still-unconscious man.

“And?” Gabriel’s eyes stayed on her, but when the pregnant pause stretched, he snapped an impatient, “Quan. What the fuck is it?”

“Sensitive.”

Her brow furrowed as Gabriel swung away and stalked over to have something whispered in his ear. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Get him the fuck out of here.”

Quan bent down and, with remarkable ease, threw the unconscious man over his shoulder and headed into the gardens. The Russian speaker and the guy with the scar followed at a leisurely pace as Gabriel returned to her side. Clasping her upper arm, sending little zings of electricity shooting up to her shoulder and into her chest, he led her to the stone bench. He sat her down before going back to retrieve her clutch, which had fallen to the ground during the altercation.

“Where did you learn to throw an elbow like that?” he asked.

“Definitely not the same place you did.” She pulled in a slow breath in the hopes it would settle her crackling nerves. “What did he say to you?”

“Who?”

“Your security guy; Quan.”

“Nothing. Are you sure you’re all right?” He sat,

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