“What the fuck are you doing here, brother?” he demanded of Maksim’s right-hand.
Micha Zaretsky, known to some as Torpedo because, well, he was a deadly sonofabitch, briefly shook Gabriel’s outstretched hand, careful not to jar sleeping beauty. Didn’t even look at her, actually, which was a nice change. “Maks sent me.”
And that’s when it hit Gabriel.
He still had a crew.
Even though he’d “gone straight” years ago, he was still neck-deep in the life. He didn’t have a “security team.” But a fucking crew. And because trouble was brewing, his allies were gifting him.
Alek had stayed and was intent on offering his services.
Lucian Fane had given him information.
Maks had sent Micha—a lethal goddamn weapon if there ever was one.
Gabriel wasn’t sure what to think as he entered the suite through the door Quan had opened.
Shouldn’t he be more surprised?
Angry at himself, perhaps?
Disappointed, at least, that he’d never completely left the organized crime world behind as he’d believed. He’d simply downsized. By hundreds of men. Not that he’d fooled himself into thinking he’d become some philanthropic, law-abiding, respectable businessman, but he’d definitely thought he was a little further from being “organized” than he actually was.
Swiftly accepting what was, for the moment anyway, he felt an odd sense of relief. He had respectability, sure, but it was the intimidation factor and his capacity for instilling fear that would be an aid when it came down to it. Because that was the way things worked in their world. The bigger and badder you were, the better off you’d be. Fear and weakness couldn’t be entertained. Not when dealing with men like Stefano and Furio.
Looking down at Eva, Gabriel was reminded that weakness could come in different forms. Like loved ones. If your enemies couldn’t get to you, they targeted those closest to you.
His lip twitched without humor. Good thing his father had taught him how to get around his inhibitions and conscience. Would make it so much easier to take these fuckers down before they triumphed first.
“Think she’s out for the night?”
A funny sound escaped Eva, and she lifted her head, looking around in confusion. It hadn’t been Quan’s question that had woken her, though, but Gabriel’s tightening grip. He loosened his arms.
“We’re here?” she asked sleepily.
“I was going to put you to bed.”
She squirmed and glanced at the others as color filled her cheeks. “I’m good now. I can walk.”
He glared at her.
“Really, Gabriel. I’m fine.”
He slowly lowered her to the floor. Last thing he wanted her thinking was that he or his boys saw her as weak. She was anything but.
“I just need the washroom.” Her movements were uncharacteristically subdued as she headed through the main room and into the bedroom.
Once he heard the bathroom door close, he stalked over to the bar in front of the window and poured two fingers of Stoli into three glasses. Without hesitating, he downed the clear liquid. Quan and Alek wasted no time in doing the same.
Palming his phone, he dialed the twins. “Which one?” he asked when the call was picked up. Couldn’t tell which brother had answered by the voice alone.
“Abel.”
“You guys tight?”
“Of course.” Abel’s calm tone was the antithesis to what was swirling through Gabriel’s head.
“I can’t get out there—”
“Weren’t expecting you, boss. Any time limit on how long this one circles the drain?”
Gabriel sighed in frustration. He was torn. He needed to take care of Furio himself; he couldn’t leave Eva. But the longer the boys held that weasel, the greater the chance something could go wrong.
“Hurt him,” he finally said with Eva’s fear and injuries front and center in his mind. “I need to hear his pain.”
A thump and bellow came through the line, followed by a round of cursing and moaning. Gabriel felt no satisfaction because he hadn’t been the cause of it.
“Ball peen to the radius, if the added visual helps,” Abel volunteered as if he knew more was needed. “And I’m pretty sure the ulna didn’t fare well either. Little bonus.”
“That does help.”
“Reaper called.”
Gabriel massaged the back of his neck, the action doing little to ease his tension. Why would Vincente have called Abel? Unless Alek had let him know they’d tagged Furio. “Did he.”
“Yeah. After he recommended the best way to deal with this piece of shit, he said he’d see us shortly. What do you make of that?”
Fuckin’ Vincente. The guy never gave up anything until he was good and ready. “Only V knows, man.”