He tipped his head to the side and cracked his neck before settling deeper into his chair. Following his meeting with Vasily, he’d spent a miserable few days watching Eva Jacobs attempt to cope with the staggering loss of her mother. She’d been destroyed at the funeral. But upon returning to New York, he’d glimpsed the Tarasov in her when she’d moved beyond the loss to finish out the semester at Columbia.
Now, she was on her way home.
And Gabriel had to get a grip on this. Had she been anyone else, he’d have long ago approached her and scratched the itch.
But she wasn’t anyone else.
Tossing his pen onto the cluttered desktop, he leaned forward to scrub a weary hand down his face, reminding himself that he couldn’t break number two on the metaphoric list of rules they all abided by. Sisters, cousins, even good family friends…off-limits. Especially when it came to a goddamn daughter. Disregarding the tenet would obliterate the rare, absolute trust between him and Vasily, and the fallout would no doubt extend to the boys, too.
Straightening with a jerk, he pulled back up to his desk. He had work to do. This daily merry-go-round head-fuck wasn’t going anywhere. It’d be back tomorrow. Probably later today, he thought, as he once again read the e-mail he’d been mulling over earlier.
Along with Ms. Jacobs’s, I’ve attached three other resumes. Let me know who you choose. Natalie
He grunted. Since the position had been created especially for his charge, there was no choice to make. Ms. Jacobs it was. As TarMor’s very own associate business manager, whom he’d get to see every day. Up close and personal. Finally get to speak with, every fucking day. Maybe even touch on occasion. Just a casual brushing of their fingers as she handed him a contract to sign. Or maybe her mouthwatering body would sweep against his as he held a door open for her. And she’d smile…
As he backed her up against the nearest wall, peeled away the sexy suit she’d no doubt be wearing, and did every single dirty thing he’d been dreaming of doing to her for the past seven weeks.
A knock sounded before his office door opened to show Jakson Trisko, the left brain of Gabriel’s security team, blocking the view out into the reception area and long hallway.
Over six feet of ex-military badass, Jak had reconnected on his return to the States from his decade-long stint overseas. He’d gone to high school with Gabriel and the boys in Queens. They’d been tight back then and were even tighter now.
“Alek is heading this way.” The light from the window glanced off the scar that started at the top of Jak’s right ear and went in a straight line to the corner of his mouth. No corrective surgery for their soldier. Fuckin’ guy looked like he’d been slashed in a brawl and had only enough time to glue the sides of his cheek back together before heading into the fray again. And with Jak, that was a distinct possibility.
“Really.” Just the man Gabriel wanted to see.
“You good for company?”
“I’m good.”
Gabriel’s friend/brother/business partner—and Eva’s cousin, since Vasily and Alek’s late father were brothers—shoved past Jak, landing a solid elbow to the guy’s ribs before striding across the office and dropping his lean frame into one of the black leather chairs that sat in front of Gabriel’s desk. Alek’s bearing was all about lazy relaxation. A careless ease.
It was a lie. He was lethal.
As Jak closed the door, Alek’s icy-blue eyes scanned the bookshelves that covered most of the available wall space in the office. His face held little expression, as was the norm lately. His enjoyment of life had hit the bricks when his love life had fallen apart last year, but at least he’d started trying again.
“You sent more stuff to the house,” Alek said as he plowed a hand through his disheveled dark-blond hair to push it off his forehead just so it could fall back like it always did.
Gabriel followed his gaze to the barren shelves. “Figured I might as well start.” He’d been in Seattle five years and it still wasn’t home. The house he shared with Alek, Maksim, and Vincente in Old Westbury, a village on the North Shore of Long island, was.
“The library is already full. Don’t know where we’re going to put anything else. Guess you’ll have to do the same shelving in the Manhattan office.”
Gabriel nodded and extended his legs, relaxing back in his chair. “I thought you were heading back to New York today.” He tapped the heavy ring he wore on his right thumb against the knuckles of his left hand in a steady rhythm, which stopped when Alek sat forward, his mouth firming into that grim I-got-some-bad-news line. After so many years held captive in a life where that look usually meant something had gone wrong, one was wise to dread seeing it.
“Stefano dropped in at the biker’s place this morning.”
Okay.
Not what he was expecting.
The biker was Caleb Paynne, a member of the Obsidian Devils MC, the infamous motorcycle club known throughout the world with chapters in every major city in every major country. When Gabriel had learned there was a connection between Paynne and Eva—through the biker’s sister—he’d taken advantage and arranged for Paynne to transfer charters so he could keep a close eye on Gabriel’s charge in a way a perfect stranger never could without throwing up a field of red flags. The move had been made easier by Gabriel’s solid relationship with the Manhattan charter’s President, who Caleb also knew well. Only problem? Gabriel didn’t think much of the close relationship Eva shared with the fuckin’ biker. Too bad he hadn’t known Alesio, Gabriel’s little cousin, would chum up to Eva at school, he could have avoided using Paynne altogether.
Not that it mattered now. She’d graduated and was returning to Seattle.
Today.
He glanced down at the Breitling on his wrist and frowned, not happy to note she hadn’t even left New York yet. “And?” he said as Alek’s announcement hung in the air between them.
“Eva stopped by on her way to the airport.”
A chill swept through him around the roots of jealousy digging deeper into his chest.
“Stefano was still there. Waiting for her.”
No outward reaction came, but deep down, oh, deep down a mighty hurricane of holy fuck ripped through Gabriel.
His brother. In the same room with Eva.
God…damn.
“She okay?” She’d better be okay. Otherwise the world was going to see a bloodbath of epic proportions within the organized crime world. If anything had happened to Vasily’s daughter, within days the Moretti family would begin to fall. The Tarasovs and their Russian counterparts would move in and clean house. Just like, Gabriel suspected, they were currently doing with the Baikov organization.
“She’s fine,” Alek confirmed. “At JFK waiting for her flight as we speak.”
Relief speared the base of Gabriel’s skull and spread throughout his body. “Did you ask Vincente if they’re looking for some extra muscle? Maybe Paynne was the go-between.”
Alek shook his head. “Your family currently has nothing going with the bikers. Not since that weapons deal they did last New Year’s Eve.”
“So the visit had nothing to do with Paynne. Or the bikers. Or business. Everything to do with her.” His worst fear confirmed: Tasked with keeping her safe from the Russian mob, he’d turned around and served her up to the Italian one instead. This was not happening.