Gabriel Fallen, page 15
Or maybe he is.
I lean over the counter and lower my voice so as not to cause a scene. “She’s none of your fucking business. That’s who she is.” The last thing I need is Parker chirping about the woman Gabriel Easton seems to be obsessed with, especially around here.
Parker’s hands go up in a sign of surrender. “Just wondering.”
“Don’t wonder. Don’t talk. Keep your big mouth shut. Understood? Don’t become a problem for me.” I can see by the way Parker swallows hard that he can at least put two and two together. There are a few people within these walls who can connect me to Mercy. This dumb fuck is one, and he’s a terrible gossip. Donny, but he’s one of the few I explicitly trust. And of course, Frankie, the guard who had his hands all over Mercy.
He’ll never make that mistake again.
THIRTEEN
MERCY
It takes everything in me to keep myself planted at our table and not run to my father as he hobbles in to the visitor room. His face has returned to normal size at least, save for the bruising and cuts. But overall, he’s far from well, the orange jumpsuit hanging off him. How much weight has he lost in the time he’s been here?
“Easy, girl,” he coos as I wrap my arms around his neck. We’re only permitted a brief moment for a physical greeting, and yet I can’t bring myself to let go. “Okay, okay … the guard’s about to yell at us,” he warns in a hushed whisper.
I pry myself off him, stealing a glance at the nearby guard, the same one who barked at us the first time here and threatened to take away visitation privileges.
When our gazes touch, he gives a small nod and looks away.
Huh. That’s … interesting. Maybe he’s in a better mood this time around. “They let you in quick today.” My dad eases into his seat. “What time did you get here?”
“Early,” I lie.
“I was wondering if you’d make it.”
“Of course I did. I told you, I’ll come every Saturday.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know. I was hoping you weren’t serious about that though.”
I ignore that. “How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?”
He shrugs and then winces, answering my question. “I think they slipped something into me while I was in the infirmary to help with the pain. I asked the nurses and they promised that they didn’t, but I don’t know.” He chuckles. “I felt pretty good back there for a few days. Too good for a guy as banged up as I was.”
They probably did. Gabriel said they were going to get him some better painkillers, and I told him that my dad wouldn’t take them on account of my mother’s drug addiction, the one that killed her. It would be just like Gabriel to then have them slip it into my father’s food or IV.
I realize that I’m not mad about it.
But I avert my gaze to the tabletop to hide the truth from my father. “Well, if they did, it sounds like it wasn’t the worst thing they could have done. How’s everything else?”
“To be honest, I’m really not sure, Mercy.” His brow is furrowed with worry as he studies me. “A lawyer came to see me yesterday. A fancy, expensive-looking one named Justin DeHavilland.”
“Oh?” It comes out sounding like a surprise. The look my dad gives me tells me he’s not buying it, so I quickly add, “I wasn’t sure he’d come so soon.” And that’s the God’s honest truth.
Dad bites his bottom lip. “He said you approached him about taking my case on.”
“Yes.” I clear the wobble from my throat. “I did. I asked him if his firm would consider taking it on pro bono, and after he reviewed your files, he agreed.” I practiced that explanation in my head the entire drive here. “He came highly recommended.”
Dad frowns. “By who?”
My mind goes blank a moment. I didn’t anticipate him asking that. My dad is a simple man and usually just accepts things as they come. Why didn’t I anticipate that? “Mr. Banks,” I blurt out, because Michelle’s father is the only rich man I can admit to knowing who might know fancy, expensive lawyers. “He said Justin was good. The best.” And then, just to pile on lie after lie, I add, “I think he might have called Justin and talked to him about it. They’re in the same social circle.” You know, rich jewelers and lawyers to crime families.
I’m going to need to call Justin after this visit to get our stories straight.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a sleek figure strolling in, in jeans and a T-shirt. I can’t help myself, my gaze darts to Gabriel as it always seems to whenever he’s in the room. The bags beneath his eyes are dark today. It must have been close to five when he climbed into bed, the faint smell of liquor following him. I pretended to sleep, though in truth I barely slept all night, waiting for him like some forlorn wife whose husband is out until all hours, my mind wandering through all sorts of horrible scenarios.
I’m so relieved I didn’t have to come here alone. Gabriel could have come to Fulcort much later, after getting enough sleep to function, seeing as visiting hour wait lines don’t apply to him. And, since he was insisting on me not coming alone, he also could have been an asshole and put up a fight to keep me at his house until this afternoon, when he was ready to make the trip.
He did neither. He dragged his tired, naked ass out of bed and climbed into the shower with me to get ready, his body heavy with sleep as he fucked me slowly.
“I guess this means your big plan to apply to law school so you can save your old man isn’t necessary?” my dad says, snapping my attention back to him just as Gabriel passes behind us, offering a wink. He’s on his way to his usual table in the corner.
“Yeah, that’s right. Thank God.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Dad, this is amazing news. You have one of the best lawyers in the state taking on your case. We have hope again.”
He smiles, but it’s guarded. “How’s school?”
I shrug. “Exams are next week. If all goes well, that’s it. I’m done forever.”
“That’s so good, Mercy. I knew you could do it. That’s … good. I wish I could be there.” He swallows hard. “You know, to see you wear one of those funny hats when you graduate.”
A ball swells in my throat. “You never know. Maybe this lawyer can get you out in time.”
Dad chuckles. “I don’t care how good he is, he’s not going to be able to get me out of here that soon unless he plans on breaking me out.”
The heavy door for the prisoners buzzes open, stealing my attention. Several men in jumpsuits filter in, pausing to get their instructions. I frown at the guard with the clipboard doling the table numbers out. He’s not the one who was there when my dad came in, but I definitely recognize him as the guard who let me in to see my dad in the infirmary that day. The one who searched me for weapons. The one who had his hands all over my breasts, all while Gabriel watched with daggers in his eyes.
Someone beat the hell out of him. His left eye is black and his bottom lip has an angry purple gash across it.
Did that happen in here? Did an inmate attack him?
As he looks up to direct the prisoner in front of him, our gazes touch. His eyes flash wide and then they abruptly shift, darting over to the far corner where Gabriel sits before promptly dropping back to the clipboard, as if he doesn’t want to get caught so much as looking my way. He gives instructions to the man waiting, keeping his eyes down the entire time.
My stomach drops with understanding.
It wasn’t an inmate who did that.
I seek out Gabriel and find his steady gaze is on me.
Channeling my best “what the fuck” questioning look, I glare at him.
He merely shrugs. One of those sexy, lazy shrugs.
“You know, some weird things have been happening around here lately, too, that I need to talk to you about,” my dad is saying, pulling me back once again.
“Oh? Like what?” I feign casualness. Besides that guard being pummeled?
“I don’t know exactly.” His gaze drifts around the room. “The guards seem to be a lot nicer to me. I don’t know if it’s because they feel bad for what happened to me under their watch—”
“That must be it.”
He makes a sound, but it’s not one of agreement. “And the kitchen guy gave me an extra helping of meat last night. I don’t exactly know what kind of meat it was, but he mumbled something about me needing to heal.”
“Which you do.”
He snorts. “They don’t give a shit if we kill each other in here, Mercy. And guys I don’t know have been passing by, nodding at me like they know me.”
“So, you’re making friends.”
Dad shakes his head. “I ain’t making any friends in here. Crazy Bob says I must have someone inside covering my ass.”
Not inside.
He watches me steadily. “How’d you get into the infirmary the other day to see me? I know you said it wasn’t important, but I’m beginning to think that it might be.”
“It’s not important. What is important is that you’re safe.” I hesitate, but then dare reach out to grasp his hand.
Dad steals a glance toward the guard. “See? He’s watching and he’s not saying a thing.”
I let go. That probably wasn’t the best move right now, as I try to convince my father that everything’s fine.
“Mercy, please tell me you haven’t gone and gotten mixed up with anyone you shouldn’t be so much as talking to?”
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” I answer evasively. “How are things with Fleet’s cousin, by the way? He hasn’t bothered you since?”
My dad’s assessing gaze is locked on my face for so long, I begin to squirm. He must not have heard me. Maybe his injury makes him space out. I repeat my question. “How are things with—”
“Fleet’s cousin is dead.”
FOURTEEN
GABRIEL
I watch Mercy’s eyes widen as she recognizes Frankie at the door, his mangled face focused on his clipboard. My guys were waiting for him outside his house that same night when he returned from his beer league baseball game. I wanted him to know that I know where he lives, but I told them to make sure his kids were in bed already. There’s no need for them to see that.
I’m not a monster.
Mercy’s gaze flips over to me and it’s brimming with questioning surprise. Not anger with me though, from what I can see, and I know what angry Mercy looks like because I see it every day.
All I can do is shrug.
As if I wasn’t going to make sure Frankie—and every other guard in here—got the message: don’t fucking even think about putting hands on Mercy’s body again. From the way the guards are walking on eggshells around her, I’d say the message has been received as loud as I intended.
Mercy’s dad pulls her attention back to him, and I take a moment to watch and admire her beauty.
Could she actually be falling for me? For all the swagger I throw at her, I know I’m not half the man she deserves. I would never call myself decent. I’ve never strived to be. For a lot of women, it doesn’t matter. For some women, the ones who aren’t entirely clueless and can connect dots, who I am is what attracts them. That dangerous element and all that, I guess.
I’ve had countless women tell me they’re in love with me. Sometimes it’s midfuck, so I’ll excuse them for that. But there’s been more than one instance where I’ve had to deal with tears and hurt feelings because a woman didn’t get the memo that said, no, sex does not equal love and, yes, I’m fucking other women too.
Those were in my earlier days. I’ve learned to weed those women out and stick with the “dick swappers,” as Mercy so lovingly calls them. The Rainas and Lulus of the world, who may feel some level of ownership over me but aren’t stupid enough to try and assert it. I’m not oblivious though. I could take Lulu or Raina or any of those women to a jewelry store and they’d drag me straight for the engagement ring aisle.
Meanwhile, Mercy would laugh in my face.
Will that always be the case? Or will she eventually be able to accept me for who I am? A man trying to change.
Mercy’s face pales suddenly. My instant reaction is to get up and run to her, to make sure she’s okay, but I keep my ass firmly in my seat because I promised her I wouldn’t tip her dad off about us, and that would definitely be a red flag.
I know what this is about. Her dad just told her what happened to that shithead who’s been attacking him. No doubt that news spread like wildfire in here. God only knows the versions that are circulating. The only thing that’s certain—no one’s going to believe that was suicide.
The other thing that’s certain? No one’s going to talk.
I almost told her, that night we were in the pool and she left to study. She asked about him and I nearly told her, but I held myself back. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it. It can’t come as a complete shock to her, can it? She seems to have a good grasp of who we are, even if I haven’t come right out and admitted to anything.
The horrified look on her face right now has worry seeping into my bones. Maybe I should have told her. She was going to find out anyway.
I hold my breath and wait for her to look my way again, praying that when she does, I don’t see pure hatred in her eyes.
“Gabriel.”
I missed my father’s approach. “Hey, Dad.” I force my attention to him. I’ll have to worry about Mercy’s reaction later.
He sinks into the chair across from me, smoothing his hand over the front of his jumpsuit.
“I heard you met with our friends on Thursday night.”
Of course you did. The fucker has eyes everywhere.
“Do they agree that we have a mutual problem that needs addressing?”
“They do.” Just not mutually with you. Merrick and Vince flew home yesterday after hitting it off with a few of the girls from Empire and taking them back to their hotel suite for the night. From what Raina said, they were decent men and treated them well. Then again, she’d say the same of us.
“Is the meeting arranged?”
“Yeah. Next week.” We agreed that a neutral location would be best and seeing as Caleb and I were planning on heading out to see the Mage location anyway, Vegas it is.
“See? I knew this was the right move.” A rare, satisfied smile pulls at his saggy jowls. “We’ll have our problem solved soon enough.”
I stifle my laugh. Does he actually believe that? The cartels are like cockroaches—you squash one, but meanwhile there are four more scurrying in behind you, taking up their positions. They’re here to stay.
“What does my brother have to say about it?”
“Haven’t told him yet.” For all we know, Uncle Peter will scheme to take us all out in one fell swoop so he can claim ownership over all our territory.
Dad’s eyebrows arch. “Why not?”
I hesitate, the folded photograph that Vince passed along practically burning a hole in my pocket. It’s a mighty big domino piece and once I play it, things will be set in motion. There will be no turning back, and there’s also no telling how Dad will react.
Aside from violently.
“Because we don’t trust him.”
Dad scoffs. “He’s family.”
“Yeah. Like that cousin of yours.” I pull the photo out and push it across the table wordlessly. If we were anyone else, the guards would be on us like flies on a pile of fresh dog shit. But we’re us, and Donny’s attention is conveniently elsewhere.
Dad sighs, muttering, “What is that?” as he reaches for it.
“Something we came across recently that you need to see.”
His gaze drifts around as he unfolds it. He glares at it, his cold blue eyes narrowing. “What the fuck is this?”
“That was taken a day before—”
“I can see that!” he snaps. “Who gave you this?”
“That’s our cousin in the front with the FBI agent,” I say instead of answering his question. “And Peter’s in the back.”
Dad glares at the page for so long I half expect it to burst into flames. He knows what it means. “Where did you get this?”
“From Vince Perri.”
“This is bullshit. They’re trying to cause strife in our family again,” he hisses.
“It’s not bullshit, and you know it. Think about it.” I keep my voice calm. Caleb and I expected this reaction. It was the same one we had. “You always wondered if there was someone else working against us. Someone betraying us.” I tap the page. “There’s your answer. He wanted you out of the way so he could take over everything.”
Dad’s fist closes around the page, crumpling it into a tight ball, his teeth grinding.
I give him a minute to absorb this before asking, “What do you want us to do?”
“Make sure that meeting is successful.”
“What about—”
“Do as I say!” he barks, slamming his fist against the table. I sense the heads turning but I keep my eyes on him. He stands and strolls away, his back stiff with tension.
And now we wait.
FIFTEEN
MERCY
That odd numb feeling still courses through my limbs as I hand the locker key to the security guard at the exit gate after collecting my things.
His gray, knowing eyes flash to me before dropping again. “Thank you, ma’am. See you next weekend.”
How does he know I’ll be here next weekend? Does he know who I am? Does he know what happened to Fleet’s cousin?
I mean, of course he knows what happened. Everyone living within these walls does, according to my dad. Diego killed himself in solitary the night after I came here last, the night before Gabriel snuck me in to see my father in the infirmary. They’re saying he used a belt to hang himself.
But where the hell did he get a belt from?
While in solitary?
There’s another answer for it all, one that makes my stomach roil.
I sat in that little, white room and I asked Gabriel what he was going to do about my dad’s attacker. I wanted to know what this “protection” meant. He asked me if I wanted details, if I cared. I told him that I didn’t. I remember thinking I wanted the man dead for what he did to my father. I didn’t voice it, but did I need to? Deep down inside, didn’t I know what Gabriel’s form of “protection” might mean?
