Gabriel Fallen, page 42
CONTENTS
Gabriel Fallen
1. Mercy
2. Gabriel
3. Mercy
4. Gabriel
5. Mercy
6. Gabriel
7. Mercy
8. Gabriel
9. Mercy
10. Gabriel
11. Mercy
12. Gabriel
13. Mercy
14. Gabriel
15. Mercy
16. Gabriel
17. Mercy
Sneak Peek - Dirty Empire
Also by K.A. Tucker
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by K.A. Tucker Books Ltd.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For more information, visit www.katuckerbooks.com This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-990105-10-4 (Ingram paperback edition)
ISBN 978-1-990105-01-2 (KDP paperback edition)
ISBN 978-1-9990154-5-9 (ebook edition)
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
Cover design by Shanoff Designs
Published by K.A. Tucker Books Ltd.
Manufactured in the USA
K.A. TUCKER® is registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office
GABRIEL FALLEN
From internationally bestselling author K.A. Tucker comes the dark and sexy Empire Nightclub series.
Mercy Wheeler and Gabriel Easton’s sordid tale continues in Gabriel Fallen as Mercy heads down a dangerous path.
Gabriel has made an art of dangling what I’m most desperate for in front of me, what he knows I can’t refuse, no matter the cost. In this case, that cost continues to be me.
He is still a scoundrel, but I’m beginning to see something more.
And while our bargain is proving advantageous in ways I never expected, the risks that come with being associated with a man like him are becoming painfully clear.
But how much longer before this arrangement with Gabriel costs me everything I am?
This is the second book in the Empire Nightclub series and should be read after Sweet Mercy
ONE
MERCY
Gabriel is my father’s only hope.
This is my first thought as I crack my eyes at 5:55 a.m. It’s the second day in a row that I’ve woken before my alarm.
And the third night that I’ve shared a bed with Gabriel Easton, son to the infamous Phoenix crime boss, Vlad Easton, a reality that still hasn’t quite sunk in.
I spend a moment studying the sleeping man beside me. He’s as beautiful unconscious as he is when his piercing dark blue eyes are sizing me up. It’s a different kind of beautiful though. His chiseled features are relaxed, his thick fringe of long lashes grazing his cheeks, his pink pouty lips parted slightly. He looks almost boyish.
My gaze skates over his hard, muscular body, stomach-down, sinewy arms tucked beneath his pillow, the sheet draped provocatively over his hips. There is nothing boyish about that body, or how he used it last night to bring me pleasure I can still feel between my thighs.
Gabriel left me in the shower to stew over his wild proposition and wasn’t in the bedroom when I emerged. Instead of going looking for him—I wasn’t in the mood to face his brother and the Pervert Posse, especially after the sordid little fuckfest I’d just so wantonly given in to—I replaced the soaked bedding with fresh sheets from the hallway closet, and then hunkered down with my textbooks to work on my school assignment.
It was to no avail though. I couldn’t focus on anything but Gabriel’s offer to hire a decent lawyer to appeal my father’s murder conviction. I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe a really good lawyer—the kind that Gabriel can no doubt afford—might get my father exonerated. At the very least, they could get a retrial and the charges reduced to involuntary manslaughter. Maybe also get him out of that hellhole, Fulcort Prison, in exchange for some place where he’s not going to end up in a pine box six feet under.
All it will cost me is my dignity: selling my body to Gabriel for longer than the originally agreed upon week in exchange for him protecting my father in prison. I don’t even know exactly what Gabriel has put into motion to protect my father from Fleet’s cousin’s wrath and whether it’ll stick. Yet here I am, about to jump into bed with him—literally—for another offer.
How easy would it be to say yes to this proposition, and not only because it’s a means to an end for this nightmare my father is living? If I’m being honest with myself, the last twenty-four hours have been a whirlwind but far from terrible. Lying in bed next to him now, remembering last night—the feel of his soft lips on my neck, his firm hands pinning mine above my head, his impressive length thrusting into me—has me clenching my thighs together in anticipation of a repeat.
Gabriel Easton is far different from the man I pegged him for.
But I can’t forget who this man is. What he is. The son of a crime boss, a man who enjoys all the spoils that come with a life of corruption—of preying on the weak and vulnerable, of illicit affairs and lingering in the shadows, of countless money-making schemes that I couldn’t conjure up if I tried, no doubt.
He says that’s not who he is. I asked him point-blank if he was involved in dealing drugs, and he said no. I still don’t know if I can believe him. I want to believe him.
Maybe I should for my own sake. Maybe in this shitty hand that life has dealt me, I need to learn how to accept the few advantages I’ve been offered, even if they’re delivered with fingers as filthy as Gabriel’s likely are.
I sigh. These were the thoughts that kept my mind swirling until I drifted off last night, and I know they’ll dominate much of my day today.
The alarm on my phone fills the silent room. I rush to shut it off.
A soft groan sounds next to me, and I hold my breath, watching Gabriel as he stirs, slowly rolling onto his back. His thick throat works over a swallow; one arm slides to settle over his chiseled abdomen. But his eyes remain shut, his broad chest rising and falling in a rhythm.
The sheet does nothing to hide the impressive ridge between his legs where his morning erection awaits attention. Heat pools in my core as I imagine slipping my hand beneath the soft, white cotton to feel the velvety smooth skin against my palm, to wrap my fist around that firm, hot length and begin stroking.
He’d surely wake up then.
And I’m guessing I’d end up late for work.
Marsha is a stickler for her staff being on time.
Shrugging off the urge, I slip from bed and test the cold tile against my bare feet. The tidy stack of books on my nightstand makes me pause. Gabriel must have collected them after I fell asleep. I don’t know why that surprises me—that Gabriel would be considerate or thoughtful, that he would take the time to line them up neatly. He’s already proven that he can be considerate, especially after that whole Ambien mess when he made the effort to meet me at work to explain what happened. Then he proceeded to fuck me on a table but before that, he was sweet.
Grabbing the outfit I laid out for today, I tiptoe to the bathroom and quickly get ready for my day. Then, stealing one last, longing glance at the sleeping man who has become equal parts captor and savior, I duck out.
A raspy cough warns me of Caleb’s presence in the kitchen before I round the corner. I stifle my groan and steel my nerve, preparing myself for another eyeful of man-whore penis. Something tells me Caleb enjoys shocking people by going full nude first thing in the morning. That or he’s just that lazy. Either way, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of shocking me this time around.
I lock my gaze on the coffee maker, catching nothing more than his broad bare chest in my peripheral vision as I pass. “Good morning.”
I get a grunt in response.
“Rough night?” I ask mildly, thinking about the tittering brunettes here when I got home from class. I fish another travel mug from the cupboard, reminding myself to bring in yesterday’s from the car when I get home tonight so I don’t begin a collection.
Not home.
Here.
To Gabriel’s.
“Well, I can usually just sit back and let Rhonda ride my dick all night, minimal work. But Mindy or Misty or whatever the fuck her name is takes some real hip action and a thumb in her ass to—”
“A ‘yes’ would have sufficed,” I cut him off sharply, focusing on the buttons on the machine, my cheeks burning. “Sounds like you should be sleeping still.”
“I don’t sleep much. You know, insomnia or some shit.”
“That sucks.” One would think Caleb should be perpetually exhausted, given his active sex life.
“It does. How was your night?”
“Fine.” I’m not used to talking to anyone this early. I’m not used to being awake this early either. If I were at my apartment in downtown Phoenix, only a ten-minute drive from the drug addiction center where I work, I’d still be asleep for another hour.
“Hmm. From what Gabe told me, you should still be sleeping, too.” I hear the laughter in Caleb’s tone
My jaw clenches. That Gabriel might have given his brother illicit details about last night bothers me for some reason. The way he looked down at me, the way his fingers stroked my jaw, it all felt intimate and private.
The sputtering of coffee spitting into my cup is the only sound in the kitchen for a long moment, and I relish the momentary break in obscene conversation with Gabriel’s older brother.
Caleb wordlessly sets the carton of cream on the counter next to me.
“Thank you.” I reach for a spoon, feeling his steady, assessing gaze on me.
“Of course, he kept some in the tank for later, when he showed up to my room and took Misty off my hands. Thank fucking God because—”
“What?” I hiss, my stomach dropping with the clatter of the spoon against the counter. My eyes flash to Caleb, noting absently the boxer briefs he’s wearing this time. “Gabriel was with one of those women last night?” It comes out in a whisper. He was fucking another woman after he just finished fucking and propositioning me?
Rage and hurt flare inside me.
Caleb’s eyes narrow as he studies me closely. “Nah, I’m only kidding.”
I match his gaze and try to decipher if he’s lying now or if he was lying before.
He nods, as if deciding something. “Yeah … I thought so.”
“You thought so, what?”
He takes a long sip of orange juice, his jutting Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. Caleb is an attractive man—almost as attractive as Gabriel—with a perfect, muscular physique and a handsome face. He’s also rich. It’s not a wonder that he has women tripping over themselves to get to him. The ones who don’t know or don’t care what he may have done, that is.
Glass emptied, he sets it down on the quartz countertop with a clank. “You’re as into my idiot brother as he is into you.”
“Your idiot brother is treating me like a prostitute,” I throw back. Meanwhile my mind is working overtime. Gabriel’s into me? What does that even mean? What exactly did Gabriel tell Caleb last night?
“If that’s the case, you are one expensive piece of ass.” Caleb saunters toward the front door and punches in the alarm code. “Gabe’s not one for getting up in the morning. I guess if you’re going to be staying here awhile, we better get you set up with your own code to this door so you’re not trapped on the off chance that I’m actually asleep at this hour.”
I take that as my cue to leave, which I’m more than happy to do. Dumping a touch more cream into my coffee, I collect my things and head for the door, trying not to stare too hard at Caleb’s cut back. Thank God his proclivity to fuck anything that moves ensures I don’t feel a shred of desire for him. If he were less of an obvious whore, I have a feeling the dynamics under this roof might be different.
His hand sits on the handle, his nails bitten down to the quick.
“Have a great day doing whatever it is you occupy your time doing,” I offer, waiting for him to open the door. Maybe it’s Caleb who gets his hands dirty in the family business. Maybe he’s the one running the show now that their father is behind bars. I really have no idea about this man, beyond what Caleb sounds like when he orgasms.
Caleb sighs, shakes his head. “Do me a favor and don’t dick my brother around.”
I can’t help it, I snort. “I think Gabriel is the one doing the dicking, and he’s quite happy about it.”
But Caleb doesn’t find my joke funny, a scowl forming over his handsome features. “He’s eager to put himself in the crosshairs and it’s for you.”
That gives me pause. “What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.” Caleb eases the front door, resting his muscular forearm against its edge, his handsome face cast in a rare serious expression. “I don’t think my little brother appreciates how dangerous the shitstorm he’s about to pull us into is.”
“A shitstorm for what? Hiring a lawyer for my father?” What’s dangerous about that?
Caleb chuckles in a way that tells me I have no idea what’s going on. “For becoming someone else.” He steps back and winks at me. “Have a wonderful day helping drug addicts with their vices.” At least this time, he doesn’t call for my attention, instead shutting the heavy front door behind me after I march through.
It’s quiet outside—not surprising, at this early hour. The cars in the driveway are gone, so whoever Caleb screwed didn’t stay the night.
I head for my dented, dusty Toyota, replaying Caleb’s words, his body language, trying to figure out what he meant about the danger. What danger could Gabriel be putting himself into for me? More danger than usual, given he’s an Easton? And is it the kind of danger that puts him in Fulcort?
Or the kind that puts him in an unmarked hole in the desert?
Will Gabriel suddenly disappear from my life one day, never to be heard from again? An unexpected pang stirs in my chest at that thought.
With a heavy sigh, I sink into my driver seat and crank the engine. It sputters and coughs but won’t turn. “No …” I try again, and it’s the same thing. This isn’t surprising, but it’s not like I can hop on a bus, being all the way up here. “Come on, come on, come on,” I coax, holding the key in place, listening to my car choke, hoping something inside will catch.
But eventually all I get for my effort is a clicking sound, which is far less promising than the choking.
“Shit!” I slam my hands on the steering wheel in frustration, wondering how I’m going to get into work now.
That’s when one of the garage doors begins slowly rolling open. Behind it is the SUV Gabriel drove to meet me yesterday for lunch and a bleary-eyed Gabriel, his hair wild from bed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants. They hang low on his hips, showing off his beautiful, bare torso, the thick pad of muscles over his abdomen, the deep V cut of his hips.
And the distinguishable bulge farther below.
The entire sight steals several beats of my heart.
“Won’t start?” he asks in a raspy morning voice, reaching up to hook his hands on the underside of the garage door, stretching his body, making his pants sink lower.
My blood stirs in anticipation of them sliding right off. Hell, I want them to drop right to the cold, dirty pavement. I want to watch him reach down and begin stroking himself like he did last night.
When did I turn into such a pervert?
Gabriel smirks as if he can read my thoughts.
Where did you go after our shower though?
Did he fuck that brunette in Caleb’s room? Did he go and have some super weird, super dirty orgy? Is that where he was after being with me?
Those questions effectively douse the early morning flames that burn bright for the man in front of me. The only danger around here is Gabriel, I decide, easing out of my dead car. “No.” I don’t have the energy for a wittier answer.
“Sounds like the alternator.”
“I wouldn’t know.” My dad would, but he’s lying in an infirmary bed in prison at the moment. I sigh. “I’ll call Billy and have him come with the tow truck as soon as he can.”
“That thing shouldn’t be on the road.”
“I agree, but if I’m going to be all the way out here, where people haven’t ever heard of public transit,” I make a point of sounding put out, “then that thing has to get me to work.”
Backing up toward the SUV, Gabriel fishes out a set of keys from his pocket. “Take the Lincoln. I was going to tell you to take it this morning anyway, if you hadn’t snuck out of bed.” His tone is accusatory.
I eye the luxury vehicle. “I can’t,” I mumble, half-heartedly. Why can’t I? At least it’s not the Lambo. That, I definitely can’t show up to an addiction center in. Besides, I have no desire to get behind that wheel. God forbid, I’d trade paint with someone and be indebted to Gabriel for life.
