Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
CRICKET
I’m not a skilled cook, but I can manage a breakfast quesadilla. It seems offensive to cook something so simple in Gabriel’s lavish kitchen. This looks like a professional chef’s kitchen. There’s even a hanging vent hood over the gas burners embedded in the kitchen island. As homage to the extravagant kitchen, I doll up my quesadilla with chopped onions, tomatoes, and a little breakfast sausage I found in the fridge.
Surprisingly, Gabriel’s fridge is fully stocked. I expected him to be an eat-out-every-night kind of guy. Then again, it’s probably Gabriel’s staff that cooks here, not him. He won’t be cooking for a while anyway with his damaged hand.
Gabriel’s doctor came within thirty minutes after I called him last night. He told me disinfecting the wound was a smart idea, but he wore a heavy scowl the entire time he was assessing my handiwork with the gauze and bandages. Gabriel pierced a major ligament but didn’t sever it entirely. Outside of a gruesome scar, his hand will be fine, eventually.
The doctor was reluctant to give him a sedative with his blood alcohol level, but I assured him I’d watch him like a hawk all night. I all but begged the doctor to ease Gabriel’s pain. Once he agreed, I cleaned up the broken glass in the kitchen. The culprit of the whole debacle was a 2010 Argentinian Malbec. Gabriel never even got the cork out. He must’ve dropped it and, in his drunken stupor, grabbed the jagged glass.
Once I’m satisfied with the crispy brown crust on the quesadilla, I slide it onto a plate to join two ramekins of sour cream and salsa. After I pour him a tall glass of orange juice, I grab the tray from the living room and collect Gabriel’s breakfast.
Using my elbow, I push down the door handle, then nudge it open with my hips. Gabriel is sitting up in bed. The mattress, which is on an adjustable frame, is angled at ninety degrees. He’s still under the covers from the waist down.
“Well, that’s handy.” I set his tray on the large nightstand, then take a seat on the edge of the bed next to him. “How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed.” Gesturing to his clean white T-shirt, he asks, “I can’t seem to remember. Who changed me last night?”
I shrug innocently.
He laughs. “How much did you see?”
Okay, yes, I saw Gabriel’s dick last night, but I hardly remember it. I can’t tell you if he was big or small, shaved or hairy. I was simply a nurse to a patient. Everything else was a blur. But of course, I don’t tell him that. “I was solely focused on getting you dry and comfortable. You were not easy to move, by the way. I think I threw my back out, trying to pull your pajama bottoms on.”
His jaw drops, then morphs into a playful smile. “Are you fat-shaming me?”
“Not at all. More…muscle-shaming, if anything.” I scrunch my nose at him.
“I can’t believe you’re still here.” He shakes his head, wearing a solemn, miserable expression. “I was such a jackass last night. I promise you, I’m never like that.”
I pick up the glass of orange juice and hold it out in front of his uninjured hand. “Maybe you should be a jackass more often. Seems like you’re bottling a lot up. If you’d let loose here and there, maybe your outbursts would be less bloody.”
He pauses before sipping his juice. “All I know is that you are incredible. Did you custom order this from the restaurant? They don’t have quesadillas on the menu.”
I cock my head to the side. “You didn’t hear me in the kitchen? I made this from scratch.”
Gabriel widens his eyes. “You’re kidding. I didn’t take you for the domestic type.”
“Surprise, surprise.” I glare at him, unappreciative of his subtle jab.
He laughs. “A new chef on the one day my poison taste tester is off work.”
“What a shame. I guess you’ll have to risk it.”
Gabriel’s grin flattens as he looks into my eyes. “On a serious note, can we forget about last night and start over?”
I smile and tap his nose, the same way he did mine last night. “No need. We’re still friends.”
Gabriel scoffs softly. “I don’t want to be your friend, Fiona. I want to be much more than that.”
My eyes fall to my lap. “Gabriel… Just last night, you were crying over another woman—”
“It’s over. It’s been over—”
“And I told you I was in love with another man.”
His eyes darken as he wets his lips, buying a moment to compose himself. He does this often. Right when he’s on the brink of rage, he collects himself. “I must’ve missed that part. Let me ask you a question…” Gabriel hands me the glass of orange juice so I can set it back on the tray for him. After fishing under the covers, he pulls out a piece of paper indented with small square fold lines everywhere. It was folded small enough to fit into a wallet.
I check the nightstand on the other side of Gabriel, where Lance’s wallet was. It’s gone. And the piece of paper Gabriel’s holding was most definitely stolen from it.
“What is this cutesy shit?” The condescension is bleeding through his tone.
“A movie list,” I answer.
“That he made for you?”
“That’s personal.” I reach for it, but he crumples the list in his hand.
“Fiona, how about you try a real man? He makes you movie lists. I could make you into a movie star. He gets jealous at a little competition. I have no competition. He’ll never compare. He will never love you and take care of you like I can. I’m the best choice.” While his words are somewhat arrogant, his tone is pleading.
“Why do I get the feeling it’s not the first time you’ve given that speech?”
Gabriel’s stare bores into mine as the corner of his lips turn down. “What does that mean?”
I let out a heavy exhale. “I know ‘sugar’ is Vienne. I know you had an affair with the First Lady.” I was almost positive I was right, but the defeated look on Gabriel’s face confirms it all.
“She told you?” he asks.
“No. Just a guess.”
“Really?” Gabriel asks, eyes narrowing at me. “That was your first guess? That I had an affair with the President’s wife.”
He sees right through my lie. And honestly, I don’t see the point anymore. This isn’t a monster; this is a broken man. His greatest crime was falling in love with a manipulative woman who treated him like a prop. This mission is over. Gabriel will live.
“I’m assuming I’m the only one who knows the truth?”
He suddenly won’t look me in the eye.
“That’s great news,” I add.
“Why?” he mutters, staring at the door.
“Because for the first time since you were nineteen, you have someone you can talk to about this.”
The tension builds between us, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost him. Perhaps I went a step too far. I don’t know what kind of damage control will be—
“She was my first,” Gabriel finally says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Your first love?” I’m confused. He already told me this.
He turns his head to look at me with one brow raised. “My first everything . I was a driven kid. I finished high school at fourteen. By nineteen, I had my undergrad from MIT. I was particularly interested in AI and robotics, and I wanted to go right into grad school at Cal Tech. My parents were worried, so they made me a deal. I had to take one year off of school, get a job, make some friends, and then they’d pay my way through my doctorate.”
“You were that socially awkward that your parents bribed you to stop going to school and make friends?”
Gabriel laughs. “You could’ve put that more delicately, but yes.”
“Sorry.” I cringe, shrinking in my seat. “So, how come I’m not calling you ‘Doctor Lochland’?”
Gabriel takes in a sharp breath. “I never went back to school. I told you I spent almost every weekend with Vienne at the bed-and-breakfast. It’s because I got a job there after the first time I laid eyes on her. I was willing to clean rooms just for the chance of seeing her again. Pathetic, right?”
“No. Not for a nineteen-year-old. Did she not tell you she was married?”
“She wasn’t when we met,” Gabriel admits. “When we started, it was innocent in a way. We didn’t just fuck. We talked and laughed. Vienne and I fell in love. That summer was the beginning of everything I know to be true. She was the first person that I genuinely thought was smarter than me.”
I cock my head to the side, my forehead wrinkling. “Vienne’s a genius too?”
“Not that kind of intelligence. Just a maturity I craved, I suppose. She could argue the other side of any controversial topic. I don’t know how to explain, except that she very much accepted this world as very gray. I told her I wanted to use robotics to change the world for the better. She told me to just focus on changing the world, period. Because better for one is worse for another. When it came to humanity, she believed in movement…not growth.”
I hike up one knee, balancing my heel on the bed frame. “That sounds sort of grim.”
“Not really. Her philosophy was that everybody had a purpose. Good can’t exist without evil. The more heroes we have, the more villains that will rise to challenge them. Everyone serves an important purpose.”
That does indeed sound like some nonsense Vienne would spew. “So, what happened? Why didn’t you two end up together?”
“After one summer together, she went home for a few weeks, and I didn’t hear from her. Then, one day, she shows back up at the bed-and-breakfast, engaged to Sal. I lost it when I found out…I…” Gabriel pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s trying to lose a memory.
“No warning?” I ask.
“None. I begged and I begged for an explanation. If her family was forcing her to get married, that was one thing. Sal was fifty-three at the time. It didn’t make sense. But all she said was she loved him and wanted to build a life with him.”
“But she kept sleeping with you.”
Gabriel tries to hide his smirk. “The sex got even better, actually. The sneaking around really does something for a woman’s libido, I’ll tell you that. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. You know, they had a small ceremony at the bed-and-breakfast for their wedding.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I was a server at her wedding… I fucked her not even an hour after she said ‘I do.’ I could feel it. She was as addicted to me as I was to her. Vienne introduced me to Sal as her honorary nephew. Sal treated me like a son, but all the while, I was messing around with his wife.” Gabriel drops his eyes again in shame.
“So how long were you guys—”
“Disgusting, deplorable people?” Gabriel asks.
“I was going to say, ‘hooking up’?”
“Right up until Sal started his campaign for the presidency. From then on, Vienne was on her best behavior. She dropped me like a bad habit. I thought we were star-crossed lovers. Apparently, I was just a phase to her.”
I pat his leg underneath the comforter. “Oh, Gabriel.”
“If I’m being honest, I thought the invitation to President Baker’s birthday party was Vienne opening up lines of communication again.”
My eyes widen at his reply. “You’d still go back to her?”
Gabriel grabs the crumpled movie list and tosses it in my direction. “That reaction is not fair. You just told me you’re in love with your friend.”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just—”
“Save it, Fiona. I know what you must think of me. And I didn’t say I’d sleep with her again. But I still have a lot of questions about what fell apart or where I fell short for her. I was only nineteen when I fell for her, but it still feels so fresh. I want to be free of it.”
“Love?” I ask.
“The trauma,” Gabriel replies. “Loving her was traumatic.”
My eyes drop down and to the right, as my own trauma bubbles to the surface. It’s funny to think of an assassin as having trauma. I end lives. In a way, I’m a monster who hunts monsters. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel.
“I was forced my first time. It’s been ten years, and I still think about it every night.”
Gabriel’s neck muscles flare as he grows tense. “What happened?”
“I traded sex to stay alive. My father was part of the criminal underworld, and his family paid the price. I was kidnapped. I let a man have me in every imaginable way, just to live.”
“A natural reaction.”
“I feel like a real warrior would’ve taken death. They wouldn’t have been so afraid. I let him take my virginity, and he misinterpreted that as love. When I refused to be the bride of a mafia prince, he left me to die anyway, locked behind a steel door. It was a slow, painful death where I had nothing but my thoughts, regrets, and all the awful memories. I would’ve been better off with a bullet to the head.”
“Fiona…” Gabriel’s jaw slackens, and he tilts his head to the side, sympathy filling his expression. “You can’t compare unrequited love to rape and torture. My grievances pale in comparison.”
I shake my head. “No, not really. We all feel love and pain at different decibels. What haunts us, and the degree to which we’re tormented, varies from person to person. I’ve learned that in my…line of work. Sometimes, what turns someone into a villain seems miniscule. But the impact has a ripple effect so wide, that people pay for small grievances for generations to come.”
“I’ll humor you,” Gabriel says, ducking his chin. “How do we escape our trauma?”
“I thought the key was revenge. I went after him recently. I was forbidden any contact, but consequences be damned, I thought evening the score would set me free. I would’ve given up everything to just stop living in my trauma every day.”
“Well, that makes sense.”
I move my heel from the side of the bed to the edge of my chair before resting my chin on my knee. “It doesn’t, actually. Because what I was going to give up—my job, my family—was the only reason I survived my trauma in the first place. I was literally throwing away my only remedy. It took me a long time to see that.”
“Well, my parents are both gone. I’m an only child. I either have staff or shareholders, no real friends. I don’t think that remedy is going to work for me. Do you have any other suggestions?”
“I think ultimately being free is accepting that you’ll actually never be free. Once we just live, instead of fixating on how we want to live… I think it gets better. Luca Accardi will always be a part of my life, but he no longer rules it.”
“Luca Accardi. What a name,” Gabriel murmurs. He exhales and pulls himself up, trying to sit up straighter in bed. “That was surprisingly profound. And helpful. Thank you. I’m really glad we met, Fiona. I know you love him, but I think if you gave us a real chance, you could love me too.”
My heartbeat kicks up in a flurry as the guilt washes over me. Gabriel has spent ten years in the graveyard of his heart, pining after a woman who doesn’t see him. I can’t watch him go through this again. “I’m not… Gabriel, I’m not your friend. I’m not who you think I am.”
“What? Why are you saying that?”
“Because you’re innocent, and you’re surrounded by villains. Listen to me.” I wait until his eyes are locked on mine. “There are a lot of secrets that I think you should know about the woman you’re hurting over. I want to help you, but I have no idea where to start.”
The bewilderment is strewn across his face. His eyes shift back and forth as his mental cogs start spinning. He relaxes back into the mattress as he holds up his bandaged hand. I can tell it aches because he winces when it’s elevated above his chest. His bicep flexes as he rotates his wrist, seemingly testing the mobility of his right arm.
“Don’t you have some questions?” I’m struggling to read his reaction.
“I’m just relishing this moment,” he says quietly.
“What moment?” I tilt my head to the side, studying his furrowed brows.
I see the medley of emotions in his eyes—fear, apprehension, and a glint of anger. “The calm before the storm,” he answers. “Is the truth going to piss me off?”
“It’s going to infuriate you,” I admit. “But I want you to know, I’m on your side. In the month I’ve known you, all I’ve seen is a tender heart. I’ll do everything I can to protect it.” It’s all I can offer him. I’ll never love him. But at the very least, I can keep him alive.
“Okay, let’s do this.” He inhales and exhales one more time. “Let’s start from the top. What’s your name? Your real name? ”
“Fiona… Fiona O’Leary.” Gabriel squints one eye at me, indicating his mistrust, so I add, “But they call me Cricket. And I was hired to keep an eye on you.” There’s no way I can tell him I’m an assassin for PALADIN. This is as close to the truth as I can get.
His eyes darken as he looks at me like I’m the world’s biggest disappointment. “Vienne hired you to spy on me?”
“She told us you’re dangerous and the leader of an evil cult-like organization.”
His expression goes stony. I can see the walls being built up. “Aeon?” he asks.
“Are you?” I ask.
“Get the fuck out,” Gabriel says, ignoring my question.
I exhale, debating doing as he says. But I feel too much pity and regret. I can’t leave it like this. “I want to help you. My team can help protect you.”
“Protect me?” His chuckle is laced with sarcasm. “From whom? You?”
“From Vienne,” I insist. “If my team doesn’t help her, she has other options. This’ll escalate from spies to assassins, I promise you that. You need to leave the country, Gabriel. Just lie low until Sal’s term is over. If all she’s trying to do is avoid a scandal, then when she’s no longer the First Lady, her motivation subsides.”
“For all I know, you could be leading me to another country to cover up a hit. I don’t trust you, and I don’t trust Vienne.” He grimaces as he rotates his wrist so his palm is facing the ceiling. I see a red line starting to seep through the bandages.
“You might’ve popped a stitch,” I say, holding out my hand for his. “Let me see.”
“ Leave,” he growls, refusing to show me his wound.
I take a deep, steadying breath. “What can I do to get you to trust me?”
“You want me to trust you?” he repeats, aghast, like I just suggested the most ridiculous notion.
“Yes.” I keep my eyes locked on his. “I’m on your side. And the way Vienne is telling the story, I might be the only one on your side. You need me, Gabriel.”
He presses his lips together in a hard, flat line. His jaw tenses, evidence of him gritting his teeth together hard. The silence is overwhelming. I’m afraid to even breathe in case it dissuades him from whatever is on the tip of his tongue.
“You can start by fetching the pain pills,” he grumbles out.
I reach for the orange prescription bottle the doctor left. After unscrewing the safety seal, I pull out two little white pills and deposit them into Gabriel’s open palm. He pops them in his mouth and swallows them dry. I offer him his orange juice. He takes a small sip before handing it back.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Now, you can tell me the truth. All of it. Who are you, really? What team? And what the hell did Vienne tell you about Aeon?”
“That you were building some sort of doomsday device, and you were about to attack the White House on behalf of Aeon.”
Gabriel lets out a humorless chuckle. “It’s so ironic that it’s funny.”
“What’s ironic?”
“That Vienne would even bring up Aeon to you. Discretion is her preference.”
Confusion cloaks me at Gabriel’s bizarre statement. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not the head of Aeon, Fiona. Vienne is. We get all our orders from her.”