Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The drive takes almost an hour.
Gabriel is silent behind the wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the road. I watch the city give way to industrial sprawl, then to empty stretches of nothing—warehouses, abandoned lots, the kind of places people go when they don’t want to be found.
“How long has Leo had him?” I finally ask.
“Since last night.”
“Has he talked?”
“Not yet.” Gabriel’s hands flex on the steering wheel. “Leo’s people softened him up, but they’re waiting for me.”
Softened him up. My stomach turns, even as another part of me—darker, angrier—thinks good.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is flat. Completely devoid of emotion. “Whatever it takes.”
I should be horrified, but all I can see are the bullet holes, burns, and scars that mar the man I love. All I can think of is how close he came to death. And about the lies that broke the man I loved.
“Good,” I say quietly.
Gabriel’s head turns sharply, his brow furrowed.
“Bella.”
“I’m not the girl you left behind.” The words come out harder than I intended. “Five years changes a person. So does grief. So does being accused of murder by the man you love.”
The silence that follows is thick with everything we haven’t said.
“I know,” Gabriel finally says. “You have sharp edges now, too.” His voice drops. “I hate that I put them there.”
“You didn’t. Life did. My father did. The men we’re about to see did.” I stare out the windshield at the empty road ahead. “You just made it worse for a while.”
It’s not absolution. We both know that. But at least it’s honest.
Gabriel reaches across the console and takes my hand. After a moment, I twine my fingers with his.
For now, that’s enough.
The location is a warehouse on the outskirts of the city—nondescript, industrial, the kind of place that could be anything or nothing. Leo’s waiting outside, leaning against a black sedan with his arms crossed.
He straightens when we pull up, his eyes moving from me to Gabriel. “You brought her.”
“She’s good at getting what she wants when she puts her mind to it.”
I’m not sure, but I think Leo almost grins. “I know the type,” he says, turning to look at me. “And you’ve earned it.”
“How’s Dekker?” Gabriel asks.
“Scared. Angry. Not talking yet.” Leo pushes off the car and heads toward the warehouse entrance. “But he will.”
Inside, the warehouse is what I expected—vast concrete floors, exposed beams. Basically, an industrial skeleton. Leo leads us through a maze of corridors to a room at the back. The door’s closed and there’s a guard stationed outside. At least I assume he’s a guard since he’s got a holstered gun.
“Ruby’s in there with him,” Leo says. “She’s good at reading people. Says he’s close to breaking.”
Even though I know that Ruby and Leo’s business has a Black Ops vibe, it’s still a bit of a shock to learn that Ruby’s in there for the purpose of getting info from a guy probably tied to a chair.
Gabriel’s hand finds the small of my back—a grounding touch, though I’m not sure if it’s meant to steady him or me.
“Ready?” he asks.
No. Not even close. “Sure,” I say.
Leo opens the door, and the three of us head in.
The room is like something out of a mob movie. Small, windowless, lit by a single bulb. There’s a chair in the center, and in it sits a man with a scar through one eyebrow and his wrists zip-tied to the chair arms. He’s also bloodied and bruised, with one eye swollen nearly shut.
Ruby stands in the corner, arms crossed, watching him with an expression of cold patience.
The man—Dekker, I presume—looks up, his head turning slowly as he takes us all in, then backtracking to stop at Gabe.
He makes a scoffing sound, and something shifts in his expression. Fear, I think. But he’s trying to disguise it as mirth.
“You look pretty good for a corpse.”
Gabe doesn’t respond. Just walks slowly toward the chair, each step deliberate. Predatory.
“You know who I am,” Gabriel says quietly. “Which means you know why you’re here.”
Dekker spits blood onto the concrete floor. “I don’t know shit.”
“You shot me three times and left me to burn.” Gabriel’s voice is almost conversational. “You made sure I’d die believing the woman I loved had betrayed me.” He leans down, bringing his face close to Dekker’s. “I remember every second. Do you?”
Something flickers in Dekker’s expression. Not guilt—I doubt men like him even feel guilt. But recognition. Maybe fear.
“You survived,” Dekker says. “Congrats. Most don’t.”
“Who hired you?”
Silence. Gabriel straightens, then looks at Leo, and I see some unspoken communication pass between them.
“Isabella,” Gabriel says, not turning around. “You should step out.
He’s right. Every civilized instinct I have is screaming at me to walk out that door, to preserve some shred of the person I used to be.
Instead, I step forward. Past Gabriel. Until I’m standing directly in front of the man who tried to murder the love of my life.
“My investigators found you three years ago,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “You faked your death to avoid them. Why?”
Dekker’s good eye slides to me. Takes in my designer clothes, my manicured nails. The soft girlie things he probably thinks define me.
“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say sweetly. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Isabella Hart.” I watch his face carefully. “Sterling Hart’s daughter.”
There it is.
A flicker. Surprise, maybe, or calculation.
“You know my father.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Liar.” The word comes out sharp, vicious. “You tortured Gabe in my name, you fucker. The Hart bitch. Isn’t that what you said?”
Dekker’s expression shutters closed. But that doesn’t matter. I know what I know.
“My father hired you.” It’s not a question anymore. “He hired you to torture the man I loved and make sure Gabriel believed I was responsible.”
“I told you. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
I lean closer—close enough to smell his foul breath. “Then let me make this very clear. The man standing behind me spent five years planning revenge against me because of what you told him. Five years believing I’d betrayed him. Five years of both of us in hell.”
My voice drops to something cold. Something I barely recognize.
“So you’re going to tell us who hired you, or I’m going to walk out of this room and let him do whatever he wants. And believe me, after what you did to him, I won’t lose a single night’s sleep.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, Dekker starts to laugh. A wet, rattling sound that ends in a cough.
“Damn,” he wheezes. “Hart’s little princess has teeth after all.” He looks past me to Gabriel. “You picked a good one, rich boy. Cold as ice under all that pretty.”
“Last chance,” Gabriel says, moving to stand beside me. “Who hired you?”
Dekker’s laughter fades. He looks between us, and something in his expression shifts. Resignation, maybe. And why not? He must know that his options have run out.
“You want answers?” He leans back in the chair. “Fine. But you’re not gonna like what you hear.”
“Try us,” I say.
Dekker’s smile is bloody. Broken. “You’re right, Princess. Daddy hired us. Paid top dollar, too.”
Even though I expected it, hearing the confirmation feels like a punch to the gut. My father. My own father hired men to torture and kill the man I loved.
“Why?” Gabriel’s voice is tight. Barely controlled. “What did Hart want?”
“Fuck if I know.” Dekker shrugs like we’re discussing the weather. “I was just the hired help.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Gabriel says. “If you value your life, anyway.”
“Hey, swear to God. What the fuck reason have I got to cover for the SOB? Not like he sat me down and told me a bedtime story. But, okay,” he adds as Gabe takes a step closer. “Maybe I heard some tidbits might help you.”
“What tidbits?” I ask.”
“Something about a big deal he had going down with Elias Grimm. Wanted the old man distracted. Off his game.” He grins, bloody teeth flashing. “Killing the golden boy seemed like a good way to do that.”
Gabriel goes rigid beside me. I can feel the rage rolling off him in waves.
“Maybe that’s true,” I say, forcing my voice to stay steady. “But it’s not all. If it was only business, you’d have just killed him. But you didn’t. You planted lies about me. Things to make him hate me before he died. Why?”
“Daddy said the bastard wasn’t good enough for his little princess. Thought you were too stupid to see it.”
He laughs again, the sound wet and ugly. “Wanted the last thing your boy here ever thought to be that you wanted him dead. That you were glad to be rid of him. Honestly, I thought that was too fucked up. Didn’t want to do it, you know? But he had a way of negotiating that my bank account loved.”
I have to look away. My own father. I’ve always known he was vile. Now I’m starting to see how deep it runs.
Dekker cocks his head, studying me with something like amusement. “Gotta say, Princess, your old man’s a real piece of work. All high and mighty about those Grimm bastards, but he’s got no problem paying guys like me to do his dirty work.”
I don’t answer, but he’s right about the irony.
“Where’s Webb?” Gabriel asks. His voice is ice. Controlled in a way that scares me more than rage would. “Your partner. Where is he?”
“Webb’s got a place outside Carson City. I’ll give you the address.” Dekker leans forward. “But I want something in return.”
“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” Leo says from behind us.
“Maybe not. But I got more information than just Webb’s address.” Dekker’s good eye gleams. “I got names. Dates. Details of other jobs the little girl’s daddy commissioned. Real nasty shit. The kind of stuff that would put Sterling Hart away for the rest of his miserable life.”
I look at Gabriel, and I’m certain he realizes it, too. My father’s crimes extend far beyond what he did to Gabriel and me.
“Talk,” Gabriel says. “Tell us everything. And maybe—maybe—you leave this place alive.”
Dekker smiles that bloody smile. “Now we’re negotiating.”
An hour later, we emerge from that room with Webb’s address, a list of my father’s crimes that turns my stomach, and the beginnings of a plan. Leo and Ruby are staying behind, waiting for their liaison at the FBI to send a team to take the vile prick away.
We walk back to the car in silence, and I don’t push Gabe.
I figure he’s got as much to think about as I do.
Not just the confirmation that Sterling Hart ordered his torture—but the why.
The casual cruelty of it. The way my father wanted to destroy not just Gabriel’s life, but his last moments of consciousness.
After a few moments, I reach for his hand. He lets me take it, but his fingers don’t curl around mine.
“Gabe.”
He stops walking. Turns to face me. And the shattered look on his face just about breaks my heart.
“Talk to me,” I whisper, forcing the words past the tears gathering in my throat.
“He did this because of me,” he says, his voice low and wrecked. “Because I loved you. Because I wasn’t worthy of you.” His laugh is bitter, hollow.
“My father is a monster.” I step closer. “What he thinks about worthiness means nothing. Less than nothing.”
“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Gabriel’s voice cracks. “I spent five years believing you betrayed me. I came back to destroy you.” He pulls his hand from mine, then runs it through his hair. “How am I any better than him?”
“Because my father never bothered to know you. He saw Elias Grimm’s son—a name, a threat—and decided you were the enemy. He never saw you.”
He makes a scoffing sound and starts walking again. I grab his sleeve and pull him to a stop. “Dammit, listen to me. You believed the lie he told you. But you had evidence. It was fucked up and fake and horrible, but it was tangible. My father played you. It’s not even close to the same.”
He says nothing. He doesn’t have to. The pain on his face says it all.
“Dammit, Gabe.” I grab his face and force him to meet my eyes. “Don’t you get it? When you saw the truth, you chose to believe me. And now you’re standing right here, hurting for what was done to both of us.”
“I want to kill him.” The words are raw, torn from somewhere deep. “Your father. I want to watch him suffer the way I suffered.”
“I know.” I press my forehead to his. “I know. And we’ll figure out what to do with him. Together. But not like this. Not while your soul is bleeding.”
Gabriel’s breath shudders out of him. For a long moment, we just stand there—foreheads touching, breathing together, two broken people trying to figure out how to be whole.
“Day by day,” he finally whispers.
“Day by day.”
When we pull apart, Leo is waiting by the car, giving us space but clearly ready to move.
“Webb?” Gabriel asks.
“Ruby’s coordinating with our people. We’ll have him within forty-eight hours.”
Gabriel nods. Then he looks at me—really looks, the way he used to before everything went wrong.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
Home. His underground apartment beneath the city. The place where we’re trying to rebuild something from the ashes.
I take his hand. And this time, his fingers curl around mine.