Storm Ravaged (Storm Damages 2) (Storm Legacy) (26 page)

Only Bri protested. “Cut him some slack, Gabe. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“I don’t mind, Lady Brianna. It’s my job after all.”

Leaving my guests behind, I’d led him to the baby’s room where I now awaited his answer.

“I fired Sarah Simmons.”

My mother’s guard. “Why?”

“I’ve had my doubts about her since she allowed your mother to put the drug in her tea. We put our operatives through a rigorous annual review process where we check out their entire lives—their financials, their families, among other things. Nothing popped up six months ago, but when I ran another check last month, a new problem surfaced.”

“Like what?”

“Her brother. He’d been the fly in her ointment when I first hired her, the issue that made me think twice. He’d been a juvenile delinquent, but they weren’t close. So I deemed it safe to hire her.”

“But something changed.”

“Yes. He became a drug runner for some Southie gang.”

“And?”

“He decided to start his own business. They found out and threatened to kill him. Unless he forked over the cash. Since he’d gambled it away, it became a problem. So he came to Sarah and asked for her help.”

“So when my mother offered her money to help her escape, and I suggested she accept it, I played right into her hand.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. One more reason I shouldn’t have gone about this alone. But what choice did I have? Jake would have never gone along with kidnapping and drugging my mother.

“Yes. That second phone call you mother made? Our tech guy finally figured it out. It was a request to transfer money into Sarah’s bank account. She used the money to pay off her brother’s debts.”

“And in return Sarah allowed my mother to call Elizabeth and scare her half to death.”

“Yes.”

Bloody hell. I run my hand through my hair, pull its ends. “Firing’s too good for her.”

“Don’t worry. I put the word out. No one else will hire her, at least not for security work.”

“Good.” Although this smacked too much of closing the barn door after the horse was stolen. “Did my mother call anyone else?”

“Not from Sarah’s phone. Once we tracked down the phone call, I confronted Sarah. She broke down and told me the truth. Your mother only made two phone calls, one to Sarah’s bank to request the transfer of funds and another one to Elizabeth. She wanted to scare Elizabeth into breaking up with you. Again.”

“Except this time, Elizabeth said no.”

“Yes.”

“What about Tilly?”

“Tilly’s death had nothing to do with your mother. The killer was a junkie looking for money. He knew her routine from following her from the stores where she shopped for food. And he knew she lived alone.The day he broke in was her usual shopping day, so he thought no one would be in the house.”

“But she was there because of me. She was killed because I asked her to meet with me. God.” I drop into the rocking chair, bury my face in my hands.

“Tilly’s death is not your fault, Storm.”

I raise my head, “But it was. It was.” That kind old woman who had loved us as children lost her life because of me.

“You don’t control the world, Storm. Much as you think you do. Shit happens.” He squeezes my shoulder. “We can ease the restrictions on Elizabeth. She’ll appreciate that.”

Like hell I will.
“No. Not yet.”

“Storm. You can’t continue to keep her a prisoner in this place when there’s no threat to her life.”

Wiping the moisture from my face, I fly off like a rocket from the rocking chair. “I’ll decide that, Jake. Not you. You are not to say a word to her.” I stride toward the entrance to the room.

“Storm.”

“What?” Turning back to him, I barely register the baby monitor in his hand.

“I didn’t see Elizabeth when I came in.” His voice is soft, cautious.

“She’s changing into her party dress.”

A myriad of emotions runs the gamut on his face, but he says nothing.

Impatient, I wave my hand toward the living room. “I have my wife and guests waiting for me. Anything else?”

“Just wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas. That’s all.”

“Same to you.” I head back toward the voices in the living room. And the warmth and light and joy that is Elizabeth. Only months later do I decipher the look on his face, the one that rolled over him as he held the baby monitor.

Chapter 36

______________

Elizabeth

ON CHRISTMAS DAY, there are so many presents from him under the tree, it takes me over an hour to open them all—more jewelry, clothes, shoes, and a brand new laptop.

“Thank you so much, Gabriel.” I’m afraid my gifts pale in comparison, but he seems happy with them. I couldn’t buy him clothes since he gets everything custom made, but I felt safe ordering moccasin slippers.

And he’s thrilled about the books, all on being a new dad. He curls his hand around the nape of my neck and kisses me. “Thank you. These are perfect.” He dips his hand into his shirt pocket and fishes out a box, a small one, wrapped in gold.

“More?” I say, tearing into it. Inside the box is a Platinum American Express card.

“I have one, you know.”

“You have a gold one. This one provides more perks.” I don’t feel right about accepting it, but it’s Christmas. So I smile and thank him again.

We’re joined by the family at St. Paul’s Cathedral for Christmas service. Afterward we return to the penthouse where Jorge has outdone himself. Scottish smoked salmon for starters, roasted turkey and baked ham, baked potatoes, brussels sprouts, and two sauces, bread and cranberry. For dessert, he serves the traditional Christmas pudding.

After our guests leave, I change into one of his gifts—a gorgeous cranberry red fleece robe. When I return to the living room, I’m happy to see he’s reading one of the new dad books.

“Tired?” he asks, as I settle next to him.

“A little. It’s been a long day.”

He grabs the remote. “You want to watch something on the telly?”

“No. I’ve watched enough TV for the last week.” My tone comes across as curt. I can’t help it. During dinner the conversation partly revolved around Casey and Gina’s plans over the next couple of days, with everyone offering suggestions as to which places to visit. And I couldn’t help but be envious of their ability to come and go as they wished.

“Anything wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay? It’s not the baby, is it?” He frowns and his lips tighten.

I shake my head. “I’m fine, Gabriel. The baby’s fine.”

He lays the book on the coffee table, fixes his full attention on me. “Something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

He’s not going to let it go, unless I explain myself. I heave a deep sigh. “Tonight, Casey and Gina were talking about their plans.”

“And?”

“I can’t help but envy them. They’ll get to see all the tourist sights and have fun. And I’m stuck here.” I make a face. “I’m sorry. Just saying that makes me realize how petty I’m being. Forget I said anything.”

“You’ve seen London.”

“No, I haven’t.” I glance down and start to chip off my nail polish, a nervous habit of mine. “When I was here in July during the negotiations, I didn’t leave the hotel. Well, except to come here and to travel to Winterleagh Castle.”

He gets a hold of my chin, and gently lifts so I have to look at him. “You went shopping with CeCe.”

“Yes, I did. But I’ve never seen Buckingham Castle, or the Tower of London or Westminster Abbey. Or enjoyed a play in the West End. Or visited Canary Wharf, the British Museum.“ Or done so many other things I long to do.

His hand covers both of mine, stilling the destruction of my manicure. “Just hang on a little while longer darling. You can see them after our son is born.”

“How can I? I won’t be here.”

He stands, walks away from me. Pours himself a scotch. By now, I know him well enough to realize it’s an evasion tactic. Something in me lurches. He’s hiding something. “What aren’t you telling me, Gabriel?”

“You’re not going back to D.C.”

“What?” I jump to my feet. “I have school, a job. And why would I stay here when you’re moving to New York?”

He looks down at his glass. “I’m not transferring to New York. Miranda Stone will run the Storm Industries-North America branch.“

“And you just decided this?”

“No. I never intended to move to New York.” He downs the drink in one gulp.

“You lied to me.”

“I had to. You wouldn’t have married me otherwise, bound and determined as you were to put our child up for adoption. And I. I couldn’t allow that.”

Wild thoughts riot through my head. He’d lied about New York, and about his mother as well, going by the conversation I overheard through the baby monitor last night. I hadn’t confronted him with it, preferring to hear it from him, to have him explain why he’d done such a thing and keep it hidden from me. But now? If he’d lied about New York and his mother, what else has he lied about? What about the photos taken in D.C. and the man who attacked us? Did he arrange for that as well? He said he hadn’t, but given his current actions, can I believe anything he has to say? One thing is clear, he has no right to sever my ties with the law firm. “When Gina and Casey return to D.C., I’m flying back with them.”

“No. You’re not.”

“I have a job, a school to return to.”

I informed Thomas Carrey you won’t be returning to Smith Cannon. He agreed it would be for the best.”

“You have no right—no right Gabriel. And Smith Cannon can’t accept my resignation. Not when it comes from you and not me.”

He fixes me with a resolute stare. “I’m bringing Smith Cannon business in the sum of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Do you think they’re going to quibble about who turned in your resignation?”

“I’ll walk out of here. You can’t stop me from walking out.”

“The guards downstairs will. They’re under orders to physically restrain you if they have to.”

“I’ll tell Casey. He’ll help me get back to the states.”

“If you tell him, I’ll withdraw my financial support of his business. Since he’s started construction on the expansion, he will go bankrupt and lose his restaurant.”

“You son of a bitch. You can’t do this. You can’t—” I break down into sobs.

He walks up to me, puts his arms around me. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way I know to keep you safe, to keep our child safe.”

I struggle against him, but he only holds me tighter. I’m drowning, choking. I can’t catch a breath. “I can’t breathe. I can’t—”

“Bloody hell—”

He hands me his glass, the one with alcohol in it. “Drink.”

I shake my head. “The baby.” I wheeze out.

“One swallow won’t make a difference.” He lifts the glass to my lips and I take the smallest of sips. The heat burns all the way down my throat. I cough, gulp in air, cough again. Finally, I take a shaky breath, let it out, do it again.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“You can’t get this upset, Elizabeth. It’s bad for you; it’s bad for our child.”

I nod while trying to regulate my breath.

“Listen to me, please,” he says. “We discussed your studying for the dual degree. Remember?”

I nod again while still struggling to take in oxygen.

“Well, this will give you an opportunity to do that. While we’re married, you’ll remain in England.”

I start to say something but decide I’ll just get too upset.

“You can apply for the program. Probably start classes in the fall. Next year you can return to D.C. and finish your schooling there before returning to London to finish your studies. It will all work out. You’ll see.”

I stare at the man I thought I knew, but never had. Not really. Come hell or high water he wanted our child. He’d worked out in his head the only way to have him, have me was to keep me here in London, a prisoner in the penthouse.”

“After the baby is born—”

“Yes.” He interrupts.

“—I’ll be given more freedom to come and go.”

“Yes, of course.”

No, of course about it. God only knows what he’ll plan next. “And I want to work. If not at Storm Industries, somewhere else. I need to keep up my credentials.”

“We can talk about it when the time comes.” He hugs me to him.

Does he honestly think I’ve given in? I’m furious at him. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” Hope he gets the hint. I don’t want him anywhere near me right now.

I change into my sleeping gown, crawl into bed, stare at the ceiling. God, what am I going to do? Nothing I can do until after the baby is born. He’s got this deathly fear his mother will harm us, even though he has her stashed someplace.

Jake believes there’s no threat to us, that his mother can’t cause us any harm. But Gabriel believes she can. Irrational? Maybe. Maybe not. Given the level of abuse she inflicted on him, it makes sense in his mind. Even if it doesn’t make sense to Jake. Regardless, for the time being there’s nothing I can do. I’m a prisoner in my own home.