Page 6 of Stalked

“Tell them anything, you’re dead. You fucking hear me!” he yells, not leaving a chance for me to say anything before slamming the door open and leaving me trembling against the wall, wondering what situation I just got tossed in.

Tobias

The moment I step inside the apartment door, Gabriel’s snore reaches my ears. I smile at the sound. Knowing he’s safe and asleep brings joy to my cold heart. I tried to get here before four in the morning, but while dealing with our missing shipments, I couldn’t. As much as I didn’t want to, I hated that I might have to use Emilia or Aunt Aziza to track Billy down. I know he has something to do with it. That little weasel was just a fucking drug runner and now he’s running his own operation, with my fucking weapons. But it couldn’t just be him. There’s something else happening here. I just can’t put my finger on it. It has to involve Rafael, there has to be a reason for the brothers’ meeting with the cartel leader.

Closing the door, I glance around the apartment. His bag is thrown across the room, some of his artwork is smashed against the wall, and the paintbrush I left sits in the same place.

Something is wrong.Without thinking I tidy his living room up. Shoving the art books back into his bag, I place another white brushdown, wondering where he's put the others. Has he thrown them away? Are they locked away somewhere? Surely, he knows someone is following him, breaking into his apartment. Why hasn’t he called the police yet?

Shaking my head, I make my way into his room. Gabriel lies on his side, facing the door. I freeze for a moment when his snores stop. I don’t know what I would do if he woke up and found me. Sure, I’m supposed to be the ruthless leader. I’ve killed plenty of people. I’m not supposed to be nervous. But I’d totally freak out. I’d have to kidnap him and keep him. I smirk at the idea. Kidnapping him wouldn’t be the worst thing…

Thankfully, he starts snoring again, and my body slightly relaxes. My eyes search around his room, and just like the living room, it’s trash. Yesterday it wasn’t like this. Yesterday it was tidy and clean, everything had a home, but now it’s almost as if a bomb went off. Clothes lay everywhere; art supplies were ripped apart. My eyes traveled over to Gabriel, willing myself not to wake him up and ask what happened and what was wrong. I don’t have a reason for wanting to know. I don’t know why I want to know so much about Gabriel. I just have this need. A need for him.

My legs carry me closer, my eyes traveling from his feet that peek out from his blanket all the way up to his face. His face…. Is that a fucking bruise?

What the fuck?

Peering down, I bend until I’m close enough to his face, too close for comfort. But I need to see if my eyes are just playing tricks on me. Sure enough, a clear thumb lays against the bottom of his cheek, along with finger bruises on the other side.

My breath comes in rough, the rage coursing through my veins. My hand’s fist, my knuckles crack from the pressure. Who the fuck dare lay a hand on him? Who dares lay a hand on mine?

Whoa.That thought comes out of nowhere. And he can’t be mine. Even if I have broken into his space multiple times a day for the past month. He’s my dirty little secret.

But the pure rage I feel, this is different. I’m not the jealous type. I’ve never felt this pain, this... I haven’t felt this type of feeling before. Dare I even say I care, and care more than just him being my friend?

Stepping back, I pace back and forth at the foot of his bed, my eyes unable to look away from his face. The questions swarm around, who hurt him? Why did they hurt him? I’ve watched Gabriel for the past month, and he never gave me the impression he was dating or seeing someone. He never goes anywhere but his art studio, that coffee shop, and the grocery store. He doesn’t even have friends from what I understand.

Shit, I need to have Emilia put a clone on his phone. And a tracker. I need to know who he’s talking to, and where he’s going.

Taking one final look at Gabriel, I close his bedroom door. Taking my phone out, my finger hovers over Emilia's contact, debating on calling or texting her. I don’t want to talk on the phone, so I text her instead that I need her to clone someone’s number.

I don’t get two feet towards the door before my phone starts vibrating, Emilia's name showing across the screen. I should’ve known better. Thankfully, I can still hear his snores, giving me the confidence to answer.

“I texted you for a reason,” I growl into the phone, my eyes traveling to his bedroom door.

“If you need me to clone someone's phone, I need your phone near theirs.”

That would make sense, though I don’t know why she couldn’t have just texted me that.

“Hello, you there?”

“Da, I… okay, hold on.” Placing my phone down, as quietly as I can I go back into his room. His phone lies on the nightstand. Thankfully, I can ease it off the charger before I’m back in the living room and picking my phone up.

“Okay, I have it. What now?” I ask in Russian.

“Just open her phone and give me the number.” I should correct her, but I don’t. Instead, I do what she asks, giving his number to her. “Alright, now just lay both phones near each other. It'll take a few minutes.”

I lay them down, standing there like a fool, questioning my own morals, I mean, I can kill someone. I’m in the damn Mafia. I’m not a good person. This feels wrong, but I also need to know. I need to know everything about him. Who does he talk to? Who was on the phone with him earlier? More importantly, who the fuck decided to put their hands on Gabriel? He’s mine.

“Tobias?” Emilia's voice broke my thoughts.

“Da,” I answer, picking my phone up and placing it against my ear.

“Dude, the Russian still?”

“Da.”

“You’re in America, shouldn’t you, I don't know, speak English?” Emilia chuckles into the phone.

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