Page 88 of A Labor of Hate
On a scale from one to ten for how likely we were going to die, I’d give us a solid thirteen.
We complied, fresh out of excuses unless I pretended to go into labor.Which wasn’t a half-bad last resort, honestly.Still, it was just that—a last resort.Under no circumstances were we to break our cover, and it would take the hospital approximately two seconds after admitting me to figure out I wasn’t really pregnant.
Gavin led us to the shore.The sand slid through my sandals, grating underfoot and between my toes.A faint fishy smell carried on the breeze from the lake.Water stretched as far as the eye could see, growing increasingly dark and ominous as it neared the horizon.
“I had a chat with someone recently,” Gavin began, almost conversationally.“It took a while to track her down, but she had some interesting things to say about you, Mr.Dixon.”
My stomach pitched.Gavin knew Colt’s identity.I didn’t knowhow, but he knew it.
Colt’s hand tensed in mine, though his voice was eerily calm.“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Tiffany—was that her name?The redhead you went on adatewith only two months ago?”Gavin nodded toward me.“A date which, judging by your wife’s reaction, she knew about.Assuming sheisyour wife.”
Welp.May as well throw us in a toolbox, because we were officially screwed.
“You’re far too observant for mere civilians.”Gavin leveled us with an icy stare, his words precise and punctuated.“I’ll only give you one chance to tell the truth.Who.Are.You?”
A breeze blew through the skirt of my dress and whipped my curls to the side.A seagull landed nearby, eying us in search of food.Colt remained still as a statue.
A myriad of plans flashed through my mind.Lies we could spin to explain ourselves.Even if I threw him under the bus and said Colt was a cheater and I knew it—something he would never in a million years be—I’d still lied about his history with Tiffany.
Why was Gavin confronting us about this here and now, anyway?Sure, our odds of taking him on weren’t great, but if he’d guessed we were Feds, he had to know that we were trained in combat, and we still outnumbered him.He didn’t know for sure that we were unarmed, even if we were.It would be nasty, but it wasn’t a guaranteed win for him.Especially since there were four other henchmen itching for a good fight that he could’ve recruited as backup.But he hadn’t.He’d chosen to confront us alone.
Why?
I narrowed my eyes.Gavin was the only one of the bodyguards without evident gang ties, which meant no other bosses besides Charles.I replayed each interaction with the Gauthiers in my head at lightspeed, focusing instead on Gavin’s role in each one.He always stood the closest to them, looked outward for threats while the primary focus for the others was watching the Gauthiers.While the other bodyguards alternated which one would accompany Vivienne on our coffee dates, Gavin was a constant.She joked with him like they were old friends, genuinely smiled when he was guarding her, but performed as soon as any of the other guards joined them.
At the very least, ButtFace didn’t seem fond of Gavin.I’d chalked it up to jealousy that Gavin got to sit next to Vivienne at the coffee shop, but maybe it wasn’t jealousy at all, but frustration.Resentment.
The itch at the base of my skull intensified, and my gut clenched.I didn’t have anything substantial to go off.I knew this.Colt knew this.We’d discussed it.And yet, the missing piece for my hunch just slid into place.We had little to lose at this point, and everything to gain.
I was going for it.
I sighed, heart thumping wildly until it drowned out the gentle crash of the waves lapping against the shore.“We’re Feds.”
Colt’s head snapped in my direction before his palm slapped against his forehead.Huh.A facepalm.I hadn’t gotten that specific reaction from him before, but I also hadn’t broken Undercover 101’s most important rule then, either.
Gavin nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing.“Good.”
“Good?”Colt let his hand slide down his face, regarding Gavin with a cautious stare.“What do you meangood?”
“Because he’s the one who keeps the Gauthiers safe from the other ‘bodyguards,’” I murmured.
The rest of the Got-Your-Back Street Boys weren’t so much Charles’ guards as his prison wardens.And the cameras—Charles wasn’t behind all of them.He likely didn’t even have access to the footage.
Gavin’s eyes flicked to mine, all but confirming my suspicions.“Charles never wanted to get involved in this in the first place.But he needed to…supplementhis income.”
I swallowed hard, thinking of the various treatments Vivienne and Charles had undergone in their efforts to conceive.The thousands and thousands of dollars they’d had to spend.
“It was only the more harmless stuff at first.Club drugs.Hallucinogens.That kind of stuff.”Gavin looked out over the lake and crossed his arms.The seagull scuttled closer.“But he caught the attention of some unsavory types.Charles didn’t want to work for any of them, let alone do what they wanted him to do with their drugs.”Gavin’s eye twitched, betraying his agitation.“So, they threatened Vivienne.If they’d just threatened him, he wouldn’t have budged.But they knew where to apply the pressure.”
That’s why, if Gavin had to choose which of the two Gauthiers to guard, he went with Vivienne.Maybe Charles ordered him to.She hadn’t only beenmyticket in, the poor woman.
“Since Charles had already almost been kidnapped before he hired me, his new taskmasters weren’t going to take any chances.They didn’t want him getting cold feet, either, so they all sent one of their own to be part of hissecurity detail.”Gavin scowled at the term, a snarl on his lips.
The seagull eyed him before taking flight.Its rustling feathers punctuated the tense silence between us.
“Once Vivienne got pregnant,” Gavin continued, “Charles couldn’t take it anymore.He wanted better for his child.For Vivienne.He always figured the Feds would catch up to him eventually, so he decided to speed things along.Strategically leak the identity ofLe Chimisteand wait.”
