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Gabriel
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Later that night, Gabe cursed and punched his pillow in frustration, but it wasn’t the shape of the pillow that was keeping him awake.
Mancini’s comments had gotten into his head and were now looping around in a series of what-ifs. What if Tenebris was real? What if someone had managed to slip inside Kristikos’s inner circle, someone who’d been playing the game all these years, waiting and watching for the perfect opportunity to strike? Was it even possible?
It seemed too fantastic to believe, but since being a SEAL meant making the impossible possible, he’d learned never to say never.
That was why, after he’d returned to his room, he’d thrown a couple of frozen dinners in the microwave and called his old friend Kane Callaghan. If anyone had heard the rumors about Tenebris, he would have.
“Saint,” Kane rumbled into the phone.
“Iceman.”
Gabe was one of the privileged few who knew that Kane and his six younger brothers, all SEALs themselves, had formed an off-the-books team of their own. They kept themselves in the game, but on their own terms. Kind of like Gabe did these days.
Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
“How’s family life treating you?”
“Couldn’t be better. But you didn’t call to shoot the shit, did you?”
That was just like Kane—no bullshit, just straight to the heart of the matter. Gabe hadn’t expected, or wanted, anything less.
As it turned out, Kane was familiar with the code name. He corroborated everything Mancini had said, but was also quick to point out that it was all unsubstantiated rumor. Tenebris existed only in vague whispers of suggestion, nothing more. There had never been any proof, tangible or otherwise. He was just some mysterious figure, origins unknown, who had supposedly managed the impossible.
As the years wore on and nothing came of it, those whispers had faded, but apparently, hadn’t been completely silenced. There were still those who kept the faith, despite the lack of evidence or any tangible proof. Now, with Christos’s disappearance, those rumors were bound to resurface, right along with theories on who Tenebris might be. They were, in Gabe’s opinion, hopes of the desperate.
But what if?
Daskalakis came immediately to Gabe’s mind as a possible candidate. He and his family had been working for Darius for a long time. That was bound to foster some resentment, wasn’t it? Also, Daskalakis had the kind of controlling, ruthless personality and patience it would take to pull off something like that.
Sander Argyros was also a distinct possibility. He wasn’t as openly dictatorial as Daskalakis, but he, too, had a long history with Kristikos and, as the head of security, would be in a good position to wreak some havoc from within the inner circle.
The possibilities didn’t stop there. What if Christos Kristikos was Tenebris?
It sounded ridiculous, but the more Gabe thought about it, the more he realized the theory wasn’t all that far-fetched. Rumors of Tenebris had started circulating not long after Christos decided to strike out on his own, creating his own little empire on US soil and pissing off his father in the process. Christos would have information and access no one else would. It would be the ultimate betrayal, a great big personal “fuck you,” delivered directly from son to father.
Was that why Darius had remained such a strong presence in his adult son’s life? Pulled so many strings? Not because he feared someone would use his son to get to him, but because he knew the only one capable of truly destroying him was the prodigal son who hadn’t been keen on following in his father’s footsteps?
Maybe. If that was the case—and that was a really big if—there would be breadcrumbs. Signs of dissension among the ranks. The key was finding them. Whoever was behind Christo’s disappearance had to have done a lot of prep work to pull it off.
Gabe exhaled and rolled over. Tomorrow he would be heading back to the estate. This time, he didn’t plan on leaving until he had something worthwhile.