But he forced it away. There was no hurry, after all.
She was his now.
* * *
Gabriel parked his bike in an alleyway Honor wouldn’t have gone into in broad daylight let alone eleven o’clock at night. It was dark and wet, with dirty snow collecting in drifts against the Dumpsters in one corner of the alley. She could hear people shouting not far away, the smashing of glass somewhere else, a man laughing drunkenly closer than she would have liked.
She would have been terrified if not for the man standing with his hands out to her, preparing to help her get off the bike. A little difficult when she was wearing a tight-fitting blue silk sheath dress, her favorite blue Manolos on her feet. She’d hoped they’d get to the casino in one of Gabriel’s limos but he’d decided the bike was less conspicuous.
Not that he could be inconspicuous if he tried.
He hadn’t made any concessions to the fact that the casino was apparently high-class and demanded a certain dress code. All he’d done was put on black jeans and a casual black shirt, his usual leather jacket over the top. Not that they’d turn him away, she suspected. He looked dark, powerful, and very, very dangerous.
Fear tightened in her stomach. Strange that she should be so afraid for him, for what he might do and the toll it would take on him. Because for all his power, for all the aura of danger about him, he was vulnerable in a way no one else knew about.
But she did.
She’d insisted on coming tonight for a number of reasons. She wanted to see the place her father had owned, of course, but mainly she wanted to find proof that Guy was everything Gabriel had told her he was. And if not … then she would have to stop Gabriel from doing whatever it was he was going to do.
She didn’t want him to have the ruin of an innocent man on his conscience.
Honor put her hands into his, her fingers cold despite the leather gloves she wore and let him help her off the bike, loving the care with which he handled her. For all his strength, he could be gentle and in the past two days, she’d learned quite a lot about his tenderness.
It was strange how the mere fact of telling him she was his had quieted something hungry in him. She’d found freedom in embracing her need for him, too. In no longer resisting the intense craving for him whenever he was around. Sure, this addiction was going to destroy her in the end, but she’d take it while it lasted.
As she steadied herself on her rather ridiculously high heels, Gabriel pulled something from the pocket of his jacket. A long, black box. “This is for you,” he murmured, holding it out.
Honor stared at it, taking it in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Her heart beating strangely fast, she did so, pressing the little catch that opened the box and lifting the lid. The dim light of the alley made it difficult to see, but then a car passed on the street outside, the headlights shining briefly into the darkness, lighting it up. Making the jewels that lay on the box’s white silk interior sparkle.
Honor caught her breath.
It was a necklace, almost a collar. Made of multiple strands of platinum formed in the shape of a climbing briar, with thorns and leaves and flowers. And each flower was a deep, blue sapphire. It was the most exquisitely beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“What…?”
“It’s a gift.”
She looked up at him. The car had moved on, casting the place into darkness again, but she could still see the gleam of his eyes and the sensual shape of his mouth, the hard line of his jaw. He didn’t look away from her.
“You’re mine, Honor. And I wanted to give you something to remind you.”
A couple of weeks ago she would have found that statement insulting. But now … a part of her loved that she was his. Because hell, she wasn’t anyone else’s, was she? Not her mother’s. Not Guy’s. Not her father’s. They’d all chosen someone else. Something else.
She hadn’t cared. She’d had her business and that had been enough for her.
But that had been before she’d met Gabriel. Before she’d realized she wanted more.
What more?
Something caught, painfully tight in her chest. No, more didn’t bear thinking about. It really didn’t.
Instead she picked up the necklace, watched the light glint off the sapphires. “It’s … beautiful.”
“Here,” Gabriel took it from her. “Turn around. I’ll put it on for you.”
Honor did so, sweeping her hair out of the way. His fingers were warm on her nape as he laid the necklace around her neck. It felt heavy and cold but only for a moment, the heat of her skin warming it up.
“I bought it because you like pretty things,” he said quietly as he did up the catch. “So, I thought you might like this.”
Her breath caught. She stared at the wall of the alley in front of her, running her fingers over the strands around her neck. “I do like it,” she said thickly. “I like it very much.”
More warmth at the back of her neck, his mouth as he kissed her. “Are you ready?”
Ah, damn. It was time to go. And she didn’t want to all of a sudden.
Didn’t want to face whatever they’d find at this casino, proof of Guy’s guilt or otherwise. Nor did she want this moment with Gabriel to be lost. This moment where he gave her gifts and kissed the back of her neck like he cared.
But it would be lost. Carried away under the relentless demands of the justice he felt he had to deliver.
Yet what would he say if she asked him not to do this? If she asked him to take her home instead? Make love to her until they’d both forgotten this place even existed? He’d say no, of course. And she couldn’t take that right now.
Grief caught in the back of her throat but she forced it away as she turned to face him. “Yes,” she said levelly. “I am.”
Gabriel’s dark eyes swept over her. “They’ll probably know who you are. You have the story we agreed on settled?”
They’d discussed this earlier. The casino might realize who she was, no matter how many years had passed since a St. James had passed through their doors. But if she was seen with Gabriel, making it clear she was with him and that she wanted to see her father’s old kingdom, then there shouldn’t be a problem. After all, Gabriel Woolf was notorious for not being on the right side of the law. No one would question his sudden arrival, especially with a woman on his arm.
“Yes,” she said.
“And if I say it’s time to go, then you go. Whether I’m with you or not.”
That she hadn’t been too happy about. But then if things went bad, she wasn’t going to be able to help him anyway. The only thing she could do would be to get out and call the number Gabriel had given her. The number that would get her Zac Rutherford.
“Yes,” she said again.
“Good. And if that happens, come back to the bike. Zac will find you.”
Honor pulled a face. “Come back here? By myself?”
“You’ll be safe. This is my territory, remember? People know who owns this bike and if you’re on it, they’ll know I own you, too. And no one touches my property without permission.”
A little flash of annoyance at his arrogance went through her. “I’m not your property.”
He smiled, a savage edge to it that perversely thrilled her. “If I was still president of the Angels, you would be. You’d wear the club colors, with ‘Property of Church’ on the back so everyone would know you were mine.”
“Sounds incredibly chauvinistic.” So why did she like the thought of it?
“It’s the way it is.” His gaze dropped to the necklace he’d bought her. “Tonight though, I’ll be happy knowing you’re wearing something I bought you.”
“I should count myself lucky in that case.” She took his hands in hers, rose up on her toes, and kissed him. “But you’re cute when you’re possessive.”
A short laugh broke from him and it was a moment before she realized it was completely genuine.
“Damn,” she murmured, s
miling. “Did I just make you laugh?”
One corner of his usually stern mouth turned up and her heart broke a little inside her chest. “Don’t get used to it.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Come on, let’s go see what we can find out.”
They stepped out of the alley and into the street.
There were people around, pretty damn shady looking people. Loud music blared from speakers at a late-night store across the road; a group of men stood around arguing and drinking from bottles in paper bags, flicking cigarette butts into the dirty snow on the sidewalk. Neon and flickering light from the dingy streetlights shone on the wet pavement.
Honor didn’t look around too closely. She felt out of place in her designer dress, with a fortune’s worth of sapphires around her neck.
She glanced surreptitiously at Gabriel. He’d come from here. These were his streets. This was where he’d lived, an experience so far removed from hers they may as well have been born on different planets.
So she made herself look. Made herself see the dirty streets, smell the rotting trash that the cold couldn’t quite keep at bay. Made herself glance into the eyes of the people they passed. There were no smiles here, only wariness and desperation.
She swallowed, her throat thick and tight.
These were also the streets where her father had been. And Alex.
God …
Gabriel crossed the street, approaching the late-night store with the group of men standing around outside it. Trepidation knotted in the pit of her stomach, easing only slightly when Gabriel slid an arm around her waist, pulling her in close as they approached the shop entrance.
The glances of the group were openly lascivious when they touched on her, turning threatening as they turned on Gabriel.
Then someone said, “Holy fuck. It’s Church.”
A ripple of tension went through the men around the door, several of them backing away.
A massively built man near the door straightened and managed to stand so he was blocking the doorway. “Mr. Woolf,” he said in a perfectly level voice. “Nice to see you back in the neighborhood.”
“Good to see you, too, Jimmy.” Gabriel stared at him. “You doing security here?”
The bouncer dropped his gaze, almost deferential. “Yeah. And I’m gonna have to ask you for an invite. I’m sorry, but everyone has to have one. The lady, too. You understand.”
“Sure, I do.” Gabriel put his hand in his back pocket and took something out of it.
A pair of black dice, and on each, in the place of the one spot, a red jewel glittered. The invite, presumably.
Jimmy nodded once and stood aside. “Welcome, Mr. Woolf. You may go in.”
They walked down the back of what looked like an ordinary corner store with magazine racks, fridges full of drinks, and candy by the register. The door behind the counter opened, revealing a dim hallway. Another man was there and he nodded at them both as they passed, holding open yet another door.
Honor stepped through and blinked.
She was in a windowless room, the walls covered in red velvet, the carpet dark. The lighting was dim but evocative, black leather couches along one wall, red glass candle holders on the table, light flickering. A man in a wrinkled tux sat there, smoking a cigarette, his gaze hooded as he watched them.
Ahead of them was a doorway, a red velvet curtain over it. Near the doorway was an exquisitely carved, black Chinese-style table, a beautiful blond woman in a red gown behind it. She smiled as they approached. “Good evening, Mr. Woolf. Miss St. James. Welcome to the Lucky Seven. Your invites please.”
Trepidation knotted tighter in Honor’s gut. They knew who she was already.
Gabriel handed over the pair of dice, dropping them into the woman’s palm. She studied each die carefully before putting them in a black glass bowl on the table. There was a large quantity of dice in there already.
“We’re honored to have you,” she said, looking at Gabriel meaningfully. “The VIP room is at your disposal, of course. As this is your first visit, would you care for a tour?”
“No,” Gabriel answered shortly. “I’m sure we’ll find our way around.”
The woman’s gaze flickered over Honor and she had the sense she was being cataloged. And priced. “I think you’ll enjoy yourselves,” the woman said softly. “We cater to everyone. Anything you need, only say the word.” She smiled, her mouth full and red, her attention back on Gabriel. “And I do mean anything.”
As subtle invitations went it wasn’t the subtlest.
But Gabriel was already turning away, his arm around Honor like an iron band, taking a step toward the curtained doorway and pulling back the sweep of red velvet.
Honor caught her breath as a massive basement room was revealed.
Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glittering like complicated icy stalactites, hanging over the gaming tables and the crowds clustered around them. There was an air of opulence about everything, the red velvet on the walls, the black carpet on the ground, black furniture and flickering candlelight. Waiters in black uniforms moved through the crowds, trays of drinks in their hands. All of them were, without exception, women.
The crowd itself was largely male, all in tuxes. Laughing, drinking. Some smoking. There were some other women here and there, glittering in designer gowns and jewels, and all of them beautiful. They hung off the arms of the men, or leaned seductively over them as they played the tables. Only a few were actually playing themselves.
“God,” Honor murmured as they walked down the small staircase to the gaming floor, conscious of the stares as they came down. “This place looks like a high-class brothel.”
“It is,” Gabriel replied, his gaze cold as it swept over the crowds. “Like I said. You can buy anything you want here. Anything at all.”
Honor shivered. What the hell had she gotten herself into? What the hell had Guy gotten himself into? Had he wanted to save her father from this? Or had he helped in his downfall?
“I’m going to use it against him.”
Gabriel’s words replayed themselves in her head. Flat and cold and determined.
She’d promised him she wouldn’t tell Guy or warn him in any way, and she hadn’t. But that didn’t mean she was going to sit back passively and let him ruin her stepfather.
Or himself.
She glanced at him as they moved through the crowd, the look on his face hard. A man so sure of his power on the outside and yet inside … He hurt.
Well, she wasn’t going to let him have the ruin of an innocent man on his conscience. The things he’d done to survive, she wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially the burden of responsibility he’d taken on.
She couldn’t let him have this, too. She just couldn’t.
His arm around her tightened and she knew they were garnering a lot of stares, most of them acquisitive of her.
“Where to first?” she asked under her breath.
“The bar. Give people a chance to look at us.”
Down one end of the huge space was a black marble bar, the wall behind it lit up in red, giving the bottles of liquor on the shelves an eerie red glow. Like blood.
There were a few people standing at the bar or sitting on stools, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
Honor began to notice a few other men in the crowd, all massively built, wearing dark suits and sweeping the crowd with a searching gaze. Security, no doubt.
Gabriel stopped at the bar. He didn’t ask her what she wanted, ordering two scotches.
“Thanks,” she murmured as the barman pushed over two crystal tumblers. “But not sure I’m up for scotch.”
He glanced down at her, dark eyes enigmatic. “You liked it in Vermont, as I recall.”
A flush swept through her. Oh yes, she had. She’d knocked back his scotch and climbed into his lap. God, this was not the time to be remembering that.
She picked up her tumbler, lightly knocking it against his. “This better be a single malt then. Cheers.”
>
“Sláinte.” He watched her as he picked up his own glass, sipping the amber liquid in it.
Honor did the same, the alcohol sitting warmly in her stomach, easing the trepidation in the pit of it. “So, were you one of those guys? Like the one standing near that pillar?”
“What, security? No. Not inside. We weren’t allowed inside, remember? The club ran interference in the street. Like the men you saw out front earlier.”
“So you’ve never been in here?”
“No.” He looked away from her, out over the crowded gaming tables. “But Zac gave me all the information I need.”
A man standing beside Gabriel turned toward them, looking very definitely and very suggestively at her. “She’s beautiful,” he said as if Honor wasn’t even there. “How much?”
“She’s not for sale,” Gabriel replied before she had a chance to speak, not even bothering to look at the man.
“Aww, come on,” the man said, grinning. “Everything’s for sale down here. Name your price.”
Honor gave him a cool look. “‘She’ is also standing right in front of you.”
The man laughed. “Honey, I’ve won big tonight. Give me a blow job and fifty grand is yours.”
Gabriel shifted unhurriedly, turning toward the guy. “Didn’t you hear the lady? I suggest you fuck off before I take more appropriate steps.”
Anger flooded over the man’s face. “Hey, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are but—”
“I’m Gabriel Woolf and you’re getting in my fucking space.”
Beneath the cold darkness of his voice, Honor could hear something else running through it. A thread of heat. Of anger.
Unthinking, she put a hand on his arm, not to stop him but just to let him know she was there. That she was okay. Instantly she felt the muscles beneath her hand flex and then, just as suddenly, release.
Whatever the man saw in Gabriel’s face was enough to have him back off, muttering.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I can deal with idiots like that. I’ve dealt with them often enough at work.”
“Not while you’re with me you don’t,” he said curtly. “Come on, I think it’s time we hit the tables.”
* * *
Mine To Take (Nine Circles) Page 27
