by Dee Davis
Gideon reached for her again. "I don’t want you out there on your own. You need someone with you. If I could leave, I’d take you, but…" He trailed off, looking chagrined but not truly apologetic.
"Fine, one of your people can drive me. But none of this is connected, right?" She shot him an angry look and spun away, Bailey following at her heels.
Ryder grinned and offered his arm. "Come on, I’ll get someone to take you."
"Why the hell would you do that?" she snapped, surprised at her own outburst. "You don’t even like me."
Ryder shot a look over his shoulder at a glowering Gideon and his smile widened. "Let’s just say you’re growing on me."
CHAPTER 15
"WHERE THE HELL HAVE you been?" Blake Masterson stood in the living room doorway, arms crossed, eyes snapping with anger.
Emily blew out a slow breath. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with her father. Bailey surged past her, heading for the kitchen and his food bowl. "Coward," she whispered under her breath.
"I beg your pardon?" her father asked, eyebrows drawing together as he watched her cross the hallway.
"Nothing," she replied. "I’m just tired. It’s late. I’m going to bed. We can talk in the morning." After she’d had a chance to think things through.
Her father’s hand closed around her arm, gentle but firm. "I want to know what’s going on." His frown deepened as he noticed the bandage. "You’re hurt." He pulled her into the room and over to the sofa. "So I am asking again. What the hell happened?"
She sank down into the cushions with a sigh, accepting that her father wasn’t going to be put off. "I ran into a little trouble."
"With Gideon Sloan." It wasn’t a question.
It was her turn to frown. "You’re having me followed?"
"Not followed, just watched." Her father sat in the wingchair across from the sofa. "To be sure that you’re safe."
"If you were so worried about me, then why weren’t you here in the apartment looking after me yourself?" It was the last thing she truly wanted, but the words escaped anyway.
A frisson of guilt slid across her father’s face. "I had business to take care of. That’s why I asked Douglas Colburn to have someone watch out for you."
Of course. Her father’s right hand man. "I don’t need a bodyguard."
"I beg to differ." He waved a hand toward the bandage. "What were you doing with Sloan?"
"He found me actually. Bailey and I were in the park walking."
"And he just happened to be up this way? In the middle of the night? I thought he lived downtown."
"He does. It was serendipity that we met in the street. He was coming to find me."
"To entice you away from me."
She loved her father but sometimes he pushed things too far. "Of course not. He was coming to tell me that Jack Wetherston was dead."
"What?" Her father leaned forward, his fingers tightening on the arms of his chair. "When?"
"I don’t know, sometime after the gala. At his townhouse. Gideon and Declan were there."
"I’m not following."
"They were there to question him. But they were too late. Someone beat them to his townhouse and shot Jack." She shivered. No matter how things had stood between them, she hadn’t wished the man dead.
Her father’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Vincent told me Jack was hounding you at the gala."
"I’m not sure hounding is the right word. But he did corner me and imply that there was more to Tom’s death than I was saying."
"That son of a bitch."
She sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the pounding in her head. Best to just get it all out in the open. "He heard it from someone else."
"Who?"
"He wouldn’t say. But he also intimated that I wasn’t the only one holding information back. He said that Tom was blackmailing you. Which means you had reason to want him dead."
"And Gideon Sloan has convinced you that I’m guilty?"
"Gideon did no such thing." Although in truth he’d done everything but. "He just wanted to make sure I knew about Jack. He didn’t want me to find out from someone else."
"And somehow in all of that you managed to wind up with a gash on your head?"
Emily blew out a breath, fighting her own anger. "You’re avoiding the issue, Daddy. Was Tom blackmailing you?"
"You know as well as I do that Irwin wasn’t a nice man."
"And yet you wanted me to marry him." The anger in her words surprised her.
"I admit in the beginning I thought it would be good for both of you. Mutual assets and all that. But then I learned certain…things and I realized he wasn’t the man for you. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. Irwin is dead. So tell me what happened to your head."
It was a neat little sidestep. One her father was an expert at taking. Anything to avoid the whole truth. The little niggle of doubt grew a fraction. "Gideon was worried about me. And after hearing about Jack, I didn’t want to be alone. So since you weren’t here, I agreed to go home with him."
"Of course you did." He started to say something else and then clearly thought better of it, instead leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "So what happened?"
"We interrupted someone in the process of trashing Gideon’s loft. In his struggle to escape, the intruder shoved me into a wall." She raised her hand to her head. "I was lucky really; the man took a shot at Gideon and clipped Bailey."
"Christ, Emily, you could have been killed."
"But I wasn’t. Gideon made sure that I was okay."
"So did he catch the man?"
"No. He got away. Although I’m sure Gideon and his team will be looking for him. Not to mention the police."
"The police were there?" The alarm on her father’s face was almost comical. Except that it wasn’t.
"Gideon thought they were coming. But he insisted I get out before they arrived."
"Thank God."
"Doesn’t it bother you at all that I’m sitting on information that might help the police?"
"And incriminate you for something you had no control over. So, no. It doesn’t bother me. At least on this one thing, Gideon and I agree. All that really matters is that you’re protected. Did you get a look at him? The intruder, I mean?"
"No. It was dark. It all happened really fast."
Her father rose and walked across the room to pour himself a scotch. "Drink?" he asked, almost as an afterthought.
"No, I’m fine. Really. Just tired."
"And Gideon?" he asked, ignoring her plea. "You said he was shot?"
"Just a graze. He’s fine." She paused, shuddering as her mind replayed the moment when she’d heard gunshots. The sheer terror that had clawed through her at the thought that Gideon might be injured or worse. "Not that you care about that."
"Look, I’m not going to pretend I like the bastard. And I like it even less that he managed somehow to drag you into more danger."
"It was hardly his fault that someone broke into his apartment."
"Did the intruder take anything?"
"I don’t think he was a run of the mill burglar, if that’s what you’re asking. The place was tossed, but nothing of value was taken. They think he was looking for something specific."
"They?" Her father downed the whisky and poured another.
"Gideon and his partners. You remember Declan and Ryder."
"Of course. They’re not easy men to forget. So are they thinking there’s a connection between the break-in and Wetherston’s death?"
"That and possibly Tom Irwin. And of course me. Somehow I seem to be the epicenter for all of this." Suddenly the whole thing seemed too much to bear. First Irwin, then Jack and if it hadn’t been for Gideon, well, she’d probably be dead as well.
Her father sat down beside her, his hands covering hers. "Honey, I’m sorry all of this is happening. You have to know that I’d make it all go away if only I could. I love you. And I can’t stand the idea that you’ve
been hurt."
She stared down at their hands, thinking how many times they’d sat just like this while he’d sworn to take all life’s various pains away. One thing she believed with all of her heart—her father loved her.
But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t addressed Jack’s accusation that Tom Irwin had been blackmailing him. He simply danced around it. Changed the subject. God knew she didn’t want it to be true. But her father hadn’t denied it.
And if he was being blackmailed, then that gave him a motive for murder.
*****
GIDEON STOOD ON HIS balcony watching the traffic below. Even at this hour the city was teeming with life. A taxi honked at a guy on a bike with pizzas strapped behind him. The dude swerved and the taxi driver surged forward, only to be boxed in by a large truck and a limo.
On the corner, a frustrated man was trying to convince his two bulldogs that going for a walk actually entailed moving their feet. The dogs, completely unimpressed, held their positions. Across the way, under the striped awning of a now-closed flower shop, a couple kissed passionately, their bodies entwined as they drank from each other.
Memories flashed with a heated intensity that threatened to unman him. He and Emily under a similar awning or in a secluded corner of Central Park. Hell, even once on a subway platform. They hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of each other. He closed his eyes, remembering the satiny smoothness of her skin. The sultry taste of her kisses. Her soft whimpers. And the seductive smell of her lustrous blond hair.
He shifted uncomfortably, his body reacting to his sensory recollections. He wanted her as much today as he had all those years ago. Or at least he wanted what they’d had. What they’d been. Before his world had come crumbling down around his ears. His mother had always warned him that it never paid to reach above oneself. Back then he hadn’t listened. He hadn’t believed. And now…well, now he’d made certain that no one would ever have the power to bring him to his knees again.
But that didn’t change the fact that he’d never truly forgotten what it had felt like to hold Emily. To caress her. To feel her body embrace his as he moved inside her. He’d never forgotten what it felt like to love her.
He would have given her anything.
But in the end, she’d been the one to walk away. Choosing to believe her father. Refusing even to listen to his side of the story.
Clearly his mother had been right. He’d never belong in her world. And no matter what he had to offer, Emily would never be willing to leave it behind. Or more specifically, she’d never leave her father.
"You should tell her."
Gideon swung around to face Ryder, who leaned against an iron pillar. The rest of the loft was empty. "Where did everyone go?"
"They’ve finished." His friend shrugged. "At least for now. You were so engrossed in your thoughts you didn’t notice them leaving."
"Declan, too?"
"Nah, he just walked downstairs with Ceraso. Wanted to be sure our old friend was satisfied with everything we told him."
"Or everything we didn’t." Gideon walked over to the table that served as a bar. Miraculously, it had withstood the intruder’s destructive search, more or less intact. "Drink?"
Ryder nodded and moved across the room to accept the glass of whiskey Gideon offered. He poured himself some and swallowed it in two sips.
"Rough night." Ryder bent down to replace a ripped cushion on the sofa and then, ignoring the scattered feathers, took a seat.
"An understatement." Gideon filled his glass a second time and took a seat across from his friend. "I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the sight of that bastard manhandling Emily. Christ, Ryder, she could have been killed."
"So could you." Ryder watched him over the top of his glass, his gaze contemplative. "I meant what I said before. You should tell her."
"And I didn’t answer you for a reason." He shot a pointed look in Ryder’s direction and then swallowed half of the whiskey, heat spreading across his chest.
"Fine. Then I say we just wash our hands of this whole thing. Whatever the hell is going on, it doesn’t have anything to do with us. And I for one am not all that interested in getting in bed with Blake Masterson again."
"We’re not taking on Masterson. We’re just helping Emily."
"So you care enough about her to jump into the middle of her mess, but not enough to tell her the truth about what happened tonight."
He fought off a wave of irritation. Ryder was the one who had railed against Emily the most. And now suddenly he was her defender? "Other than the fact that someone broke in here, we don’t know what the hell happened here tonight."
"Yeah, but I’d give good odds that it’s somehow tied to your reappearance in Emily’s life," Declan said as he strolled through the front door and headed straight for the bottle of bourbon. "You can’t believe for a second that Masterson has mellowed with age."
"No. But he’s got no reason to believe I’m a threat to his daughter anymore."
"Oh really?" Ryder’s eyebrows shot up. "Have you seen the two of you together?"
"Incendiary," Declan said, propping himself against a window sill and taking a long sip of his drink.
"You guys sound like a bunch of adolescent girls."
"Just calling it the way I see it." Declan shrugged.
"So what did Ceraso have to say?" Gideon asked, hoping to change the subject.
"Nothing much. I think he knows that there’s more going on than we’re saying, but at least for now he doesn’t have a clue as to what it is. Still, he’ll keep poking."
"I wouldn’t expect anything less. He’s damn good at what he does." Gideon leaned back in his chair and took another sip of whiskey.
"So are we," Ryder replied. "But we can’t protect Emily forever. Sooner or later it’s all going to come out."
"Hopefully, after we can prove who is behind all of this." He let out a sigh, wishing to hell things weren’t so damned complicated.
"And if it’s Blake Masterson?" Declan asked. "What then?"
"We throw the bastard to the wolves." If only it were that simple.
"That’s not what I meant and you know it. What about Emily?"
He clenched his fist around his glass, wishing suddenly that his friends would bugger the hell off. "You guys are suddenly awfully concerned with a woman you’ve both been warning me to stay clear of."
"We want what’s best for you," Declan said.
Ryder blew out a breath and then stood up to pour himself another drink. "And maybe I was wrong about Emily."
"Holy shit. That’s a first." Declan snorted. "Ryder admitting he’s wrong."
"Yeah, well, I’m loyal to a fault, but not perfect. And I’m not saying it’s all smooth sailing. I’m just admitting that maybe she isn’t the bitch I wrote her off as."
"Which brings us back to telling her." Declan’s expression turned serious. "If she wasn’t a party to her father’s schemes, then that means he lied to her too. She deserves the truth. Especially if we’re right and Masterson is up to his neck in all of this."
"It’s too late. And besides, even if I did tell her, it wouldn’t change anything. I’d be destroying her family. How the hell is she supposed to react to that?"
"You won’t know unless you give her the chance." Ryder’s eyes narrowed as he shot a glance around the room. "All you have to do is show her the papers."
The papers consisted of photos and documents that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was in fact Masterson who’d made the deal for terrorist oil. There was also a secondary set of papers that proved Gideon could not have been a part of any of it. It was the latter information that had set him free. The other—the part that incriminated Masterson—he’d chosen not to use.
For Emily’s sake.
"The proof, if it still exists, is with Charlie. Once I was free, I didn’t see any need to keep any of it. It wasn’t like I was going to use it."
"Which only proves my point. You still
care about Emily. And if she didn’t have anything to do with her father’s manipulations then she didn’t betray you."
"She didn’t believe in me either. If you’ll recall she cut me off cold. She wouldn’t even talk to me."
"Because her bastard father turned her against you."
"Which is hardly evidence of love and commitment." He put down his glass, suddenly feeling the full weight of the events of the last few days. "Look, I appreciate you both for caring. But what I do or don’t tell Emily is my business. And as far as I’m concerned the past is over and buried. And there’s nothing to be gained from resurrecting it."
"Yeah, well, famous last words and all that," Declan said, pushing to his feet. "Despite the hour, I’m heading back to the office. You clowns coming?"
"Right behind you," Ryder said before turning back to face Gideon. "Look, I know this is none of my business." Gideon opened his mouth but Ryder waved him silent. "And I know that you think you’re doing the right thing. But for what it’s worth, there’s still something powerful going on between the two of you. And if it was me in the same position, I’d do anything it took to make things right. Starting with outing her father."
"Well, it’s not you." Gideon crossed his arms, fighting against the urge to slam his fist into something.
"I know. That’s the point. The connection you guys have—it’s not the kind of thing that comes along every day. Hell, I’d give anything if someone looked at me the way Emily looks at you. And the idea that you’ve been given a second chance and you’re just going to throw it away? Well, that’s fucking crazy."
CHAPTER 16
ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH was packed. Standing room only. The elite sat in front. Emily and her father on the fifth row. Reporters were crammed in the back, even though there were no cameras allowed.
Colored light from the stained glass chancel window spread out across the floor, illuminating the coffin in a wash of blue, red and gold, as if, even at the last, Tom Irwin had been hailed the anointed one. Emily tried and failed to control a shudder. Her father shot her a look from the corner of his eye, annoyance tightening the corners of his mouth. She’d been taught from the earliest age to keep her feelings buried. It was an inbred Masterson trait. But today she seemed to have lost the touch.
