by Dee Davis
Except for the tattoo. They’d checked the police database and found nothing. Which either meant the guy didn’t have a record, or hadn’t had the tat the last time he’d been in the system. So far no one Declan had questioned recognized the tattoo, but there were still people on the list. Which meant there was a chance.
And of course he needed to show it to Emily. See if she recognized it. But first he had to find her. The breeze lifted his hair as a flicker of light in the corner of his eye pulled his attention from the street. Mrs. McNamara was at the window—watching. He lifted a hand and considered giving up.
Maybe Emily had holed up somewhere else for the night.
He’d called Jules, but she hadn’t been very forthcoming. Only said she’d tell Emily he’d called. Not that he blamed her. The two of them had never gotten along. Her help at the funeral had been an aberration. Jules had never trusted him. Still didn’t, if her attitude was any indication. And maybe in some ways she was right.
A car slowed in front of the building, an Uber sign in the window.
He surged to his feet, hands in his pockets, feeling all of sixteen as his heart rate ratcheted up. The door swung open and Bailey bounded from the car, barking enthusiastically as he dashed up the stairs, tail wagging. Gideon bent to scratch behind the dog’s ears, then straightened as his mistress stepped out of the car.
For a moment the lamplight illuminated her face and his breath caught. Even with shadows under her eyes and a twist of sorrow around the edges of her mouth she was beautiful.
She stopped on the sidewalk, sucking in a breath as she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin—girding herself for battle.
"Gideon."
There was a wealth of emotion in just the sound of his name. Her pain cut at him. And he wished Ryder to hell for about the thousandth time since his friend had dropped his bombshell.
Bailey, confused, moved down the steps again to stand beside Emily, his big body leaning protectively against her legs, her long, elegant fingers tangling in the dog’s soft hair. Gideon fought against an idiotic wave of jealousy.
"What are you doing here?"
It was a blinding glimpse of the obvious surely, but he answered anyway. "Waiting for you. We need to talk." He pulled his hands from his pockets and lifted them in entreaty. "Please."
For a moment he thought she was going to say no. Her expression remained shuttered, and she seemed frozen on the sidewalk, holding onto her dog. But then with a long sigh, she took a step toward him. "Fine. Come inside. People can hear us out here." She nodded toward Mrs. McNamara’s windows just as the lace curtain fell back into place.
She climbed the steps, brushing against him as she passed, the smell of her perfume making his groin tighten. It was everything he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms. To try and take away the pain that he knew was eating at her. She worshipped her father. And if she believed even part of what was written in those documents, she’d never be able to see him the same way again.
Gideon knew that he shouldn’t care. Blake Masterson had made his own fucking bed. And hell, push come to shove, Emily had believed every word he’d dished out. Believed the worst of Gideon. There was even a chance she had been a part of the duplicity. Ryder had always thought so. But even as he had the thought, he dismissed it. She might not have loved him enough to doubt her father, but she’d never have been party to Blake’s manipulations.
Whatever the real truth, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her any more than he already had. Not ten years ago. And not now. And yet, it had happened regardless. His best intentions coming to nothing. Thanks to Ryder.
"It wasn’t his fault," she said as she led him down the hallway into the kitchen. She’d always been able to read his thoughts. "Ryder honestly believed he was doing the right thing in giving me the papers."
"That doesn’t mean it was the right thing."
She opened the pantry and pulled out a bag of dog food, filling a large bowl for Bailey. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
He felt his tension ease just a little bit. She hadn’t asked if it was true.
"It wasn’t like I could pick up the phone. I was stuck in a cell in Rikers."
Their gazes collided and she lifted a shaking hand to her face. "I should have come to see you. It’s just that my father—"
"Lied to you. I know, he lied to me too."
She swallowed, and then pulled a couple of wine glasses from the cabinet. "You have to understand that he had documents. Convincing ones."
He took a bottle of wine from the bin on the end of the countertop and opened it. "Enough that you didn’t even want to hear my side?"
"He told me that you confessed. And that you didn’t want to see me." She held up a hand. "I know it’s not an excuse, but at the time, I didn’t know what to think. It was all over the news. And every time I walked out of the apartment someone was shoving a microphone in my face. It was awful."
"Yeah, well, it wasn’t so great for me either." He poured wine in the glasses and handed one to her.
"God, I really am a princess." She ran a hand through her hair, disgust washing across her face.
"Beg pardon?" He frowned as he followed her into the living room, sitting in the chair adjacent to where she perched on the sofa.
"Jules said that I was a princess. And that the world is just waiting for me to fall on my ass. Banking on it actually."
"Jules is a fool."
"No." Emily shook her head. "She’s not. She’s right. At least a little bit. I should have been stronger. I shouldn’t have let my father tell me what to do. God, this is all so messed up."
"Maybe it will help if I tell you my side of it?"
She nodded and took a sip of wine, Bailey curling up at her feet.
"I knew your father was walking the edge with a couple of his business deals. I wasn’t meant to know about them, but I heard talk and once or twice I got a glimpse of files I wasn’t supposed to see." He paused, watching her for a moment, wishing to hell that they weren’t sitting across such a damn big divide.
"Daddy has always been ruthless in his business dealings. And I’d be lying if I said that I believed everything he did was always on the up and up."
"Well, the oil deals in the Middle East were far from honest. But I didn’t know about them then, I swear it. Only, as it turns out, the Feds were aware. And they had men watching transactions."
"But if they knew about my father’s deals…" She trailed off, frowning, and then comprehension dawned. "Oh my God. That’s why he framed you. He knew they were on to him, and he needed a way out."
Gideon shrugged. "Two birds, one stone."
The fingers of her left hand tightened on the arm of the sofa, her knuckles turning white. "He told me that you betrayed him. He had proof, Gideon. He showed it to me. I read every word."
"And believed I’d betrayed you. Betrayed us."
"There was no word at all from you. I know you were in jail, but surely Ryder or Declan or someone could have come to me. What was I supposed to think?"
"Ryder thought you were a part of it."
She blanched. "Then why did he…"
"He doesn’t think that anymore."
"I see. And you? What do you believe?"
"I never thought you were part of it. I just knew that you’d believe your father."
"Well, you weren’t wrong." Bitterness colored her words. "So what happened? The authorities thought you were behind the illicit sales and they indicted you. But then suddenly you were free."
"Charlie."
"Ryder told me. But I thought… I believed that your Charlie was my father."
"Why the hell would he set me free?"
She sighed. "Because I asked him to. I didn’t understand that the Feds were involved. He made me believe it was all up to him. And so I asked him to let you go."
Clearly the goddamned bastard had played her. Gideon clenched a fist, wishing he could slam it into Blake Masterson’s sanctimonious face. "But ther
e was a price."
"Yes." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "He made me swear I’d never see you again. That I wouldn’t even try to contact you. And then a day or so later I heard about your release." She paused, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "You have to know that I never wanted you to suffer. Even in the face of what I thought was your betrayal, I didn’t want to see you hurt."
"Didn’t it seem a little suspicious that it only took a day?" He tried but couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. Blake Masterson had so much to answer for.
She flinched as if he’d hit her, and he reached out to her, but forced himself to drop his hand.
"I should have known better," she said, her voice heavy with regret. "He’d found out about Charlie, hadn’t he? That Charlie had given you the evidence you needed to get the charges dropped. Jules was right—my father played me. How could I have been so blind?"
This time he allowed himself to cover her hands with his. Despite how much it hurt, he did understand why she’d done what she did. "He’s your father. You had no reason to believe he’d lie like that."
"But I knew he was manipulative. He always insisted that my mother and I do as he directed. For the good of the family, he’d say. We had to preserve our image. But it wasn’t ever about us, was it? Only us in so far as we were an extension of him."
They sat in silence, the soft sound of Bailey snoring giving the moment a false sense of normalcy.
She pulled her hands free and sat back. "There’s still one thing I don’t understand. I asked Ryder, but he said to ask you. So tell me, Gideon, after everything my father did to you, why didn’t you use the evidence you had against him?"
"That’s easy." He shrugged, the gesture at odds with the thumping of his heart. "You."
"Me? I don’t understand."
"If I’d given them all the evidence, your father would have been destroyed. And in doing that, I’d have destroyed you, too."
She shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. "But I sided with my father. You said yourself that Ryder believed I was in on it. Some part of you had to have believed it was possible. With those papers you could have had your revenge."
"That’s the interesting thing about Charlie—whoever the hell he really is. He gave me a choice. Take the high road, clear my name and walk away without taking out your father or use everything he gave me and, as you said, exact revenge. But in the end, I found that I didn’t have a taste for it. Especially not if it hurt you in the process."
Tears were falling in earnest now. He reached over to wipe them away, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he cupped her face.
"I’m so sorry," she whispered. "For everything. None of it would have happened if you hadn’t met me."
"Oh, Em." He captured her gaze with his. "I’ve never—not even for a moment—wished that I hadn’t met you."
Her lips curved up at the corners, a tremulous attempt at a smile. "I have been so selfish. Even now, when I needed you, I called you without even stopping to consider the ramifications. And you came, without any hesitation at all, you just came."
"Always."
Unable to stop himself, he pulled her into his arms, his mouth capturing hers, her lips soft and warm, her tears salty against his tongue. He didn’t pretend that they’d solved all their problems. The gulf between them still loomed large. And he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the bridge they’d just built was strong enough to support them.
But for the moment at least they were together, and she was here in his arms. And for now, it would simply have to be enough.
CHAPTER 20
EMILY RELISHED THE FEEL of Gideon’s touch. His hands framed her face, his calloused fingers warm against her skin. His lips caressed hers, teasing, tasting. It was a gentle touch, almost reverent, but there was an underlying passion that shot through her like an electric current.
The heat of his body radiated through the cotton of his shirt and she flattened her palms against his chest, the feel of his beating heart at once both enticing and comforting. How many nights had she lain in bed dreaming of him holding her like this? His mouth, his hands, his body moving deep inside her.
Her mind screamed that this was a mistake, that tomorrow there would be repercussions, but at the moment her heart didn’t care. This was Gideon. Her Gideon. And despite the pain they’d caused each other, they were here—now—and she could no more turn him away than she could stop breathing.
His hands slid to the back of her neck, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opened for him—welcoming. Their tongues danced together—the taste of him arousing. It was like coming home after a long journey, the welcome so very sweet.
He feathered kisses along the side of her cheek, tugging at her earlobe and then tracing a path down the tender skin along her neck. She shivered with need and anticipation. His fingers circled her shoulder blades and then moved lower, caressing the small of her back and the curve of her hips.
"I want you, Em," he growled, his voice gruff with passion.
She hesitated for a second, fear threatening at the edge of her need.
"Emily?" He pulled back, eyes glittering, gold flecks swimming in all that green.
"I…I want you too." She breathed the words more than said them, but the tension in his face eased and he was kissing her again. She pressed closer, needing his heat. Needing him. Everything in her world had gone topsy-turvy. And maybe Jules was right. Maybe she was nothing but a selfish princess. But right now this princess wanted Gideon.
His lips found the hollow of her throat and she swallowed a moan as he kissed her open-mouthed, his breath hot against her skin. She pressed closer, the tight points of her nipples reacting through the layers of fabric. And then his hand was there, his fingers stroking—enticing. Heat ignited deep inside, threatening to undo her. Gideon had always been able to find the part of her she kept sealed away from others. He’d been able to breach the walls she’d erected without so much as a by-your-leave.
And she’d loved that about him.
His strength. His passion. His understanding.
Gideon reached her in a way no one else had ever even dared to try.
He unbuttoned her shirt and dipped his head, his lips closing around the lace of her bra to draw a nipple into his mouth, sucking and caressing. She arched her back, sliding her fingers into the soft silk of his dark hair.
Gideon brought her to life in a way no one else ever had—ever could. It was a frightening realization and yet somehow liberating all the same.
A soft canine whine reminded her that they were still in her living room. Not that it mattered, of course, but Bailey wasn’t exactly an impartial observer. If he couldn’t handle her taking a bath…
She pulled back, her heart threatening to break free of her ribcage. "Maybe we should take this upstairs?"
The fire in his eyes made her breath hitch. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Even with everything that still lay between them, he gave her the choice. Her heart swelled.
"I’m sure." She smiled up at him. "But I’m thinking we need to ditch the dog."
"We’re not locking him downstairs."
Despite the teasing tone of Gideon’s voice, Emily shivered. "Point taken. But I need you. Now."
His smile was slow and sure as he swung her up into his arms. In a few quick strides he’d reached the stairs and, with an emphatic look, he cautioned the dog. "Bailey—stay."
For a moment she saw rebellion in the lipid brown of her dog’s eyes.
"Stay," Gideon repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
Bailey whined softly, but dropped down at the foot of the stairs, clearly resigned to his new place in the pecking order.
"I’m impressed."
"Don’t be. He’s only trying to protect you. And if anyone understands that desire, I do. The two of us bonded over breaking through the basement door."
Emily pressed her cheek against his ches
t, the memory of how close she’d come to death sobering her in a way nothing else could have. "I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble."
They reached the landing and he strode into her bedroom as if he did it on a daily basis. "There’s no place I’d rather have been," he whispered, his breath hot against her cheek. "Bailey, too, I’ll wager. You seem to inspire that in your men."
"We’re back to the princess thing again." She felt a surge of guilt. Royalty was far from how she’d describe herself.
"All that matters is that tonight you belong to me," he said as he set her reverentially on the bed.
And all of the nights to follow, her heart whispered.
"Tonight we belong to each other," she replied, her gaze locking with his.
He straddled her, pushing her hair out of her face.
Below them a bark rang out.
"Bailey," Gideon warned.
Silence.
"He really listens to you." She hadn’t meant it to sound as if she were astounded. But then, in his entire life Bailey hadn’t demurred to anyone. Ever. Even her. "I truly am impressed."
"It’s a guy thing." His smile was a little bit wicked, and Emily felt herself clench deep inside. "Are you sure about this?" It was the second time he’d asked, and one of the things she loved most about him.
"I’ve never been more certain in my life." She opened her arms and he pulled her close, his hands and mouth caressing her.
Heedless of buttons, hooks and zippers, they pulled each other’s clothes off until they were skin to skin. Heart to heart. Souls bared in the most basic of ways. They’d always been like this. Connected on a level that she’d not even known existed. And nothing, it seemed, had changed.
His kisses were heated now, an urgency driving them forward. It was as if all the elapsed time was coalescing into this moment. This man.
"You make me crazy," he growled.
She moaned as he sucked her nipple into his mouth.
