The words fell into the silence like stones, and Gideon wanted to pick each one up and hurl them back.
He’s right. Maybe giving her space is the answer, let her do her own thing.
Sure, that might be the answer, but right now, given the situation, it was a shitty one. Zoe needed protection. That had been his job ever since she was six years old, and he wasn’t giving it up now just because she had an inconvenient crush on him. Maybe he’d reconsider after the Novak threat was gone, but until then, it was going to stay as is.
“Butt out,” he said flatly, twisting hard on the wrench again. “Zoe and I will sort it out ourselves, okay?”
Levi shrugged. “Just remember you want to do what’s best for her, not what’s best for you.”
Oh, fuck no. That was below the belt.
Gideon looked up, giving the other man a hard stare, ignoring the painful place he’d hit. “I said butt the fuck out, Levi. I know what’s best for her, not you. Understand?”
Levi held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything. It was just a statement.” But the look in his eyes was skeptical, as if he thought Gideon’s protests were bullshit.
Of course they’re bullshit.
Jesus, now he wanted to tell Levi that in fact the whole reason he was taking Zoe out was for her. Because finding her a lover wasn’t exactly his idea of a great night out.
But he stayed silent. He wasn’t going to justify himself to anyone. For ten years he’d protected her and if that didn’t prove he only had Zoe’s best interests at heart, then he didn’t know what did.
Besides, he didn’t want a fight, not now.
“Then how about you take your statements elsewhere,” he muttered, looking back at the engine. “I got a bike that needs fixing.”
Chapter 6
Zoe sat on one of the barstools watching the heaving Saturday night crowd at Anonymous. The dance floor was even more packed than it had been a few nights ago, nothing but a wall of writhing bodies.
She really hoped no one was going to ask her to dance because she didn’t think they could physically fit any more people on there.
“See anyone interesting?”
Gideon’s deep, rough voice was loud in her ear, and she had to repress the usual shiver that went down her spine at the sound of it.
Somehow it had gotten even worse after that thing in her bedroom last Sunday, which would have worried her if she hadn’t been here, looking for something that the club already was starting to get a reputation for.
They didn’t call it Anonymous for nothing; hookups were what it was all about.
The awkwardness she felt around Gideon now was reaching record levels, and she didn’t think she’d be able to stand it for too much longer. The thought of spending God knows how long stuck in the apartment with him was hideous, and the fact that he didn’t seem to find it a problem only made things worse.
“No,” she shouted back, since the noise made talking normally next to impossible.
It was kind of disappointing. She hadn’t gotten anyone’s attention either, which was also disappointing. She’d been hoping Rachel’s skirt and lacy top, her gold bra and motorcycle boots would have been the perfect combination of tough yet unbearably sexy and impossible for any guy to resist.
Apparently, though, plenty of guys had been able to resist.
Gideon didn’t even look twice at you.
She scowled at the crowd in front of her. No, her big entrance had been a bust. She’d nervously sidled out of her bedroom as he’d waited in the hallway for her, but apart from an expressionless once-over, he hadn’t even blinked at her outfit.
It had made her stomach lurch. Made her feel like going straight back into her bedroom and changing.
He, on the other hand, looked to die for all in black. Black T-shirt, black jeans. Heavy black boots. Radiating a tough menace that he didn’t have to work at to project, unlike so many of the other guys. That menace, that rough danger, it was a part of him. It was innate. It was also as hot as hell.
She tried not to look at him, since when she did the thought of finding someone else she wanted as much seemed an impossible task. Especially when a lock of black hair had fallen forward over his forehead, making her want to push it back. He’d muttered something about a haircut a week or so back and she’d told him it was fine. Meaning she loved his hair a little shaggy.
It reminded her of when she’d first met him back when she’d come to live with her first foster family. She’d been scared and he’d seemed so intimidating. Until he’d said, “Hi, Zoe. I’m Gideon. Pleased to meet you.” Then he’d held out his hand, his black eyes gazing directly at her, and she’d felt, for the first time ever, as if someone was actually talking directly to her instead of about her.
She still remembered the feel of his warm fingers enveloping her much smaller hand as they’d shaken on it.
A handshake and pancakes. That was all it had taken for her to decide that Gideon Black was her friend and he always would be. That was fine back then, but she wanted more than friendship from him now.
“You should dance,” he said. “Get in the crowd.”
“I don’t really want to dance. In fact, I hate dancing.”
“Well, sitting here isn’t drawing any attention to you.”
Yeah, and he wasn’t helping.
He was sitting on the stool next to hers, leaning back against the bar with his arm outstretched behind her, making it look like she was his. And even though she liked that very much, it wasn’t exactly sending out I’m single signals.
If she was going to find herself a hookup, she was going to have to ditch Gideon.
She turned, reaching for the frozen margarita—not blackberry this time—sitting on the bar top. “I’m going to go sit somewhere else.”
He frowned. “What?”
“You leaning over me like a jealous boyfriend doesn’t help, Gideon.”
His brows lowered even more, making him look dark and saturnine and even hotter than normal. “I’m not leaning over you like a jealous boyfriend.”
She didn’t bother to reply to that, merely glancing at the arm he’d stretched along the bar behind her.
His mouth hardened, and for a second she thought he wasn’t going to do anything about it. But then, slowly, he removed the offending arm and sat up on his barstool. “There. Happy?”
“No. You’re still right there.”
He stared at her. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, if that’s what you’re thinking. Not when I can’t be certain some contact of Novak’s isn’t hanging around here looking for you.”
Ah yes, that stupid Novak threat.
Perhaps it’s not stupid. Perhaps he’s right to be concerned. Ever think of that?
Zoe shoved the thought away. “Well, can’t you not let me out of your sight a little farther away?”
He gave her another long look, then got off the stool and held out his hand. “Come and dance with me.”
She eyed the proffered hand. “But I don’t want to dance.”
Muttering something she didn’t catch, Gideon reached out, took the margarita out of her hand, and put it back on the bar before she had a chance to protest. Then he laced his fingers through hers and pulled her off the barstool, leading her into the heaving crowd of dancing bodies.
Zoe resisted the urge to dig in her heels since obviously doing so wouldn’t get her any more attention than sitting on the barstool had. Still, she wasn’t a fan of dancing. Then again, if she was dancing with Gideon then that might make it worthwhile.
You’re supposed to be moving on, not thinking about Gideon all the time.
Good point. She really needed to find someone who would grab her attention, though, and so far that hadn’t happened.
Music thumped in her ear, bright lights and neon flickering over the crowd, shining on sweat-slick skin and glinting off jewelry and sequins. It was hot, nearly suffocating. People hemmed her in on either side, forci
ng her to move with them or else she’d stumble and probably fall.
Then Gideon’s hands were on her hips, pulling her close, holding her up. Her breath caught, her mouth going dry as the heat of his body pressed suddenly against her.
She tipped her head back to look at him, but his attention wasn’t on her. He was gazing around at the rest of the crowd, his rough, handsome face set in hard lines, like a soldier scanning the area for threats. It made him look dangerous, made her heart turn over inside her chest.
This was not going the way she’d hoped, not at all. But that was her fault. She’d stayed too close to him all evening, because staying close to Gideon was her default position. It made her feel protected, safe. It was also easy.
Getting away from him now would be stupid if what he’d said about Novak and the threat her supposed father presented was true, but she didn’t believe it was. Not when he didn’t have any proof and refused to discuss it.
And that didn’t leave her with many options. Because if he was serious about keeping her chained to the apartment, it meant that tonight was going to be her only chance to find a guy who could help her with her virginity problem. Yet she couldn’t do that with Gideon looming over her like a dragon over its hoard.
If she was going to move on from him, she had to stop settling for safe and easy.
Zoe reached down and pushed his hands off her.
That got his attention. He glanced down at her, his brows lowering even more.
It was too crowded and loud to have a discussion or offer him any explanations, so she didn’t say a word. She merely grinned, and before he could respond, turned and slipped through a gap in the dancing bodies.
Half of her hoped for a hand on her elbow or an arm around her waist, pulling her back to him, but then she heard some woman yell, “Gideon!” from behind her and she knew that wasn’t going to be happening.
She didn’t turn, sidling through the dancers until she found a space for herself. There were a couple of attractive guys nearby and one of them, tall, dark, and handsome, just the way she liked, smiled at her.
Okay. It was time to get this devirginizing show on the road.
* * *
As Zoe disappeared into the throng of dancers, someone called Gideon’s name and a pair of slender arms slid around his waist. Irritated, he almost pushed them away, every instinct he had urging him to go after Zoe. Which was a stupid idea since it was unlikely anything would happen to her inside the club.
He’d already done a scan of the whole place and hadn’t spotted any of the shady types whose presence usually meant some criminal underground business was going down. That could mean nothing, though. He hadn’t been part of that scene for a long time, and keeping tabs on it from his garage wasn’t the same as actually being in the thick of it. He had his contacts, of course, and they kept him up-to-date with what was really going on in the city, but there were a lot of new faces in town.
If Novak wanted Zoe, there were plenty of ways to get her, hired muscle being one of them. Again, something that Gideon would know all about since Gideon had once been that hired muscle, back when he’d been a lost teenager burning with anger at the death of his mother. And a murderer for a father. When the only thing that mattered was getting enough money to carve a life for himself, have something that was his any way he could get it. And if someone got hurt along the way, that was too bad.
Novak had been a gift from the gods, offering him more money than he could ever make in six months of doing the building laborer’s jobs that were the only legal work he could get. So he’d done the things the guy asked of him, become his enforcer, supplementing that with money from the illegal street fights he sometimes took on to hone his physical skills.
He’d never questioned whether what he was doing was the right thing, because right and wrong hadn’t mattered to him back then. He was the son of a prostitute who’d been murdered by the man who was supposed to love her, and there was nothing right about that so why bother worrying about it? Look after number one because no one else sure as hell was going to, that was the most important rule he’d learned.
Until Zoe. Until she’d shown him that there were other important things too. That people mattered.
So let her go. There’s no threat here. You’re overreacting.
“Gideon,” the woman whispered huskily in his ear, the arms around him tightening. “I’ve been wondering where you’d gotten to. What are you doing here? I didn’t think you liked nightclubs.”
Cursing under his breath, Gideon turned around, meeting the woman’s familiar blue eyes.
It was Tori, the woman he’d been seeing off and on for the past few months—or rather, having sex with off and on since he didn’t do relationships. She was small and curvy and sensual, dark hair piled on top of her head, her hips moving in time with the music. Her wide mouth was turned up in a suggestive smile and there was definite interest on her lovely face.
Hell. Zoe could get some and so could you.
Except suddenly he didn’t have any interest in dancing.
Still, he liked Tori and there was no need to be rude, so he slid an arm around her, bringing her up close so they didn’t get in the way of the other dancers. Her body was very warm and she smelled good, and yet for some reason his dick just wasn’t interested. “I don’t like nightclubs,” he said. “But Zoe does.”
Tori put her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing up against his chest. “So you’re here on guard dog duty? That’s a shame. She’s a big girl, though, she can look after herself, can’t she?”
It was too noisy and there were too many people, and he couldn’t see where Zoe had gotten to. His irritation wound tighter. “Come on,” he said shortly, letting Tori go. “I’ll buy you a drink. Can’t talk here.”
She seemed quite happy with that, following him off the dance floor and back over to the bar, where he bought her a glass of wine and found them some seats at a table that gave them a good view of the dancers.
Couldn’t spot Zoe, though.
“When are you coming to see me again?” Tori asked, crossing her legs so the hem of her little black dress rode up her thighs. “I missed you.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair, watching the dance floor over Tori’s shoulder. “Was thinking of calling you this week, actually. You free?”
She gave him a smile. “For you, baby, I’m free anytime.”
The crowd behind her swirled, flashing lights illuminating faces and skin and teeth. The music was a deep vibration in his chest, making him feel restless and on edge.
He really didn’t like this place. Didn’t like that he couldn’t see Zoe. And just because he hadn’t spotted any familiar faces didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“Gideon?” Tori was looking at him, clearly expecting some interaction, which was a pain in the fucking butt when he had other, more important things on his mind. But clearly Tori already knew what was on his mind, because she said, “She’s not a toddler. You don’t have to keep her in eyesight all the time, you know that, right?”
Except Tori didn’t know what Zoe was here for. It wasn’t only a dance and a good time. It was to find a man to screw.
Gideon tried to make himself smile, pretend it was all cool. “Yeah, but you know me. I like to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she’s okay.” Tori sipped at her wine. “And I’d rather be talking about us.”
“There is no us, Tori. Remember? Fuck buddies only.”
“Sure. And it’s the fuck in fuck buddies that I’m worried about. We’re in danger of becoming just buddies, and no one wants that.”
The lights on the dance floor changed, bright light pulsing in time to the beat, and he saw Zoe all of a sudden. She was dancing with two men, one right in front of her, while a second was pressed against her back. The guy in the front was holding her by the hips, while the guy at her back had his hands on her bare thighs. She had her head tipped back, her palms flat against the chest of the man in f
ront of her, and her eyes were closed. She was smiling, a full-on sensual smile that hit him in the center of his chest like a speeding train.
His breath caught, a sudden and violent rage filling him. That someone else’s hands were on her smooth skin, touching her as though she were his.
She’s not theirs. She’s yours and she always has been.
When she’d come out of her bedroom earlier that evening, he’d almost ordered her back inside to go change. Her skirt was so fucking short it was more like a bandage than anything else, and the black lace top she wore was completely see-through. That she was wearing a pretty gold bra that cupped her little tits beautifully made no difference. In fact, if anything, it only drew attention to them.
It was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have had any reaction at all to what she was wearing because he never had before. Yet tonight, he found he was definitely having a reaction. It pissed him off.
He’d said nothing earlier, hoping that if he didn’t make a big deal out of it then it wouldn’t be, but right now, it was a fucking big deal. All those guys had to do was push her skirt up, take her top off, and she’d be on the dance floor in her panties and bra, and nothing else.
For everyone to see.
A deep surge of possessiveness went through him, the kind of raw, basic need he’d thought he’d put behind him a long time ago, and he started pushing himself out of his seat, responding to that need before he’d had a chance to think about it.
And then he froze, noticing something else. Both men had tattoos at the base of their necks. Tattoos Gideon recognized. Three stars for three brothers, the sign of a Russian gang Gideon knew for a fact had dealings with Novak.
Fuck.
How had he missed spotting them?
“Gideon? Are you okay?”
Tori was looking at him, wide-eyed, and he realized he was half out of his seat, clutching the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled grip. “I’m fine,” he forced out.
But he wasn’t fine. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to hurl himself into the crowd to get to Zoe. Pull those bastards off her and then blow them the fuck away before they hurt her.
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