by Nancy Gideon
They’d just entered the Quarter when Silas got the heads-up from LaRoche about where to find his sister. Nica dropped him off in front of the Shifter club, and there, Giles waited as his friend went in to brace the fiery dragon of temper. As much as he’d have liked to witness the showdown, Cheveux du Chien was one place Giles considered off limits.
But it wasn’t the fire-breathing dragon who came out some minutes later. It was the hollow-eyed specter who’d stared blankly at his back all the way up from the bayou.
Without a glance at him, she went to the rear door of the car and slid inside, not slumping like a chastened teen in the back of a police car at the scene of a DUI stop, but sitting ramrod-straight the way she might on a pew at a funeral.
His guilt roared back to life for his part in breaking her vibrant spirit.
He divided his time between watching the street and observing her in the rearview. Her gaze never lifted from her knitted fingers, where her knuckles ever whitened. Her quick, shallow breaths filled the luxury vehicle’s interior with panic and unspoken fears. He’d seen enough of both to know the symptoms, even when they were expertly hidden.
And then he saw her tender lower lip tremble.
Her head came up as he cut the car over onto the side of the road. She blankly watched him get out to circle around and yank open the rear door. “I’m not your damned chauffeur. Sit up in the front with me.”
His tone lit a flicker of defiance in her fatigue-bruised eyes. “What are you, then?”
He met that challenge with a soft rumble. “What do you want me to be?”
She stared up at him, at a loss, until he put out his hand. Hers slipped inside it so he could guide her out while traffic whizzed by them with the occasional blare of a horn.
Once he’d tucked her in with a quiet order to buckle up, he returned to ease the big car back into the flow of late-night drivers. And was instantly calmed by having her so close.
He’d had a lot of time to think about her actions. The shock of his mentor’s death had been too great at first for him to realize that Brigit had been right to keep it from him. What good would it have done for him to know at that critical point in time, when it was too late to do anything for them? He would have reacted carelessly and gotten them both killed. She’d done what she’d continued to do from the time they’d left New Orleans. She’d had his back and hadn’t abandoned it for a second. The image of her on that back porch, holding his pistol, sent a ripple of admiration shuddering through him. Then the feel of her hesitant touch upon his shoulder on the dock.
When he’d spat on her sympathy.
How many opportunities had he let slip by since that moment, chances to atone for his words, to rescind the unwarranted sting of his judgment? Too many to let another escape him.
“Bree?”
His use of Silas’s affectionate term brought her gaze up to his in question.
“I’m sorry—”
She winced and turned away. “Oh, please. No more apologies. I’ve had my fill of them for one night. No need to clear the air. I’m so over the whole thing.”
Then why the slight shake to her voice?
“If no apologies will be accepted, how about a thank-you?”
Again her gaze slid to him, this time cautiously. “For what?”
“Saving my life. My family’s lives.”
She gave a snort. “After I was the one who put all of you in danger? Gee, you’re welcome.”
There was that snap of sass he’d been missing. He almost smiled. “So,” he asked casually, “is it Silas’s ass I need to kick?”
Now he had her attention. “Why would you want to do that?”
“For making you think so little of yourself.”
She blinked, startled. Then she surprised him by laughing. “Silas is the most painfully honest person in the world. If his words hurt, the fault is never his.”
“It is if he never thinks to balance them with praise.”
She leaned back, smirking. “And what praises would he heap on me? Always so stylish? Such a flair for the dramatic? What a way with the witty comeback? Such fabulous taste in the wrong men? What a knack for bringing disaster to anyone she touches? Things like that?”
“There’s more to you if you’d let anyone else see it.”
“Advice from you?” She rolled her eyes. “Mr. ‘I’m not good enough to set foot in my own house because I’m a miserable piece of trash who didn’t satisfy everyone’s lofty expectations’? Pot, meet Kettle.”
“If you don’t want my advice, just say so.”
“I thought I just did.”
“If you don’t want me, just say so.”
Silence.
Giles risked a glance at her. Brigit was staring at him, her lips slightly parted, but no sound passed through them.
“I guess you just did,” he concluded, facing the road once again, this time with jaw squared and concentration fierce.
“Giles.”
Her soft, regretful tone delivered a swift kick to his gut. He tensed to take whatever might follow.
“Could we pull over somewhere?”
They were in the middle of nowhere, the long stretch of road dark and deserted. No place for a “So long, it’s been fun” cup of coffee. She’d be packing up her things and moving on now that the trouble with the Terriots was about finished. He knew that. Knew it but hadn’t accepted it. All over but the good-byes.
He spotted a roadside turnoff and took it, coasting up beside a lone picnic table angled for a view of the river. He turned off the engine and sat motionless behind the wheel.
“Giles?”
He didn’t turn, too busy steeling himself for the big kiss-off moment. He heard the click and recoil of her seat belt and the rustle of movement.
“Giles.”
As he turned toward her, Giles was surprised by how close she’d come. Her hand fitted to the side of his face. His breath hitched as she leaned over. Not to kiss him, as he’d hoped, but to rest her head on his shoulder. When he tried to take her into his arms, the shoulder belt and steering wheel conspired against him.
“Can we get out?” Her suggestion was the best he’d heard all night.
Cool, damp air blew in from the mist off the water. A full moon hung heavy in the night sky, lighting the area with a hazy glow. Giles pulled a wool stadium blanket from the trunk and spread it over the damp tabletop. Thoughts of tossing her down on it and making out like hormonal teens quickly scattered as he recalled the attempt on her life in Nevada. Probably not a very romantic move, considering. He helped her step up and sit down, then, instead of joining her, he settled on the seat below to keep himself out of trouble, letting her establish the pace. He gave her a push by asking, “What’s on your mind?”
Brigit lifted her face toward the heavens, giving him a choice view of her graceful throat. “Talk to me, Giles.”
If she’d said, “Talk dirty to me, Giles,” that would have been no great surprise. But her plea caught him off guard.
“You want conversation?”
She glared down at him. “To talk. You’re familiar with the practice?” She sighed in exasperation. “Why do men always assume there’s only one thing I use my mouth for?”
That image rang all his bells. He grinned to soothe her irritation. “I just didn’t think you wanted to hear anything I had to say.”
“You went to Harvard, for God’s sake. I assume that means you have a brain capable of original thought. Why did you let me think you went to some public university?”
He shrugged. “What difference does it make? It’s not like I got a degree.”
“You got in. Don’t you think that says something about you? I imagine you had a few highbrow conversations with your snooty peers.”
Oh, there’d been conversations. The minute he’d opened his mouth and that backwater accent came tumbling out, he’d been the object of merciless ridicule. His brain might have gotten him in, but his background had assured that he�
�d never fit in. His classmates made it painfully clear from the first day that he was not their peer. And for the first time in his life, he’d tried to hide what he’d been so proud of, by eradicating his drawl, by inventing reasons for his family not to visit, by squiring around a blue-blood girlfriend.
He should have told her those things. That because of his past, he understood hers. The sense of having to maintain a bold false face to hide a perceived personal disgrace. Her family had been called treasonous, according to what Silas had told him. Giles’s had been simply beneath notice.
He could have told her those things, but to do so would have insulted his family even more than his actions had. Instead, he pushed it away. “That’s in the past. It doesn’t say anything about who I am now.”
She leaned elbows on knees. “And who are you now? How did you go from honor student to hit man?”
“It wasn’t a terribly long or terribly interesting fall from grace.”
“I’m interested.”
He slid a look at her. She seemed attentive, without any trace of mockery. Still, all he would say was “I didn’t think about it one way or another.”
How could he feel any greater horror than knowing he was capable of chopping a man into fish bait with a slow, methodical relish? A man who’d only been following orders. A man who’d fired the shot that killed his father without anger, without remorse, because it had been his job. Nothing after that moment had managed to touch him with any significance. He didn’t think about it. He didn’t feel anything. He just did as he was told and went from day to day not caring if it would be his last. He hadn’t hated or resented Jimmy Legere for taking advantage of his youth, for ruining his future. He’d despised himself for giving it away with such little thought. For nothing except a misguided ideal. Hindsight was a bitch.
“So, what made you stop and think again?”
That question, too, was unexpected. What had woken him from those years of obedient stupor?
“Max. Seeing Max throw off everything he’d been raised to believe.”
“Why did he do that? For what reason?”
“To belong instead of just follow.” He shrugged. “For the love of something greater than himself. He put out his hand as my friend and invited me to think for myself. I’d almost forgotten how.”
“And that makes you what?”
Talk about himself wasn’t exactly where he cared to have the conversation take them. “A lucky sap sharing the moonlight with the most gorgeous creature alive.”
She made a disparaging sound. “Lucky you. Boldly going where everyone’s gone before?”
Her obvious anger had him proceeding with care. “I’m not much for blindly following a crowd these days.”
“You want to know how many were in line before you?”
Yes. “No.”
She reached for his hand, fitting her small fingers against his. “Not even this many.”
He was careful to let none of his astonishment show. “That makes me Lotto Lucky, then. Random selection?”
“No.”
“So how did I get into the finals with the likes of your Daniel Guedry? I’m sure it wasn’t my impressive pedigree or my bank account.” He smiled. “Or my conversational skills.”
Her reason was a stunner. “You’re a good man, Giles. I know a lot of men. Rich men, powerful men, beautiful men, but the good men I can count on one hand.”
His features closed down tight as he stood away from her to announce slowly, firmly, “You need to do a recount.”
eighteen
Having anticipated that response, Brigit was quick to intercept him before he could pull back. She gripped his big hand as she told him, “There’s nothing wrong with my math.”
“Shall we consider your self-confessed track record with the wrong men?”
She refused to be put off by his harsh tone. “They weren’t the right men for me, but all good men.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Yes, I do. Some of the same things my brother had to do to keep us alive. Who you are isn’t what you’ve done. Working for a bad man doesn’t make you one. You are a good, strong, decent man, Giles. That makes you capable of terrible things, of making tremendous sacrifices to protect those you love. I respect you for the things you’ve done. And so do your friends. Why do you think they trust you with what’s most valuable to them? Because you’re a really bad man or because you’re a very righteous one?”
He said nothing, his eyes unblinking. But she wouldn’t give up. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Vile things. I’ve lied to those closest to me. I’ve used those who’ve trusted me. I’ve been willing to tease and ball-break and scheme to keep Kendra away from those who’d abuse her innocence. There’s no one I wouldn’t eviscerate if they tried to harm my brother. I’ve given up the hope of ever being happy, so they’d have that chance. Does that make me a bad person?”
Instead of answering, he accused. “You were willing to trade Oscar for your cousin’s freedom.”
His sticking point, as she’d known it would be. As much as she wanted to back away from that precipice, Brigit laid her logic out before him. “Yes, I considered it, but that was before I got to know them. Before they became family instead of options.”
Giles’s stare glittered in the moonlight, daring her to make him believe that.
“I didn’t know them, Giles,” she continued. “They were strangers to me. Just like I was a stranger to you when you considered doing the same thing.”
“I never did,” he corrected too quickly, too emphatically.
“Of course you did. I’d think less of you if you hadn’t thought of it when those you love were threatened. But you didn’t, and neither could I.” She squeezed his hand and asked in a choky voice, “Tina and Oscar. Are they safe? You never told me.”
“Yes. I saw to it.”
“Good. Good. I knew you would. Thank you.”
He laced his fingers through hers. She could feel his conflict in the tension of the grasp.
“So what are your plans?” His voice rippled with that fierce undertow.
She didn’t falter beneath his scrutiny. “I was able to find another option. Silas will step in on Kendra’s behalf. I’m sure of it.”
“And on yours?”
“He shouldn’t, but he will. Cale will listen to him. Silas is probably the only man who’s ever bested him, so he owes him that respect. Silas will make sure your family will be left alone.”
“And you?”
She wasn’t expecting that soft question. “Me?”
“Where will you go? Back to Tahoe?”
She laughed, a wry sound. “No. I can safely assume that door’s been closed to me.”
“You’ll stay here, then?”
With him? Was that what he was asking? She wasn’t sure, so she skirted the issue nervously. “I have other amends to make before I can consider future plans.” Or if she’d have a future beyond the next few days.
He relaxed his combative pose by slow degrees, his gaze losing that awful frosty bite, the line of his mouth easing into a slight curve.
“So,” he asked in a silky drawl, “considering the math, you think I’m the right man for you?”
Her soul trembled as she spoke from a fragile heart. “I wish you could be.”
A slow smile. “Not now but maybe later?”
A small smile in return. “Not now. Maybe later. We should go. It’s late, and I’m starting to get wet.”
When her aching knees buckled slightly as she planted her feet on the ground, Giles caught her by the elbows to steady her. He leaned in, warming her with his heat and intention.“That’s a good thing,” he murmured.
“I meant damp,” she clarified as he moved closer. She directed one of his hands to the seat of her pants, where the moisture from the tabletop had soaked through. “See?”
“I do.” He cupped her bottom and lifted her onto her toes. His deep kiss replaced her chill with a s
wift rush of heat that left her gasping.
“We should go,” he whispered against her pliant lips, then stepped away before she had the chance to convince him to stay.
She climbed into the front seat without encouragement but kept to the boundaries of her seat belt as he started the car and had them on their way again.
Maybe later.
Was that something she even dared consider?
Brigit took covert stock of his strong profile. Nothing there not to like. As a lover, he was gentle, passionate, even fierce. Definitely no complaints there. He was mild-tempered but not weak, bravehearted, and loyal to a fault. There was that human thing, but she knew their two kinds could live and love together.
Live . . . yes, she could see herself residing in that big house on River Road, a stone’s throw from a vibrant city and her brother and their new family. Fitting into the unconventional household.
Love . . . that was another matter. She’d foolishly, recklessly thrown her heart into the ring on several occasions only to be sent reeling and bruised back to the ropes to recover. Love wasn’t a battle she was sure she could win. She didn’t clearly understand the rules, the checks and emotional balances. She’d loved her parents as a child clings to those who care for them. She loved her brother but sometimes felt he loved her in return because it was the honorable thing to do. She loved Kendra like a sister, but there was no equality in that relationship. Kendra adored her with a sometimes irksome naivete. For Daniel, she’d felt lust and excitement and a greedy need for what he could offer, but now she realized that hadn’t been love at all.
This thing with Giles, whether it be love or lust or like or mere desperation, she was hesitant to give it a name. He was aggravating. He laughed at her ego but soothed her self-image. He shouted at her over her independence, yet openly admired her self-reliance. He’d made love to her with his eyes, his mouth, his hands, his body, but kept his intentions at a careful distance. He made her feel safe through his action, desired with his touch. His easy smile and hearty laugh spoke of his enjoyment of her company. But was that merely making the best of a temporary situation? Or the beginning of something deeper and more rare?
