Mine To Take (Nine Circles) (35 page)

Now they avoided his gaze as if ashamed. As well they might, being here. On another night he might have found that satisfying but not now. There was something of far more importance happening tonight.

Honor stood beside him, the sapphire collar he’d bought for her glittering in the subtle lighting of the casino. She looked fragile, beautiful. A figure made out of porcelain.

Yet he knew she wasn’t as fragile as she looked. That there was strength underneath that polished, sophisticated veneer. And passion. And heat.

As the roulette wheel turned and the ball flew around the inside of it, he was suddenly achingly conscious of her beside him. The warmth of her body in her tight, blue dress. The scent of her cutting through the cigar smoke that hung in the air. The sight of her pale throat circled with the jewels he’d given her.

She turned her head, caught him watching her, her lovely mouth curling up in a smile.

He knew the sense of satisfaction that gripped him whenever he looked at her was wrong. But shit, she was his. And he liked knowing that. Liked knowing she knew it, too.

Fuck, would you get your head back in the game? This isn’t the time to be getting distracted.

He looked away from her, back down to the wheel that was beginning to slow.

No, he couldn’t be distracted. He’d come here for information, for proof, and he was going to get it. Of course there was no way the casino would give him anything for free but that was okay. He was prepared to get the information by any means necessary. First, he had to find out who was managing this operation and then he’d get himself some answers.

He could, if he wanted to, advance his plan to publically take Tremain down now. But there were more undercurrents here than he’d realized. More connections to be made. Honor’s father. Tremain. The friendship between them. And this casino in the middle of it.

The wheel stopped spinning, a murmur of approval resounding. He’d bet a large sum on number ten and he’d won. He allowed himself a smile as his winnings were pushed across the table to him, sliding an arm around Honor’s waist and pulling her close.

“Seen enough?” he murmured in her ear. He didn’t want her here. It was far too dangerous and it would only get ever more so once he went to meet with the big boss.

“Are you trying to get rid of me by any chance?” she murmured back, raising an eyebrow.

“You know I didn’t want you to come. This isn’t the place for you.” He bent his head, gave her a very public kiss, unable to resist the urge.

Color stained her cheekbones, her eyes as blue as the sapphires around her neck. “I think I have more right to be here than you.”

“You wanted to see the place. Now you’ve seen it.”

She smiled at him. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “What are you planning, Gabriel?”

“Didn’t we discuss this?” He released her, leaning over the table to gather his winnings. “This is reconnaissance. Information gathering.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me how we were going to go about getting it.”

“The operative word here is ‘I,’ Honor. ‘We’ are not going to go about getting anything.”

A flash of temper sparkled in her gaze. “And once you’ve gotten whatever information you’ve managed to find?”

They hadn’t spoken about this over the past two days, ignoring the subject as if it didn’t exist, slaking their hunger for each other physically instead. Just as well. He knew she didn’t believe his accusations about Tremain or agree with his need for justice, and that was too fucking bad.

He had justice to mete out and he would do it, regardless of what she thought.

What if there’s a cost? What if it costs you her?

There was always a cost with anything. Always. And if the cost was Honor …

His throat closed, an ache in his chest. The cost wouldn’t be Honor. He’d have both. He’d make sure of it. “Then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” he said, not wanting to have this discussion with her now. “I think we’ll try our hand at blackjack.”

She didn’t speak as they moved over to the blackjack table, but as he put a hand on the small of her back, he could feel the tension in her spine. “I think we should visit the VIP area,” she said quietly. “See if we can’t get an idea who the boss of this place is.”

He glanced down at her, watching the expression in her eyes as she gave the surrounding gamers another sweeping glance. She was looking for something, like he was.

A sudden suspicion turned over inside him. She’d told him she wanted to see the place where her father had ruined himself, yet he knew that wasn’t the whole reason. There were always deeper reasons, other motivations. Always.

“Why are you really here?”

Her gaze met his and if he hadn’t known her, he wouldn’t have seen the flicker in her eyes. “I told you, I wanted to see where Daniel—”

“That’s not the whole reason.”

Her mouth tightened. “Proof,” she said flatly. “I’m here for proof. For Dad. I don’t want to see you hurting an innocent man.”

The suspicion in his gut became something else, something sharper. Like pain. Though why it should hurt that she didn’t believe him, he had no idea. “He’s not worth your care—”

“It’s you I care about.” She cut him off, anger flickering in her eyes. “You don’t want that on your conscience and I don’t want that for you either.”

He stared at her, shock creeping through him.
“It’s you I care about…”
Him, she cared about him. Even though he knew she must have felt something since she’d stayed after he’d revealed everything to her, the words still resounded inside him like an echo, making him feel like the biggest prick in the world. Because he didn’t deserve her care. Not after all he’d done.

His conscience … His conscience was tarnished all to shit. What was one more thing to add to the list? Not that Tremain was innocent.

“Forget about my conscience,” he said. “That isn’t your concern.”

But something in her gaze softened, making the awful tightness in his chest get even worse. “Someone has to think about it. Someone has to care about it. Especially if you’re not going to.” She put a hand on his chest, smoothing the black cotton, her touch leaving a trail of sparks and a sweet kind of pain he tried not to feel “You’ve taken on too much as it is, Gabriel Woolf. You don’t need anything else adding to your burden.”

He didn’t want to have this conversation now. Not here. Not when he was getting so close to what he wanted. Perhaps it was time for her to leave. Get out so he could do what he had to do. He wanted her safe and he wanted her away so she wouldn’t have to see how badly misplaced her care actually was.

He didn’t answer her as they stopped at the blackjack table. Only held her close as he played. He didn’t much like gambling—that was Alex’s thing, not his—but he’d give her another couple of minutes. And then he’d make his move.

As luck would have it, the guy who’d had the temerity to ask her how much earlier was at the table, too, and the prick
still
didn’t realize that looking at Honor was going to get him hurt.

Gabriel won again and as he collected his chips, he whispered into Honor’s ear, “You need to leave.”

She pulled back in surprise, eyes widening. “What? Now?”

He met her gaze, held it. “You promised me you’d leave when I told you to, no questions asked.”

“But—”

“Honor. It’s time for you to go.”

She didn’t flinch, staring at him. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer, reaching for her, putting his hand in her hair, tipping her head back then covering her mouth in a hard kiss. He could feel the tension in her, her muscles tight with shock. But he wasn’t going to relent. She couldn’t be here when this went down.

He pulled back. “Go. Or else I’ll pick you up and carry you out myself.”

Honor’s gaze met his for a long, uncountable moment. Then she looked away. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret. Please.”

A part of him wanted to reassure her that he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t promise that. He would do what he had to do to get what he wanted. Like he always did.

So he said nothing at all, watching her turn from the table and make her way through the crowd to the stairs. As she disappeared through the curtain at the top of the stairs, he took out his phone and texted Zac. His friend would be there to meet her when she came out of the casino and take her home.

He waited another five minutes until Zac’s response told him she was safe.

Then he leaned against the table and turned his gaze on the prick who’d been ogling Honor. The guy stared belligerently back, which was just perfect.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Gabriel demanded in a low, dangerous voice.

The guy lifted a shoulder and turned away, only now sensing that perhaps provoking him wasn’t the best idea. Too late.

Gabriel pushed himself away from the table and skirted around it, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder and pulling him around. “I asked you a question, buddy.”

The man, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “What’s your problem?”

“You looking at my woman is a problem. You asking her how much is a fucking problem.”

“I never meant—”

Gabriel didn’t hesitate. He pulled back his fist and punched the guy in the face. A gasp of shock went up around the table, people exclaiming and standing back. The man he’d punched dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Then he waited. Sure enough, a minute later, a voice said, “If you’d like to come with me, Mr. Woolf?”

Gabriel turned to the security guard standing at his back. They wouldn’t touch him, of course. Nobody would touch him, not here. “About fucking time,” he said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Honor stepped out into the dirty streets once again, anger simmering just under her skin. Dear God, she was an idiot. She’d gone in there with nothing, no plan, no way of being able to combat him if he decided he wanted her gone. Well, sure enough he had and where the hell did that leave her?

He was going to do something, she was sure of it. Something bad. But she had no doubt he would have done exactly as he’d promised—picked her up and carried her out—if she’d protested.

Either way she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The men on the pavement outside didn’t even look at her. They’d seen her come in with Gabriel which meant she was his, and obviously they didn’t want to get on his bad side by giving her grief. She should have found that reassuring but for some reason, now, it only made her angrier.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

“Miss St. James?” A deep, English voice came from her right.

She turned.

A man stood on the pavement, swathed in a black overcoat. A tall, massively built man, possibly even bigger than Gabriel. Coal-black hair and the most startlingly amber eyes she’d ever seen. Like Gabriel, an aura of menace surrounded him even though he was smiling, and there was something watchful in those golden eyes of his, something that made her shiver.

“Who are you?” she demanded, resenting like hell the interference from yet another powerful-looking man. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m Zac Rutherford,” the man said, still smiling. “I’m a colleague of Gabriel’s.” He held out a long-fingered hand covered in a black leather glove. “Pleased to meet you.”

Honor glanced down at the proffered hand but didn’t take it. “A colleague? One of his billionaire friends?”

Apparently unperturbed by her refusal to shake hands, he put his hand back in the pocket of his coat. “Yes, indeed. As is Eva King—I think you know her? Anyway, Gabriel wanted me to see you got home safely so here I am. I have a car just around the corner.”

So Gabriel hadn’t wanted her to wait outside. He’d organized for her to be delivered home. Like a package.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” she demanded. “Do you know what he’s planning?”

If he was surprised by her question, Zac gave no sign. “Information, that’s what he wants.”

She searched the other man’s handsome features, looking for any signs that he might have some inkling as to what Gabriel was doing. There were none. His face was absolutely impassive. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, I realize that.” He gave her a slight smile. “But not all questions need to be answered. Will you come with me? Those pretty shoes of yours are going to get wet if we stay out here much longer.”

God, like she cared about her stupid shoes. “No,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Zac stepped forward, the smile fading from his face. “Miss St. James,” he began.

“Let me deal with this,” a lighter voice said. Out of the shadows next to Zac, another, much smaller figure materialized. A woman in black. Black skinny jeans and heavy boots, a black leather jacket, a black woolen beanie covering her hair. She had small, delicate features and wary gray eyes, heavily outlined in black eyeliner.

She seemed quite young yet the look in her eyes was that of a much, much older woman.

“I’m Eva King, Honor,” she said. “It’s good to meet you at last.” Eva didn’t hold out her hand, both of them remaining firmly in the pockets of her jacket.

So this was the woman she’d approached initially with her investment queries. And these two were the ones who’d uncovered Guy’s supposed money-laundering business.

“You know,” Honor said bluntly. “About my stepfather.”

“Yes,” Eva said. “We do.”

“And you know Gabriel is trying to—”

“Take him down? Yes.” Eva gave her a flat, rather unnerving stare. “You want to stop him?”

Honor paused, unsure of what to say next. Did they know about Gabriel’s rape accusations? She didn’t want to tell them herself since that wasn’t her secret to give. “Guy Tremain is my stepfather,” she said after a moment. “I don’t want him hurt. And I don’t want … I don’t want that on Gabriel’s conscience either.”

Something moved in Zac’s amber gaze. “You’re worried about Gabriel?”

“Of course I’m worried about Gabriel. He’s…” She stopped, the weird grief catching in her throat. Because what was he to her? Not a boyfriend, that’s for sure. A lover certainly.

He’s more than that …