The Right Kind of Trouble (42 page)

Gideon looked up at Brannon.

Brannon shrugged. “Hey, I might not have all the stories memorized and I didn't go treasure hunting in the backyard up until I was ten”—he shot Neve a smirk—“but I know my history. Whitehall was back in England, but most of the men who dealt with him … well, they were more afraid of Jonathan than anything else, especially considering Jonathan's connections. One by one, they confessed. It started that day when Paddy was supposed to be ambushed but he was actually the one who did the ambushing. Why Whitehall went along, nobody knew. Maybe he didn't realize how big a party Paddy was bringing and he thought he'd have a chance to kill him and then still make everything work out. The pirates had a haul worth nearly a hundred thousand—back
then
.”

Gideon whistled under his breath. “A lot of money.”

“Yeah. And Patrick had promised a fair split for those who helped him handle those who were dirtying up his stretch of the river.” Brannon smiled thinly. “That didn't go over well with Whitehall. Patrick's interference was going to mess up everything.”

“It came full circle,” Moira murmured. She went to put her locket on, but Gideon stopped her, taking it from her hand and settling it into place himself. “Charles…” She sighed. “You'll have to tell them. I can't. Not right now. But I think it started with Whitehall. He passed the hate down like an infection. Maybe Charles didn't even stand a chance.”

“I don't believe that.” Brannon's voice was thick with derision. “When I get my hands on him…”

“You won't.” Gideon covered Moira's shoulder with his hand. “He's dead, Brannon.” Then, warningly, he added, “And you aren't going to say anything else on it.”

Gideon doubted it was his words that convinced Brannon, rather it was how Moira lowered her head.

Am I a killer now…?

She leaned against him.

There was no hesitation at all either.

He closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

January, cold and gloomy, was winding down. Almost two months had passed. The holidays were little more than a memory and all of them were longing for spring.

Moira had arranged for Charles' body to be flown back to England and she'd taken care of a small funeral.

It wasn't widely attended.

She was there, along with her brother and sister. She was surprised Brannon came, but she also knew it had to do with supporting her more than anything else.

He'd said something to her two nights after Charles had kidnapped her—and died only hours later.

I can't believe that he was fucked up from the get-go. But maybe you do. Maybe you saw something else in him. Either way, I'm sorry for what you had to see and what you had to do.

That meant something to her. It meant a lot.

Gideon, Ian, and Hannah came too.

Nobody else did.

During the months since Charles' death, Gideon had been … well, busy. A video camera that Clive Owings had apparently gotten his hands on was one that had belonged to Shayla Hardee, and they finally had the answer to that mystery—Charles had killed her as well. Gideon theorized that she'd hidden it in a tree to record a meeting she'd set up with Charles. News of her blackmailing had already been trickling around town. Shayla must have seen something or known something that Charles hadn't wanted spread around.

Although there was no hard evidence to place him at the scene, Gideon had told Moira he suspected Charles had also been behind the death of Roger Hardee as well. Some digging around had turned up witnesses who had seen Charles and Roger having lunch together not long before his death, and as things started to come to light, somebody else had shown up to talk to about Charles.

Dr. Ellison Shaw.

Apparently Ellison and Charles had been sleeping together off and on for some time. With her marriage to one of the cops on the force somewhat rocky, Dr. Shaw had moved out of Treasure, taking a job in Baton Rouge while they tried to work things out.

Moira had been going over some of the renovation plans with her brother. They were rebuilding. She was determined to have her museum. Many pieces had been destroyed, but some had been salvageable. She'd buy other pieces and she'd already received offers of donations and loans from both museums and private collections. Both she and Brannon had been surprised when Ellison Shaw had pulled into the parking lot and when Ellison asked to speak to Moira alone, Moira had gotten a bad feeling.

She hadn't ever really talked to Ellison much. Once Ellison had started to explain why she was there, Moira tried to make the other woman go to Gideon, but Ellison had been looking for forgiveness as much as anything else. Moira suspected Ellison needed to forgive herself and she had no anger inside her for the sad woman so she had listened. Then she'd insisted Ellison call Gideon. Whether or not the vague memories she had of Charles questioning her about Hannah would be worth much, Moira didn't know, but maybe a few more threads would help with the big picture.

The big picture.

She'd been married to a half-crazed, obsessed murderer.
That
was the big picture and he'd died because of those obsessions. A rather sad end to a sad life.

My greatest treasure lies here
. Moira rubbed a finger over her locket and thought back to her brief marriage.

She had cared about him, or at least the man he'd pretended to be. Maybe she'd married him for the wrong reasons—Gideon had just been hurt, she was looking for something to hold on to … sometimes she didn't know why she'd said yes, but she
had
cared about him and sometimes, she'd
almost
been happy with him. Especially in the beginning.

Had he even had that? A fleeting glimpse of happiness?

She doubted it.

A knock at the door of the pool house had her turning around.

Gideon stood there, his hands on his hips and the dog at his leg.

Frost thumped her tail when she saw Moira.

Frost hadn't been hurt too much by Charles. She'd moved sluggishly for a day or so, and the vet who'd looked at her told Moira to keep an eye on her, but he said she had a good strong dog and Frost should be fine.

“You realize I don't have time in the middle of the day to come rushing…”

He stopped in the middle of the sentence, looking around the room with its candlelight and the meal on the table.

It was pizza.

That had been their first date.

“I talked to Hoyt. He said he could handle things for a while.” She twisted her hands around and around as she stared at Gideon. “There was…”

Licking her lips, she took a nervous step toward him.

“You said this was urgent.” Gideon's eyes strayed toward the pizza, then the candles, before coming back to rest on her face. “Mac, as much as I'm enjoying the symbolism, a candlelit lunch isn't an emergency.”

“My sister and my brother are getting married in two days.” She blurted the words out, uncertain why she was leading with that.

Gideon's eyes softened. “I know. You're not allowed to get cold feet, baby. That's Neve's job—and she won't have cold feet. She's about ready to drag Ian down the aisle. As if she'd have to. And Hannah won't have cold feet.”

“Hannah can't
see
her feet,” Moira said.

“That's not nice.” Gideon looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek. He smoothed his hands up and down her arms. “Okay, look … let's sit down…”

She caught his hand. “I'm doing this backward, but I can't think of the words. It should be me. It should have been me—
you
and me—eighteen years ago. Fifteen, even five. But I was stupid. And I don't want to wait any longer.”

Gideon's eyes narrowed as she lowered her head and focused on his hand.

“Mac…”

She wouldn't look at him.

Gideon really wished she would.

But her hands were shaking and he had a feeling she might be crying a little bit too.

She sniffed, and that confirmed it. When she stopped for a moment, he went to lift her face, but she jerked her chin out of his grasp and finished, pushing a ring onto his finger.

His heart stopped then. For maybe an entire minute. “Mac…”

Now, slowly, nervously, she lifted her eyes to his. “We were going to do this once I graduated college, remember?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “We talked about it. Talked about seeing the world and having babies and doing crazy things. Then Mom and Dad died and it was like that great big world I saw suddenly got smaller and smaller.”

He went to tug her in close, but she pulled back.

“I … um”—she held her hands up and backed away—“I was going to do this sooner, and then I told myself I didn't need to do it at all. But I have to.”

Confused, baffled … well, everything—the ring on his finger and the nerves he could see bleeding out of her, Gideon just stood there when she began to pace.

“Do you remember that night? When my parents died?”

Gideon looked down at the ring. The gold glinted up at him and he rubbed the tip of his thumb over the delicate pattern inscribed into it. “Yeah. Pretty much every detail, Mac.”

“I'd had a fight with my mom.” The words came out soft and small and she sounded like the girl he'd held all those years ago, the one who'd begged him not to let go.

“I know, baby.”

She stopped pacing finally and looked at him. “I blamed myself. For a long time. And…” She cleared her throat, the noise wet. Tears glinted in her eyes. “I blamed you. I hated …
everything
.”

Now, as she turned away and covered her face with her hands, Gideon just stood there. He started to say something, stopped himself. Tried again—stopped himself. It took three tries before he finally knew what he needed to say. “Do you think I wasn't mad at myself when my mom died?” he asked softly.

“It's not the same thing,” she whispered.

“No. Because my mom wasn't in a hit and run.”

Moira flinched. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he tugged her around and made her look at him. “And maybe I didn't have an argument with her right before she died … but I wasn't here, either. She died alone, Mac.”

“No.” Moira looked away. “She didn't. I was…”

Her words trailed off, but understanding dawned and Gideon cupped her cheek, guided her face back to his. “You were there with her, weren't you?”

“You couldn't be.” She jerked up a shoulder in a shrug, but when he tried to bring her in close, she pulled away. “And the reason you
weren't
there was because of
me
. I pushed you away because I was too angry with myself, because I was too eaten up with guilt over how things went that day.”

“Because you acted like a kid?”

She shot him a dark look. “I don't want you to be
understanding
about this.”

Gideon shrugged and looked down. “I guess I could pretend to be pissed off, but … Moira, we spent the past twenty years apart.” Lifting his gaze to the ceiling, he blew out a breath and realized that for some reason, he felt … lighter. Easier. “Actually, it's … better. Here I've spent so much time wondering what I did, what I could have done … and it wasn't anything I did—and maybe there's nothing I could have done.”

She stared at him, her eyes looked tired and bruised. He went to her, cupped her face in his hands, and lifted her mouth to his. “There's nothing either of us could have done. The time wasn't right for us. I hate that and I think about all the years we could have been together, but lately, I've been thinking … if you and I were all content and happy, maybe it would have been even easier for him to get in.”

There was no reason to name
him
. They both knew who Gideon meant.

“We were on edge when all of this went down and we needed to be. We survived it because of that. And now…” He kissed her, and when she slowly relaxed against him, Gideon tugged her closer, curled one arm around her waist. “The time is right—
now
. You, me … we're here. We're together. All those dreams, the world we wanted to see back in high school? The world is still there and my dream was always you, Moira. It hasn't changed.”

She curled her arms around his neck and clung to him.

He hugged her tight, feeling everything in his world shift and settle into place.

Well, except for one little thing …

“So”—he nuzzled her neck—“about this ring…”

She pulled back and stared up at him. “What about it?”

He cocked a brow. “I think maybe you were in the middle of something. Then you got sidetracked.”

“Sidetracked … yeah. That happens sometimes.” Moira leaned in and pressed her lips to his, fast and quick, before she settled back flat on her feet and gazed up at him. A sweet, beautiful smile spread across her lips. “I just had to settle those things first.”

“Consider them settled.” He cleared his throat and backed away, crossing his arms over his chest before pinning her with an expectant look.

“Gideon, will you marry me?”

In response, he swept her up in his arms and swung her around. “Hell, yeah. I've only been waiting all my life.”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of her as she clung to him.

He lowered her to the ground a moment later and kissed her. It turned to another kiss, then another. But when he would have urged her back up against the nearest surface—vertical or horizontal—she stopped him. “I want to show you something,” she said, grabbing at his hands when he started to tug at buttons. “And then we're leaving. I was hoping you'd say yes, because we've got an appointment.”

Gideon paused. “An appointment?”