CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gabriel leaned his elbows on the parapet of Central Park’s Bow Bridge, staring down at the ice-covered lake beneath it. Snow was still falling and for the first time in years, he actually felt cold.
Yet the creeping chill had nothing to do with the snow settling on his arms, stark white against the leather of his jacket.
The color of Honor’s face before she walked away. Before she left him.
He took a breath. Why the fuck was he thinking about her? She was gone. He’d sent her away. The only thing he should be thinking about now was meeting Tremain. Finally finding out the name of this father.
Christ, what the hell was wrong with him?
A wave of restless energy went through him and he pushed himself away from the parapet, pacing down the bridge.
He hadn’t slept since he’d gotten home the night before and arrived at his apartment to find it empty, Honor gone. He’d expected it and yet, he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of going into his empty bedroom. So he’d paced through his apartment all night, going over and over what Tremain had told him. That he wasn’t his father. That it was some other man.
And Honor walking away from him.
Getting Tremain’s text with a meeting time and a place had been a blessed relief.
Soon he’d know. Soon he’d know everything and once he did, he’d be able to start putting more plans into place.
And then what? When it’s all over? What are you going to do then?
A strange gaping emptiness yawned wide inside him at the thought, a black hole full of nothing.
Of course you’ve got nothing. You let the one person in your life who’d started to make you think there was something more, walk away.
No, fuck, he’d had to let her walk away. He’d had no other choice.
Bullshit. There’s always a choice.
Gabriel pushed the thought away. Hard. He’d think about this later. Once his father was ruined beyond any hope of fixing, once he’d taken everything from him, then he’d decide what to do.
Good Christ, it was cold. Why the hell was he feeling it now? And where was Tremain? He should have been here five minutes ago. If that fucker didn’t turn up there would be hell to pay.
Footsteps crunched in the snow down one end of the bridge.
Gabriel turned.
Tremain was coming toward him, his expensive overcoat wrapped tightly around him, his scarf tied around his neck just so. There was no one else around. It was too early in the morning and it was far too cold for many people to be out and about.
His heartbeat began to speed up, anticipation coiling tight. God, what was it with all this emotional shit? For years he’d been cold, like ice, and now it was like all that ice had melted away, leaving him exposed, open to all these damn feelings.
He made himself stay still, folding his arms as the man strode toward him. “You’re late,” he said curtly as Tremain approached.
“I had … things to do.”
“Who is it?” Gabriel snapped, impatient and unable to temper it. “Tell me now.”
Tremain’s hands were shoved in the pockets of his overcoat. He looked pale, drawn. As if he’d had one too many hard nights. “Before I tell you, I meant what I said about Honor last night. She must be safe. I can protect her mother but her…”
Gabriel curled his lip. “Like you give a fuck about her.”
Anger crossed the other man’s face. “I brought that girl up, so don’t you dare tell me I don’t care about her.”
“Not enough to stop the ruin of her company.”
A muscle ticked in Tremain’s jaw. “I had to get out. This is the only way I can still protect her mother. Honor will survive.”
Of course Honor would survive. Because she was strong. She was a fucking warrior. But it was hard fighting all the time. Sometimes you just wanted to sit down and rest.
“She deserves more than survival, you prick,” he said harshly.
“And what would you know about what she deserves? You don’t know a thing about her.”
Lies. He knew she liked pretty things, and being held down while he made love to her. Knew that she was unfailingly loyal and generous and fought hard for those she cared about. That her touch made him breathless. Made his heart ache.
Stop thinking about her.
A sharp, burning need filled him and he had to turn away and take a breath, staring out over the bare, icy trees. At the looming spikes of the skyscrapers, spearing up into the cold, gray sky. Stalagmites reaching for heaven.
“Enough of this shit,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“Not until you can guarantee Honor will be safe.”
He fought down the burning, hot feeling in his chest. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he strode over to the parapet and put them down on the icy stone. The cold burned his bare skin. But it didn’t do anything to ease the burning feeling inside him. “She and I are no longer seeing each other,” he said. “Which makes her importance as a way to get to me negligible.”
“That won’t be enough.”
“I’ll protect her.” He turned, meeting the other man’s gaze. This was one thing he didn’t have to lie about. “No one will ever hurt her again.”
Not even himself.
A certain tension seemed to leave the other man, his shoulders relaxing. “All right, so you wanted—” The rest of the sentence was cut off as he inhaled then suddenly dropped like a stone onto the snowy ground.
Gabriel froze, staring at the man on the ground in shock. “No,” he said into the icy air. “No. Fuck no.”
Tremain let out a low moan, blood beginning to pool in the white snow around his head.
Adrenaline surged, breaking Gabriel’s paralysis, and he was moving, running over to the fallen man, dropping onto his knees in the snow. Tremain was struggling to get up. Blood covered his face, dripping down the side of his head, the left side a bloody mess from a gunshot wound.
Gabriel looked around at the empty bridge and the trees beyond it but nothing moved. Whoever had fired the shot was gone.
Fuck. And double fuck.
So close. So close and now this.
He bent over the other man, taking some of the overcoat to wipe away the blood. “The name,” he said, unable to help himself. “Tell me who the fuck it is.”
Tremain was staring at him, the intensity of the stare almost unnerving. He tried to say something but the sound bubbled in his throat, the words unintelligible.
Gabriel swore, furious and desperate and ready to kill someone. “You can’t die on me now, prick. You’ve got shit to tell me.”
The man on the ground coughed. With a labored, jerky motion, he took his hand out of the pocket of his overcoat and shoved his fist against Gabriel’s chest.
“What—” The words broke off as he realized that Tremain was holding something.
Gabriel took his hand and turned it over. With an almost palpable effort of will, Tremain opened his fingers and something dropped out into the snow.
Two silver dice.
Gabriel picked them up. They were heavy, the numbers mere silvery depressions. All except the one spot, which was inset with a flawless diamond.
He looked at Tremain. “What? What the hell is this?”
The other man just stared at him, his jaw rigid. Then his eyelids fluttered and fell, his body going limp.
“No.” Gabriel put his hand on the older man’s shoulder, shook him. “No, you can’t do this now. Wake the fuck up.”
But the man didn’t move.
Oh, Christ. Quickly he checked Tremain’s pulse. It was weak, thready.
Gabriel sat back on his heels, trying to calm the frustration that sank its claws into him. The man was deeply unconscious—hell, he was lucky he was still even alive given he’d been shot in the head.
But one thing was for certain, he wasn’t getting that name out of Tremain today.
He swore again, harsh and raw. The stupid dice were still in his hand so he shoved them into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Then he called an ambulance and the police.
He didn’t leave his name. There would be too many complications, too many questions asked if they knew he was here.
Placing Tremain in the recovery position, making him as comfortable as he could, he waited until the sirens drew near then he turned and strode away, over the bridge and into the trees, moving fast.
It wasn’t over. It still wasn’t over.
He had nothing, the only clue as to the identity of his father the silver dice in his pocket. Clearly someone had discovered Tremain would be meeting him and had decided to silence the guy and his secrets along with him.
Which meant there was something bigger going on here. Something far more dangerous than he or Zac or Eva had thought. Something that was perhaps bigger than one illegal casino.
God. It would never be over, would it?
Weariness swept through him. The same exhaustion that had gripped him the night before. He was no nearer, no closer to the truth than he had been weeks ago, and now, if Tremain didn’t survive that shot, there would be murder to add to the list.
And it would be his fault. All his fault.
If Tremain dies, Honor will be devastated.
He stopped dead.
Oh, fuck, Honor. If they were prepared to take out Tremain to stop him from talking, then anyone connected with him was going to be in potential danger. And that was his fault, too.
Someone approached him from behind, a flash of black the only hint he got, and adrenaline rushed through him, even though he already knew who it was. There was only one man he knew of who could move that silently through snow.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Gabriel demanded, temper fraying.
“I was interested in your little meeting,” Zac said.
Gabriel turned sharply. “How did you know? I told no one—”
“You don’t need to tell anyone. I would have thought you’d know that by now.”
Frustration and anger hissed and spat inside him like oil on a hot stove. “This is none of your fucking business.”
“You involved us, Gabriel. So now it has become our fucking business.”
He couldn’t seem to stand still, shifting on his feet. “Then uninvolve yourself.”
Zac’s unnerving amber gaze searched his face. “Tremain looked like he got shot. I saw him go down but I didn’t hear anything or see a shooter.”
“I don’t have time to stand here discussing this with you.” Honor was in potential danger. Unprotected. He turned away.
“You were meeting Tremain for a reason, Gabriel,” Zac said, all of his smooth British charm stripped away to reveal the iron beneath. “And now he’s been shot. We’re a part of this, and if that means Eva is in danger also then I need to know about it.”
There was pain in his chest now and he hated it. Wanted the cold, the detachment. But that was long gone, melted away, and now there was only hurt. And he was tired, so fucking tired of the pain. So fucking tired of the anger.
So fucking tired of being alone.
“Honor didn’t tell you last night?” he said finally.
“No. She didn’t say a thing.”
Even though she hated secrets, she’d kept his.
“Don’t ask, don’t tell” had always been the club’s first rule. And they all had secrets. Too many secrets. But perhaps they needed one less.
“Thirty-five years ago my mother was raped in a hotel room. I thought Tremain was the man who raped her. He wasn’t but he was meeting me here today to give me the name of the prick who did it. The prick who happens to be my father.”
Silence fell, deep and thick as the snow around them.
“You wanted revenge,” Zac said at last.
“No, I wanted justice.”
And because you wanted justice, she is now in danger. If you hadn’t involved her, she would be safe.
Fear gathered inside him, so sharp he couldn’t breathe. He’d hurt her so many times. First he’d played stupid head games with her, seduced her, shattered her world twice with more truths than one person should have to bear, been the reason the man who’d brought her up had been shot. And now, the final nail in the coffin, her life could be in danger.
All because he wanted justice. For a dead woman.
All the air went out of him in a white freezing cloud.
Zac was right. It was revenge. His mother was dead, she didn’t care anymore. She was beyond pain. Which meant this quest for justice was for himself.
But how else could he stop this anguish? How else could he stop being so angry all the fucking time?
“Did he give you the name before he was shot?” Zac asked him.
“No.” Reaching into his pocket, Gabriel took out the dice. All his plans, all his investigations, all for two lumps of silver. “But he gave me these. I have no idea what they mean.”
You don’t care what they mean …
His hands were shaking. Jesus, he was falling apart.
“Looks like they’re another invitation,” Zac said. “Like the black dice I gave you and Honor yesterday.” His forehead creased, staring at the dice in Gabriel’s palm. “What’s wrong? Your hands are shaking.”
Everything. Everything was wrong.
Tremain getting shot. The mystery behind his father’s identity deepening. Honor threatened. Violence begetting more violence. There was no end to it.
There is an end.
Yeah, there was. He could choose not to follow this lead. Just let it go. And then … what? What would be left for him? What else was there? What would he do with this anger that sat inside him? That poisoned him?
No one could forgive him. No one could take it away. Because the person he was most angry at was himself. For the fact he existed at all.
Which meant following this further was pointless.
Gabriel closed his fingers around the dice, the only link he had to whoever his father was. Then he shoved them abruptly at his friend.
Zac looked at him, eyes widening in surprise. “But don’t you—”
“Take them,” he said hoarsely. “I have somewhere to be.”
The other man’s amber gaze searched his. “Where are you going?”
“To protect Honor. After that? Probably to hell.”
* * *
The city streets were full of snow and heavy afternoon traffic but Gabriel barely noticed, weaving the Norton through the lanes, uncaring.
Handing the dice to Zac should have felt like a weight lifting from him but it didn’t. Instead, it felt like he was walking into the pitch-black darkness, unsure of his footing and with no idea of where he was going. Directionless and blind.
Except no, there was one light in the dark. One compass point.
Honor.
He would protect her. That’s what he would do from now on. That would be the whole of his existence. Without his anger, without his justice, he had nothing else. She was his whole reason for being.
Pulling up outside her building, he parked the bike and strode through the front doors. The doorman gave him a suspicious look but Gabriel wasn’t in any mood to fuck around. “Honor St. James’s apartment. Now.”
Five seconds later he was traveling up in the elevator, pacing restlessly back and forward. Christ, if something had happened to her that would be the last straw. The final sin that would break him.
The elevator stopped and he got out, striding down the hallway and reaching her door. Hammering on it.
Eventually it jerked open but it wasn’t Honor. A woman with blond dreadlocks and lots of silver jewelry stood in the doorway, a belligerent expression on her pretty face. She looked him up and down, frowning. “Gabriel Woolf I presume?” she said, a spark of anger in her clear, turquoise eyes. “I’ve been wondering when you’d show up.”
This wasn’t what he wanted. Or rather, who he wanted. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Honor?”
“I’m her friend. Violet Fitzgerald. And she’s not here. She’s in the hospital looking after a family member.”
Fuck, he was too late.
He leaned against the door frame, cold swallowing him whole, more weary than he’d ever been in his entire life. Jesus, he couldn’t go to the hospital himself. It would only draw attention and God knew he didn’t want any more attention drawn to the St. James family.
Cursing, he turned away, taking out his phone and calling Zac. A minute later, discreet protection organized for Honor, he turned back to the woman still standing in the doorway.
And he realized he had nowhere to go but back to his empty apartment. To the office he hardly worked in. Back to the life that wasn’t really much of a fucking life at all. It had no one and nothing in it but anger and destruction. Violence and death.
“You have me.”
He was stained, tainted, twisted by anger. By the things he’d done. By the mere fact of his existence. An arid existence, empty of anything of any value.
Except for her.
The world spun, the ground moving under his feet as realization broke over him like a plunge headfirst into an icy lake.
He didn’t want to go back to that existence. Where the only thing that mattered was his anger. Where there was no love or passion. No loyalty or understanding. No warm arms around him, holding him tight. Making him feel like he meant something. Like he mattered.
Where there was no future, only the past.
He wanted Honor. She was his future. She was his whole fucking existence.
“I’m not leaving,” he said hoarsely.
Violet gave him a long, measuring look. “I think you’d better come in then,” she said.
* * *
Honor didn’t get home until late and as she put her key in the lock, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so exhausted.
She’d been at the private hospital they’d taken Guy to for hours, holding her sobbing mother in the waiting room, still in shock from the news he’d been found in Central Park with a gunshot wound to the head. A miracle he was even still alive.
He’d gone into surgery straight away and it hadn’t been till after noon that the doctors had come out, giving them a “wait and see” prognosis. Not good but it could have been worse. He could be dead.
“Why?” her mother had whispered. “What was he doing in Central Park so early? Who did this to him? Why would anyone want to hurt him? I don’t understand. It’s like … Daniel all over again.”
She’d said those same things over and over, going around and around, the same questions. Questions that had no answers.
Except Honor knew. Guy had gone to Central Park to meet Gabriel, she was sure of it. And he’d been silenced.
But she hadn’t told anyone that, not the doctors who asked or the police who’d questioned her. Because they weren’t her secrets to tell. They were Gabriel’s.
She turned the key in the apartment door, pushed it open. Violet had arrived at the hospital a couple of hours earlier and told her she’d stay with her mother, that Honor was to go home and get some rest. Even so, it had still taken her a while to get home, the traffic lousy.
The apartment was in darkness and she fumbled for the light, switching it on and closing the door behind her.
Her brain wouldn’t stop going over what had happened to Guy. Had Gabriel hurt him? Or had it been someone else?
No, it couldn’t be Gabriel. Hurting Guy would be unnecessary and Gabriel wasn’t a man who did things that were unnecessary. Which meant it had to be someone else. Someone who hadn’t wanted Guy to talk.
Still thinking, she put her purse down beside the table in the hallway and walked slowly down to the darkened lounge area. Finding the switch to the floor lamp in the corner, she turned it on, flooding the little room with light.
And only just stopped herself from gasping aloud.
There was a man lying on her couch, heavy black boots resting incongruously on her precious silk-and-velvet cushions, one of her antique French quilts thrown over the top of him.
Gabriel.
Her heart stopped, the world around her slowing in shock.
He was asleep, the brutally handsome lines on his face relaxed, the hard line of his mouth soft. Dark lashes lying thick and still on his cheekbones. He looked younger and unexpectedly vulnerable.
Emotion swelled in the back of her throat, hot tears threatening and it was only by sheer force of will that she managed to swallow them back. She didn’t know what the hell he was doing here but one thing was for sure, she wasn’t going to fall apart in front of him, whether he was asleep or not.
Slowly, she took a couple of steps into the room, debating whether to wake him up and find out what on earth he was doing lying on her couch, or to let him sleep.
The light must have bothered him because his forehead creased and he turned over onto his back, his feet scattering cushions, the quilt sliding off him.
He was wearing the clothes he’d worn the night before, black shirt and jeans. Leather jacket. Had he been up all night? Had he even gone home? God, what was he doing here and how did he get in?
Violet probably. Except her friend hadn’t said a word when she’d gotten to the hospital.
Honor was just on the point of deciding to wake him up when abruptly, his lashes lifted and he turned his head sharply. Night-dark eyes stared into hers.
Nothing moved in the quiet of the room.
Then he shifted, the blanket coming off as he threw it aside. In a fluid movement, he came off the couch and was halfway toward her before she could move.
She opened her mouth to tell him not to come any closer but before she could get the words out, he stopped dead in the middle of the room, his gaze roving over her as if checking she was all in one piece. “Are you okay?” he demanded roughly, his voice hoarse with sleep. “Are you hurt?”
She swallowed, her heartbeat stupidly accelerating the way it always did whenever he was around. “Of course I’m okay. But … what are you doing here?”
His broad chest moved, the black cotton of his shirt pulling tight. “You know about Guy?”
“Yes, I was just in the hospital—”
“It’s my fault,” he cut her off flatly. “I met him this morning in Central Park. He was going to give me a name. And they shot him.”
Grief lay heavy and thick in her throat. For Guy. For the man standing in front of her right now. But she didn’t want him to see it, didn’t want him knowing how much she still cared. It had taken everything in her to walk away from him the night before and she didn’t want to have to do it again.
She had to be strong and resist.
“I see,” Honor said carefully. “‘They’?”
“I don’t know who it was. I didn’t see.” Gabriel didn’t move. “He didn’t tell me, Honor. They shot him before he could say a word. And that means you’re in potential danger. Someone was willing to kill him to silence him and it could be that anyone associated with him is also at risk.”
“So that’s why you’re here? To protect me?” More tears prickled but she blinked them back, determined to keep her composure.
He took a step forward toward her then stopped, his hands clenching into fists. “You’re already protected. Zac has his people watching you and your mother at the hospital. No one will harm you.”
She looked down at her hands folded loosely together in front of her. Blinked hard to force back the stupid traitorous tears. She knew she was weak when it came to him, but she wasn’t going to fall apart. Not again.
“Thank you,” she said after a moment, pleased with how level her voice sounded. “First you all put me in danger and now you’re protecting me from it. With friends like you, who needs enemies?”
He didn’t say anything.
“Did you want something, Gabriel, or…” The words died in her throat as she looked at him. At the expression on his face. There was nothing hard there now, nothing cold, nothing hidden. Desperation, longing, and grief were starkly written all over his features, his eyes glittering with a raw kind of anguish she’d never seen in him before.
“Help me,” he said in a ragged voice. “Honor … please … I don’t know … what to do.”
Her heart seized up in her chest, all the emotion she’d been trying to hide clogging in her throat. She’d already taken a step toward him before she knew what was happening.
But then she stopped herself.
Last night in the alley she’d told him she loved him. Opened herself totally to him. Even cried for him. And he’d turned her away. Told her that she didn’t make a difference. That she wasn’t enough. That he’d head on down the path of destruction no matter what she said.
Well, she couldn’t open herself like that again. It hurt too damn much.
She swallowed. “What do you mean you don’t know what to do?”
“You told me you loved me.” He sounded unsteady, hoarse with an emotion she didn’t quite understand. “Was that the truth?”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t know—”
“Was it true?” There was a ferocity in his eyes, tension in every line of his body.
You can’t lie to him. Not about this.
She wanted to. Especially when all her instincts were telling her she had to in order to protect herself.
But then, she’d always hated lies.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It was true.”
“And is it still?”
“Yes,” she repeated, swallowing back the pain. Because there would never be anyone else for her. She’d known it then and it was true now. “It’s still true.”
Silence fell.
Then abruptly Gabriel dropped to his knees. “I would ask your forgiveness, but I know it’s not possible. Not for the things I’ve done to you. For the position I placed you in. For the hurt I’ve caused you. But … I want you to know that I am going to spend the rest of my life protecting you and your mother. Keeping you both safe. It won’t make up for what happened to Tremain, but it’s all I have left to offer.”
Shock held her silent, staring at him on his knees in front of her, dark eyes holding hers.
“Before he was shot,” Gabriel went on hoarsely, “Guy gave me something. Something that would probably have led to my father. But … I didn’t take it. I realized I didn’t want it. Because it’s not justice I’m after. I just want to stop being so … fucking angry all the time.” He lifted a hand, punched his fist against his heart. “It’s twisted me. Anger that I am who I am. That I was born from violence and all I ever seem to be able to give back to people is more violence.” He took a breath, his chest heaving. “I’m so tired of carrying it. I’m so tired of feeling it. And I just wanted … to be free of it.”
“You thought hurting your father, would … what? Make you less angry?”
“I wanted it to stop,” he whispered “I wanted the pain to end.”
A large hand squeezed tight around her heart, crushing it. “Oh, Gabriel…”
“But it won’t, I know that now. Violence will only beget violence, and I’ve hurt far too many people already. I hurt you. And that’s something I will never forgive myself for.”
His figure blurred as the tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes. She couldn’t stop them this time. “Why are you here?” she asked thickly. “If you’ve only come to tell me—”
“I’m here because I have nothing. I have nothing and no one in my empty fucking life. And I don’t want nothing. Honor, I want … you.” His voice cracked on the last word and she felt something inside herself crack, too.
“I thought you wanted your justice more,” she said, her voice hoarse. “That’s what you told me.”
“I know. I was wrong. I don’t care who my fucking father is. All I care about is you.”
Tears slid down her cheeks. Because she didn’t know if she could do this again. She didn’t think she was strong enough.
Of course you are. You were strong enough to walk away. You’re strong enough to walk back.
Honor swallowed, her throat thick. Where had that strength come from though?
But that was a question she knew the answer to already. An answer that had been there all along. Love. Her love for him.
It didn’t make her weak and it wasn’t an addiction that would destroy her. It had made her strong the night before, and it would make her even stronger now.
Honor walked forward to where he knelt. She had to wipe her eyes a couple of times so she could see, looking down into his face, the expression there so naked, so vulnerable she could hardly bear it.
“You have me,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t touch her, only bent his head, the light from the lamp touching the gold highlights in his hair. His massive, dark figure kneeling at her feet, with his head bent made her think of an angel. A fallen angel begging for absolution.
“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “Why would you be there for me? Still? After last night? After … Christ, there’s so much fucking violence on my soul.”
She lifted her hands, sinking her fingers into the soft, golden strands of his hair, the ache in her chest so acute it was difficult to breathe. “Stop defining yourself so narrowly. You’re more than that. You’re protective and strong. Responsible. You’d lay down your life for those you care about. And more than anything else, you gave me the freedom to be myself, challenged me to step out of the box I shut myself up in. How could I not be there for you?” She paused. “How could I not love you?”
He shuddered, his big body leaning into her hands. “Why? You know what I am.”
“I love you because of who you are, Gabriel. Not because of what you’ve done or how you were conceived. Why is that so hard to accept?”
His hair felt like silk against her fingers, the warmth of his body so close, like a fire. He leaned against her thigh, turned his face into her skirt. “Because no one has ever loved me, Honor. No one has ever forgiven me enough.”
Her heart ached for him. For the lonely boy he’d been. For the hard, lonely man he’d become. “You don’t need forgiveness from other people, Gabriel. The only person you need forgiveness from is yourself.”
He lifted his head, so much pain in his eyes her throat seized. “I don’t know that I can.”
She didn’t want to stand over him anymore because the absolution he sought couldn’t be given by her. So she knelt right in front of him, staring into his eyes. “You can. I don’t care how rotten you think you are. How irredeemable. I see a man whose whole life has been about protecting other people. Caring for other people. Taking so much responsibility he’s almost been crushed by the weight of it. And you did it the only way you knew how.”
“Fuck, don’t say those things, I don’t—”
She put a finger across his mouth. “You think you don’t deserve it? You do. Forgive yourself. And let your anger go.”
* * *
The understanding in her blue eyes nearly broke him apart. It couldn’t be that simple. Surely it couldn’t. How could he forgive himself for his entire existence?
“It’s not your fault,” Honor said quietly. “It’s not your fault your mother got hurt. The choices she made, the life she lived, is not your fault.”
But he knew that, didn’t he? Of course he did.
Do you? Do you really?
He couldn’t breathe all of a sudden.
For the last thirty-five years of his life, he’d taken responsibility. For himself. For his mother’s rape. For the whole reason he was even born in the first place. Because her crappy life was his fault. Because he’d been born.
“How could it not be my fault?” His voice didn’t sound like his own. “All of it is my fault.”
“No.” Honor cupped his face in her hands, the warmth of her touch searing him. Melting away the ice around his heart. “You were a child, Gabriel. You weren’t responsible for anything. Your mother made her own choices. You can’t take them on yourself, too.”
No. He couldn’t. Just like he didn’t have to take on the anger either.
And it turned out it was that simple. To let it all go and let something else take its place. A strange, desperate emotion he’d been trying not to feel for a long time. An emotion he thought he wasn’t capable of. An emotion he thought he never deserved.
Until now.
Gabriel gripped her wrists, her skin smooth against his fingers. “I love you,” he said helplessly, unable to keep it inside any longer. He’d hadn’t said those words to another soul in years, not since the last time he’d said them to his mother, when he was seven years old. “I love you, Honor St. James.”
There were tears in her blue eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from bending to kiss them away. She trembled and then suddenly buried her face in his chest, her arms coming around him the way they had in his apartment, after he’d told her everything. A way he’d never stopped dreaming of, hoping for again.
“Does this mean you’re going to stay?” she murmured, her voice muffled against his leather jacket.
He wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her close. “I told you, I’m going to spend the rest of my life protecting you.”
“That doesn’t mean…” She broke off.
Gently he gripped her chin, tipped her head back so he could see her face, his heart beating strangely fast. “What do you want it to mean?”
Her blue eyes glowed in her pale face. “I don’t want you protecting me, Gabriel. I want you loving me. And I want it forever.”
That was his Honor. Strong. Demanding. Challenging. His chest ached but this time he welcomed the pain. “Then that’s what you’ll have. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Honor reached up, slid her fingers into his hair, and brought his head down for another kiss that was sweeter than any others he’d ever had. “Oh, and I want a vest with ‘Property of Church’ written on it,” she murmured against his mouth.
He smiled, his arms tightening around her. “I’ll get one made especially for you.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
Her body was warm and soft and everything he’d ever wanted. “Right now? You, naked, on the floor.”
Her mouth curved. “Yes, of course. But after that.”
“What do you think? I want you to love me. That’s all I want.”
Honor’s eyes glittered as they met his. “Ah, well, that I can do.”
And she did.