CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Honor was trembling in his arms but he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d told her everything and she was still here. Which made her his.
Not quite everything.
No, not that he’d purposefully gotten close to her because of her relationship to Tremain, but she didn’t need to know that. Perhaps she’d never need to know that. But all the rest …
She knew now exactly what she was dealing with. The kind of man he was and what he wanted. His justice. And maybe he shouldn’t have told her. Maybe in doing so he’d relinquished a little bit of his power, but shit, it was too late now.
He was just so fucking tired of carrying the weight of that burden by himself.
Honor’s head had dropped onto his shoulder, the softness of her breathing against his throat. She was curled into him, her arms around him, all softness and warmth and silky pale skin.
Christ, the moment he’d come back from his ride and found her sitting there in the armchair had knocked the breath from his body.
He’d thought she would have left. Fuck, after everything he’d dumped on her, he was sure he’d come back to an empty apartment. But no. She’d been there. Nestled into that armchair, asleep. Waiting for him. And then she’d woken, tossed aside her blanket, and opened her arms.
He’d never had anyone welcome him home like that. Never had anyone take him into their arms and hold him. Saying nothing. Expecting nothing. And in that moment, it had become clear to him exactly what he was going to do.
She was his now and he was going to keep her. He was never going to let her go.
After a long moment, he rose, and holding her in his arms, he carried her upstairs to the bedroom. Laid her in the bed, wrapping the comforter around her to keep her warm.
He went into the bathroom and had a brief shower, getting rid of the last of the icy chill of the snow and the searing cold of the air as he’d ridden through the streets.
He’d been so angry he’d had to get out. He’d had to leave before he did something stupid. Said something stupid, though he’d already said nearly all he could possibly say. He’d tried to find his cold detachment, the icy rage that had gotten him through the long years up until this point. But he hadn’t been able to.
And then she’d been there. And opened her arms. And in the warmth of her, he’d found something better than icy rage. A kind of peace.
Gabriel slipped naked into the bed beside her, gathering her in his arms and holding her close, her back to his front, her butt fitting perfectly against his groin.
“What are you going to do?” she asked after a long moment.
He didn’t need to ask her what she meant. “I’m going to go to the casino.”
“Why? What do you think you’re going to find there?”
“Information.”
“About what?”
“About why Tremain is laundering money. What the connection is between him and your father. Proof that he married your mother because he was paid to.”
“Please don’t say you’re doing this for me.”
“No. You’re not the only one who was hurt by what happened there.”
“Alex.” The name was a soft whisper.
“Yes.” Gabriel tightened his arms around her. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Honor, you have to understand that.”
“I do.”
There was a small silence.
“What are you going to do with all this information? If you find any?”
He’d told the truth, he didn’t want to hurt her. But justice was more important than people’s feelings. More important than hers. And his own.
“I’m going to use it against him,” he said.
Another silence.
“I’m coming with you,” she murmured.
Protectiveness, a harsh, brutal feeling swept through him. “Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere near—”
“I think I’m owed it,” she interrupted quietly. “Don’t you?”
He couldn’t think of a protest to that because yeah, she did. Her father had owned that casino, had let it ruin both him and her brother. Had shattered the life she’d known. It was dangerous as hell but yes, she was owed. He, out of all people, understood that.
“All right,” he said. “But only on the condition that you follow my orders when we’re there. That place isn’t safe.”
“Yes.”
He stared at the mass of silky black hair in front of him then closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. Something inside him calmed. “You can’t tell Tremain. Not about any of this. He’s mine to deal with.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could feel the tension in her body. He knew this was hard for her and a part of him was sorry he’d told her. And not for himself this time, but because it was painful for her.
“Honor,” he murmured. “You have to promise me.”
“I promise,” she said at last.
Gabriel kissed the back of her neck, then her shoulder, feeling her shiver in his arms. He loved how responsive she was. Loved how having her here, in his bed, made something raw and painful inside him hurt less.
He felt her hands settle on his arms where they crossed over her breasts, her thumbs stroking, sending small bolts of electricity right through him.
Desire coiled tightly in his gut. Powerful, insatiable.
But he forced it away. There was no hurry, after all.
She was his now.
* * *
Gabriel parked his bike in an alleyway Honor wouldn’t have gone into in broad daylight let alone eleven o’clock at night. It was dark and wet, with dirty snow collecting in drifts against the Dumpsters in one corner of the alley. She could hear people shouting not far away, the smashing of glass somewhere else, a man laughing drunkenly closer than she would have liked.
She would have been terrified if not for the man standing with his hands out to her, preparing to help her get off the bike. A little difficult when she was wearing a tight-fitting blue silk sheath dress, her favorite blue Manolos on her feet. She’d hoped they’d get to the casino in one of Gabriel’s limos but he’d decided the bike was less conspicuous.
Not that he could be inconspicuous if he tried.
He hadn’t made any concessions to the fact that the casino was apparently high-class and demanded a certain dress code. All he’d done was put on black jeans and a casual black shirt, his usual leather jacket over the top. Not that they’d turn him away, she suspected. He looked dark, powerful, and very, very dangerous.
Fear tightened in her stomach. Strange that she should be so afraid for him, for what he might do and the toll it would take on him. Because for all his power, for all the aura of danger about him, he was vulnerable in a way no one else knew about.
But she did.
She’d insisted on coming tonight for a number of reasons. She wanted to see the place her father had owned, of course, but mainly she wanted to find proof that Guy was everything Gabriel had told her he was. And if not … then she would have to stop Gabriel from doing whatever it was he was going to do.
She didn’t want him to have the ruin of an innocent man on his conscience.
Honor put her hands into his, her fingers cold despite the leather gloves she wore and let him help her off the bike, loving the care with which he handled her. For all his strength, he could be gentle and in the past two days, she’d learned quite a lot about his tenderness.
It was strange how the mere fact of telling him she was his had quieted something hungry in him. She’d found freedom in embracing her need for him, too. In no longer resisting the intense craving for him whenever he was around. Sure, this addiction was going to destroy her in the end, but she’d take it while it lasted.
As she steadied herself on her rather ridiculously high heels, Gabriel pulled something from the pocket of his jacket. A long, black box. “This is for you,” he murmured, holding it out.
Honor stared at it, taking it in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Her heart beating strangely fast, she did so, pressing the little catch that opened the box and lifting the lid. The dim light of the alley made it difficult to see, but then a car passed on the street outside, the headlights shining briefly into the darkness, lighting it up. Making the jewels that lay on the box’s white silk interior sparkle.
Honor caught her breath.
It was a necklace, almost a collar. Made of multiple strands of platinum formed in the shape of a climbing briar, with thorns and leaves and flowers. And each flower was a deep, blue sapphire. It was the most exquisitely beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“What…?”
“It’s a gift.”
She looked up at him. The car had moved on, casting the place into darkness again, but she could still see the gleam of his eyes and the sensual shape of his mouth, the hard line of his jaw. He didn’t look away from her.
“You’re mine, Honor. And I wanted to give you something to remind you.”
A couple of weeks ago she would have found that statement insulting. But now … a part of her loved that she was his. Because hell, she wasn’t anyone else’s, was she? Not her mother’s. Not Guy’s. Not her father’s. They’d all chosen someone else. Something else.
She hadn’t cared. She’d had her business and that had been enough for her.
But that had been before she’d met Gabriel. Before she’d realized she wanted more.
What more?
Something caught, painfully tight in her chest. No, more didn’t bear thinking about. It really didn’t.
Instead she picked up the necklace, watched the light glint off the sapphires. “It’s … beautiful.”
“Here,” Gabriel took it from her. “Turn around. I’ll put it on for you.”
Honor did so, sweeping her hair out of the way. His fingers were warm on her nape as he laid the necklace around her neck. It felt heavy and cold but only for a moment, the heat of her skin warming it up.
“I bought it because you like pretty things,” he said quietly as he did up the catch. “So, I thought you might like this.”
Her breath caught. She stared at the wall of the alley in front of her, running her fingers over the strands around her neck. “I do like it,” she said thickly. “I like it very much.”
More warmth at the back of her neck, his mouth as he kissed her. “Are you ready?”
Ah, damn. It was time to go. And she didn’t want to all of a sudden.
Didn’t want to face whatever they’d find at this casino, proof of Guy’s guilt or otherwise. Nor did she want this moment with Gabriel to be lost. This moment where he gave her gifts and kissed the back of her neck like he cared.
But it would be lost. Carried away under the relentless demands of the justice he felt he had to deliver.
Yet what would he say if she asked him not to do this? If she asked him to take her home instead? Make love to her until they’d both forgotten this place even existed? He’d say no, of course. And she couldn’t take that right now.
Grief caught in the back of her throat but she forced it away as she turned to face him. “Yes,” she said levelly. “I am.”
Gabriel’s dark eyes swept over her. “They’ll probably know who you are. You have the story we agreed on settled?”
They’d discussed this earlier. The casino might realize who she was, no matter how many years had passed since a St. James had passed through their doors. But if she was seen with Gabriel, making it clear she was with him and that she wanted to see her father’s old kingdom, then there shouldn’t be a problem. After all, Gabriel Woolf was notorious for not being on the right side of the law. No one would question his sudden arrival, especially with a woman on his arm.
“Yes,” she said.
“And if I say it’s time to go, then you go. Whether I’m with you or not.”
That she hadn’t been too happy about. But then if things went bad, she wasn’t going to be able to help him anyway. The only thing she could do would be to get out and call the number Gabriel had given her. The number that would get her Zac Rutherford.
“Yes,” she said again.
“Good. And if that happens, come back to the bike. Zac will find you.”
Honor pulled a face. “Come back here? By myself?”
“You’ll be safe. This is my territory, remember? People know who owns this bike and if you’re on it, they’ll know I own you, too. And no one touches my property without permission.”
A little flash of annoyance at his arrogance went through her. “I’m not your property.”
He smiled, a savage edge to it that perversely thrilled her. “If I was still president of the Angels, you would be. You’d wear the club colors, with ‘Property of Church’ on the back so everyone would know you were mine.”
“Sounds incredibly chauvinistic.” So why did she like the thought of it?
“It’s the way it is.” His gaze dropped to the necklace he’d bought her. “Tonight though, I’ll be happy knowing you’re wearing something I bought you.”
“I should count myself lucky in that case.” She took his hands in hers, rose up on her toes, and kissed him. “But you’re cute when you’re possessive.”
A short laugh broke from him and it was a moment before she realized it was completely genuine.
“Damn,” she murmured, smiling. “Did I just make you laugh?”
One corner of his usually stern mouth turned up and her heart broke a little inside her chest. “Don’t get used to it.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Come on, let’s go see what we can find out.”
They stepped out of the alley and into the street.
There were people around, pretty damn shady looking people. Loud music blared from speakers at a late-night store across the road; a group of men stood around arguing and drinking from bottles in paper bags, flicking cigarette butts into the dirty snow on the sidewalk. Neon and flickering light from the dingy streetlights shone on the wet pavement.
Honor didn’t look around too closely. She felt out of place in her designer dress, with a fortune’s worth of sapphires around her neck.
She glanced surreptitiously at Gabriel. He’d come from here. These were his streets. This was where he’d lived, an experience so far removed from hers they may as well have been born on different planets.
So she made herself look. Made herself see the dirty streets, smell the rotting trash that the cold couldn’t quite keep at bay. Made herself glance into the eyes of the people they passed. There were no smiles here, only wariness and desperation.
She swallowed, her throat thick and tight.
These were also the streets where her father had been. And Alex.
God …
Gabriel crossed the street, approaching the late-night store with the group of men standing around outside it. Trepidation knotted in the pit of her stomach, easing only slightly when Gabriel slid an arm around her waist, pulling her in close as they approached the shop entrance.
The glances of the group were openly lascivious when they touched on her, turning threatening as they turned on Gabriel.
Then someone said, “Holy fuck. It’s Church.”
A ripple of tension went through the men around the door, several of them backing away.
A massively built man near the door straightened and managed to stand so he was blocking the doorway. “Mr. Woolf,” he said in a perfectly level voice. “Nice to see you back in the neighborhood.”
“Good to see you, too, Jimmy.” Gabriel stared at him. “You doing security here?”
The bouncer dropped his gaze, almost deferential. “Yeah. And I’m gonna have to ask you for an invite. I’m sorry, but everyone has to have one. The lady, too. You understand.”
“Sure, I do.” Gabriel put his hand in his back pocket and took something out of it.
A pair of black dice, and on each, in the place of the one spot, a red jewel glittered. The invite, presumably.
Jimmy nodded once and stood aside. “Welcome, Mr. Woolf. You may go in.”
They walked down the back of what looked like an ordinary corner store with magazine racks, fridges full of drinks, and candy by the register. The door behind the counter opened, revealing a dim hallway. Another man was there and he nodded at them both as they passed, holding open yet another door.
Honor stepped through and blinked.
She was in a windowless room, the walls covered in red velvet, the carpet dark. The lighting was dim but evocative, black leather couches along one wall, red glass candle holders on the table, light flickering. A man in a wrinkled tux sat there, smoking a cigarette, his gaze hooded as he watched them.
Ahead of them was a doorway, a red velvet curtain over it. Near the doorway was an exquisitely carved, black Chinese-style table, a beautiful blond woman in a red gown behind it. She smiled as they approached. “Good evening, Mr. Woolf. Miss St. James. Welcome to the Lucky Seven. Your invites please.”
Trepidation knotted tighter in Honor’s gut. They knew who she was already.
Gabriel handed over the pair of dice, dropping them into the woman’s palm. She studied each die carefully before putting them in a black glass bowl on the table. There was a large quantity of dice in there already.
“We’re honored to have you,” she said, looking at Gabriel meaningfully. “The VIP room is at your disposal, of course. As this is your first visit, would you care for a tour?”
“No,” Gabriel answered shortly. “I’m sure we’ll find our way around.”
The woman’s gaze flickered over Honor and she had the sense she was being cataloged. And priced. “I think you’ll enjoy yourselves,” the woman said softly. “We cater to everyone. Anything you need, only say the word.” She smiled, her mouth full and red, her attention back on Gabriel. “And I do mean anything.”
As subtle invitations went it wasn’t the subtlest.
But Gabriel was already turning away, his arm around Honor like an iron band, taking a step toward the curtained doorway and pulling back the sweep of red velvet.
Honor caught her breath as a massive basement room was revealed.
Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, glittering like complicated icy stalactites, hanging over the gaming tables and the crowds clustered around them. There was an air of opulence about everything, the red velvet on the walls, the black carpet on the ground, black furniture and flickering candlelight. Waiters in black uniforms moved through the crowds, trays of drinks in their hands. All of them were, without exception, women.
The crowd itself was largely male, all in tuxes. Laughing, drinking. Some smoking. There were some other women here and there, glittering in designer gowns and jewels, and all of them beautiful. They hung off the arms of the men, or leaned seductively over them as they played the tables. Only a few were actually playing themselves.
“God,” Honor murmured as they walked down the small staircase to the gaming floor, conscious of the stares as they came down. “This place looks like a high-class brothel.”
“It is,” Gabriel replied, his gaze cold as it swept over the crowds. “Like I said. You can buy anything you want here. Anything at all.”
Honor shivered. What the hell had she gotten herself into? What the hell had Guy gotten himself into? Had he wanted to save her father from this? Or had he helped in his downfall?
“I’m going to use it against him.”
Gabriel’s words replayed themselves in her head. Flat and cold and determined.
She’d promised him she wouldn’t tell Guy or warn him in any way, and she hadn’t. But that didn’t mean she was going to sit back passively and let him ruin her stepfather.
Or himself.
She glanced at him as they moved through the crowd, the look on his face hard. A man so sure of his power on the outside and yet inside … He hurt.
Well, she wasn’t going to let him have the ruin of an innocent man on his conscience. The things he’d done to survive, she wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially the burden of responsibility he’d taken on.
She couldn’t let him have this, too. She just couldn’t.
His arm around her tightened and she knew they were garnering a lot of stares, most of them acquisitive of her.
“Where to first?” she asked under her breath.
“The bar. Give people a chance to look at us.”
Down one end of the huge space was a black marble bar, the wall behind it lit up in red, giving the bottles of liquor on the shelves an eerie red glow. Like blood.
There were a few people standing at the bar or sitting on stools, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
Honor began to notice a few other men in the crowd, all massively built, wearing dark suits and sweeping the crowd with a searching gaze. Security, no doubt.
Gabriel stopped at the bar. He didn’t ask her what she wanted, ordering two scotches.
“Thanks,” she murmured as the barman pushed over two crystal tumblers. “But not sure I’m up for scotch.”
He glanced down at her, dark eyes enigmatic. “You liked it in Vermont, as I recall.”
A flush swept through her. Oh yes, she had. She’d knocked back his scotch and climbed into his lap. God, this was not the time to be remembering that.
She picked up her tumbler, lightly knocking it against his. “This better be a single malt then. Cheers.”
“Sláinte.” He watched her as he picked up his own glass, sipping the amber liquid in it.
Honor did the same, the alcohol sitting warmly in her stomach, easing the trepidation in the pit of it. “So, were you one of those guys? Like the one standing near that pillar?”
“What, security? No. Not inside. We weren’t allowed inside, remember? The club ran interference in the street. Like the men you saw out front earlier.”
“So you’ve never been in here?”
“No.” He looked away from her, out over the crowded gaming tables. “But Zac gave me all the information I need.”
A man standing beside Gabriel turned toward them, looking very definitely and very suggestively at her. “She’s beautiful,” he said as if Honor wasn’t even there. “How much?”
“She’s not for sale,” Gabriel replied before she had a chance to speak, not even bothering to look at the man.
“Aww, come on,” the man said, grinning. “Everything’s for sale down here. Name your price.”
Honor gave him a cool look. “‘She’ is also standing right in front of you.”
The man laughed. “Honey, I’ve won big tonight. Give me a blow job and fifty grand is yours.”
Gabriel shifted unhurriedly, turning toward the guy. “Didn’t you hear the lady? I suggest you fuck off before I take more appropriate steps.”
Anger flooded over the man’s face. “Hey, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are but—”
“I’m Gabriel Woolf and you’re getting in my fucking space.”
Beneath the cold darkness of his voice, Honor could hear something else running through it. A thread of heat. Of anger.
Unthinking, she put a hand on his arm, not to stop him but just to let him know she was there. That she was okay. Instantly she felt the muscles beneath her hand flex and then, just as suddenly, release.
Whatever the man saw in Gabriel’s face was enough to have him back off, muttering.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “I can deal with idiots like that. I’ve dealt with them often enough at work.”
“Not while you’re with me you don’t,” he said curtly. “Come on, I think it’s time we hit the tables.”
* * *
He went for the roulette table first, ostensibly looking at the wheel, all the while keeping an eye out over the crowd. There were a few people he recognized, rich businessmen who moved in certain circles, the kind of businessmen who used to look down on him when he’d first gotten into the construction game.
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.