CHAPTER SIX
Honor stepped away from Gabriel and Lindsay, the hotel manager, glancing down at her phone to see who’d texted her. Another one from Guy checking up on how things were progressing with Gabriel and whether he’d made an investment decision. That was the third one today.
She frowned. She knew he wasn’t happy, but did he really need to keep texting her about it? He wasn’t usually this impatient.
The whole morning had been taken up with giving Gabriel his promised tour of the hotel, with Lindsay along to answer questions about the day-to-day management. It had been, quite frankly, exhausting. Gabriel was a man who missed nothing and had a question about everything, from the kind of wood used in the construction, to the energy efficiency of the solar panels on the roof, to the staffing levels of the hotel during the off-peak season.
He was now, as they stood near the boathouse on the icy lakefront, grilling Lindsay on occupancy levels, and it was a relief not to have his fierce attention focused on her for a few moments.
Her breath frosted in the icy air as she quickly texted Guy back a “no decision made as yet” response, then pocketed her phone in her coat, glancing over to where Gabriel and Lindsay stood.
He’d left her alone the night before, staying up in the hotel’s library to “work.” She’d had a room service dinner and then decided on an early night, her heart thumping, all her senses on high alert as she’d undressed for bed. Like he was going to come and batter down her door, throw her on the bed and take her, eat her up like the wolf he was named for.
A totally ridiculous thought and yet she’d lain there in bed, unable to sleep, half terrified, listening to every sound, and the other half of her … wanting him to do exactly that.
No. No, of course she didn’t want him to do that. How stupid to even imagine she would.
And when she’d woken up in the morning, decidedly unravished, she’d been relieved. She’d needed the breathing space and some time to get her head back in order. Time to make sure her armor was firmly in place. Yes, he was a temptation, but now that she knew just how much of one, she’d be on her guard. She wasn’t going to be as weak as she had been the day before. She couldn’t afford to be.
He was a client. And that was all.
Footsteps sounded and she looked up as Gabriel came toward her, stalking across the snowy ground like a panther, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, heavy black boots making crunching sounds in the snow.
She straightened. Already she could feel herself tensing up in response to his nearness, which was irritating in the extreme. “I hope you left poor Lindsay alive. I don’t think he was expecting to be grilled quite so intensely.”
Gabriel lifted a shoulder. “He’s still breathing. You have a problem with me asking questions?”
“No, but we don’t often have investors who want to know every single detail.”
“Details are important. Especially where money is concerned. And most especially when it’s my money.”
“Fair enough. You have more you want to see?”
“Not today.” The winter sunlight gilded his hair in stark contrast to the darkness of his eyes as they swept over her, assessing.
“Good,” she said, trying to ignore the accelerated beat of her heart. “Then you won’t mind if we go inside now. In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s cold.”
He didn’t move. “I owe you an apology, Honor.”
For a second, she wondered whether or not she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Do you really want me to say it again?”
“Actually, yes. I think you should.”
The corner of his long mouth turned up, the hint of a smile softening the brutally handsome cast of his features. “You like to push the boundaries, don’t you, sweetheart? I’m apologizing. For my behavior yesterday. I was out of line.”
Honor tried not to let her shock show. She didn’t think Gabriel Woolf was a man who apologized a lot. Or even at all. “Well, thank you. And yes, you were.”
Another opaque sweep of those dark eyes. “Will you let me make it up to you?”
She gave him a wary look, not quite sure how to take this apparently penitent, sincere side of him. “How?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go for a ride with me. Shake out the cobwebs a little. Leave business behind for an hour or so.”
“A ride? On what?”
“What do you think? I have a bike.”
“You’re kidding.”
The opaque look faded, a glint of wickedness in the depths of his eyes that should not have been as seductive as it was. “What’s the matter? You don’t like my bike?”
It wasn’t so much the bike—though riding on the back of that huge black machine seemed a little insane—as the thought of wrapping her arms around him, of her legs on either side of his, that fantasy she’d had in the cottage the day before. Such temptation …
“I have no feelings about your bike either way,” Honor said, staunchly ignoring the vision in her head. “But it’s cold and I don’t have the appropriate clothing.”
“And if you were to have appropriate clothing?”
“It’s a moot point since I don’t.”
Gabriel glanced through the trees toward the main building of the hotel. “Okay,” he said in a neutral voice. “Your loss.” Without another word he turned and began striding back along the snowy path to the hotel.
Honor stared after him. What? Gabriel Woolf accepting a refusal? Without even trying to get her to change her mind? Irritated with the strange discomfort that sat in her gut, Honor began walking up the path after his tall figure.
First an apology and then the offer of going out with him. Odd. Didn’t seem like his usual modus operandi. Up until now, he’d been blunt to the point of offensiveness about what he wanted and he certainly hadn’t liked her refusing him.
A man who got his way. That was Gabriel.
So why had he accepted her refusal without a word? More to the point, why did she care? She didn’t want to go for a ride on his big black bike. Not at all.
Perhaps he didn’t really want you to go after all?
But then why would he have asked in the first place?
Honor frowned and shrugged away the thoughts. God, it seemed way too teenage and desperate to be analyzing his intentions so thoroughly. She was a professional woman in her late twenties with her own business and quite enough other things to worry about without being fixated on a man as dangerous and so obviously wrong for her as Gabriel.
A couple of minutes later, Honor stepped back into the hotel foyer, shivering in delight as the warmth of the central heating chased away the winter chill. Gabriel had vanished, God knows where, but she wasn’t about to go after him. Her feet were uncomfortable in the snow boots Lindsay had found for her to borrow on their trek over the hotel’s grounds, and all she wanted to do was get the boots off and sit in front of the fire at the cottage.
“Ms. St. James?”
She looked over to see Heather smiling at her and tapping a couple of extremely large bags sitting on the reception desk. “These came for you.”
“Really? I’m not expecting anything.” Slowly, she walked over to the desk and examined the name on the bags. Hers. Frowning, she pulled open the edge of one and peered inside. Something black and leather was folded up. Her frown deepened. “Where did these come from?”
“A courier brought them in first thing this morning.”
There was store branding on the front of the bags but she didn’t recognize the name. Weird. She looked in bag number two. More leather and something shiny in dark blue. Reaching into the bag, she slowly withdrew the shiny thing. A motorcycle helmet.
“Oh,” she said, understanding beginning to dawn.
“Now you can’t say you don’t have anything appropriate to wear,” said a deep voice from behind her.
God, how did the man manage to move so quietly?
Honor turned and found herself catching her breath yet again.
Gabriel stood behind her, a black motorcycle helmet casually held in one hand. He was wearing his leathers and she still hadn’t forgotten how incredibly sexy he looked in them, even though she quite desperately wanted to.
“What are these?” She waved a hand at the bags.
“A couple of things to wear in case you change your mind about a ride.”
“But I already told you I’m not going on a ride with you.”
“You said you didn’t have anything to wear. Now you do.”
Honor silently wished him to hell. Sadly, he remained standing there. “I have work to do,” she managed, somewhat lamely.
“That’s not the best excuse I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not an excuse.”
“Isn’t it?” He raised one straight dark brow. “There’s nothing to be scared of. Just you and me and some fresh air.”
She hated the way he kept challenging her as if she was a kid who needed to prove herself. Because she wasn’t a kid. She was a grown woman who didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.
But when was the last time a man kept you on your toes like this one?
She couldn’t remember. A long time. Mainly because she preferred easier men.
Against her will, excitement began to kindle in her gut. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in what she hoped was a level tone. “I’m not scared.”
Gabriel’s mouth curved as he walked over to her, and she couldn’t help tensing up as he came close. He slid his arm around her waist in an easy, affectionate movement, urging her up against his big, powerful, leather-clad body. “Baby, I’ll keep you safe. You know that.” His voice was dark and rough and full of warmth, that smile playing around his mouth.
All for the benefit of the receptionist, naturally. Keeping up the lie he’d perpetrated about them being lovers. It made her want to slap his face and push him away but that would reveal way too much. But deep in his eyes, that challenge glinted. Like he knew how much she hated this and wanted a response from her. As if he relished it.
Adrenaline spiked in her bloodstream, a dangerous rush, and before she quite knew what she was doing, she’d put her hands on his chest and was rising up on her toes, brushing that cruel, smiling mouth with hers. Answering his challenge.
And as soon as she’d done it, she knew it had been a stupid move. Incredibly, ridiculously stupid.
A bolt of something elemental and wild shot straight down her spine. Like summer lightning or the howling force of a hurricane. For a minute she couldn’t move, standing there, her hands pressed to his chest, her mouth touching his, turning to stone as the wildness between them began to grow in a chaos of sparks and flashes of electricity.
Then the voice of reason said very clearly in her head, no.
Honor drew back, fighting for breath, trying to be calm while everything inside her was still whirling from the tornado that had struck. There was shock on Gabriel’s face, and something else, a glimpse of something as desperate and hungry as the chemistry that had ignited between them.
She’d surprised him then.
Satisfaction gripped her and even though she was still trembling inside, she kept a cool smile on her face. “Of course you’ll keep me safe, darling,” she said, allowing a touch of sarcasm to rest on the endearment. “I suppose I’d better check and see what you got me.”
She turned around, not wanting to look at him again quite yet, busying herself with the bags, conscious of the receptionist’s fascinated gaze on the pair of them.
You kissed him, you idiot. He’s a potential client and even apart from that, he’s far too much for you to handle. What the hell were you thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking, that was the problem. She’d just responded to his unspoken challenge without a thought, wanting to push him harder, revel in the wild surge of excitement at testing him.
Dangerous to indulge that part of her. That sensual weakness. So damn dangerous. Kissing Gabriel Woolf was a slippery slope she could fall down and never stop falling.
Honor forced the fizzing, bubbling excitement away, pulling open one of the bags instead.
There was a movement behind her, Gabriel’s leather-clad elbow resting on the reception counter. She kept her attention on the bags, but it was difficult to concentrate when every sense she had seemed attuned to the figure of the man standing next to her.
She drew out a biker jacket. It was surprisingly heavy, the leather padded and soft.
The receptionist made a sighing kind of sound. “Wow. Nice.”
It was. Too nice.
Honor folded it up and put it back in the bag. “You shouldn’t have,” she said to Gabriel. “This is wasted on me.”
“Is it?” This time his voice was utterly neutral. Enough to make her glance at him. There was no shock or hunger on his face now, his features expressionless. “I’ll send it back then.” He turned his head to look at the receptionist. “Heather, could you ring the store these came from, please? Tell them I need to get a refund on—”
“Wait,” Honor said, interrupting before she could think straight. “I didn’t say I didn’t want them.” She didn’t quite know why she didn’t want Gabriel to send them back, especially when she wasn’t going to be using them, but …
His gaze came back to hers. “If you want them, put them on and meet me out front in five minutes. If you don’t, leave them here and I’ll send them back.” He pushed himself away from the desk with a lazy movement, then turned and walked toward the entrance without another word.
Honor watched him go, her heart thumping. God, what the hell was she doing? Every time he got in her vicinity she felt like she kept making mistakes. Daring him. Kissing him. Fighting him. Allowing herself to get carried away by him when she should be keeping this all about business. All about Guy and Tremain Hotels.
Yet she couldn’t deny the excitement and adrenaline still fizzing through her like champagne out of a freshly shaken bottle. Or the way her mouth was still burning from the touch of his.
Matching wits and crossing swords with Gabriel was thrilling in the way discovering a fabulous new project to invest in was thrilling. Or trading the stocks of a particularly volatile company. There had always been a reason she liked the world of high finance and it wasn’t only because of her talent with money. She liked the buzz and the challenge of it, too. The adrenaline rush of the gamble …
Of course you do. You’re like your father. Like Alex.
Honor caught her breath. No, she wasn’t like them. She was aware of her weakness. She wouldn’t give in to it and destroy herself in the process like they had. Her gambles were always calculated, always safe.
The problem was that Gabriel wasn’t safe. Not even for a moment.
Making a sudden decision, Honor pulled the bags off the counter and walked down to the cottage with them.
Perhaps this was a bad idea, but maybe the best way to handle this was to stop fighting him and go with the flow. Take the ride. If she went into this with her eyes open, fully conscious of the dangers, she’d be okay.
A calculated risk. Her favorite kind.
Honor didn’t know how he’d managed to find her size but the pants, the jacket, the gloves, and the boots all fit perfectly, even though she found moving in them strange. The leather pants and jacket were tight. It was like being encased in armor, an image that probably wouldn’t go amiss when dealing with a man like Gabriel.
Five minutes later, helmet in one hand, she walked back up the path to the front of the hotel. He was still there, crouched beside his big, black Norton, fiddling with something on the wheel.
Honor took a slow, silent breath. “So,” she said. “What about this ride then?”
His blond head turned, dark eyes sweeping over her. He didn’t move, just stared. Then he rose to his feet in a fluid movement. “Everything fits.” It wasn’t a question.
Her mouth felt dry. That look he’d given her had contained a certain amount of very obvious heat. “Evidently. How did you know my size?”
“I snuck a look at your clothes.” He didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed of himself. “Have you tried the helmet?”
“No.”
He strode over to her and once again, she couldn’t help her reaction, tensing, every single nerve ending alight. How stupid to have kissed him. Now how the hell would she cope with holding on to him on the back of a bike? So much for a calculated risk.
He took her helmet and lifted it up, gently sliding it down over her head. Sound became muffled, her peripheral vision eliminated. All she could see was him in front of her. “That fits, too. What about the gloves?”
Speaking was a touch difficult with a helmet on so she lifted her hands in the padded leather gloves, her fingers warm for the first time that day. He didn’t say anything, taking her hands unexpectedly in his and examining the fit. Thank God for the leather protecting her from the touch of his skin because even though she couldn’t feel him, she could still hear her heart beating uncomfortably loud in her ears. “Those look fine,” he said, dropping her hands. “Come on, I’ll help you onto the back.”
“I can do it myself,” she protested. The last thing she wanted was to be helped onto the bike by him, even with all the leather protecting herself.
“Of course you can,” he said. “Be my guest.” He stood back with his arms folded, watching as she awkwardly threw her leg over the bike and clambered on. There was distinct amusement in his eyes, which she decided to ignore.
“Okay,” she said, a trifle breathless, settling herself on the seat. “Let’s go.”
He smiled and she felt that electricity between them again, alive and dangerous, crackling like static in the air before a storm. “Okay, sweetheart. Hold on tight.” He picked up the helmet that sat on the seat in front of her and put it on. Then he got on the bike.
Honor held her breath. She swore she could feel the heat of him even through two sets of leather. God, perhaps this hadn’t been the greatest decision after all.
He turned his head. “Unless you want to come off the back, I suggest holding onto me.”
Well, she kind of knew this was expected.
What are you afraid of? You can handle this.
Of course she could. It was only temptation and she’d resisted so far.
Honor leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his waist and yes, she could feel the heat of him through the leather. The power and the strength of his body like the bike beneath them. A hot engine encased in hard steel.
Gabriel kicked the stand up and started the machine. She could feel the roar of it go through her, keying into the excitement she’d felt the moment before she’d kissed him. The moment before she’d accepted his challenge.
Her arms tightened around his waist and behind her visor, despite herself, Honor grinned.
He didn’t give her any warning, just opened the throttle and took off.
* * *
He’d never liked riding with other people. Even when he’d been with the club, he wasn’t one of the guys who had their old ladies on the back, not that he’d had an old lady anyway, since he preferred being solitary. It was easier as a leader. But he had to admit, there was something about riding along a snowy forest road with Honor St. James holding on tight to him.
She was a small, slight presence behind him but he could feel her. Oh yeah, he could. Her thighs on either side of his, her arms holding him tight, her gloved hands a light pressure against his abdomen.
He was satisfied she was there, that she’d chosen to come with him. He’d wondered at first whether his different approach would work since even with his apology she hadn’t seemed all that impressed. But he should have known appealing to the part of her that loved a challenge would be successful.
Though she hid it well, she was a gambler at heart, just like her brother. Thriving on risk, the thrill of the odds, the rush of the win. That kiss she’d given him had been evidence enough of that.
He could still feel that kiss, too, a reverberation that had gone deeper than any kiss had a right to go. He didn’t want to think about that. Or about the way something inside him had answered her—or at least wanted to answer. This physical attraction between them had to be managed carefully. Otherwise, it was going to take over and he couldn’t let that happen.
On either side of them snow-laden trees whipped by, the icy chill of the wind clawing at their clothing. He opened the throttle, building up a bit of speed, but not too much since the road was wet. He’d planned on doing a circuit of the lake, including stopping at a rustic looking store-café that sold Vermont’s famous maple syrup and maple candy. She might like that, and he could buy her a hot chocolate. Talk to her about things other than business. Get her off the defensive for a moment.
Hell, perhaps he could even give her some more information on Alex, though he knew his friend wouldn’t want him to.
He wouldn’t want you being with Honor either and yet here you are.
Too bad. Gabriel had a lot of respect for his friend but he couldn’t afford to have any scruples when it came to taking Tremain down. It was too important. The whole of his early existence had been bent on clawing himself a life from the shit hand he’d been dealt, a life for his mother and himself that meant being safe and having enough food to eat. And when that had been accomplished, he’d had to fight to hold onto it, to protect those who mattered to him. And fought he had. With everything in him.
Twenty minutes later, the trees gave way to a small lakeside town. The store was on the shore, a rustic wooden building with a porch out front and a snow-covered sign indicating its wares. He guided the bike into a parking space nearby and put the stand down. Honor’s grip loosened instantly and fell away, as if she couldn’t wait to stop touching him.
If he hadn’t felt the spark between them he may have found that discomforting. But he didn’t. He knew why she pulled away and it made him smile behind his visor. A smile he made sure wasn’t there as he took his helmet off.
“Why are we stopping?”
Gabriel got off the bike and turned. Honor had taken her helmet off, too, her cheeks flushed pink, her inky hair mussed. She smoothed her hair back into place, looking around her as she did so.
“I thought you might like a break from the wind. Plus the store here does a mean hot chocolate.”
Her eyes were very blue in her flushed face, glittering in the snow-bright sun. “How do you know? I hate to say it, but you don’t look like a hot chocolate kind of guy.”
“I stopped here for one on the way from New York. I happen to like it.” Christ, she was lovely, she really was. And she had no idea that the way she sat there on the back of his bike, dressed in tight-fitting black leather, made him hard. Made him want to peel her clothing off and uncover the soft white skin beneath it. “And what kind of guy do you think I am anyway?”
“I think you’d be more at home in a pub with a beer than a rustic store eating maple syrup candy.”
“I am that kind of guy. I’m also the kind of guy that wants to buy hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day for a lovely lady friend.”
Her flush deepened, and he knew that annoyed her because her eyes flickered as she looked away. “I suppose I could have one.”
“Sure you could. I hate drinking alone.”
“As long as I buy my own.”
“You’re going to argue over a couple of dollars?”
“I tell you what,” Honor said, sliding off the bike with slightly less awkwardness than she had getting on. “You let me buy you a hot chocolate. It’s only fair since we’re riding your bike. Not to mention the fact that all this gear I’m wearing is yours.”
“Okay,” he said and watched her face.
Sure enough, surprise flared over it. Clearly she was expecting him to protest. “Oh, well, good. Drinks are on me then.”
“As long as you stop calling me ‘Mr. Woolf.’ Seems stupid, especially after you kissed me.”
She looked away down the street, smoothing her hair again, holding her helmet in one hand. “It wasn’t a real kiss and you know it.”
“Bullshit,” he said softly. “You were trying to get back at me and I understand that, but pretend kisses don’t usually feel like that one did.”
She glanced back at him. “And what did that one feel like?”
He wanted to laugh. Oh, she was good, very good indeed. Pushing the boundaries, confronting him. Giving him back as good as she got. It excited him.
Goddamn, why couldn’t he use their chemistry to his advantage? Especially since she’d just handed him the key to her particular lock on a platter: all he had to do was appeal to the gambler in her, the wildness that lurked under the surface of her skin.
He met her gaze and held it. “It’s hard to put into words. Perhaps I should just show you instead.”
For an instant a blue spark glowed in the depths of her eyes. Then her lashes fell, silky black, hiding her expression. “Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far. Come on, let me buy you a nice hot chocolate. If you’re very lucky I’ll even ask them for extra marshmallows.”
He let her buy the drinks, which they took out into the weak winter sunlight and sat on a park bench beside the lake. Snow was heaped in drifts and it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be, but there was no wind and it was better than listening to the loud music blaring through the store’s speakers.
“So,” Honor said, toying with her drink. “Why the bike ride?”
“Because I hate being cooped up for too long. Plus I like the wilderness out here.”
“But why invite me? I hate to say it, but I’m not much of a wilderness person.”
Gabriel leaned back against the bench, legs outstretched, ankles crossed. “I noticed. If you must know, I thought we got off on the wrong foot initially.”
“That was wholly your fault, not mine. You virtually blackmailed me into coming here.”
“What do you want? Another apology?”
“Will I get one?”
“Fuck, no. That was entirely business-related and when it comes to business I don’t apologize for anything.”
She took another sip of her hot chocolate. She’d taken off her gloves, cupping her hands around the paper cup. Her fingers were slender, pale, and beautifully manicured. Just like everything about her.
“So what about it then?” Honor asked. “If you’re expecting friendship, you’re out of luck.”
“I don’t expect you to be my friend, but I thought that since we’ll be spending a week together we should at least be on speaking terms.”
“A week … yes. That has me a little puzzled, I have to admit. What are you expecting to have happen?”
Gabriel glanced at her. She’d left a good amount of room between them on the bench, sitting slightly angled toward him, a crease between her brows. What did he expect to happen? Guy Tremain’s secrets spilled any way he could get them, that’s what.
And if they’re spilled onto your pillow?
Well, shit. He wouldn’t say no to that either.
“I thought I might talk to you about Alex,” he said.
She paled, her eyes suddenly huge and dark in her face. And for the first time in years, he felt an odd pang of … something in the vicinity of his chest.
“Alex? What—” She broke off and looked away, gripping her cup in her hands. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
Christ, whatever that feeling was, he sure as hell didn’t like it. Ignoring the sensation, Gabriel said softly, “Are you sure about that?”
Honor didn’t reply immediately, her attention turned to the view of the frozen lake. “He left when he was sixteen. Without a word. Just … disappeared. Then every so often we’d see him in the media, at some party or casino. We thought eventually he’d get in touch but … he didn’t.” She raised her cup, took another sip. “Alex didn’t care. And you know what? I don’t think I care about him either.”
“When you say we, you mean…?”
“My mother and I.”
A silence fell.
Gabriel studied her set face. Pale as the snow around them. “He had his reasons. And you’re wrong, he does care.”
“Does he? You’ll forgive me if I’m cynical about whatever those reasons were.”
“He’s kept an eye on you for a number of years, Honor. I know that much.”
“Oh, has he? So, he knows all about how we lost everything after our father shot himself? How Mom basically lived on antidepressants and vodka when he disappeared?” Her voice was cold. “I had to clean her up every night and put her to bed. Not that we had a bed since most of our belongings were repossessed to pay Dad’s gambling debts.” She paused. “I was eight.”
And Alex had been sixteen. Haunted by whatever had happened to him in that underground gambling den his father had dragged him into. He’d never spoken of it to Gabriel, but then Gabriel had known the day he’d found Alex bleeding from the mouth and pale on the sidewalk outside the casino that something had gone down. Something bad.
Gabriel had been a fully patched member of the Angels by that stage and had enlisted a doc used by the club to check his friend out. Alex told him that night that he wasn’t going home ever again. So he’d come to stay in the shitty run-down apartment Gabriel shared with his mother, never saying a word about his family. In fact it wasn’t until the day his mother had turned up with Honor in tow that Gabriel realized he’d even had a sister.
A sister who’d obviously been scarred by what had happened all those years ago.
That strange, slightly painful emotion shifted around in Gabriel’s chest. Guilt maybe. Or sympathy. He ignored it, whatever it was. Anger was the only emotion he’d ever been able to deal with.
“So, you had it hard,” he said. “You’re not the only one.”
She flicked him a glance. “Are we talking about Alex still?”
“Not entirely.”
The cold look on her face faded, curiosity glinting in her eyes now. Which was excellent. Curiosity would only help him when baiting the hook that would draw her in.
“I expect you had a difficult upbringing, too, didn’t you?” she said after a moment. “How exactly did you and Alex meet anyway?”
Difficult question this one, especially as he’d first met Alex at that underground casino. The Lucky Seven, it was called. Patronized almost exclusively by the upper echelons of New York society, there wasn’t only gambling that went on behind its secret doors. Drugs, prostitution. Anything that could be bought, the Lucky Seven sold.
And Honor’s father had dragged his son into it. How much did Honor know about that? She’d mentioned her father’s debts so she obviously knew he’d been a gambler. But did she know Alex used to count cards for him? And if she didn’t, was it really his place to tell her?
That’s not what you should be asking yourself.
No, he shouldn’t. Any information he gave her had to be in aid of his greater goal. Tremain. And just like he’d been single-minded and driven in his rise from the streets, he had to be focused about this.
Slowly Gabriel sat forward, his forearms on his knees, holding his cup of cooling chocolate in his hands. “You know your father was a gambler?”
“We figured that one out after the repo men came to take everything away.”
“Big debts then?”
“Major ones. According to the coroner, gambling wasn’t the only thing he was addicted to. They found traces of cocaine in his system, too. Of course we only found this out after he died.” Her voice held a bitter edge. “Dad’s last little gift to us. But what’s this got to do with Alex?”
Gabriel watched her face. “Alex is a mathematical genius. And a card counter. Your father thought he could help him win.”
Shock crept over her finely carved features. “What do you mean, ‘help him win’? Did Dad take him to Vegas? But I didn’t—”
“Your father didn’t play in Vegas,” Gabriel interrupted gently. “He played in New York. In my neighborhood.”
She blinked. “But … I don’t understand. Mom said he went to Vegas every second weekend. And the bank—”
“It was an underground casino. The club I used to ride with did security for it.”
Her throat moved, her eyes wide, staring at him. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because that’s how I met Alex. I was a club prospect at the time, hanging around and helping out on the door. Your father sometimes took him inside, sometimes left him out on the sidewalk and I got to talking to him.”
Honor didn’t say anything for a long moment, looking abruptly away out over the lake. Then with a quick movement, she got to her feet. “I’m cold,” she said in a voice devoid of any expression. “I think it’s time to go.”
* * *
Honor couldn’t get a breath. She walked back to where Gabriel had left the bike, not caring if he’d followed her, barely even aware of where she was. She needed a minute to get away, get her thoughts together after the bombshell Gabriel had just dropped.
What she knew about her father was that he’d killed himself after his gambling debts had finally caught up with him. Debts he’d incurred from a casino in Vegas that were in all likelihood attempts to finance a burgeoning addiction to cocaine.
An addiction that he’d kept secret, along with those debts, right up until his death.
But it seemed that her father had even more secrets than anyone had guessed. He hadn’t been in Vegas after all, but New York. And he’d used Alex to count cards …
She’d been eight when her father had died. A shot to the temple from a pistol in his desk. Her mother had found him and the sight of her beloved husband in a pool of blood had sent her straight to the bottle. In the middle of a binge, she’d once told Honor her father had killed himself because Alex had left. A small part of her had always blamed her brother for that and yet it seemed there was more to that story, too.
Daniel St. James had taken his son into an underground casino to count cards. A boy of sixteen. Was that why he’d left?
Shock moved through her in a slow, cold wave, her hands trembling as she fumbled with her gloves.
The circumstances around her father’s death and the revelation of his gambling debts had shattered the family. But she’d never dreamed that there would be more.
Secrets. God, how she hated secrets.
The crunch of snow beneath heavy boots. “Are you okay?”
She looked up to meet Gabriel’s dark eyes, his gaze sharp and focused, making her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
“Yes,” she said, nearly dropping one of her gloves. “I’m fine.” A total lie.
“No, you’re not.” He reached out unexpectedly, taking her hands in his. And her breath caught at the touch.
“Don’t,” she said thickly, trying to pull away.
But he only held her tighter, his large warm hands wrapped around hers. “Your fingers are freezing. Putting them into gloves like that is a mistake. Give them a minute to warm up.”
A fizzing, tingling sensation was moving over her skin, up her arm, down through her body. Like she was touching an electric fence. Great, this was all she needed. In addition to the shock, she now had to cope with her physical response to him.
She took a breath, keeping her gaze on his hands holding hers. His fingers were long and blunt, white scars crisscrossing them. There were other scars on the backs of his hands, long cuts and round circles. For some reason, despite the crap he’d just dumped on her, all she could think about were those scars and the faint, tantalizing roughness of his fingers against her skin. The hands of a workingman, not a desk jockey.
He’d had a difficult childhood, too, or so he’d told her. And the “club” must refer to the motorcycle gang he’d been part of. Had he gotten those scars at that time?
Why the hell are you thinking about him? When he’s basically blown apart everything you knew about your family?
God, she had to handle this, not go to pieces. She wasn’t her mother, helpless and weeping on the couch, consoling herself with drink. Nor was she her father, who’d chosen suicide rather than face the reality of his actions.
No, she had to stay in control and think things through logically, like she did at work. More information was clearly needed.
Honor pulled her hands away and he let her go this time. “Tell me what you know about Alex,” she said harshly. “All of it.”
The look on his face was cool, impersonal and for some reason, that helped. Sympathy would have undone her. “There’s not much more to tell. One night I found Alex sitting on the sidewalk outside the casino with blood all over his face. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but he asked if he could come back to my place because he didn’t want to go home. So I let him.”
“Did he say why? Did he say anything about coming back?”
“No. He never mentioned his family at all.”
“What about my father? How did he get involved with this?”
“I don’t know. I just saw him go in about once a week and sometimes he’d be there on the weekends, too. Like I said, the club did security and we weren’t allowed inside so I don’t know what went on.”
“But what about the casino?”
“What about it? The Lucky Seven is just about an institution. A place for rich assholes to buy whatever the hell they want, not just for gambling.”
“Drugs?”
Gabriel’s gaze was steady. “Anything, Honor.”
The cold settled down inside her and stayed there. What had been missing from her father’s life that he’d put at risk his high-powered job and his family purely to chase a high? Why hadn’t he been stronger? Why hadn’t he resisted? And why, for the love of all that was holy, had he brought Alex into it?
She didn’t remember much about Daniel St. James, only that he’d always seemed to prefer his son to her and that Alex had idolized him. Yet he’d let something happen to Alex at that casino and from what Gabriel had just told her, it had been something awful. Then he’d killed himself.
She looked away, feeling even colder. There would never be any answers to those questions because the only person who could answer them was dead. And as for Alex …
“He doesn’t want to talk to me, does he?” she asked quietly, staring at the snow.
Gabriel didn’t ask who she meant; he knew. “No.”
A brief silence fell.
“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said at last.
Damn him. She hated how he seemed to be able to read her so easily. “Another apology, Mr. Woolf? What is the world coming to?”
“If it’s any consolation, I made Alex contact your mom after your father died. To at least let her know he was alive.”
“No, that’s not any consolation.” How could it be when he’d refused to come back even then?
Honor took a deep breath, anger beginning to burn through the shock. An anger she’d thought she’d long put behind her. “I think I’ve had enough revelations for one day. Can we go now, please?”
As soon as they got back, Gabriel dropped her off near their cottage and went to park the bike. She didn’t bother to change, merely slipping out of the jacket once she was inside, then picking up her phone and dialing her mother’s cell.
“Darling,” Elizabeth St. James said warmly. “How’s Vermont?”
“Cold.” She hesitated. “Mom, what do you know about Daniel?” He would never be “Dad” to her, not after the way he’d left her.
There was a silence at the other end of the phone.
“What do you mean?” her mother asked eventually.
“I mean the gambling. What do you know about it?”
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“Please, Mom.”
Her mother sighed. “I don’t know much of anything. I thought he was having an affair, with all those conference trips to Vegas.” Another pause. “What’s all this about, Honor? Why are you asking me this now?”
Honor stared out the window at the snow-covered trees and icy lake beyond. Her mother hadn’t read the coroner’s report and refused to believe her late husband had been taking drugs. But the gambling debts hadn’t been so easily dismissed. Had she known he’d been visiting an underground casino rather than going to Vegas? And that he’d taken Alex with him? Good question. Because if Elizabeth didn’t know then Honor couldn’t tell her. Her mother was a fragile woman, both physically and emotionally, and her husband’s death had taken her years and the very finest rehab Guy’s money could buy to recover from.
“Oh, I just heard a few things,” Honor said carefully. “There were rumors that … he wasn’t going to Vegas after all, but a casino in New York.”
“What?” There was puzzlement in her mother’s voice. “No, of course he wasn’t in New York. He was in the casinos in Vegas, that’s what the bank said.”
So, no, her mother didn’t know. Honor rubbed her brow tiredly. “Yes, well, that’s what I thought,” she said.
“Where did you hear these rumors? From whom?” Elizabeth asked.
Oh dammit. She shouldn’t have said anything. “They’re just rumors, Mom.”
“I need to tell Guy.” Her mother sounded upset. “I don’t want rumors going around about Daniel. This family has been through quite enough as it is.”
“Don’t worry,” Honor said, going into soothing mode. She couldn’t face upsetting her today. “Let me deal with it, okay? It’ll be fine.”
Her mother took an audible breath. “All right then, darling. But do let Guy know if it gets out of hand. You know how lies like that upset me.”
But were they lies? She hadn’t asked Gabriel whether what he’d told her was true or not, only taken it for granted that it was. Perhaps she needed to demand some proof.
At that moment she heard the cottage door shut and footsteps coming down the hall. A second later, Gabriel appeared, a tall, dark figure in black leather, filling the doorway.
What perfect timing.
“I will,” she said into the phone. “I have to go, Mom. Take care, okay?”
Ending the call, she laid the phone down carefully on a nearby side table then turned to face him. He said nothing, hitching his shoulder against the door frame, watching her in that disturbingly perceptive way of his.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth about my father?” she asked abruptly, breaking the thick silence.
“Why would I lie?”
“For any number of reasons, I should imagine.” She folded her arms. “I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”
“That’s your prerogative, I guess. But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. If you want proof why don’t you give your brother a call? I’ve got his number.”
“You said he doesn’t want to speak to me.”
“He doesn’t. Good luck with getting him to answer.”
The anger simmering in her gut froze solid, her throat closing. Once, years ago, she’d found out Alex’s number and given him a call. He’d never answered and never responded to the message she’d left. She hadn’t tried again.
Hating the knowing look in Gabriel’s eyes, she turned away. He knew she wouldn’t call him and she hated that he knew. She wasn’t a coward, but the hurt her brother’s silence had caused went deep.
What would knowing the truth change anyway? Whatever happened with Alex and your father, it was a long time ago. You can’t fix it now.
No, she couldn’t. Which made it easy to deal with in many ways.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she said, moderately pleased with how calm her voice sounded. “It doesn’t matter anyway since it all happened years ago.”
“Are you sure you don’t want his number?”
“Quite sure.” She found a chilly smile from somewhere. “I’ve got quite a few work calls to make and e-mails to check, so if you haven’t got anything else you need me for this afternoon…?”
Gabriel ignored the question. “You’re sure you’re okay? I know all that about your father was a hell of a thing to dump on you.”
“Why did you then?”
“You wanted to know how Alex and I met.”
“No, talking about Alex, period. You were the one who brought up the subject, not me.”
He was still leaning casually against the door frame, but the look on his face was anything but causal. There was a hard, almost calculating glint in his eyes. As if he was debating what to tell her.
“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” she said suddenly, not sure how she knew, only that the glint in his eyes had warned her. “Why? And the ride … That wasn’t just a ‘let’s get out into the fresh air’ thing, was it?”
He didn’t move. “What makes you say that?”
A burst of adrenaline shot through her. He was playing with her. Like he’d done from the beginning, because that’s what he was. A game player. “There wasn’t any reason for you to bring my brother up. Or tell me about my father, but you did.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“Really, Mr. Woolf? Or was it because you’re involving me in another one of your games?”
He raised a brow. “Games?”
“Don’t be so disingenuous. It doesn’t suit you.”
A thick, heavy silence fell.
Gabriel smiled. A slow-burning, wicked smile. “You’re a smart woman, Honor St. James. Too smart maybe.”
She took a silent breath. “You bastard.”
He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed of himself. “You’re right, I am a bastard. And you should never make the mistake of thinking otherwise.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.” The low-level anger that had been there ever since he’d told her about Alex and her father began to boil. Yet something else was there, too. That heady, illicit thrill. She’d seen through him and now she was certain the gloves were going to come off. Part of her was … excited by the thought. “You must want something from me pretty badly to use information about my brother against me.”
“Let’s be clear. I didn’t use it against you. I mentioned Alex because I thought you needed to know. But sure, the ride itself wasn’t purely out of the goodness of my heart.”
“Oh?”
“No. I wanted to go riding with you so I could have that fucking hot little body of yours up against mine on the back of the bike.”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
The look in his eyes glinted. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve always been up-front about what I wanted from you.”
He had. Brutally so, in fact.
Dangerous. So dangerous.
Yes, and she should be telling him where to go. Or at least packing everything up and leaving him here. But she couldn’t. There was this investment hanging over her head still and besides, leaving would be tantamount to letting him win.
What happened to going with the flow?
No, she wasn’t supposed to be fighting him, giving in to the burn of excitement that matching wits with him gave her. But then she couldn’t allow him to get the upper hand either. Because once he had it, she’d never get it back.
So how to handle him? She could be ruthless when she chose to—hell, you didn’t get to have your own investment firm by being a pushover, after all—and no one could ever accuse her of being weak. She couldn’t afford to be.
You know how …
A small electric thrill shot down her spine, mixed with a healthy dose of trepidation. Oh yes, she knew. She’d always sworn to herself she’d never use that particular weapon, certainly not when it came to business. And not only that, it would be a temptation that would push her own control to the limit.
Then again, this would be another calculated risk, wouldn’t it? If she was aware of the dangers, she could handle it. Handle him.
“Yes,” Honor said levelly. “You have. And I suppose I don’t need to ask you what that is.”
He shifted against the door frame, folding his arms, the glint in his eyes becoming hotter. “No. Though I don’t mind saying it again if you need a reminder.”
“You want me?”
He didn’t look away. “Of course. You.”
She didn’t want to think about how that made her feel, that he wanted her enough to be a complete bastard about it. That he would use anything he could to have her. “Why? You could have any woman you wanted. You don’t need me.” She paused. “Oh, I know, it’s because I resisted, isn’t it?”
“Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re beautiful. Fucking smart. And we have major chemistry going on. Plus you’re one hell of a challenge mentally and that excites me. Why wouldn’t I use what I could to get you into my bed?”
Don’t be flattered, for God’s sake!
But it was too late. She was, the warm glow of it sitting in her stomach along with the anger and excitement, that fizzing electricity.
No one had wanted her like that in a very long time …
She folded her arms. “If you think I’m going to fall into your arms after that, you’ve got another think coming.”
“After you saw through me so easily? Not in the slightest.” He pushed himself away from the door frame, still smiling. Wicked. Dangerous. “Which means the next move is all yours, baby.”