“What the hell does she want?”
“An exposé on Gideon. She’s starting to get on my bad side. She’s all over him like a rash.”
“I’ll blow her off if she calls back.”
“No, don’t.” I held Gideon’s gaze. “Just don’t give her any information about anything. Where did you tell her I was?”
“Out.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Cary. Call if you need me.”
“Have a banging good time.”
“Jesus, Cary.” Shaking my head, I killed the call.
“Deanna Johnson called you?” Gideon asked, his arms crossing his chest.
“Yep. And I’m about to call her back.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Shut up, caveman. I’m not into that ‘me Cross, you Cross little woman’ bullshit,” I snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten already, we made a trade. You got me, and I got you. I protect what’s mine.”
“Eva, don’t fight my battles for me. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that. You’ve been doing it your whole life. Now, you’ve got me. I can handle this one.”
Something shifted over his features, so swiftly I couldn’t identify whether he was getting pissed. “I don’t want you to have to deal with my past.”
“You dealt with mine.”
“That was different.”
“A threat is a threat, ace. We’re in this together. She’s reaching out to me, which makes me your best shot at figuring out what she’s up to.”
He threw up one hand in frustration, then raked it through his hair. I had to force myself not to get distracted by the way his entire torso flexed with his agitation—his abs clenching, his biceps hardening. “I don’t give a shit what she’s up to. You know the truth, and you’re the only one who matters.”
“If you think I’m going to sit around while she crucifies you in the press, you need to revisit and revise!”
“She can’t hurt me unless she hurts you, and it’s possible that’s what she’s really after.”
“We won’t know unless I talk to her.” I pulled Deanna’s card out of my purse and dialed, blocking my number from showing on her Caller ID.
“Eva, damn it!”
I put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter.
“Deanna Johnson,” she answered briskly.
“Deanna, it’s Eva Tramell.”
“Eva, hi.” The tone of her voice changed, assuming a friendliness we hadn’t yet established. “How are you?”
“I’m good. You?” Studying Gideon, I tried to see if hearing her voice had any effect whatsoever. He glared back, looking deliciously pissed off. I’d become resigned to the fact that whatever his mood, I always found him irresistible.
“Things are churning. In my line of work that’s always good.”
“So is getting your facts straight.”
“Which is one of the reasons I called you. I have a source who claims Gideon walked in on a ménage composed of you, your roommate, and another guy, and flew into a rage. The guy ended up in the hospital and is now pressing assault charges. Is that true?”
I froze, my hearing drowned by my roaring blood. The night I’d met Corinne, I’d come home to find Cary in a four-body sexual tangle that included a guy named Ian. When Ian had lewdly—and nakedly—propositioned me to join them, Gideon had refused the offer with his fist.
I looked at Gideon and my stomach cramped. It was true. He was being sued. I could see the proof of it in his face, which was devoid of all emotion, his thoughts hidden behind a flawless mask. “No, it’s not true,” I answered.
“Which part?”
“I have nothing further to say to you.”
“I also have a firsthand account of an altercation between Gideon and Brett Kline, allegedly over you being caught in a hot clinch with Kline. Is that true?”
My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the counter.
“Your roommate was recently assaulted,” she went on. “Did Gideon have anything to do with that?”