“Explain.”
“Nathan had this bracelet he always wore—”
“Sapphires. Very feminine.”
I looked up at him. “Yes.”
“Go on.”
“They found it on the arm of a dead mob guy. Russian Mafia. They’re running with the theory that it was a criminal association gone bad.”
Gideon stood very still, his gaze narrowed. “That’s interesting.”
“It’s weird. They were talking about photos of me and sex trafficking, which just doesn’t mesh with—”
His fingers pressed against my lips, quieting me. “It’s interesting because Nathan was wearing that bracelet when I left him.”
I watched Gideon take a shower while I brushed my teeth. His soapy hands slid over his body with economical indifference, his movements brisk and rough. There was none of the intimate worship I caressed him with, none of the awe or love. He was done in minutes, stepping out of the shower in all his nude glory before grabbing a towel and scrubbing away the water on his skin.
He came up behind me when he was done, gripping my hips and pressing a kiss to my nape. “I don’t have any underworld ties,” he murmured.
I finished rinsing my mouth and looked at him through the mirror. “Does it bother you to have to say that to me?”
“I’d rather say it than have you ask.”
“Someone went to a lot of trouble to protect you.” Turning, I faced him. “Could it be Angus?”
“No. Tell me how the mob guy died.”
My fingertips drifted over the ridges of his abdomen, loving the way the muscles flexed and clenched in response to my touch. “One of his own took him out. Retaliation. He was under surveillance, so Graves said they’ve got proof of that.”
“So it’s someone connected, then. To either the mob or the authorities, or both. Whoever’s responsible, they chose a fall guy who could take the blame and not pay for it.”
“I don’t care who arranged it, just so long as you’re safe.”
He kissed my forehead. “We need to care,” he said softly. “To protect me, they have to know what I did.”
15
SHORTLY AFTER FIVE in the morning, I went from unconscious to wide awake in a heartbeat. The remnants of a dream clung to me, one in which I’d still believed Gideon and I had broken up. Loneliness and grief weighed me down, pinning me to the bed for several minutes. I wished Gideon were beside me. I wished I could just roll over and press my body to his.
Partly due to my period, we hadn’t had sex the night before. Instead, we had enjoyed the simple comfort of just being together. We’d curled up on my bed and watched television until the exhaustion of my overkill run on the treadmill pulled me under.
I loved those quiet moments when we just held each other. When the sexual attraction simmered just beneath the surface. I loved the feel of his breath on my skin and the way my curves fit into his hard planes as if we’d been designed for each other.
Sighing, I knew what had me on edge. It was Thursday and Brett was coming to New York, if he wasn’t in the city already.
Gideon and I were just starting to find a new rhythm again, which made it the worst possible time for Brett to come back into my life. I was anxious about something going wrong, some gesture or look that would be misconstrued and cause fresh problems for Gideon and me to work through.
It’d be the first time Gideon and I would be out together in public since our “breakup.” That was going to be torture. Standing next to Brett while my heart was with Gideon.
Sliding from bed, I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, and then pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top. I needed to be with Gideon. We needed to spend some time together before the day started with a vengeance.