One with You (Crossfire 5)

I closed my eyes. Focused on the adored, familiar scent of him. “Kiss me again.”

Gideon turned his head, his lips finding mine. I craved deeper, harder, but he denied me. As ferociously passionate as his first kisses had been, this one was soft. Tender. I whimpered a protest, my hands pushing into his hair to pull him closer.

“Angel.” He nuzzled against me. “Your dad’s waiting.”

Oh, God. I loved my dad, but his agony and helpless rage were pouring off him, battering me. I didn’t know how to comfort or soothe. There was a void inside me, as if I had nothing left to give anyone. But everyone needed me.

Putting me back on my feet, Gideon searched my face again. “Let me be here for you. Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not trying to.” I looked away, toward the bathroom. There’s a towel on the floor. Why is it there? “There’s something wrong.”

“Yes. Everything,” he said tightly. “It’s all fucked up. I don’t know what to do.”

“No. Wrong inside me.”

“Eva. How can you say that? There’s nothing wrong with you.” He cupped my face again, brought it around.

“You nicked yourself.” I touched the little spot of dried blood on his jaw. “You never do that, either.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He wrapped himself around me. “I don’t know what to do,” he said again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Gideon kept my hand in his as we returned to the living room.

My father looked over from where he sat on the couch, then stood. Worn jeans. A faded UCSD T-shirt. The shadow of stubble on his strong square jaw.

Gideon had shaved. Why hadn’t I processed that when I noticed the cut from the razor? Why hadn’t I noticed that he’d changed out of his tux?

Some things came to me with strange clarity. Others were lost in the fog in my mind.

The detectives were gone. Cary was curled up against the armrest of the couch, fast asleep, his mouth hanging partway open. I could hear him snoring softly.

“We can step into my office,” Gideon said, releasing my hand to gesture down the hallway.

With a curt nod, my dad rounded the coffee table. “Lead the way.”

Gideon started walking. I fell into step behind him.

“Eva.” My dad’s voice stopped me and I turned around. “I need to speak to Cross alone.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got things to say that you don’t need to hear.”

I shook my head slowly. “No.”

He made a frustrated noise. “We’re not arguing about this.”

“Dad, I’m not a child. Anything you have to say to my husband has something to do with me and I think I should be involved.”

“I have no objection,” Gideon said, returning to my side.

My father’s jaw tensed, his gaze darting back and forth between us. “Fine.”

We all went to Gideon’s office. Chris was sitting at Gideon’s desk, talking on the phone. He pushed back and stood when we came in. “Whenever you’re done for the day,” he said to whomever he was talking to. “I’ll explain when I see you. All right. Talk to you then, son.”

“I need my office a minute,” Gideon told him when he hung up.

“Sure.” His concerned gaze raked all three of us. “I’ll pull out some plates and things for lunch. We all need to eat something.”

Chris left the room, which drew my eye to my dad, who was staring at the massive collage of photos on the wall. The one in the center was of me, sleeping. It was an intimate image; the kind of picture a man took to remember the things he had done with his lover before she’d fallen asleep.

I looked at the other photos, noted one of me and Gideon at an event that I now knew had been captured by Hall. I turned my head away, feeling a prickle running down my spine.

Fear? Hall had taken my mother from me, but who he’d really wanted was Gideon. I could be mourning my husband now. My stomach cramped at the thought, hunching me over.

“Angel.” He was near me in an instant, urging me to sit in one of the two chairs facing his desk.

“What’s wrong?” My dad hovered, too, his eyes wild. I couldn’t recognize my own feelings, but I saw his. He was frightened for me, more anxious than was warranted.

“I’m okay,” I assured them, even as I reached for Gideon’s hand and held on tight.

“You need to eat,” Gideon said.

“So do you,” I countered. “The sooner you two get done, the faster we can do that.”

Just the thought of food made me queasy, but I didn’t say that. They were both already too worried about me.

My dad straightened. “I spoke to my family,” he told Gideon. “They still want to come and be here for Eva. And me.”

Gideon half-sat on the edge of his desk, one hand running through his hair. “Okay. We were going to fly them direct to North Carolina. We’ll have to adjust the flight plan.”

“I would appreciate that,” my dad said, grudgingly.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then why do you look worried?” I said to Gideon, seeing his frown.

“It’s just … It’s a madhouse on the street right now. We can bring your family in through the garage, but if word gets out that they’re in town, they may have to deal with media and photographers at their hotel or anywhere else they may go in the city.”

“They’re not coming to sightsee,” my dad snapped.

“That’s not what I meant, Victor.” Gideon sighed wearily. “I’m just thinking out loud. I’ll work it out. Consider it taken care of.”

I pictured how it must be downstairs outside the lobby, imagined my grandmother and cousins wading through a gauntlet like that. I shook my head and had a moment of clarity. “If they want to come, we should go to the Outer Banks like we planned. We already have the rooms reserved for them. It’ll be quiet and private.”

Suddenly, I longed to be at the beach. Feeling the wind in my hair, the surf lapping at my bare feet. I’d felt alive there. I wanted to feel alive again. “We had catering arranged. We’d have food and beverages for everyone.”

Gideon looked at me. “I had Scott talk to Kristine. We pulled out of everything.”

“It can’t have been more than a few hours ago. The hotel probably hasn’t filled the room block in that short of time. And the caterer already has the things well under way at this point.”

“You really want to go to the beach house?” he asked me quietly.

I nodded. There were no memories of my mom there, as there were in the city. And if I wanted to step outside and take a walk, no one would bother me.

“Okay, then. I’ll take care of it.”

I looked at my dad, hoping that plan was good with him. He stood beside me, his arms crossed and his gaze on his feet.

Finally, he said, “What happened changes everything. For all of us. I want to move to New York.”

Taken aback, I glanced at Gideon, then back at my dad. “Really?”

“It’s going to take some time for me to deal with work and selling my house, but I’m going to get the ball rolling.” He looked at me. “I need to be closer than the other side of the damn country. You’re all I’ve got.”

“Oh, Dad. You love your job.”

“I love you more.”

“What will you do for work?” Gideon asked.

There was something in his tone that drew my attention to him. He’d twisted a bit to face us better, drawing one thigh up to the desktop and resting his crossed hands atop it. He watched my father avidly. There wasn’t any of the surprise on his face that I felt.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” my father said, his handsome face grim.

“Eva needs a dedicated security chief,” Gideon said preemptively. “I’ve got Angus and Raúl stretched to their limits and my wife needs her own security team.”

My mouth fell open as I registered what my husband had said. “What? No, Gideon.”