Kidnapped by the Billionaire Page 25

  How fucked up was that?

  You really are your father’s daughter.

  The thought was like a knife sliding beneath her skin, cold and sharp. Perhaps she should never have let herself believe it when he’d told her there was nothing wrong with her. After all, there had to be a reason why her brother had disappeared. Why her mother had always been distant. Why her father and ended up being such a monster.

  No, she was being ridiculous, wasn’t she?

  She curled up tighter, only to feel a pair of powerful arms slide beneath her, lifting her, gathering her up against the hard, hot wall of his chest. She opened her eyes, finding his inky stare looking down at her.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said in a soft, rough voice. “And I’m not going to give you my life story. But if you need someone to make you forget for a while, I will.”

  The dryness in her throat intensified. It wasn’t the capitulation she’d wanted and she was starting to think he just wasn’t the kind of man who’d bend, not even a little. But it was an olive branch of sorts. “And if I don’t?”

  “Then you don’t, and you sleep on the couch.”

  Violet swallowed. What a bitch of a choice. Part of her wanted to tell him to fuck off, that she’d take the couch and to hell with him. But she was too raw and too lonely, and the feel of his arms around her was far too good.

  “I don’t want to sleep on the couch,” she said thickly.

  He stared at her for a second, his gaze merciless. Then he turned and headed toward the hall doorway with her held tight in his arms.

  “I couldn’t save her,” he said, short and abrupt.

  She glanced up at him in surprise. “Couldn’t save who?”

  “My wife.” He wasn’t looking at her, his attention on where he was going, so she took a minute to study the forceful lines of his face, all hard planes and harsh angles. Not daring to breathe in case he stopped speaking.

  “Fitzgerald befriended her. Promised to help her with her career. I told her it was too good to be true, but she told me not to worry. That this would be great for her. I shouldn’t have listened.”

  Her throat was tight, her heart heavy and hurting. So he was giving her something of himself, even though he said he wouldn’t. Yet it made her ache even more. “That wasn’t your fault,” she murmured.

  A flash of darkness as he glanced down at her. “No. It wasn’t. It was Kane’s.”

  She swallowed past the tightness. “It wasn’t his either.”

  “Bullshit.” Elijah’s voice was flat with certainty. “He made a mistake. He should have been harder with her. Should have protected her more. But he didn’t. He loved her too much instead.”

  Violet felt something curl up tight in her chest as they made their way down the hallway to the bedroom, felt her eyes get dry and sore. Of course he’d loved his wife. Where else had all this rage come from? Love. Love was always the problem.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to talk,” she said hoarsely.

  “I don’t.”

  He carried her into the bedroom without another word, going over to the big bed with the black velvet quilt on top. The big wide bed he’d ordered her not to go anywhere near two days ago.

  She was tempted to say something about that as he put her down on it, the velvet quilt soft and sensual against her bare skin. But he didn’t give her a chance to either speak or think about what that meant. Instead he followed her down, pushing her beneath him, his mouth finding hers, hard and demanding.

  And there was no talking at all after that.

  * * *

  “Okay,” Eva said from her chair beside the fire, her attention on the laptop balanced on her knees. “I’ve finally managed to track down some info. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

  Gabriel thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to keep his impatience in check. “Well don’t keep us in suspense,” he said acidly. “Fucking spit it out.”

  Eva raised an eyebrow at his tone but let it pass without comment. Looked like his extremely bad mood was obvious. “The name we’re looking for is Jericho,” she said.

  The Second Circle meeting room was silent for a long moment.

  Alex, sitting on the couch with Katya and Honor, frowned. “Never heard of him.”

  “Not many people have.” Zac was standing beside Eva’s chair, looking down at her laptop screen. “He’s a fairly shadowy figure from the looks of things, and what little information we have about him is sketchy.”

  Fucking wonderful. Yet another criminal asshole to track down.

  Gabriel clenched his fists in his pockets. Opposite him on the couch, Honor gave him a level, blue glance. A sudden uprush of intense desire caught him by the throat and it was all he could do not to leap over the damn coffee table, pick her up in his arms, and take her somewhere quiet where he could forget all about this fucking mess for a while. Forget about the fact he had a sister. A sister who was in deep shit.

  But of course he couldn’t do that with Honor. At least not yet.

  “That’s it?” he demanded, getting himself the fuck together. “That’s all we know?”

  Eva eyed him. “This guy’s gone to a lot of trouble to hide himself, so you’re going to have to give me more than just a couple of hours if you want more info.” She looked down at her screen again. “But what I did find out was that he—or at least businesses he’s associated with—have a lot of fingers in a lot of different pies. Trafficking, drugs, weapons. A whole lot of bad shit basically.”

  “What’s his association with Fitzgerald then?” Gabriel tried to make it sound less like a demand, but failed miserably.

  “I think that’s obvious,” Zac said in his usual calm way. “They’re both in the same business. I’d say Fitzgerald was angling to grow his little empire and wanted Jericho’s European connections.”

  “Shit.” Alex sighed and looked at Katya. “Should have kept Conrad alive, sweetheart. He might have come in handy right about now.”

  Katya snorted. “I have no regrets about South, and I’m sure we can find the information we need our ourselves.” She glanced around. “What about the remaining members of the Seven Devils? Perhaps they know something?”

  The Russian woman had a point. There were two Devils still alive, and one was Honor’s stepfather. The Circles club hadn’t bothered with them, since Guy Tremain was still recovering from a gunshot wound to the head and was having memory problems. The other, Mantel, Zac was keeping under surveillance just in case he decided to make a move toward taking control of Fitzgerald’s empire. So far he hadn’t, though maybe he was just biding his time.

  “Good idea,” Zac said. “Perhaps I should pay Mr. Mantel a visit. I’ve been meaning to have a chat with him anyway.”

  “You know how much I enjoy your little chats, Zac,” Alex commented lazily, leaning back on the couch and sliding an arm around Katya’s waist, “but do we really want to upset people right now? After Fitzgerald’s very public death?”

  Zac lifted a shoulder. “I’ll be discreet. From what we’ve managed to discover, Mantel hasn’t been active in Fitzgerald’s empire for years, though given these men’s ability to hide their nasty little secrets, who knows?” He smiled and it wasn’t pleasant. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to talk if offered the right incentive.”

  Gabriel shifted on his feet, angry and restless. “He needs to know he’s a dead man if he tries to take on any of Fitzgerald’s shit, understand?”

  “Of course. Don’t worry, Gabe, I’ll make sure he knows his position.”

  “Okay, so what other options do we have for finding this Jericho motherfucker?” Gabriel paced down to the end of the fireplace before turning back. “I want to know why he’s after Violet. What he wants her for.”

  Eva pushed the laptop shut. “Could be Fitzgerald was hoping for an alliance. These criminal factions are like medieval kingships in a lot of ways. Marriage and shit like that tying people together.”

  “But F
itzgerald is dead,” Honor pointed out. “So why does Jericho, or whoever this man is, want her now?”

  “Good fucking point.” Gabriel paced back toward Eva, fists clenched tight. Christ, not being able to do anything sucked balls. “If it’s an alliance he wanted, then he’s shit out of luck now.”

  “Unless he wants to take over Fitzgerald’s operation,” Eva said. “Then again, why would he need Violet? From what I can gather about this dude, he’s pretty goddamn powerful. He could just waltz in and take it if he wanted to.”

  “So there’s absolutely nothing about this guy anywhere?” Alex asked, black brows drawn together.

  “Nope.” Eva pulled a face. “All I managed to find were mentions of him. And from the sounds of it, even the people who work for him don’t know who he is.”

  “Excellent. Another shadowy underworld figure.” Alex’s tone was acidic. “Just what we need.”

  Gabriel stopped pacing, abruptly sick of all the talking. He wanted to act. The longer they pissed about trying to figure things out, the longer it was going to take to get Violet back. And he really wanted to get Violet back. Fitzgerald had screwed enough with his family. This shit was going to end.

  “What’s happening with Violet?” He looked at Zac. “Any movement on that little tracking device?”

  The big mercenary shook his head. “No. Looks like she’s back at Hunt’s apartment.”

  “At least my sweater is,” Honor murmured.

  Not appreciating the reminder, Gabriel shot her a narrow glance. “Yeah, well, that’s all we got, so we’ll assume that she’s there.” He glanced once more back at Zac. “Shall we go pay Mantel a little visit then?”

  “I can do this on my own, Gabe.”

  “I know you can, but I gotta do something.” He only just refrained from kicking the coffee table. “Waiting around like this is driving me fucking insane.”

  “Yes,” Honor said, pushing herself up from the couch. “Please take him with you, Zac. He’s driving me insane too.”

  “I’ll join you,” Alex offered. “I could do with some fresh air.”

  “With your shoulder like that?” Zac nodded toward the shoulder in question. “I don’t think so.”

  Alex raised a brow. “And here was I thinking you were actually going to chat.”

  “I could go,” Katya offered. “I am quite skilled at negotiations.”

  “Oh I know how skilled you are, Katya mine.” Alex was grinning. “Believe me, I know.”

  Katya gave him a disdainful look, yet the corner of her mouth had turned up.

  “Are we done here?” Gabriel growled, in no mood to watch Alex and Katya flirt with each other. “Because if you hadn’t noticed, there’s some important shit going down that’s gotta be handled.”

  “Hey Gabe. Chill out.” Eva put her laptop in the battered black messenger back that sat beside her chair then got to her feet. “Okay, if you guys are going to have a Zac chat with that bastard, I’ll get back home and do some more digging about this Jericho guy.”

  Gabriel refrained from telling her his opinions about the idea of “chilling out.” How the fuck was he supposed to do that when his half sister was about to be used as bait to lure out some major goddamn crime lord? It didn’t matter that he barely knew her, that he’d only had a few days to get used to the idea of having a sister at all. She was the only family he had and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

  Zac, however, caught his eye, and Gabriel knew the other man understood. Zac had had a sister once too.

  “Actually,” Alex said. “I think I will come with you two. I remember Mantel from the good old days back at the Lucky Seven. Might be able to think of some good leverage.”

  Gabriel glanced at Alex and saw the same look he’d seen in Zac’s eyes.

  “Welcome to the club, Gabe,” his friend said dryly. “Isn’t it wonderful having a sister?”

  * * *

  Violet woke with something large, hot, and extremely heavy lying on top of her. It certainly wasn’t the quilt, though that was pretty heavy. The quilt wasn’t breathing for one thing.

  Sleepily, she opened her eyes. It took her brain a couple of seconds to catch up with the fact that she wasn’t in her own bed, though she felt comfortable enough to be. And that she wasn’t alone.

  A thrill of fear went though her before she remembered.

  Elijah.

  She blinked and reoriented. She was in his room. In his bed. Which meant that the heavy thing lying on top of her was likely to be six feet, four inches of muscle-packed male. And sure enough, when she looked down, a powerful arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, as weighty and strong as iron chains.

  It made her feel good, despite the near suffocation factor. As if he didn’t want to let her go. A dangerous thing to think about a man like him, especially when he’d been very clear about what he was and was not going to give her.

  Ignoring the feeling, Violet twisted so she faced him and saw that he was asleep, thick black lashes lying still on his sharp cheekbones, his breathing slow and regular. He looked so much younger, his face relaxed in sleep, all that seething, dark, cold menace hidden. Even … vulnerable, a word she’d never thought could be applied to a man as hard as he was.

  Except he hadn’t always been Elijah Hunt. He’d once been a man called Kane, who’d been in love with his wife. Who’d lost her.

  Violet followed the path of the scar on his face, her fingers itching to trace it for some inexplicable reason. Maybe this man here, fast asleep with his arm around her, was that Kane. A kinder, gentler man. A more vulnerable man.

  A scarred man.

  She studied his face, fascinated all of a sudden. Where had he gotten that scar? And the other ones, because there were lots of other ones. She’d seen them last night as he’d kept her beneath him, or above him, or in front of him, surrounding her with that hot hard body of his, that equally hot, hard cock buried deep inside her. He hadn’t let her touch him though, no matter how much she’d begged. And she had begged, pathetic damn woman that she was.

  Her gaze dropped to the tattoo of the eagle on his chest, carrying the heart dripping blood. And she couldn’t help it this time, she got one arm free and put her fingers on it. His skin was so smooth and hot, the muscle beneath it hard.

  She thought she knew what that tattoo meant. It was for his wife, wasn’t it?

  He loved her too much. Elijah’s voice last night, blaming Kane. Blaming himself. Which was stupid because, God, he hadn’t known then what her father was. How could he? Not even she’d known, and she’d been his daughter.

  Violet spread her hand out on his chest. He hadn’t wanted to talk, yet he’d given her that little piece of his own tragedy nevertheless. He’d trusted her with it.

  His heart beat heavy and strong beneath her palm and suddenly her breath shivered in her throat, desire catching her like thorns in a bramble bush. She wanted to touch him, taste his skin, have him moan in her ear the way she’d moaned in his. Drive him as crazy as he’d driven her the night before. Make her mark on him somehow before he let her go.

  The thought made her glance away, down at her own body pressed hard and tight against his. Examining the marks he’d left on her. The bruises from his kisses and his teeth on her breasts and down further, on her inner thighs. He’d probably left them on her throat too since that, apparently, was a major erogenous zone for her, and he’d seemed to have made it his mission to find out all those little places on her body that made her gasp and burn.

  Pity vice versa was a no go.

  She let her fingers run down over the tattoo and further, across the hard, sculpted muscle of his abs. He felt so good. Powerful and strong, and yet so warm. This man wasn’t cold, he was a goddamn bonfire.

  Her fingers brushed lower and she felt his abdominal muscles tense beneath her fingertips. Okay, so did that mean he was awake now? But he didn’t move and he didn’t speak, so she kept touching him, moving even lower to the trail of hair that
led down between his powerful thighs. And lower still, her fingers moving over the smooth, hot skin of a very impressive morning erection.

  A shudder went through him as she curved her fingers around him, but still he didn’t speak. Nor did he pull away.

  She didn’t look at him, sensing somehow that eye contact would break the spell. That he’d end up pulling away or turning it back on her, and she would have lost this chance. So carefully she kept her gaze on the tanned skin of his chest, letting her fingers measure the length and girth of him, stroking up and down his shaft then lightly circling the sensitive skin around the head.

  His breathing changed, becoming harsher, his body tensing against hers.

  Violet circled his cock with her hand and squeezed lightly. She’d only touched a man like this once before, and that had been Aaron, her one and only boyfriend. They’d never slept together, though she’d gone down on him a couple of times, a process that hadn’t been all that successful since Aaron had been so nervous of her father finding out, he’d found it difficult to keep it up.

  He’d been afraid with good reason as it turned out.

  Elijah was different though. He’d never been afraid of her father and he was a damn sight tougher, harder and more powerful than Aaron had ever been. God, why did she find that so helplessly attractive?

  Whatever the reasons, it was majorly hot and so was he. And she wanted to taste him. Right now.

  Slowly, holding him tight in her hand, Violet bent to press her mouth to his chest. The salty flavor of his skin made her shiver with delight and she couldn’t resist touching him with her tongue, licking him like a cat.

  Then before she knew quite what was happening, one large, warm hand came to settle on the back of her head, his fingers curling into her short hair, and he shoved her down.

  Oh, so he was awake. Very awake.

  His body shifted and she found herself lying between his thighs as he sat up, his dick still held tight in her fist. Once again he didn’t speak, putting his other hand on her head, moving his grip until she was held firmly between his hands, and there was pressure as he urged her head down even further.