Sin for Me Page 4

  Gideon glanced at her as he stood at the stove pushing bacon around in the pan, then jerked his head toward the tiny kitchen table that stood against the wall. “Pancakes are there. You want bacon?”

  “I don’t know. . . .”

  “If you’re hungover, you’ll want bacon.”

  She wanted to protest that she wasn’t hungover, but that would be a lie he definitely wouldn’t believe. So she shut up and went over to the table, sitting down and reaching for the pot of syrup and pouring a liberal amount over the pancake stack sitting on her plate.

  There was coffee and orange juice already set out—Gideon did like to make sure everything was there when it came to pancake day.

  She began to eat, watching him as he came over with the pan and slid a couple slices of bacon onto her plate before doing the same for himself. Then he ditched the pan in the sink and came and sat down opposite her.

  Goddamn. Why did he have to look so sexy in old jeans and that blue T-shirt, doing stupid, mundane tasks?

  Maybe it was a case of finding someone else who was just as sexy. Maybe if she did that, she wouldn’t find Gideon so hot anymore.

  Any more lies you want to tell yourself this morning?

  No, she had to believe she’d find someone else. She had to. Otherwise what else would there be for her? A life of loneliness because she couldn’t move on from a man who wouldn’t ever see her as anything more than a child.

  She wanted more than that. Being lonely sucked.

  “So what did you want to tell me?” she asked around a mouthful of pancake.

  Gideon poured himself some coffee and sat back in his chair, holding his cup between his palms. Normally his long, blunt fingers were covered in engine oil, but they were clean today, the scars from all the cuts and scratches he’d gotten while fixing cars and bikes over the years showing white against his skin.

  Another thing she adored about him—his large, battered, capable hands. She’d really like to know what it felt like to have those hands touch her....

  Fuck.

  She dragged her brain from its usual Gideon love track and forced it to examine the pancakes instead of him.

  “I didn’t wanna tell you actually,” Gideon said. “But after last night, things have changed.”

  “That sounds serious.” With extreme deliberation, she cut herself a square of pancake.

  There was a small silence.

  Zoe looked up and met his gaze, and her heart missed a beat. There was no lightness in the look. Whatever he was going to tell her, he was deadly serious.

  “It’s about your mother, Zoe.”

  Her headache thumped, the nausea in her stomach getting worse. Her mother? What could he have to tell her about her mother? There wasn’t much to say, surely? Claire James had gone away on drug charges when Zoe had been six, spending four years inside. Zoe had gone back to live with her after she’d gotten out and the courts deemed it was safe for Zoe to do so, though Zoe wasn’t sure which she’d preferred: her angry, spiteful mother, who clearly resented every second of her daughter’s existence, or yet another foster family who didn’t much care what happened to her? Whatever, she hadn’t been given the choice, sent back to the crappy, run-down apartment where her mother lived, though not for long. Three years later, she’d left Chicago with Gideon, her mother dying of an overdose about six months after that.

  She hadn’t thought about that woman in years and she’d been quite happy with that. In fact, she’d be quite happy to continue never thinking of her again, so why Gideon was bringing her up was anyone’s guess.

  “What about her?”

  “It’s about your father as well.”

  Shock made her stare. “My . . . father? But Mom didn’t know who he—”

  “She knew exactly who he was,” Gideon interrupted, his black gaze very direct.

  Zoe’s stomach went into free fall, the shock making her feel suddenly cold. Once, when she’d been small, just before her mother had gone to jail, she’d asked her about her father. Claire had gotten angry and told her never ever to mention him in her presence again. So Zoe never had.

  “But . . . I don’t understand,” she began, struggling to make sense of it. “If Mom knew . . . I mean, how do you . . .” She stopped, pushing her plate away, not hungry anymore. “What are you trying to tell me, Gideon?”

  His black gaze was unwavering. “I’m trying to tell you that I know who your father is.”

  A little jolt of what felt suspiciously like excitement shot straight through her. Just because her mother hadn’t wanted her to talk about it didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about him, hadn’t wondered who he was. Hadn’t hoped, in some forgotten place in her heart, that he would one day come and find her . . .

  But he never did, did he?

  She swallowed. No, she wasn’t going to ask. She didn’t want to know. Because not only was it better to imagine her father could be anyone rather than him finally being “someone,” but it would also lead to questions such as how the hell Gideon knew about him. Which in turn would lead into the black hole that was Gideon’s own past. The past he never talked about and that she never asked about.

  You want to grow up? Then you need to deal with difficult stuff. Stuff you’d rather avoid.

  Zoe gritted her teeth and reached for the coffeepot, taking her time with pouring herself a cup, mainly so she could gather her courage. “And?” she asked, splashing some milk in and adding at least three teaspoons of sugar because hell, she was going to need the hit.

  “And he’s been sniffing around Royal.”

  She paused in her stirring, staring down at the brown liquid in her cup. Oh God, had he been trying to find her? Only now? After all this time?

  A bitter disappointment threaded through her shock and she took a huge sip of her coffee, hoping the scalding liquid might make her feel better. But it didn’t.

  Gideon watched her for a moment, then he leaned forward, putting his cup down and his elbows on the table. “I’ve known for a while, but I didn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want you to worry or to be afraid. But last night changed a few things. You’re not safe. Not until I know why he’s hanging around here and what he wants.”

  Her heartbeat sounded loud in her head, the coffee bitter on her tongue even with all the sugar in it. She took another sip of coffee, then put the cup down hurriedly when her hands started to shake.

  “I’m confused,” she muttered, still trying to get her around what he was saying. “I mean, sure, Mom never spoke about him and he’s never tried to contact me before, but . . . Why does him hanging around mean I’m not safe?”

  Gideon’s expression’s closed down. “He’s a powerful guy, Zoe. Whatever it is he wants, it won’t be something good.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because what men like him want is never good.”

  Her heart clenched tight in her chest. “But, I’m his kid, right? I mean—”

  “I know you had your fantasies about him,” Gideon interrupted flatly. “But none of those are gonna happen, understand me? When I tell you that you’re not safe, you’re not safe.” There was nothing but hard certainty in his dark eyes.

  Come on, it’s been twenty-five years. If your dad had really wanted you, he would have come for you by now.

  Yeah, but would he really . . . hurt her? Forcing away the strange lump in her throat, Zoe met Gideon’s steady black gaze. “How do you know it’s him?”

  “I have my sources.”

  Of course he did. Gideon had many “sources.” She hadn’t ever inquired too deeply about any of them, because quite frankly she didn’t want to know.

  There’s a lot of stuff you don’t want to know.

  The thought was uncomfortable. She wasn’t a coward—at least, she didn’t think of herself as one—but it was true that she hadn’t ever pestered Gideon for answers about certain things.

  Such as why he’d suddenly turned up at her house without any warning the night he
’d taken her away. Or how, as a dirt poor twenty-five year old, he’d managed to buy his garage outright from the old man who’d sold it to him. Or why, even though Royal had been rife with crime, he’d never been hassled for protection money the way other businesses used to be.

  Little things like that.

  She looked away, busying herself with trying to cut up some more pancake. Not that she was hungry. Somehow her appetite seemed to have vanished entirely.

  Thirteen years ago, Gideon had turned up unexpectedly at her house, a wild look in his eyes. She’d been so pleased to see him since it had been at least two months since he’d visited and he never usually left it that long. Then he’d told her that he was in trouble, that he had to leave Chicago, and did she want to go with him. At that stage he’d been an older brother to her, a person she’d felt safe with—at least safer than with her mother. Claire had discovered the joys of heroin and the kinds of people who’d started calling at the house since had frightened Zoe.

  She hadn’t thought twice about leaving.

  She’d walked out of that house with Gideon without looking back.

  He’d represented safety and love, and after all the years in foster care and subsequently with her angry, bitter mother, feeling safe and loved was what she’d wanted most in the world.

  You can’t ask him about his sources. You can’t ask him how he knows what he knows. Because you don’t want anything to compromise that feeling.

  “So what’s he doing here?” She kept her gaze on her breakfast, pushing around some pancake on her plate.

  “He’s here because of Levi’s development plans. At least, that’s his ostensible reason.”

  Zoe blinked, staring at the smear of syrup on her plate. “You mean he’s one of those suits Levi was showing around a couple of weeks ago?”

  “Yes.”

  A shiver went through her, coming from somewhere deep inside. Levi, only recently released from prison, had been trying to get financial backing for some property development, and had met with a couple of guys who’d apparently shown some interest in providing financing for him. That he’d ended up subsequently dropping those plans should have meant those guys were no longer in the picture though.

  Apparently not. Apparently at least one of them is still around and Gideon didn’t tell you.

  She looked at him. “You knew even back then?”

  His expression was calm, his black gaze steady. “Like I said, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “No, you only snapped at me instead.”

  There it was, a tiny flicker in his outward calm. Good. “Yeah, I admit I’ve been on edge more than I normally am. But that’s only because I don’t know why he’s here.”

  “But you just said he was here because of Levi’s plans.”

  “Sure, but a guy like that doesn’t just decide to invest in some random development. There’s a reason he’s been particularly interested in Royal, especially now that Levi dropped him as a financial backer.” Gideon’s tone gentled. “That reason could be you, little one.”

  That gentleness, like the endearment that had never bothered her before, seemed to slip under her skin like a splinter, needling her.

  She tried not to let it, tried to ignore it. Because what he was telling her was way more important than that. Her dad was here in Royal and he was obviously some kind of hotshot investor.

  “But . . . why? After all this time?”

  “I don’t know for certain.” Gideon’s dark eyes were inescapable. “I’m going to get my contacts to investigate. But like I said, whatever it is, it can’t be good, Zoe. Not with men like him.”

  She swallowed. Okay, this was serious, which meant that maybe it was time she stopped running away from stuff she didn’t like or was afraid of. Maybe it was time she learned who her father actually was. “Men like who?”

  The look in Gideon’s gaze softened. “You don’t have to—”

  “Tell me.”

  He raised a brow. She never interrupted him. No one did. In fact, she was a little surprised she’d done it herself. Then again, she was never going to move on if she didn’t start changing stuff up. Gideon would just have to deal.

  He shifted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Men like Oliver Novak.”

  Holy shit.

  Zoe stilled. She didn’t know much about Novak, only that he was a high-flying businessman who came from one of Michigan’s richest families, and currently had his eye on becoming a senator. Definitely a hotshot business type.

  And your father.

  Her mouth felt dry, even after the coffee, and the food she’d eaten was sitting uneasily in her stomach. “You’re sure it’s him?” Because really, it might not have been. Gideon was seldom wrong but there was a first time for everything.

  “It’s him.” There was no hesitation. Apparently, he wasn’t going to be wrong today.

  “But how do you know?”

  Something in his gaze became harder. “You’re not gonna want to know the answer to that and I’m not gonna tell you.”

  She could push him if she wanted to and part of her did want to. But shock was still echoing through her and her gut felt unsettled, and she didn’t know if she could really handle any more surprises today. So all she said was, “And you think he’s definitely here for me?”

  “There’s nothing else here for him. So logically that makes the most sense.”

  She wrapped her fingers around her cooling cup, finding the fading warmth comforting. “Why though? What does he want with me?”

  Gideon had that terribly patient look on his face again. “Zoe, you’re the bastard kid of a powerful man who’s gonna run for senator. So my guess is that he’s here to figure out what you know.” He paused. “And make sure you never tell anyone who your father is.”

  * * *

  Her face had paled and he hated the flicker of fear in her eyes. He knew she’d cherished secret dreams about her father’s identity because she’d told him a couple times, years ago, and he certainly didn’t take any pleasure in dashing her hopes of a loving reconciliation.

  It had to be done, though. She had to know what and who she was dealing with, especially if she was planning on more repeats of the night before. He wouldn’t tell her everything—there were some things that needed to remain secret because they would only hurt her if she knew—but she needed to understand the danger at least.

  “So what you’re saying is that he might be here to . . . what? Kill me?” she asked.

  Gideon didn’t know this for sure, obviously, but in his experience Novak didn’t have much in the way of family feeling. What he did have was the kind of ravenous ambition that simply smashed through anything standing in its way. And if that someone just happened to be Zoe . . .

  Cold slithered down his back. “That would be difficult,” he replied, trying to ignore the sensation. “Or he could be wanting to buy your silence somehow. But make no mistake, Novak’s sketchy as fuck and I don’t want you taking any chances.”

  Her jaw had gotten that familiar stubborn cast to it. “How do you know he’s sketchy?”

  “I’ve heard things.” Things he wouldn’t be telling her about anytime soon. Mainly because they touched on a past he wasn’t proud of and didn’t have anything to do with now. A past he didn’t want Zoe connected with in any way.

  A past that included being hired by Novak to “deal” with her mother due to her mother’s blackmail threats.

  No, she really didn’t need to know that.

  “He’s not the guy he makes himself out to be, trust me on this.”

  She gave him a narrow look as if debating whether or not to actually trust him on that. Then, clearly deciding to drop the matter, she lifted a shoulder. “Well, if he does get me alone and asks me if I’m his daughter, I’ll just tell him I don’t know anything. Then he’ll leave, right?”

  Christ, if only it were that simple.

  But it wouldn’t be. Not
with a guy like Novak.

  No, there would be no negotiating on this. She wasn’t going to like it, not one bit, but her safety was more important to him than anything. The whole of the past thirteen years was built around it, the decisions he’d made the night he’d picked her up from her mom’s shitty Chicago house, all for the sake of it.

  Nothing was going to happen to her. He wouldn’t allow it.

  “No,” he said. “It would be better if he doesn’t even know you’re here.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Which means you’ll be lying low for a while.”

  She blinked at him. “Lying low as in . . . ?”

  “Staying here. Not going out like you did last night. In fact, not doing pretty much anything that will draw his attention.”

  Zoe had gone very still. “Not going out,” she echoed. “Not going out of Royal.... ?”

  He held her gaze, because he wasn’t going to be moved on this, no matter how much of a fuss she kicked up or tantrums she pulled. “I mean not leaving this apartment.”

  Her mouth opened. Then shut. Her amber eyes looked huge behind the lenses of her glasses. “Not leaving this apartment? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  Yeah, well, he knew she wasn’t going to like it. This wasn’t surprising. “No, I’m not kidding you. You’re staying here, Zoe.”

  Her expression suddenly became fixed. “And for how long do I have to stay here?”

  “As long as it takes to get rid of Novak.” He wasn’t sure how long that would be. He had some contacts currently investigating what was going on with the guy, but so far he had no answers. With any luck, once Novak had determined Zoe wasn’t here, he’d maybe fuck off back to where he came from.

  But if that prick found evidence that she was here and it was, actually, Zoe he was after, then . . . Well, Gideon would have to figure out a plan about what to do when the time came. Until then, though, she was staying here. Out of sight.

  Zoe rested her hands lightly on the edge of the table, the fixed expression on her face telegraphing her emotions loud and clear. As predicted, she was not happy. “So let me get this straight. You want me to stay in this apartment, for however long it takes for Novak to get out of Royal.”