Why wasn’t she answering?
And why hadn’t she waited for him? Had she learned something new?
Worried, he drove straight to her place. She’d told him Drew was studying with a friend, so he didn’t have to worry about his son spotting him.
The house was dark. He double-parked and walked around to the back. No lights in the kitchen, either. He checked the garage—her car was inside. No answer when he rang the bell.
So where the hell was Simone?
Chapter Thirteen
As the elevator took her up to Josie Ralston’s penthouse, Simone took a couple of steadying breaths. Thankfully, Gabe’s friend, the guard, had been on duty and had recognized her from the last visit.
The doors whooshed open and her pulse fluttered as she stepped out and heard Christmas music echoing down the hall. A couple of steps took her to Josie’s door, where Simone stopped short.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening again.
The damn thing wasn’t shut!
Light slashing through the door’s opening crack and Christmas music invited her in. Simone’s heart thudded and the flutter of her pulse accelerated.
Though her mouth had gone dry, somehow she called out, “Josie?”
No answer.
Had she really expected one?
Simone couldn’t help herself. She reached out and pushed the door inward. The mess that met her gaze was no big surprise. Furniture overturned. Drawers torn out of their cabinets. Papers scattered everywhere.
All too familiar…
“Josie?” she called louder, though she figured she was talking to herself.
At least there was no body…well, not in the living area. She hadn’t meant to enter another crime scene…not until she heard a soft cry from another room.
Then she didn’t know what to do.
There was a crash and another cry.
Was it Josie stumbling around, hurt?
Cursing to herself, Simone couldn’t leave. She stepped inside and headed in the direction of the sound, grabbing a makeshift weapon—a small sculpture that was far heavier than she’d imagined—on the way.
“Josie, where are you?”
Simone was halfway to the bedroom doorway when she glanced into the living area. She barely caught a reflection in a large mirror—something big and red—when the lights went out. Taking a breath was nearly impossible; she had to concentrate to pull air into her lungs.
Her heart thudded against her ribs and she remained frozen until she heard footsteps to her right. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could for the front door. It stood open, the low-lit hallway beyond her goal, but she heard the intruder directly behind her, felt a grasping hand catch her coat.
Turning, she swung out with the sculpture and connected without seeing where. But the hand released her. A grunt of pain assured her she’d done damage and spurred her out the door. She hit the elevator button, but the stumbling sounds on the other side of Josie’s door told her she didn’t have time to wait for the doors to open.
Spotting the Emergency Exit sign at the end of the hall, she ran for the stairwell.
As she descended one…two…three steps at a time, her boots clunked against the cement stairs, making a racket that reverberated around her. Unable to tell whether that was another set of footsteps above her or an echo of her own, she kept going without so much as a glance back.
Nothing would slow her, not even the pain in her side or the lack of air reaching her lungs. At first, she kept count of floors, but they quickly became a blur. She practically flew down to the big red Exit sign indicating she’d reached the first floor.
With a cry of relief, she threw open the door and ran straight into a human wall.
“Ah!” she gasped, wailing against the person trying to hold her.
“Simone, what the hell?”
The familiar voice broke through her panic and she felt her knees give way.
Gideon caught her and swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the security guard station. Her chest was heaving; every breath was painful. Blood was pumping through her so fast she could feel its rush.
But Gideon was here now. She was safe. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her…
“Somehow I knew I would find you here,” he said, setting her down on one of two lobby chairs.
“Josie’s apartment,” she gasped out. “Ransacked. He was still there, though.”
“The intruder?” Gideon asked.
She nodded.
“You saw him?” asked the security guard, who’d left his desk.
“Mirror.” The big red image came back to her. “Santa Claus.”
Her mind racing, she filled Gideon and the security guard—Gabe’s friend—in on the latest burglary. He told them to stay put and, unsnapping his gun holster, took an elevator up to investigate.
“You shouldn’t have come here alone,” Gideon said.
“I thought Josie might know something about Al’s secret cache. Obviously, so did the killer.”
“I told you I was going to be late, not that I was abandoning you. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“I didn’t want to go back inside.”
“You could have been hurt,” he said, voice low, raising goose bumps on her skin.
He cared, she realized. Gideon cared about her. Warmth flushed through her. And confusion. She shouldn’t care that he cared, but she did. She might have shut him out of her life, might have repressed the old feelings, but they reminded her they were there every chance they got.
Before the silence between them could become awkward, the security guard returned.
“No one up there now,” he said. “I don’t know how the bastard got in, but there wasn’t any damage to the door. It wasn’t a forced entry. No sign of the Ralston woman, either. Either she was already out or she got out. Now the two of you get out while the going is good. The cops don’t need to know you were here. I can handle it.”
It didn’t take a second invitation. Gideon hustled her from the building, saying, “Gabe will be in touch,” and steered her into the car he’d left in the drive.
It didn’t take Simone long to realize he wasn’t taking her home—he passed her street without so much as slowing.
“Where are we going?”
“My place. I want to talk and don’t want to be interrupted.”
Simone didn’t argue. She didn’t want to be alone, and Drew wouldn’t be home.
It wasn’t until they were in Gideon’s place and she was feeling better sipping a brandy and warmed by the heat of a wood-burning fire, that Gideon said, “Santa Claus, huh?”
“I just had a glimpse—but I swear.”
“You and the kid outside the Albright woman’s place.”
They were on the same wavelength, Simone thought, her back against several floor pillows directly in front of the fireplace. “Like I said, people underestimate kids.” She hesitated only for a second before adding, “Um, Gideon, there’s something else. After talking to Josie, I had the feeling someone was following me.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I thought I was just on edge. I heard footsteps behind me and couldn’t see anyone. But I went faster and so did the footsteps.”
“But nothing happened?”
“I got jarred by the guy going past me, that’s all. And then I started feeling foolish.”
“So what’s your point?”
“The guy who jarred me—he was wearing a Santa Claus suit.”
The oath that flew from Gideon’s mouth made Simone cringe.
“Why don’t women trust their instincts?” he demanded.
“Well, I did run,” she said faintly. “And I made sure I didn’t walk home alone.”
Gideon was silent for the moment it took to finish his drink and refill it. “The intruder at Cecchi and Burke—remember I said I couldn’t grab onto the person. He was probably wearing a Santa suit then.”
A thrill shot
through Simone. “Or she.”
“You really think it could have been Galen?”
Simone thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I just got that quick glimpse before the lights went out.”
“So all we have to do is find someone committing criminal acts while wearing a Santa suit.”
The irony didn’t escape her. “That’ll be a piece of cake at this time of year.”
She took another sip of the brandy and stretched her toes toward the fire. The setting was so intimate, almost as if they were on a date. Gideon was sitting on the rug, too, close enough that he could reach out and…
“What if it’s Anthony Viglio?” he suddenly asked.
“But Viglio’s dead.”
“Then someone has a sick sense of humor—I found his name in the guest register at the funeral parlor.”
Simone started. “Weird,” she murmured, finishing her drink. “Anthony Viglio. I still haven’t been able to place where I heard the name. I wonder if he could have been David’s client at some time.”
“Didn’t the records indicate he was a new client?”
“New to Al. Who knows if all the records are in order? I should be able to find out, though. Rebecca would know.”
“Rebecca?”
“Rebecca Finley, the office manager. She’s been with the firm from the beginning. I’ll talk to her tomorrow. See if I can figure out whether the phantom account had anything to do with what Al hid. If it was evidence…”
“What?”
“The money in Viglio’s account could be blackmail money. What if Al was blackmailing Viglio?”
“Blackmail. Hmm. Because he’s still alive? Putting Viglio’s name on the account would kind of defeat the purpose of his playing dead.”
Simone sighed. “Will we ever figure it out?”
“From now on, you ought to stay out of it.”
“I can’t stay out of it when I’m a suspect.”
“I mean the investigation part. Talk to your office manager, but leave the rest to me.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“I thought that would be obvious. You put yourself in danger tonight. And now I learn someone followed you the other night, as well.”
“But I’m fine.” Though she had been scared to death, and her pulse jumped just thinking about her close call.
“Next time you might not be so lucky. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Simone.”
She couldn’t keep herself from saying, “That sounds like more than friendly concern.”
“What if it is?”
There it was. The question she couldn’t answer. Her father was rotting in jail because of him. And yet…
“What is it exactly?” she asked.
“My feelings for you haven’t changed, Simone. You’re the only woman who’s ever had a piece of my heart.”
“Just a piece?”
“There’s room for negotiation.”
He brushed the hair from the side of her face. Simone shuddered and felt herself unfurl inside. She’d locked the past up tight for so long. But this wasn’t the past; this was the present. He wasn’t Joseph Ruscetti, Mob boss’s son. Gideon was a man in his own right. He’d navigated tough waters alone to become the per son he was. The person who could forget past hurts to help a woman whose life was about to be destroyed.
And for that, she opened up to him. “Oh, Gideon, I need you.”
“Simone…”
Her name swept past his lips right before they covered hers. Desire filled her and she opened to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, welcomed the feel of him against her. No protest escaped her when he pressed her down and swept his hand up under her sweater.
His touch was as familiar as if she’d felt it yesterday. She remembered everything—the way he touched her breast so lightly that it made her skin prickle, the way he circled her nipple with his thumb until it peaked and sent waves of pleasure through her.
Sensations flooded her and she was caught between tears and a growing passion that swept through her as it had all those years ago. She’d given in to her desire for him then, but she’d been young and in love.
She might not be young any more, but despite all reason, that all-consuming love swept through her once more.
Knowing that she couldn’t have Gideon in her life, not without destroying Drew, Simone realized that this might be the one time they could be together. There might not be another opportunity.
Drawn together in danger…so formidable…so compelling.
“Simone,” he groaned against her mouth, “if you want to stop, do it now.”
“Don’t stop.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could consider them. Truth be told, she did want him, had never stopped wanting him. She couldn’t resist just one more taste of him, even if it were all she would ever have.
For a moment, guilt flooded her.
David…
David had known he didn’t have her whole heart. David would want her to be as happy as he’d made her during their life together. David was gone now, had been for some time, and Gideon was here.
And oh, how she wanted him.
For the moment, nothing else mattered. He’d proven himself to her by trying to clear her name, by staying true to his promise that he wouldn’t reveal his identity to their son; surely that was enough.
Desire flooded her as he removed her sweater and pants, kissing sensitive flesh as he exposed it. She tugged at his clothes, and he helped her remove them. Soon they were naked in each other’s arms, and for her, the moment felt so right.
Firelight flickered across his seductive flesh. Warmth spread and multiplied as he entered her. She watched his face—the passion, the pleasure he was feeling—because it excited her almost as much as the things he was doing to her body.
He kissed her again and rolled closer to the fire, leaving her on top. Heat flushed through her as she rode him. He cupped her breasts and squeezed until she gasped. Then he sent one hand trailing down her belly to their juncture. When he found her, the sensation was so piercing that she rode the crest and came with a cry.
A cry that was followed by his.
They froze for a moment before he took her face in both hands and brought it to his for a passion-filled kiss. Then, still inside her, he wrapped his arms around her back and drew her down against him until her world floated away.
HE SWIPED THE INSIDE of the foggy windshield. Pop and a man in an overcoat and brimmed hat. The man turned his head slightly and his dark-framed glasses caught the light.
Richard DeNali…what was Simone’s father doing here?
Before he could get out of the car, a blue flash froze him to his seat. Another flash. No sound. His father fell into the snow and DeNali lit his cigarette one-handed before getting into his vehicle.
Heart pounding, he threw open the door and lunged out as the dark car pulled away. The license plate—RDN 1.
“Pop!” he cried, turning his father onto his back. “Can you hear me? Please say you can hear me!”
His father’s eyes opened and slowly focused. “DeNali…”
Gideon awakened, freaked out by the dream as if it were some evil portent.
What was he missing?
The dream was nagging him for a reason. It was there, had to be. He just had to figure out what, then take it out and examine it as Cass had suggested.
Before he could do so, Simone stirred next to him and, opening her eyes, uttered a shocked “Oh!”
“Didn’t expect to see me?” he teased, her slightest movement inching up his hard-on. “You’re at my place, remember.”
Simone’s confusion cleared and conflicting emotions quickly flitted across her beautiful face. Gideon’s heart fell as fast as his erection. She couldn’t even make love to him one night without regret.
Frantically, she grabbed her clothing and started dressing. “We can’t do this again.”
“Can’t?”
“It was a mistake.”
He reached out and stopped her from slipping the sweater over her head. “No.”
“Let me!” She jerked her arm from his hand and pulled on the sweater. “I have to go home.”
Gideon was already pulling on his underwear. “Whoa. Slow down. You’ve got a lead on me.”
“Don’t bother getting dressed. I’ll take a taxi.”
“You did that last time. This time, I’ll make sure you get safely inside your house.” Unable to miss her mulish expression, he said, “It’s the middle of the night, so don’t try to talk me out of it. You’re not leaving without me.”
She finished dressing fast, he finished faster, so he was ready to go out the door with her.
With each second, his anger built. He couldn’t believe they’d come so far only to have her put on the brakes.
How could she be so cold?
Had it taken her long to learn to be like this? Did she really think he would go along with this sudden change of heart? That he would simply let her walk back out of his life as she had seventeen years ago?
The thought stunned him. No doubt that’s exactly what she planned to do.
SIMONE FELT TENSION ooze from a silent Gideon nearly all the way to her place.
He was turning onto her block before asking, “Why is it so easy for you, I wonder?”
“Easy?” There was nothing easy about loving him.
“Leaving me,” he said. “You were doing it again, weren’t you?”
“I was simply trying to go home.”
“Without so much as smile or a soft word or a kiss? We made love, Simone.”
“We had sex.” She needed to put an impersonal spin on it for her own peace of mind. “Don’t confuse the two.”
The moment she’d awakened, head clear, her doubts about him—about them—had resurfaced. And hadn’t she already decided making love to him was going to be a one-time thing?
Gideon double-parked in front of her house. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I said I would see you inside.”
Chilled by his cool, deliberate tone, she hurried up the walk ahead of him, but he caught up to her as she opened the door; when she stepped inside, he followed. She blinked up at him, her insides roiling with emotions. But she had learned to cover what she didn’t want someone else to know.
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