Captivating In Love

by Bella Andre

  Findley had chosen another posh restaurant in another posh district, this time on Santana Row. Again, they could have valet parked, but Gideon wanted his keys in his own pocket for a quick getaway.

  There was nothing he wanted to do more than pound the guy’s face into oblivion. Reading his mind, Rosie stopped him on the sidewalk with a hand on his cheek. “I’m not going to be alone in there, Gideon.” She went up on her toes to press her mouth to his, a kiss with so much sweetness, so much emotion. “Not when I know you’re going to be right here. The fact that you’ll be waiting for me makes it possible for me to accomplish absolutely anything I set my mind to.”

  But you need me right there beside you.

  His heart cried out to say the words aloud, to make her see that he needed to protect her and make absolutely certain she was safe.

  Yet, he knew Rosie. There was no way he could stop her once she’d set her mind to something. He couldn’t tie her up or drag her off. He couldn’t order her to stay away from Findley. He couldn’t have the Mavericks, or Ari, command her not to go either.

  The weight of all the things he couldn’t do crushed his chest. Suddenly, he could barely breathe.

  The very same emotions had overwhelmed him the day Karmen died, the day the IED exploded and the sniper’s shot rang out. If only he’d been able step in, keep everyone from getting hurt—but his team, and Karmen, had been just as determined as Rosie. There was nothing he could have done differently. Nothing but support their decisions, their choices.

  “Gideon.” She cupped her hands on either side of his face. “I can do this. I need to do this.”

  He understood, he really did. Rosie needed to confront the monster in her life. She needed to protect her son.

  Just the way Karmen needed to walk outside the wire, to do her job, to be a soldier, to help her team.

  “Please trust me, Gideon.”

  He wanted to trust her. Knew he needed to trust her.

  But how could he let her walk into danger without him? What if something went wrong?

  He would never, ever forgive himself.

  “Gideon.” Rosie murmured his name again, this time against his cheek, and suddenly his heart pounded with the need to leave nothing unsaid. Not again. Never again.

  He drew her close and held her tightly to him. “I’m terrified to let you go in there without me. But I also know that I have to trust you to do this your own way. On your own terms.” Gideon hated the idea of Rosie facing Archie again, of talking to him, listening to his lies, even breathing the same air. But he understood why she needed to. And he would stand behind her, backing her up every step of the way as she neutralized the bastard. He leaned his forehead against hers. He’d lost Karmen without ever having acknowledged, or told her, what was in his heart. He would not let Rosie go without expressing the depth of his feelings for her. “I love you. And I will be waiting for you right here, right outside the door. I will always be here for you. So do this. And then come back to me, safe and sound.”

  “Oh, Gideon. I love you too.” Tears flooded her voice. “So, so much.”

  Joy wrapped around his heart, around his entire being, around the parts that had been shrouded in darkness for so long.

  Then Rosie pulled herself up, stronger and more committed now than she’d been even moments before. “Okay, it’s time to take him down.”

  He gave her a thumbs-up. But though he trusted her to know the right thing to do, watching her walk away—and forcing himself to let her go without running after her to keep her safe at all costs—was the hardest battle he’d ever fought.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Though she was on the precipice of the biggest confrontation of her life, Rosie wasn’t scared. With all the Mavericks backing her up, she felt strong.

  And most especially with Gideon waiting right outside for her.

  Gideon. He was such a warrior—so tough, so immovable, until you uncovered the beautiful and gentle man beneath all his layers.

  She could feel his love flowing to her down the sidewalk, tethering them together. A beam of light that couldn’t be broken. She wanted to turn and run back to him, kiss him one more time, feel his arms around her one more time.

  But she would save that reward for when her deed was done.

  This restaurant had the same crystal glassware and fancy trappings that Archibald Findley had always needed. His table was in the back, on a raised dais surrounded by a short railing.

  Archie was the same polished, entitled, arrogant creep he’d been yesterday. He gazed out over the other diners as if they were his minions, his eyes dark and probing. Today’s suit was black with pinstripes, his dark hair, with just the right amount of gray to appear distinguished, was perfectly coiffed, as if a stylist attended him every morning. His nails had always been flawlessly manicured, meticulous attention given to every detail of his appearance. From afar, he looked like he’d stepped off a movie screen to dazzle his fans. That’s what Rosie hadn’t understood when she was young and naïve. Archie was all about appearance and completely lacking in substance. He was all flowery words that had no real meaning. It had likely taken him years of practice to perfect his persona.

  No wonder she had fallen for it. Men and women twice her age fell for that slick Archibald Findley façade. He was so smooth, suave, and sophisticated, it was difficult to see the slime.

  For years she’d blamed herself for trusting him, for not seeing through him. But the truth was that she hadn’t been old enough or worldly enough to recognize all the signs. Not until it was too late.

  But she saw right through him now. And she would never let him harm Jorge.

  Rosie smiled at the maître d’ as she passed him. “No worries. I can find my own way to the table.”

  “I ordered a drink for you,” Archie said as she sat.

  Of course he had. It was the same champagne he used to ply her with seven years ago, though she’d been underage at the time.

  She set it aside, untouched. “Yesterday when I asked what you wanted from me,” she said, not at all interested in beating around the bush today, “you fed me a line about wanting to help because of the burdens of being a single parent. But I know what you really want.” She waited a beat. “You want to take my son.”

  “Take him? I would never take anything away from anyone.” Archie gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence so patently false that it only enhanced the pure evil shining through. “I did my best to help your art career. Don’t you remember?”

  “Of course, Archie, I remember everything.” She let herself enjoy the grimace on his face when she used the hated nickname. “I remember how you didn’t help me at all. How you sabotaged me. How you lied to me. And how you’ve never done one single thing for my son, never offered one iota of help in the seven years since the day I told you he existed. I remember how you just disappeared. Poof.” She made a gesture with her fingers like smoke vanishing into the air. “So, no, I don’t need your kind of help. Which means there’s really no reason for you to call me again.” She gave him one last chance to redeem himself by agreeing.

  Of course, he didn’t take it. She hadn’t thought he would.

  “Rosie.” He shook his head as though she was a major disappointment to him. “Regardless of how you feel about the past, you can’t deny that I can afford better schools, better health care, better opportunities, and all the important things our son truly needs.”

  The our infuriated her, but she managed to press on without throwing the champagne in his face. “But only if he comes to Las Vegas to live with you, right?”

  His eyes lit. He was so sure he had her cornered. The pompous bastard. “Jorge moving in with my wife and me in Las Vegas would make things so much easier and simpler, don’t you think? Of course, you can also move to town if you’d like to be closer to him.”

  There, finally, he’d said it. She’d known it all along, but it was vindicating to have her suspicions confirmed. But it was equally horrifying, send
ing bile shooting up her throat at the thought of Jorge ever living with Archie and his wife. Never. She would never let that happen.

  “Actually,” Rosie leaned forward, “let me tell you what will be easier and simpler. You will back off. Permanently.”

  He looked at her like she had fewer brain cells than a fly. “Rosie, honey, I can’t, in all good conscience, do that. You know he needs me.”

  Forcing herself to ignore the sickening honey, she couldn’t help but wonder where his conscience had been when he said she’d have to handle her pregnancy on her own. She could have asked him. But he would have some slick reply he’d already rehearsed. And she was done with his slick replies. Instead, she said, “He doesn’t need someone like you.”

  Reaching into her oversize purse, she pulled out a duplicate of the file the Mavericks had put together. Setting it on the table, she left it there, closed. Like the elephant in the room. Like the bit of spinach between the teeth that no one wants to tell you about. Like a ticking bomb that was impossible to defuse in time.

  Archie’s gaze went right to it. Got stuck there for a few seconds. Then he looked up and smiled as if there wasn’t a thing to worry about. As if nothing in a folder she brought could possibly hurt him.

  “I believe you had a reason for going to Vegas,” she said, pushing him forward. Toward a trap entirely of his own making.

  “San Francisco was much too dreary.” He shuddered dramatically, still cocksure, still oblivious, still thinking he had the upper hand. “Year-round sun is far more appealing.”

  “I’m sure it is,” she agreed, “but I believe you also had some business partners who required you to be in closer proximity to them.” She tapped the folder. “Your gallery is a sham.” She didn’t want a scene or eavesdroppers, so she kept her voice low enough to be masked by the buzz of lunch conversation. Leaning closer, as close as she could stand without throwing up at the smell of his overpowering cologne, she said, “To be more precise, your gallery is a shell. A front. You move paintings. You move money. And then you make that money look clean for some very bad people.” She opened the file, read a name, a big, bad name, one even she’d heard of.

  At last, his smile was gone. And his eyes had gone very cold and very dark. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But he swallowed hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob.

  She smoothed a hand over the folder. “The evidence was quite easy to come by. In fact, it took my investigator less than twenty-four hours to put it together.”

  “Investigator?” He went pale beneath the Vegas tan.

  “You think you know me so well, Archie. You still think I’m the naïve eighteen-year-old girl you once preyed on. But it turns out that you don’t know me at all. And what you didn’t figure on is that I have friends, very powerful friends. And they know exactly how to handle a weasel like you.”

  “What the f—” The curse word didn’t come to fruition as he looked around, then lowered his voice. “I haven’t done anything. You can’t prove anything.”

  “I disagree. You’ve done a lot. More than I ever thought you were capable of, to be honest. It’s all here.” She caressed the file lovingly. “And this afternoon it’s all going to the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

  He was breathing hard and fast at the thought of actually having to pay the price for all the dirty deals he’d done. “How dare you, you little—”

  She held up a hand to stop his low-voiced rant. “Here’s the thing. These cases can go one of two ways. They can go lenient. Or they can go bad. Really bad. Especially if they decide to use you as an example for all the other would-be art launderers out there.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it. It could be fear. Or it could be that he didn’t believe she was capable of following through on her threats. But he would be so wrong.

  She was very capable. She always had been.

  “Now, my friends,” she went on, “they know people. Powerful people. Important people. People who can make it easy on you.” She shrugged. “Or they can tighten the screws until it really, really hurts.”

  “What the hell do you want?”

  “Funny, when I asked you that yesterday, I didn’t get an answer.”

  A worm in the grass, Archie squirmed and writhed. “What do you want?” he asked again. His words were so muted, so fraught with fear and shock, that she almost had to read his lips.

  “Leave me and my son alone. He was never your son. You disowned him even before he was born. You denied him. You ignored him until suddenly you had a use for him. I would never want a man like you to be anyone’s father. So don’t call us, don’t come near us, don’t even live in the same state with us. Not ever again. For any reason.”

  “And if I do what you ask, you won’t turn in the information?”

  She snorted softly and shook her head, a slight smile on her lips. “Of course I’m going to turn it in. It’s my civic duty. But knowing how slick you’ve always been, I’m sure you can rat out some rats, make a few deals, and probably get away with little to no jail time.” She waited a beat. “If you want my friends’ help, that is.”

  “You—” He didn’t call her the name he wanted to. He was afraid now. Deeply afraid.

  Was it bad to feel so good about that?

  Not one bit, she decided.

  “If you don’t leave my son alone,” she continued, “my friends will make sure you can’t cut any deals. And you can expect an extremely long jail term. Oh look, I’ve been talking so much, I’ve forgotten my champagne.” She sipped, and bubbly had never tasted better. Then she pushed the folder across the table. “You can have this, by the way. Just so you know I’m not bluffing. But the originals are going to the authorities.”

  He opened the folder, flipped a couple of pages, stopped, read, and then read again. Then he looked at her. His usually smug face was drawn, with deep lines that hadn’t been there only minutes before. His skin was gray, and he looked ten years older. He looked once more at the papers in the folder, all the paragraphs, all the sentences, all the words that brought him down. “If I leave you both alone, you swear you’ll make sure I don’t go to jail?”

  “If you leave me and Jorge alone and turn state’s evidence, I’m sure you’ll be able to make some sort of plea bargain. But that’s up to you.”

  The truth was she had no idea how this kind of thing actually worked. A large part of her hoped the Mavericks would let him rot. It was no less than Archie deserved.

  But she knew the Mavericks were men of their word, and if Archie cooperated in every way, they would keep their promise.

  “All right,” he said. “You win.”

  Goal achieved, Rosie rose and said, “Good-bye, Archie.” Then she turned and walked out on him for the very last time.

  She ran to Gideon, who was waiting for her in the same spot where she’d left him.

  Her warrior.

  Her love.

  Her forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Why was the meeting taking so long?

  They were the longest and worst minutes of Gideon’s life. He could almost hear his watch ticking even though it was digital.

  And then, there she was, running down the sidewalk to him. Thank God. He swung Rosie up and held her tight, not able to speak for several long moments, as profound gratitude held him in its grip.

  “It was perfect,” she said when he finally let her feet slide back down to the ground. “He’s terrified. He’ll leave us alone.”

  Gideon stroked a finger down her cheek, breathed in the sweet scent of her. “I’m so proud of you.” They were in the middle of the sidewalk, people all around them, but she had to know—he had to tell her what he’d never admitted to another soul. “I blamed myself for not making Karmen stay inside the wire.”

  “I know you did.” Her voice was so gentle, so understanding. “Even though no one else blamed you.”

  “But you know what the real problem was?” He’d finally worked it out in those long
, agonizing minutes as he waited for Rosie. “I didn’t trust her to take care of herself.” He hadn’t even trusted her enough to tell her how he felt. “We fought about it, about how I was always asking her not to go, not to do her job the way she thought best. We fought about it just before that last mission.” He swallowed hard. “I know that’s not why she died. But I also know she didn’t die because she was careless. She died because she did what had to be done, because she was a hero, like everyone else on my team. I will always feel the ache that it was them and not me. I can’t help that. But instead of arguing with her, I should have trusted Karmen to be the soldier that she was.” A stranger hurrying down the sidewalk jostled Gideon closer to Rosie. “Back then, I didn’t understand how strong a woman could be. But I know now, Rosie. Because you and Ari and Chi, Paige and Harper and Charlie and Tasha, all of you Mavericks, you’ve helped me see it. But especially you, Rosie, how you’ll do anything for Jorge—yet at the same time, you don’t let anyone take advantage of you either.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself and Jorge for a long time.” She wrapped her hand around his nape, pulling him even closer. “But knowing you were out here today, to back me up if I needed you, helped me stay strong in the face of evil. You and me, we’re strongest together, Gideon. The two of us, we can do anything.”

  It hit him then, the true meaning of Karmen’s gift. Pulling Rosie around the corner, out of the crowded street, he backed her up against the wall. “I’ve just figured it out, why Karmen said there was magic in the painting. It’s about two people being the strongest they can possibly be by leaning on each other, helping each other, trusting each other.”

  “That really is magic,” Rosie agreed. “And yet, it’s so simple too.”

  His voice was infused with a new strength and certainty as he said, “I need to sell the painting.”

  Rosie studied his face for a long moment. “You’re completely sure about letting Karmen’s painting go now, aren’t you?” It wasn’t even a question. Rosie knew him inside and out, everything there was to know.