Betrayed by Shadows

by Nancy Gideon

  Maybe he was cautious after being burned by his gutless girlfriend. Was Brigit any better as a bet? She couldn’t commit to a future she wasn’t sure she’d have any more than she could name an emotion she’d never been comfortable to claim.

  If she remotely cared for him, she should run in the opposite direction.

  Instead, she let her fingertips graze down his arm, enjoying the solid feel of him. He took his hand off the wheel to fold hers into it. A nice, firm grip, not coddling, not needy, not sweaty.

  “You don’t kiss my ass.”

  Her abrupt comment tore his attention off the road. “What?”

  “Ass-kissing,” she repeated.

  “I have, too. I remember enjoying it very much. You have a lovely ass.” He grinned at her before returning his eyes forward.

  She smiled, too, amused by his misinterpretation, then grew serious once more. “I like that you don’t take any crap off me.”

  “And I like that you brought up your delectable ass to give me something pleasant to think about for the rest of the drive.” He gave her hand a tiny squeeze. A bigger squeeze clenched her heart.

  “What do you want from me, Giles?”

  “I asked you that before, and you didn’t answer. So, you tell me first. What do you want from me?”

  “Whatever you’re willing to give.” An embarrassing fracture in her voice told him more than she’d planned.

  Without looking at her, he brought her hand up for a light kiss, holding her knuckles to his rough cheek for a long moment before he replied, “The truth.”

  Her hand gave a slight betraying jump. “About what?”

  “Let’s start with your hands and knees.”

  “I got separated from Boyd in the crowd. I took an alley, thinking it was a shortcut.”

  He filled her pause with a quiet “And then what happened?”

  “It was dark. I was hurrying. I caught my foot on an uneven stone and fell. A group of solicitous college boys came to my rescue. They looked so deflated when Boyd came to claim me.”

  A snort and a dry “I’m sure they were. And then?”

  “Then Silas showed up to send me home like a disgraced child breaking curfew.”

  The way his thumb tenderly circled the back of her hand took the sting from his chuckle. “He’s just worried about you.”

  “Well, he has nothing to worry about. I can take care of myself.”

  She always had. And she would continue to do so.

  There was no place in her immediate future for Giles St. Clair. She couldn’t let him get drawn into her plans for the following day. She couldn’t share with him whatever unpleasant surprises the day might hold, nor burden him with the choices she’d be forced to make. Decisions that turned her stomach inside out with anxiety and despair.

  Later seemed so vague, too far away to cling to.

  But there was tonight.

  The high gates to the estate glided open when they turned in. Giles drove up to the porch and left the engine idling while he went to open the passenger door. Brigit got out stiffly, and for a moment they stood face-to-face. Her gaze lifted hopefully. Finally, he took a step back.

  “You should go soak in the tub. I’ll have Jasmine bring something up for you to put on those scrapes.”

  Her expression never altered at his casual delivery. Then she nodded. “Thank you. And thanks for the ride.”

  Giles didn’t wait for her to hobble up the steps. Instead, he drove to the carriage-house garage and busily got to his habitual wash and wipe-down of the vehicle.

  A one-way ride. Thanks for nothing. She couldn’t even meet him halfway with her pretty lie. He didn’t know what she was hiding or why he should care. The fact that he did care was its own aggravation. Layered atop all the rest, it was one too many things for him to deal with. Enough to keep him from going up to the house right away.

  Fussing about in the garage had never been one of his duties, but the simple routine was his one connection to the past that gave him comfort. Though Pete had been Legere’s driver, responsible for the upkeep of the cars until he went up in flames with Brigit’s former lover, he’d indulged Giles in his passion for them, inviting him to tinker or just wash and wax, rubbing out the unsightly smears on his conscience along with the paste.

  Tonight Giles took no pride or pleasure in the task and was tossing his chamois aside before he’d reached a satisfactory gleam. He rotated his shoulder thoughtfully. Almost as good as new. Hardly any visible scar at all to serve as a reminder. Just like the other wounds he’d suffered. Gone and supposedly forgotten.

  What was he doing out here? Whom did he have to impress, anyway? There was no one left to care. Jimmy was dead, freeing him from his bargain. Max might never return. Oscar would hopefully go back to his little cul-de-sac suburb.

  Where did that leave him? What stake did he have in working as middleman between mobsters and monsters? He held no official title, but those he’d worked beside for years treated him with an uneasy deference. He still kept to his little room with its turnaround bathroom, yet Jasmine was serving him meals in the dining room and coffee at Legere’s big desk while he phone-conferenced with Max’s lawyer and his other business associates. Pretending he had answers when he couldn’t find a single one. He had no idea what he was doing except stalling for time. Time for what? A miracle?

  What was he waiting for? He didn’t owe anyone here anything.

  He didn’t owe that unnatural being upstairs one second of the torment she was putting him through. She was Silas’s problem now. She could take care of herself. Hadn’t she made that brutally clear? She didn’t need him to open her doors, to tote her packages, to fight her dragons, or to warm her bed. Those were the things he wanted. She’d never ask him for anything.

  Talk to me.

  The loneliness of that request had broken his generous heart.

  But he wasn’t her damned priest, or her daddy, or her paid companion. He was nothing to her.

  He found a pack of cigarettes atop one of the massive tool chests. Clamping one between his teeth, he struck a match, then watched it burn almost to his fingers, shaking it out when the warning heat got too close. That’s what a sane man did. He didn’t just stand there and let himself get singed. Again.

  Uttering a low curse, he tossed the match, the cigarette, the entire pack into the trash and locked up the garage.

  He gave brief thought to checking on their prisoner as he stalked across the yard. Hell, let his own kind take care of him. He’d done all the threatening, torturing, and butchering he cared to do on this property. What reason could he possibly have for taking up that occupation again? For remaining another night beneath this roof? The memory of a mobster who’d seen his weakness for vengeance as the means to control his life? A family who disowned him? Those who called him friend yet didn’t know one single thing about him? For that secretive female who mistakenly thought of him as good man?

  To hell with them all! Let them do their own damned dirty work.

  Breath coming in short, hard bursts, he headed for the parlor and its fine selection of liquor. After he worked his way through that, maybe he’d throw his belongings in a case and leave with Boyd in the morning. Just walk away. Fuck ’em. All of them. He didn’t owe them one more minute of his time.

  He stopped inside the doorway to the parlor. The sound of delicate footsteps on the foyer’s marble squares jerked his emotions to a standstill. He turned, stripped down to a shaky defenselessness in his need to see her.

  It was only Jasmine starting up those stairs toward where he wanted to go.

  The bath felt wonderful. Brigit soaked, letting the salts and steam ease her aches. Try as she might, she couldn’t empty her thoughts for complete relaxation.

  What was she going to do about tomorrow? She had to follow through. She had to know, so she could choose her path. But she hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to make that choice all alone. Or that she’d be so afraid of living with that d
ecision, once it was made.

  And there was Kendra. Something about her situation and the extraordinary efforts the Terriots had gone through to try and kill her just didn’t make sense. They should have let her go. Why hadn’t they?

  Why hadn’t Giles come up with her? She’d tasted the desire in his kiss and savored the hint of it on her tongue. Her need to spend the night beside him was as raw as her shredded skin. Should she pack up her pride and knock on his door?

  What if he didn’t want to let her in? And she who supposedly had everything was forced to leave with . . . nothing.

  Her head pounded with uncertainty and fatigue.

  She heard a tap on the outer door and called, “Come in,” leaning her head back on the rolled towel with her eyes closed. That would be Jasmine with something to relieve her insignificant pains, while the real hurts went untended.

  “Just set it on the sink. Thanks.”

  Brigit’s eyes flew open when big hands caught her under the arms, lifting her from the tub. She was too stunned by the sight of Giles in her bathroom to struggle as he stood her on the mat and proceeded to pat her dry with an oversize bath sheet. With it wrapped about her in a sarong, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. There he settled her on its edge and knelt before her.

  Her heart began a runaway gallop, completely out of control.

  He never spoke as he applied cool ointment to the abrasions on her knees and palms, his touch so very gentle. She blamed the sting for the tears glimmering in her eyes.

  When he’d finished taping on the gauze pads, Giles placed his hands atop her thighs and looked up. “Talk to me.”

  Slowly, haltingly, she spilled the truth about the Guedry threats, encouraged by the warm massage of his hands and by the steadying kindness in his eyes. The smile that appeared as she told how she’d taken down the first two Shifters faded and thinned into a narrow line when she spoke of Thorne. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the fear from shaking through her voice.

  After he’d listened to her, Giles considered what he’d heard and asked, “Does Silas have an in with these fellows?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re related to them.”

  “On my mother’s side, but that won’t mean anything to Rueben. He’s more about making an example than having a reunion.” She put her hands over his. “They scare me, Giles. With the Terriots, you know what to expect. They come straight at you. But the Guedrys, they’re all about misdirection. You don’t see them until they have you.”

  “They’re not going to have you, Bree.”

  He was so forceful, so sincere, that she almost believed him. When he started to rise up, she squeezed his hands.“There’s more.”

  Her somber tone bracing him, he settled back on his knees. “Go on.”

  “Silas and I are going to try to use our gifts to reach Max’s memories.”

  A quick blink. “When is this going to happen?”

  “Tomorrow. Nica is setting it up.”

  His brows furrowed. “No one said anything to me about it.”

  “She asked me not to . . . in case it didn’t help.”

  “How very nice of her to consider my fragile feelings. There’s no way I’m not going to be there.”

  “You should be,” she agreed. “If you’re the only one he’s reached out to, you’re the one we need there to ground us.”

  Giles rocked back on his heels, withdrawing his hands. “I don’t pretend to understand these things. Is there a chance it could work?”

  “A chance.”

  He picked up on her hesitance. “Is it dangerous?”

  She laughed. “I don’t think Nica was considering that when she asked.”

  “I am. Is it dangerous for you?”

  “Would you stop me if I said yes? Would you pass up the one chance your boss, your friend, might have of recovery?”

  Instead of answering, he repeated his question. “How dangerous, Bree?”

  She shrugged, not pleased by his evasion. “I’ll be backing up Silas to repair any damage to him or Max. Nica will be there. She’s not without her own special talents. It should be safe enough.”

  Giles considered this for a moment, then caught her face between his palms, bringing her to him for a long, tender kiss. It was impossible not to lose herself to the leisurely sweep of his lips, the lolling thrust of his tongue, even knowing there was more she withheld from him.

  The “more” concerned her bargain with Nica, which might have changed his answer to her next question had he known about it.

  “Would you stay the night with me?” she asked.

  Her hands were drawn to his stubbled jaw, keeping him close so she could search the calm blue sea of his gaze. He nipped at the pads of her thumbs as they traced the curve of his mouth before glancing around her to the smooth comforter. “It looks a lot more inviting than that bunk bed. How can I refuse?” His eyes darkened from mild blue to a smoky gray. “If you were suggesting the floor, it wouldn’t change my answer.”

  She slid off the edge of the bed to trap his waist between her knees, letting him hold her in his lap while they continued to taste and tease and tangle with their tongues. Impossibly sweet. Deliciously hurried. She grasped his sweater by the hem and shucked it over his head so her hands could chart the rugged swells of his bare arms and shoulders. Hard, strong. Healed. An exhilarating sense of wonder quivered through her as her palm stroked over the faint scarring that remained. Evidence of what he’d been willing to give to save her. Finally, he groaned and levered her away.

  “Since the bed is an option, I suggest we go there.”

  He stood with her coiled around him. The towel came loose and dropped to the floor unnoticed as he freed a hand to pull back the covers. He laid her back on the crisp white sheets and, for a long beat, simply caressed her with his stare.

  He whispered, “Goddess,” before going to unstopper the tub and turn off the lights.

  Brigit lay in the darkness, pulse thrumming, body shivering with expectation. This was new to her, being the seduced instead of the seductress. She’d always been the one in control in the sexual arena. Yet there was something so satisfying about playing the passive role with someone she trusted so completely not to take advantage. Of her secret self and, perhaps more dangerously, of her heart.

  She heard his jeans hit the floor, then the mattress dipped beneath his added weight. Her breathing quickened in anticipation of his touch as he stretched out beside her. But instead of getting right to passionate business, he scooped her up in a big bear hug and cradled her to his chest. She rode his massive sigh of contentment as her own swelled in helpless response. With the strength of his heartbeats beneath her cheek and the slow, gentle strokes of his hand on her hair, Brigit could almost believe the perfect moment could last.

  “Giles, I’m in terrible trouble.”

  His grip tightened. “More trouble? What kind this time? Something I can help you with?”

  She laughed a bit frantically, then simply confessed. “I’m falling in love with you.”

  nineteen

  Giles said nothing for an agonizingly long minute. When he spoke, his words were a quiet rumble. “And that’s terrible?”

  How to respond, how to explain her uncertainty, her panic, at yielding to these unexpected feelings? Feelings so different from anything she’d experienced or prepared for. She’d surrendered to lust, to passion, but never to a yearning so deep and desperate it was almost a physical pain. Her silence left him to guess at her reasons.

  “Is it terrible because I’m human? Because I’m not part of your world?”

  She shook her head, unable to look up at him.

  “Is it because you’re afraid I can’t protect you?”

  “I’ve never felt as safe as I do with you,” she whispered.

  “Is it because I can only drive the car instead of buying them for you?”

  “No. I don’t care about that.” Surprisingly, that was true. “I like
having you behind the wheel.”

  “Then what?” Frustration edged his words. “Some between-the-sheets failing on my part because I’m not a Shifter male?”

  Brigit stroked his chest to calm the sudden aggressive thunder of his heartbeat, and smiled. “Sex with Shifter males is highly overrated. All that biting, scratching, and howling.”

  “Sounds like sex with a Shifter female.” His chuckle broke the tension, forcing her emotions into an achy knot.

  “I have no complaints about anything sex-related,” she murmured gruffly.

  “How about reproductive-related?”

  Her stillness told him more than words could.

  “What kind of children would we have together, Brigit? Would they be shunned by your kind as inferior?” Would you shun them? was what she heard tightening in his voice.

  “Not shunned, no. A lot of our clan breeds with humans. But a child of yours wouldn’t inherit my family’s standing.”

  “And that’s important to you?” His voice was soft, careful.

  “They wouldn’t have the same protection.”

  “They’d have mine.”

  She looked up at him, shaken and, at the same time, reassured by the strength she saw in the rugged symmetry of his face. “We’re in a vulnerable position, Giles. There are things you don’t understand.”

  “Explain them to me.”

  “Things you can’t change.”

  “Then I’ll accept them.”

  “I’m afraid it would be too much to expect, even from you.”

  His knuckles brushed the curve of her cheek. “Let me prove you wrong.”

  He kissed her with a slow, penetrating tenderness, making her willing to risk anything. Except the love she hoped he felt in return. She lacked the courage to ask about that. For now, the fact that he was here, with her, was enough.

  Without surrendering his lips, she slipped her leg over him, sliding back until she felt the nudge of his impatient hardness. A slight adjustment of angle and she was taking him in, her body shuddering at the heat and fullness of him as she began slow, voluptuous movements.