Mine to Take(4)

Oh, yes, he understood the importance of loyalty.

Eva glanced at Zac and something unspoken flashed between them. Then she looked back to the fire. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “It’s not my business.”

Alex let out a short breath. “I may not contact her but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on in her life. I try and keep tabs on what she’s doing.”

This was news to Gabriel, and judging by the expressions on the others’ faces, news to them as well. Alex made no secret of the fact that he’d cut off all contact with his mother and sister after his father’s death. He’d never explained his reasons for doing so and no one had ever asked, but Gabriel had always assumed that no contact meant no contact.

Alex’s expression was unreadable. “That was an apology, by the way.”

“I got it,” Eva replied. “Well, anyway, I guess you’re interested, aren’t you, Gabe?”

Interested? That went without saying. Already his mind was turning over possibilities, investigating options.

His whole life had been about doing what had to be done. At first it had all been about mere survival. Making sure the life he and his mom had was secure. Then it had been about safeguarding that security any way he could. Protecting his mother, making sure she’d never have to suffer for the fact that she’d chosen to have him.

And now? Now he’d do what had to be done again.

To take down his rapist father. Get a little piece of justice for his mother.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “I’m interested.”





CHAPTER TWO

Honor pulled the door of her Midtown office shut with a resounding click, prompting a surprised look from Weston, her PA.

“You’re going home?” he said, making an exaggerated show of looking at his watch. “Now? But it’s only five o’clock.”

Honor lifted an eyebrow. “Thanks for the sarcasm, Wes. You know how much I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. But seriously. You live at the office.”

Tightening the belt of her cashmere trench coat, Honor picked up her briefcase and crossed over to Weston’s desk.

The reception area of St. James Investments was empty, most of her clients long gone, but her PA was still doing some last-minute tasks. He was a workaholic just like she was.

“I’m not going home. I’ve got a meeting.” She placed the folder she’d also been carrying on his desk. “Here’s the Cornwall account info back again. I’m finished with it.”

Weston picked up the folder and filed it away with his usual efficiency. “A meeting? There wasn’t one in your schedule.”

“No, I know. It’s a personal one.” Glancing down at the rose-gold Cartier Tank watch Guy had given her for her twenty-first birthday, Honor checked the time.

She had to be at O’Rourke’s, an Irish pub a couple of blocks from her office, in about twenty minutes, to meet with Eva King, the media-shy CEO of Void Angel, one of the country’s largest and fastest growing technology companies, and she did not want to be late. Especially since they were going to be talking investments.

The pub was a strange place to meet for a technology CEO but really, what did that matter? She hoped the meeting—which she’d only received a text about that afternoon, necessitating a rescheduling of a number of other meetings—was going to yield some results. Eva had been cagey when Honor had put forward the details of Guy’s hotel project and Honor supposed she couldn’t blame her. Putting money into a failing business was always going to be risky.

Then again, Eva’s company had a reputation for taking risks, as well as constantly being on the lookout for new opportunities, which was why Honor had approached her in the first place.

“Oh?” Weston looked interested. “Sounds intriguing.”

Honor just gave him a smile as she turned toward the elevators. “Not really. Need-to-know basis only, Wes dear, and you don’t need to know.” Finding investors for Tremain Hotels was her baby and with the way it was currently going—badly—it wasn’t anything she wanted to crow about.

Besides, Wes didn’t need to know that if she couldn’t find the money to get Tremain out of debt, he’d be out of a job.

And so would she.

“Spoilsport.” Wes pulled a face. “Oh well, have fun.”

Honor’s smile remained in place until the elevator doors shut. Then it vanished because, really, she had nothing to smile about. Not when she thought of the amount of her own money she’d invested in Tremain. Money she’d put in against her better judgment, purely to help Guy save his company. Money she’d lose if Tremain went down the drain.

As the elevator descended, her phone rang. She checked the screen. Guy, again.

“Hey,” she said, answering it. “And no. No news yet.” She debated whether or not to tell him about her meeting with Eva, but decided not to. No point in getting his hopes up when she didn’t have any concrete answers for him.

“Well, you be sure to let me know as soon as you get any bites.” Her stepfather’s voice was level but she could hear the undercurrent of worry in it.

“Don’t worry, I will. Look, I’ve had some interest already. Now it’s just a matter of reeling them in.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say just yet. I’ll give you an update tonight though, okay?”

Guy sighed. “Yes, all right. Your mother and I are at a gallery opening now but I’ll have my phone on me. Call me as soon as you know.”

After he’d hung up, Honor leaned back against the railing that ran around the interior of the elevator and shut her eyes.

She’d used every contact she had in an effort to get more backers for Tremain but every single one of them had refused, using words and phrases like “recession” and “economic climate.”

God. She’d promised Guy she’d help him save the chain. Promised she’d fix his debts. Because that’s what she did—she fixed things. Always had.

But what if you can’t fix this?

No. That wasn’t an option. Guy was the closest thing to a father she had, certainly a hell of a lot better than the bastard who’d been her biological father, and he believed in her. Believed she had the ability to get him out of the financial hole he’d managed to get himself into.

She couldn’t let him down. She just couldn’t. Not with her own financial security and reputation riding on it as well.

Honor opened her eyes as the doors to the elevator opened, clenched her hand tighter on the handle of her briefcase, and strode out through the foyer.

Eva King was her last hope and by God, she’d get the woman, her technology, and most importantly, her money on board if it was the last thing she did.

Going out through the building’s entrance, Honor shivered as the hard winter cold slid icy hands up her legs, the pavement slippery and wet beneath the heels of her black Louboutins.

She drew her coat tighter around her, but even the expensive wool didn’t seem to have any effect against the biting cold.

The street was crowded with traffic and people hurrying home after a long day at the office and at first, Honor didn’t notice the long black limo parked just along the entrance to her building. At least not until a man in a chauffer’s uniform stepped in front of her. “Ms. St. James? Ms. King has sent a car for you.”

Honor stopped, glancing at the limo in surprise. The windows were tinted, hiding whoever was inside completely from view. “Oh,” she said slightly nonplussed. The pub wasn’t very far away and she hadn’t expected a lift. “That’s very kind of her.”

The chauffer pulled open the door for her and stood there, waiting.

An odd foreboding went through her as she stared into the dark interior of the limo, one that had nothing to do with the cold. As if once she got inside, she’d be taken away somewhere against her will, never to return.

Are you crazy? It’s just a car.

Irritated with herself, Honor shrugged off the feeling. Yes, that’s exactly what it was. Just a car to take her to a meeting. A thoughtful gesture by the Void Angel CEO. No big deal.

Smiling at the chauffeur, she got in, the warm interior of the limo a delicious contrast to the icy evening air.

But it wasn’t until she’d sat down on the plush leather seat that she realized she wasn’t alone.

And it wasn’t Eva King in the car with her.

A man sat on the opposite seat, long legs outstretched, arms folded. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, worn at the knees, a black T-shirt, and a battered black leather jacket.

A workingman’s outfit, completely at odds with the obvious luxury of the car.

But the male wearing it was not in any way an average workingman.

He was tall, his head almost brushing the car’s ceiling, his legs taking up most of the room in the space between them. Powerful, too. She could tell by the breadth of his shoulders and the way his leather jacket pulled tightly across them, and the cotton of his T-shirt stretched over the contours of his chest. There was something rough about him, something brutal. An aura of menace that, along with his appearance, should have been intimidating.

But Honor wasn’t intimidated. She knew him.

He was Gabriel Woolf, infamous owner of Woolf Construction, one of the biggest and most successful private construction companies in the country.