Mine To Take (Nine Circles) (4 page)

If okay could be applied to a lifestyle as dissolute as Alex’s was reputed to be. “Where is he?” she demanded again.

“What makes you think I know?”

“You’re his friend, aren’t you?”

“And you’re assuming that why?”

Because once, nineteen years ago …

That doesn’t mean they’re still friends now. Also, do you really care that much about Alex?

He’d left her. Left her and her mother alone after Daniel St. James’s suicide, and hadn’t contacted them. Not once. So no, she didn’t care.

With an effort, Honor made herself relax. “I’m probably assuming a great many things, actually. Sorry, I don’t usually make demands of strangers in cars.”

“Not so much a stranger since you know who I am already.”

“Yes, well. You’re pretty recognizable.” Honor lifted one hand and leaned across the space between them, holding it out. “Nice to meet you once again, Mr. Woolf.”

For a second Gabriel stared at her hand held out like an olive branch as if he didn’t quite trust it. Then slowly he unfolded his arms and enclosed her hand in one of his. “Likewise, Miss St. James.”

Her breath caught as a wave of heat washed over her skin at his touch, her heart suddenly racing. She had to fight to keep the reaction from showing in her face.

Damn, was that what she thought it was? It had been a while since she’d felt anything like sexual attraction to a man, so she couldn’t be sure.

Honor pulled her hand away, trying not to make her shock too obvious. “And that’s as good a question as any to start with. I thought I was supposed to be meeting with Eva King.”

Gabriel leaned back against the seat, folding his arms again. “You were. I’m a friend of Eva’s. She passed on a few details regarding your quest for investors and I decided I was interested.”

Not expecting it, Honor blinked. “You’re interested in Tremain Hotels?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“But … why?”

His dark eyes were watchful as if he was gauging her reaction. “I’m in the construction business, Miss St. James. And green construction is the way of the future. It’s where the money’s at. Of course I’m interested.”

For a minute Honor didn’t quite know what to say. She’d been expecting to meet Eva, not the man she’d forever associate with Alex’s disappearance from her life. But this was a good thing, wasn’t it? If he was as interested as he claimed, then having a company like Woolf Construction as a backer could only be an asset.

And perhaps she might be able to get a bit more information about Alex from him, too. Not because she wanted to make contact—no, he’d burned that particular bridge a long time ago—but something she could take back to her mother, who’d found his abandonment particularly hard to take.

“You look surprised,” Gabriel said.

“Of course I’m surprised. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Honor shifted in her seat. “What about Eva then?”

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll be involved with the tech side of things. But I’m going to be handling everything else.”

There was something about the way he said it, so arrogant—so confident—that instantly got her back up. Annoyed and trying not to show it since he was a potential client after all, Honor folded her hands back on her briefcase again. “I see. So, I take it we’re not going to be meeting in the pub then?”

His eyes had taken on a strange glitter. “That wasn’t Eva’s plan. That was mine, but right now I’ve changed my mind.”

Honor found herself gripping her briefcase tightly, a strange little twist of fear curling in her stomach. “Oh?”

“Yes. I think we need a little bit more in the way of privacy.”

“Mr. Woolf—”

Abruptly he sat forward, a sharp movement that made her heart beat fast. “Are you afraid of me, Miss St. James?” The words were soft, but there was an underlying roughness to them that Honor found almost menacing.

Her fingers felt cold against the warm leather of her briefcase, the edges sharp, digging into her knuckles.

Gabriel Woolf. What did she know about him? The rough-edged CEO of Woolf Construction. The man she’d watched over the years—not with any conscious intent, but she’d been aware of him nonetheless. Was he a man to be afraid of?

Oh, there’d been rumors about him, about how he’d gotten the money to start his company so young, especially when he’d grown up on the streets. Rumors that he’d been a drug dealer at some point, with gang links. It was a well-known fact that he’d been the president of an outlaw motorcycle club, a fact the media loved to play up. But he’d never had any charges brought against him, nor did he ever answer questions on the subject.

Yet even without those rumors, he was rather frightening. Tall, clearly muscular, and exuding such a sense of cold, powerful, tightly leashed anger, he was like a coiled spring. Or a loaded gun ready to go off at the slightest touch. So yes, maybe she was afraid of him. And, for some reason, also fascinated by him.

“No,” Honor said. “I’m not afraid of you.” She’d learned a thing or two when it came to dealing with powerful men, the kind of men rife in the world of high finance. One was to never admit to fear.

Gabriel’s dark eyes didn’t leave her face. “You’re in a strange car with a strange man going fuck knows where and you’re not afraid?”

Was he trying to intimidate her? Put her off? He was out of luck in that case. Because the second lesson she’d learned was to never back down.

“No,” she repeated. “Should I be?”

*   *   *

She was lying. He could see it in her stillness. In the flicker of her blue eyes as they regarded him from underneath straight, glossy, black bangs.

Her face was pointed with a sweet little bow of a mouth, long thick eyelashes, and a straight nose. Her fine-grained skin pale and soft.

She looked high-class. Sophisticated in a fancy coat and shoes with distinctive red soles. He knew shoes like that—he’d bought numerous pairs for lovers before.

Expensive. Just like her. She had that perfectly presented, smooth look to her that only the priciest kind of woman had.

The kind of woman that a man with a past like his wasn’t ever supposed to touch.

“Yeah, you should be afraid,” Gabriel said. And he meant it. He was hard. Ruthless. Had done some bad stuff to get where he was today and regretted none of it. The only rule he had—and one he never broke—was to never harm a woman. In fact, when he’d been president of the Angels, he’d become the go-to guy for women having trouble with their boyfriend, or husband, or who’d been menaced by some stranger. Go to Church, they said. He’ll sort it out.

And he had. He’d taken pleasure from it. And if some guys had gotten hurt it was their own fault. Of course, a psychiatrist would have had a field day with that. Would have said he saw his father in each abuser.

The psychiatrist would have been right.

Then again, a little fear never hurt. It was healthy. Guaranteed respect. And sent her fair warning not to screw with him.

Honor raised an eyebrow—a mannerism that was startlingly reminiscent of Alex. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m not a nice man, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Oh, please.”

He almost smiled at the look on her face. “Honor, then.”

“That would be preferable.”

“Good to see you, Honor.” He didn’t offer his hand again. He could still feel the warmth of her palm against his from their previous touch. A subtle heat that rested on his skin like a ray of sun. Dangerous. But useful.

Sure, he’d never hurt a woman but he had no problem with using her if it was necessary.

“Nice to see you again, too,” Honor replied with stiff courtesy. She didn’t say his name and he suspected that was deliberate.

Again he had to resist the urge to smile. Had she felt this electricity between them, too? And was she discomforted by it?

He watched her shift around on the seat, her knuckles white where they clutched the handle of her black leather briefcase. Oh yeah, she was.

“So where are we going if we’re not going to the pub? Or do you have a lair you’re dragging me off to?” she asked, again with the raised eyebrow and a certain dry humor. Nervous and trying not to show it, he guessed. Easy enough to tell by the way she was clutching that briefcase.

“I have a private club I’m a member of,” he replied. “I thought we’d go there to discuss your proposal.”

He wasn’t much for fancy restaurants or exclusive bars. That was Alex’s territory, not his. But Honor St. James didn’t belong in a place like O’Rourke’s. With her brother’s coloring, black hair, and blue eyes, she had a delicate, catlike beauty that drew the eye. Drew attention.

And he didn’t want attention. He preferred to get on with the job, not create a fuss.

“Okay.” She patted the top of the briefcase. “I brought along some information you might—”

“I’ve got the information already,” he interrupted. After the meeting with the others two nights ago, he’d got his research team to look into Tremain Hotels, turning up everything they could find.

The chain was, indeed, seriously in debt, which was excellent news from his perspective. And also the basis for the plan he’d been turning over in his head for the past couple of days now. A fairly simple plan when all was said and done—sink money into Tremain. Buy as much stock as he could. Make sure he had the controlling shares. Then maybe he’d bankrupt it. Or maybe he’d keep the lot and make Tremain Hotels part of his own empire.

Whatever he’d do, one thing was certain. He’d take something of his father’s and make it his. And he’d make sure Tremain knew who it was who’d made him pay. And why.

“You have?” Honor blinked. “Oh, right. Of course you have. And I guess you’ve read over the various reports that I sent to Eva?”

“Yes. But I’m not discussing that now. We’ll have plenty of time after we reach the club.”

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. “Perhaps we can talk about my brother then.”

He hadn’t quite decided how he’d tackle her questions, because obviously she would have them. Alex had just shrugged his shoulders when Gabriel had asked him about it. “Tell her or don’t tell her,” he’d said. “I don’t give a shit.”

“I’m still his friend,” Gabriel said, deciding. “If that’s what you want to know.”

Her eyes were dark, like Indian sapphires, the expression in them unreadable. “So you see him then? Regularly?”

“Semi-regularly, yes.”

“Does he know…” She stopped, looked down at her hands. “Does he know you’re meeting me?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“I see. I don’t suppose…” She trailed off again. “No, don’t answer that question.”

“Did he want me to pass a message on to you?” Gabriel finished for her. “No, he didn’t.” Brutally honest perhaps, but it was better to know these things straight up.

Honor’s posture stiffened a little but her expression remained neutral. So she had armor. He supposed a woman like her must need it, working as she did in such a male-dominated industry. “Well,” she said, a thin film of ice coating her words, “I didn’t expect him to. Not after nineteen years of silence.” Her blue eyes were very direct. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that, did you?”

“No. That was all Alex’s decision.”

“Ah, okay, then.” She looked down at her hands again. “That answers pretty much all my questions in that case.” The cold had bled out of her tone, leaving behind it a hint of pain.

Gabriel studied her. He’d never judged his friend for leaving his mother and sister after his father’s death. Mainly because he’d known a man driven by demons when he saw one and Alex seemed driven by the entire population of hell. So when Alex had told him he’d left home and wouldn’t go back, Gabriel had accepted it. Who was he to judge anyway? After the things he’d done? If Alex needed to leave to survive whatever was eating him up inside, then Gabriel had no problem with that.

Yet looking at Honor now, hearing the echoes of an old pain in her voice, he couldn’t help wondering at his friend’s continued refusal to make contact.

It’s not your business. And you can’t afford to get involved.

No. He couldn’t. The only thing that mattered was taking down Tremain. Honor’s stepfather. That was the extent of it.

He had to stay on target and that meant finding out more about her relationship with the guy. About why she was trying to save his company. Look for any weaknesses that could be exploited.

The car began to slow, coming to a halt outside the Second Circle Club.

Honor stared out the window, her eyes widening a little. She glanced at him, then back at the elegant old building outside. “Here?”

He rather enjoyed her look of disbelief. Part of him would always get a kick out of shocking people who judged him on his past and the streets he’d come from.

“Yeah, here. Pretty good for a working stiff like me, don’t you think?”

Her blue eyes flicked back to him. “You? A working stiff? I think you haven’t been a working stiff for a long time, Mr. Woolf.”

“Gabriel.”

“When I’m ready, Mr. Woolf. When I’m ready.”

A small thrill of unwelcome anticipation went through him at her resistance. Smooth, sophisticated women had never been his thing. He preferred earthier women. Women with no hang-ups, who could look after themselves and didn’t mind if things got a bit rough. Who had no expectations of anything more than a couple of nights of good, dirty fun.

Not women like Honor St. James, in other words.

Yet there were sparks in those blue eyes of hers. Sparks that promised a man a challenge. A good fight. And if there was one thing he enjoyed, it was a good fight.

Still, he needed to play it cool here because there were too many variables he didn’t know about. Before he made any move he had to do some more research. Into Tremain. Into Honor. Into the relationship between them and whether he could exploit that as well as this investment opportunity.

Guy Tremain had to pay for what he did. For what he had taken.

And the only one who could make him pay was Gabriel.

*   *   *

Honor didn’t know much about the Second Circle other than it was one of New York’s most exclusive private members’ clubs and getting your name on the list was supposed to be next to impossible. Well, that and the fact that her brother owned it. Not that that meant a damn thing to her.