I wrenched away with a gasp - - and faced Gideon charging at a dead run, his speed unchecked as he rammed into Brett and took him down.
Chapter 10
I stumbled back from the impact, nearly falling.
The two men hit the asphalt with a sickening thud.
Someone yelled.
A woman screamed.
I could do nothing.
I stood frozen and silent, emotions twisting through me in a frenzied tangle.
Gideon pinned Brett by the throat and pummeled his ribs with a relentless series of blows.
He was like a machine, silent and unstoppable.
Brett grunted with each brutal impact and struggled to break free.
"Cross! Dio mio."
I wept when Arnoldo appeared.
He leaped forward, reaching for Gideon, only to scramble back as Brett wrenched to the side and the two men rolled.
Brett's bandmates pushed in through the growing crowd around the front of the buses, prepared to brawl .
until they saw who Brett was fighting with - the man with the money behind their record label.
"Kline, you f**khead!" Darrin, the drummer, gripped his own hair in both fists.
"What the hell are you doing?" Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Gideon into the side of a bus.
Gideon linked his hands and hammered Brett's back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away.
Pressing the advantage, Gideon lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick jab to the gut.
Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Gideon ducked fluidly and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett's head back.
Jesus.
Gideon didn't make a sound, not when he struck out and not when Brett landed a direct hit to his jaw.
The quiet intensity of his fury was chilling.
I could feel the rage pumping off him, saw it in his eyes, but he remained controlled and eerily methodical.
He'd disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where he could objectively observe his body doing serious damage to someone else.
I'd caused that.
I had turned the warm, wickedly playful man who'd enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.
"Miss Tramell."
Angus grabbed my elbow.
I looked at him desperately.
"You have to stop him."
"Please, return to the limousine."
"What?" I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett's nose.
No one was intervening.
"Are you crazy?" "We need to take Miss Ellison home.
She's your guest; you need to see to her."
Brett swung and when Gideon feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Gideon in the shoulder and sending him backward a few steps.
I grabbed Angus by the arms.
"What's the matter with you?! Stop them!" His pale blue eyes softened.
"He knows when to stop, Eva."
"Are you shitting me?!" He looked over my shoulder.
"Mr.
Ricci, if you would, please."
The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo's shoulder and en route to the limo.
Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view.
I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo's back, but it didn't faze him.
He climbed right into the back of the limo with me, and when Shawna hopped in a moment later, Angus shut the door as if everything was totally f**king normal.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped at Arnoldo, scrambling for the door handle as the limo rolled smoothly into motion.
It wouldn't open and no matter what I did, I couldn't get it to unlock.
"He's your friend! You're just going to leave him like that?" "He's your boyfriend."
The calm neutrality in Arnoldo's voice cut me deep.
"And you are the one who left him like that."
I slumped back into the seat, my stomach churning and my palms damp.
Gideon .
"You're the Eva in the song 'Golden,' aren't you?" Shawna asked quietly, from her position on the opposite bench seat.
Arnoldo started, obviously surprised by the connection.
"I wonder if Gideon - " He sighed.
"Of course he knows."
"That was a long time ago!" I said defensively.
"Not long enough, apparently," he pointed out.
Desperate to get to Gideon, I couldn't sit still.
My feet tapped, my body battling against restlessness so intense I felt like crawling out of my skin.I'd hurt the man I loved and through him, another man who'd done nothing more than be himself.
And I had no good explanation for it.
Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me.
Why hadn't I pulled away sooner? Why had I kissed Brett back? And what was Gideon going to do about it? The thought that he might break up with me triggered overwhelming panic.
I was sick with worry.
Was he hurt? God .
the thought of Gideon in pain ate at me like acid.
Was he in trouble? He'd assaulted Brett.
My palms went damp when I remembered Cary's news that his clusterfuck buddy also wanted to press assault charges.
Gideon's life was spiraling out of control - because of me.
At some point he was going to realize I wasn't worth the trouble.
I glanced at Shawna.
She was looking out the window pensively.
I'd blown her awesome night.
And Arnoldo's, too.
"I'm sorry."
I sighed miserably.
"I screwed up everything."
She looked at me and shrugged, then offered a sympathetic smile that made my throat burn.
"No big.
I had a great time.
I hope you work things out for the best."
The best thing for me was Gideon.
Had I blown that? Had I thrown away the most important thing in my life over some weird, inexplicable head trip?I still felt Brett's mouth on mine.
I scrubbed at my lips, wishing I could erase the last half hour of my life as easily.
My anxiety made it feel like it took an eternity to drive Shawna home.
I got out and gave her a hug on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building.
"I'm sorry," I said again, for both earlier and then, because I was dying to get to Gideon - wherever he was - and I was afraid my impatience showed.
I wasn't sure I'd ever forgive Angus or Arnoldo for taking me away when and how they did.
Arnoldo hugged Shawna and told her that she and Doug had a standing reservation for Tableau One anytime.
I softened a little toward him.
He'd taken good care of her all night.
We climbed back into the limo and set off for the restaurant.
I curled into a darkened corner of the seat and cried silently, unable to contain the flood of despair overwhelming me.
When we arrived at the restaurant, I used my tank top to dry my face.
Arnoldo stopped me from getting out.
"Be gentle with him," he scolded, staring hard at my face.
"I have never seen him the way he is with you.
I can't say you are worthy of him, but you can make him happy.
I saw that myself.
Do it or walk.
Don't f**k with his head."
I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat, so I nodded, hoping he could see in my eyes how much Gideon meant to me.
Everything.
Arnoldo disappeared into the restaurant.
Before Angus shut the door, I slid forward on the seat.
"Where is he? I need to see him.
Please."
"He called."
Angus's face was kind, which made me start crying again.
"I'm taking you to him now."
"Is he okay?" "I don't know."
I pushed back into the seat, feeling physically ill.
I barely paid attention to where we were headed, my only thought being that I needed to explain.
I needed to tell Gideon that I loved him, that I'd never leave him if he'd still have me, that he was the only man I wanted, the only man who set my blood on fire.
Eventually, the car slowed and I looked out, realizing we'd returned to the amphitheater.
As I peered out the window, searching for him, the door behind me opened, startling me, and I shifted around to see Gideon duck inside and settle on the opposite bench from me.
I lurched toward him.
"Gideon - " "Don't."
His voice whipped with anger, sending me recoiling and falling on my rear.
The limo set into motion, jostling me.
Crying, I watched him pour a glass of amber liquor at the bar and toss it back.
I waited on the floorboards, my stomach churning with fear and grief.
He refilled his glass before shutting the bar and dropping back in his seat.
I wanted to ask him if Brett was okay or badly hurt.
I wanted to ask how Gideon was, if he was injured or fine.
But I couldn't.
I didn't know if he would take the questions the wrong way and assume my concern for Brett meant more than it did.
His face was impassive, his eyes hard as sapphires.
"What is he to you?" I swiped at the tears streaming down my face.
"A mistake."
"Then? Or now?" "Both."
His lip curled in a sneer.
"You always kiss your mistakes like that?" My chest heaved as I tried to stem the need to sob.
I shook my head violently.
"You want him?" he asked tightly, before taking another drink.
"No," I whispered.
"I only want you.
I love you, Gideon.
So much it hurts."
His eyes closed and his head fell back.
I took the opportunity to crawl closer, needing to bridge the physical distance between us, at least.
"Did you come for me when I had my fingers inside you, Eva? Or because of his goddamn song?" Oh my God .
How he could doubt - ?I made him doubt.
I did that.
"You.
You're the only one who can get to me like that.
Make me forget where I am.
Make it so I don't care who's around or what's happening as long as you're touching me."
"Isn't that what happened when he kissed you?" Gideon's eyes opened and focused on me.
"He's had his dick in you.
He's f**ked you .
blown his load inside you."
I cringed away from the horrible bitterness in his tone, the vicious nastiness.
I knew just how he felt.
How badly the mental images could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad.
In my mind, he and Corinne had f**ked dozens of times while I watched in sick, jealous fury.
He straightened suddenly, leaning forward to rub his thumb roughly across my lips.
"He's had your mouth."
I grabbed his glass and drank what was left in it, hating the harsh taste and searing burn.
I swallowed by force of will alone.
My stomach roiled, protesting.
The heat of the alcohol spread outward from my gut.
Gideon sagged back into the seat, his arm thrown across his face.
I knew he was still seeing me kissing Brett.
Knew it was eating a hole in his mind.
Dropping the glass on the floor, I surged between his legs and fumbled with his button fly.
He caught my fingers in an iron grip but kept his eyes covered with his forearm.
"What the f**k are you doing?" "Come in my mouth," I begged.
"Wash it away."
There was a long pause.
He sat there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of his chest.
"Please, Gideon."
With muttered curse, he released me, his hand falling limply to his side.