We sat at a small metal table in the back, the remnants of our lunch on a tray between us. The deli wasn’t as crazed during the noon hour as some of the other restaurants and full-service eateries in the area were, which suited us both fine. We could hold a conversation without raising our voices.
“Mark’s floating,” she said, licking her spoon. She wore a lime green dress that went really well with her dark hair and pale skin. Megumi always dressed in bold colors and styles. I envied her ability to pull them off so well.
“I know.” I smiled. “It’s so cool to see someone that happy.”
“Guilt-free happiness. Unlike this ice cream.”
“What’s a little guilt every now and then?”
“A fat ass?”
I groaned. “Thanks for the reminder that I have to hit the gym today. I haven’t worked out in days.”
Unless one counted mattress gymnastics …
“How do you stay motivated?” she asked me. “I know I should go, but I can always find an excuse not to.”
“And you keep that amazing figure anyway?” I shook my head. “You make me sick.”
Her lips quirked. “Where do you work out?”
“I alternate between a regular gym and a Krav Maga studio in Brooklyn.”
“Do you go after work or before?”
“After. I am not a morning person,” I said. “Sleep is my friend.”
“Would you mind if I tag along sometime? I don’t know about that Krav what-a, but the gym. Where do you go?”
I swallowed a bit of chocolate and was about to reply when I heard a phone ringing.
“Are you going to get that?” Megumi asked, which alerted me to the fact that the phone was mine.
The burner phone, which was why I didn’t recognize it.
I dug it out quickly and answered with a breathless “Hello?”
“Angel.”
For a second, I savored the rasp of Gideon’s voice. “Hey. What’s up?”
“My attorneys just notified me that the police might have a suspect.”
“What?” My heart stopped. My stomach began to revolt against lunch. “Oh my God.”
“It’s not me.”
I don’t remember getting back to the office. When Megumi asked me for the name of my gym, she had to ask twice. The fear I felt was like nothing I’d ever suffered before. It was so much worse when you felt it on behalf of someone you loved.
How could the police possibly suspect someone else?
I had the horrible feeling they were just trying to shake Gideon up. Shake me up.
If that was the goal, it was working. At least on me. Gideon had sounded calm and collected during our brief conversation. He’d told me not to get upset, that he just wanted to warn me that the police might come by with more questions. Or they might not.
Jesus. I walked slowly back to my desk, my nerves shot. I felt like I’d gulped down an entire pot of coffee. My hands were trembling and my heart was beating too fast.
I sat down at my desk and tried to get back to work, but I couldn’t concentrate. I stared at my monitor and didn’t see anything.
What if the police did have a suspect who wasn’t Gideon? What would we do? We couldn’t let an innocent person go to prison.
And yet there was a tiny voice in my head whispering that Gideon would be safe from prosecution if someone else were convicted of the crime.
The moment the thought entered my mind, I felt sick over it. My gaze went to the photo of my dad. He was in his uniform, looking dashingly handsome standing next to his patrol car.
I was so confused, so frightened.
When my smartphone started vibrating on my desk, I jumped. Dad’s name and number flashed on the screen. I answered quickly. “Hey! Where are you?”
“Cincinnati. I’m switching planes.”
“Hang on, let me write down your flight info.” I snagged a pen and jotted down the details he gave me. “I’ll be waiting for you when you land. I can’t wait to see you.”
“Yeah … Eva. Sweetheart.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up, and the subsequent silence was deafening. I knew then that the strongest emotion he was feeling was guilt. It colored his voice and made my chest ache.
Standing, I made my way over to Mark’s office. “I just heard from my dad. His flight lands at LaGuardia in a couple hours.”
He looked at me, then frowned, his gaze searching. “So go home, get ready, and pick him up.”
“Thanks.” That one word would have to do. Mark seemed to understand that I didn’t want to stick around and talk.
I used the burner phone to send a text while I took a cab ride home: Heading to the apt. Leaving in 1 hour to get dad. Can u talk?
I needed to know what Gideon was thinking … how he was feeling. I was a wreck and I didn’t know what to do about it.
When I got home, I changed into a simple, lightweight summer dress and sandals. I answered a text from Martin, agreeing that it was great we’d hung out Saturday night and that we should do it again. I double-checked the kitchen, making sure all of my dad’s favorite foods that I’d stocked up on were exactly where I’d put them. I checked the guest room again, even though I’d gone over it the day before. I got online and checked my dad’s flight.
Done. I had enough time left over to drive myself crazy.
I did a search for “Corinne Giroux and husband” on Google, looking specifically at images.
What I discovered was that Jean-François Giroux was a really good-looking guy. Hot, actually. Not as hot as Gideon, but then who was? Gideon was in a league by himself, but Jean-François was a head-turner in his own right, with dark wavy hair and eyes the color of pale jade. He was tan and had a goatee, which really worked for him. He and Corinne made a stunning couple.
My burner phone rang and I lunged to my feet in a rush, stumbling around the coffee table to get to it. I snatched it out of my purse and answered, “Hello?”
“I’m next door,” Gideon said. “I don’t have a lot of time.”
“I’m coming.”
I grabbed my purse and left my place. One of my neighbors was just unlocking her door, so I offered a polite, distant smile and pretended to wait for the elevator. The moment I heard her go inside her apartment, I darted over to Gideon’s door. It opened before I could use my key.
The Gideon who greeted me was in jeans and T-shirt, with a ball cap on his head. He caught my hand and pulled me inside, tugging the hat off before lowering his mouth to mine. His kiss was surprisingly sweet, his firm lips soft and warm.
I dropped my purse and wrapped my arms around him, snuggling into him. The feel of his strength eased my anxiety enough to allow me to take a deep breath.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“You didn’t have to come home.” I could only imagine how doing so had disrupted his day. Changing clothes, making the trip back and forth …
“Yes, I did. You need me.” His hands slid up my back, and then he pulled away just enough to look down into my face. “Don’t worry about this, Eva. I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
His blue eyes were cool, his expression one of confidence. “Right now, I’m waiting on more information. Who are they looking at? Why are they looking at him? Chances are very good that it won’t pan out. You know that.”