Entwined With You

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.
    TheGideon 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.”
    I search his face. “What if they do?”
    “Will I let someone else pay for my crime?” His jaw tightened. “Is that what you’re asking?”
    “No.” I smoothed his brow with my fingertips. “I know you won’t let that happen. I’m just wondering how you’ll prevent it.”
    His scowl deepened. “You’re asking me to predict the future, Eva. I can’t do that. You just have to trust me.”
    “I do,” I promised fervently. “But I’m still scared. I can’t help being freaked out.”
    “I know. I’m worried, too.” His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “Detective Graves is a very intelligent woman.”
    His observation clicked with me. “You’re right. That makes me feel better.”
    Ididn’t know Shelley Graves, not really. But in the few interactions I’d had with her, she’d struck me as being intelligent
and
street-smart. I hadn’t factored her into the equation, and I should have.