A Billionaire's Redemption (6 page)

“What?” she demanded, to cover her embarrassment at how her fists had flown up like that.

“You’re quite a beautiful woman, Willa.”

She shrugged, desperately wishing in that moment that she was as ugly as some warty old toad. “Don’t compliment me. My parents’ genes get all the credit.”

He stretched a disconcertingly powerful arm out along the top of the sofa. “It’s more than that. Beauty starts inside a woman. It breathes through her skin and shows in her eyes and the way she moves. It surrounds everything she does and everything she is.

“Are you sure it’s just not my overpowering perfume you’re describing?”

He laughed quietly. “What is that scent, anyway? I know it’s floral, but I don’t recognize it.”

“Gardenia.”

“It fits you. It’s old-fashioned. Soft. But with a note of mystery.”

“It’s all of that?” she asked skeptically.

“Definitely.”

Dammit, did he have to keep saying things that chipped away at her defenses like that? He was supposed to be a bad guy. Self-serving. Dishonest. Untrustworthy. But the man seated before her was nothing like the villain her father had painted.

She turned back to the window. Gabe let the silence lie between them and seemed content not to disturb it. As much as she tried to focus on the events of the day, and to gather her thoughts for tomorrow, she couldn’t get past her blazing awareness of the man behind her.

This room fit him. It was modern and sophisticated, and frankly, intimidating. She tilted her head and realized she could see his reflection in the dark surface of the glass. He was studying her with shocking intensity.

She spun quickly to face him, but his expression was bland, his eyes masked, by the time she got turned around. A shiver of apprehension chattered up her spine, rattling her bones. Who was this man whose home she was effectively trapped in? Which face that he showed her was the real one? What did she really know about him?

“You know, Gabe, I think I’d be better off just getting a hotel room tonight. If you’ll call me a cab, I’ll get out of your hair.”

He gazed at her for a long time and then finally broke the silence. “That bastard really did a number on you, didn’t he? How come your daddy didn’t kill him?”

Chapter 4

G
abe hung on to his temper by a thread. Only the undisguised terror on Willa’s face had him fighting to rein it in. But still, a need to do violence on her behalf roiled hotly in his gut.

“Kill him?” Willa whispered.

He couldn’t tell if it was dismay or hope vibrating painfully in her voice.

He answered roughly, “If someone hurt my little girl, they’d damn well be eating the business end of my shotgun.”

She shook her head, and he couldn’t contain the beast any longer. He surged to his feet. “Hell, Will. I’ll go kill him for you right now if you want.”

“No, no. The scandal.” Her hands fluttered in the air like the broken wings of a bird.

“When did Ward attack you?” he demanded.

“A month ago.”

“A
month?
Why in hell didn’t you go to the police before now?” Fury ranged freely through him, heating his extremities until they burned to damage someone. James Ward, specifically.

“The campaign...” she murmured in distress.

Of course. John Merris’s precious political campaign. The bastard had failed to protect his baby girl because his damned Senate seat was more important to him than his own family. Hot coals commenced burning their way out of Gabe’s gut by slow inches.

“That goddamned sonofabitch,” he snarled. “I’ll bet he made you stay home until the bruises faded, didn’t he?”

Her nod was so small, so stiff and unwilling, that he barely saw it. But it was enough. Gabe strode over to her and swept her into his arms, holding her tight against him. “I take back everything I said. I don’t care if he was your father or not, John Merris didn’t deserve to live. If he weren’t already dead, I’d start by shooting him first.”

“Gabe,” Willa mumbled from the folds of his dress shirt, “you can’t just run around
shooting people.”

“Why the hell not? This is Texas. I wouldn’t be convicted in any court in the state for taking out either man after what they did to you. Juries in this state don’t take kindly to people who harm women, children or cops.”

Muffled words floated up to him. “You still could go to jail.”

“It would be worth it.”

“Don’t do it on my account. I’ll be okay.”

“You’re not okay,” he answered forcefully. “You flinch whenever I touch you, and that haunted look keeps creeping into your eyes. You’re scared. Admit it.”

She struggled weakly against his arms and he loosened his grip enough for her to lean back and stare up at him. Her blue eyes were huge in her face. Too big. Too scared. Too damned vulnerable. A surge of protectiveness swept over him so hard it almost knocked him off his feet.

“Okay, fine. I’m scared. Is that a crime?”

“Hell, no. So let me get this straight. Ward attacked you. You told your father about it, and he told you to suck it up. To pretend it never happened. Not to cause trouble with his business partner, to save the Merris family reputation and not make waves right before a tight election. Am I right?”

She nodded. Her gaze fell miserably.

“What happened to your clothes? Did your old man take some pictures of your scrapes and bruises or gather some evidence to corroborate your claim later? Or at least to blackmail the bastard with?”

Her lips quirked. “Blackmail, huh? You have a vicious mind, Mr. Dawson.”

“You have no idea. At this very moment, I’m trying to choose between several horrible and painful forms of death by slow torture for young James.”

A flicker of humor passed through her gaze for just an instant. It was gone almost before he saw it, but it was enough. A spark of the old Willa Merris, the one who’d dared him to a horse race, was still in there. Now all he had to do was find that spark again and nurture it into a flame.

“There’s no evidence,” she said, disrupting his train of thought. “My father destroyed everything. He took all of my clothes and burned them himself. And I wasn’t allowed out of the house until every last scratch and bruise was totally gone.”

“Willa, Willa.” He sighed. “You’re what, twenty-eight-years old? Why did you let your father bully you like that?”

“Because he was John Merris. When did he ever
not
get his way?”

Gabe pursed his lips. “I told him to go to hell, and I’m still standing. In fact, I’ve done moderately well in spite of John’s best efforts to wreck me.”

That glint of humor flashed again in her eyes. But he understood her response. John Merris had been known for his frightening temper and razor-sharp tongue that flayed anyone who dared to gainsay him. Even as a teen, he remembered Willa having a talent for fading out of sight and out of mind almost at will. A useful skill for a person who had lived with her father.

“Would you like to see some of the cool tricks my house can do?” he asked her abruptly.

“Uhh, sure.”

He gave her a tour of his high-tech apartment ending with the high-definition media wall that took up one entire side of his home theater, projecting everything at life size.

“Wow!” Willa exclaimed. “I’d love to see a Longhorn football game on this monster.”

He laughed. She was a sports fan, huh? “You feel like you’re on the field with the players. Texas plays Oklahoma State next weekend. You’re officially invited to watch it here with me.”

“Deal.” Her expression was young and happy and warmed his soul. It made him want to pick her up and swing her around, and then make love to her all night long.

Startled, he examined the urge more closely. He had no trouble getting all the sex he wanted; a continuous stream of beautiful women hoping to snare him and his bank account threw themselves at him. But this feeling wasn’t just about sex with Willa. He actually liked her. He hadn’t
liked
a woman in longer than he cared to think about. In point of fact, he mostly felt contempt for the women who threw themselves into his path.

“You’ve got a big day tomorrow, Willa. I should let you get some rest.”

He showed her to the guest suite and made sure she knew how to operate its various gadgets, including the door locks, before he beat a hasty retreat away from the temptation she represented.

Gabe had seen John Merris’s campaign ads on TV where his wife and daughter stood in the background like smiling robots. They’d looked like scary freaks, actually. Gabe had always assumed that the overbearing bastard had stripped their souls clean away. But in spite of her father, Willa Merris wasn’t entirely broken.

And in spite of James Ward, too. Gabe’s gaze narrowed as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. That boy was going to pay for what he’d done to Willa. It was the least he could do for her. Gabe lay awake long into the night, plotting the destruction of one James Ward.

* * *

Willa stared out from the wings of the makeshift stage at the brightly lit podium that the governor would walk out to momentarily, and introduce her as the new junior senator from the great state of Texas.

“You okay?” Gabe murmured beside her.

She nodded, even though it was a lie, and smoothed her new charcoal-gray suit down her front. Gabe had fed her breakfast, helped her write her blessedly short speech and then driven her over to Neiman Marcus an hour before the upscale department store opened.

A personal shopper, makeup artist and hairdresser had been waiting inside for her. She’d stood like a patient doll while Nieman’s efficient staff took care of her, dressing, primping and painting her to perfection for this press conference. And not one bit of it felt real. It was all an elaborate dream. Were it not for Gabe’s warm, firm grip on her elbow, she would still be absolutely convinced that none of this was real.

“Remember, Will. You’re about to become a United States senator. You have nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of. Of all the people he could’ve chosen, your father thought highly enough of you to entrust this job to you. And you’re going to do great at it.”

She smiled ruefully at him, but the expression felt fake and plastic on her face. She was a fraud. And the whole world was about to see it for themselves. “Can I go throw up in the corner now?” she muttered.

Gabe laughed. “Don’t bother picturing them all in their underwear. Picture them naked.”

“If I can stand up in front of a bunch of five-year- olds and teach, I can talk to these folks,” she whispered back. “That’s not what I’m scared of.”

“What, then?” Gabe asked in concern that was so sweet, she almost forgot she wasn’t supposed to trust him.

“They’re going to eat me alive about the James Ward thing.”

“Screw them,” he declared. “Refuse to talk about it and move on with the press conference.”

She opened her mouth to retort that the reporters wouldn’t give up that easily, but the television camera lights popped on just then with a slight buzzing and a rush of hot, blinding light. Governor Graham walked out from the opposite side of the stage and gripped both sides of the podium as he read from a teleprompter. Too late for her to run away and hide.

“...would like to introduce my choice for the position, Willa Merris, daughter of the late Senator John Merris...”

Her feet stuck to the floor, and were it not for Gabe giving her a smile and a little shove, there was no way on God’s green earth she’d have walked out in front of that phalanx of cameras and reporters.

The next few minutes passed in a daze. She held up her right hand, repeated the meaningless sounds that were actually the Congressional Oath of Office and read the strings of words on the piece of paper in front of her on the podium that were her statement of thanks to the governor and her promise to the voters of Texas to do her best to represent them.

And then the governor’s press secretary uttered the phrase she’d been dreading worse than facing a firing squad. “Senator Merris will take a few questions, ladies and gentlemen.”

The shout that went up was worthy of spectators at a Roman gladiatorial bout. The cacophony held the same avid bloodlust. She recoiled from the aggression of the crowd, stunned at the hostility rolling off the room toward her. Had they all secretly hated her father so much or was this nastiness directed at her, specifically?

She gazed across the sea of faces, looking for anyone who didn’t appear openly eager to shred her.

No surprise, her mother hadn’t shown up today. Hurt, disappointment and anger swirled inside her. Minnie wasn’t a bad person, but forty years with John Merris had broken her. Willa got that. Still, she could’ve used a little support today from someone who didn’t hate her outright.

Larry Shore’s face caught her attention. He’d been singularly unhelpful this morning in the scramble to prepare her for this press conference. Truth be told, he’d been of little help to her or her mother since the murder, and no help at all since he got out of jail a few days ago.

At the moment, Larry was leaning against the wall off to one side of the circus, looking so pleased with himself he could bust. Had he given these jackals the scoop on her pressing charges against James Ward? Lord knew Shore was vicious and ambitious enough to pull a stunt like that. He was a chip off her father’s old block.

Impatient of waiting for her to call on one of them, the reporters started shouting questions at her. By rights, Shore ought to be up here beside her, telling the journalists to cool it and treat her with proper respect. But he stayed where he was, arms crossed, enjoying the show.

Without warning, a large, male presence materialized beside her. Speaking in a voice that brooked no shenanigans, Gabe growled, “If you all don’t pipe down, the senator’s not going to be able to answer any of your questions. This is a press conference, not a free-for-all. I’d remind you that Senator Merris has recently lost her father to a shocking and tragic murder, and she doesn’t need the likes of you jumping all over her. Do I make myself clear?”

The press pit subsided immediately. Gabe pointed at a reporter from one of the major networks who asked her a harmless enough question about who she planned to endorse in the upcoming election to replace her father. She assured the guy that she would review the candidates thoroughly, and make an announcement in the next week or so.

Another reporter asked whether she planned to go to Washington at all or if her appointment was purely a political favor to her family. She deflected the implied jab by reminding the reporter that the Senate was not in session and reiterated that she would serve in whatever capacity she was called upon over the next several months to the best of her ability.

That answer made Shore scowl. What was up with him, anyway? He’d been her father’s flunkie for as long as she could remember. Why was he even here today? He’d been absolutely furious when she’d called him last night to inform him of the governor’s appointment. Had he expected the governor to appoint him to her father’s vacant Senate seat?

“...verify that you accused the son of a prominent businessman of rape yesterday?”

Her attention snapped back to the brunette woman who’d asked the question. She recognized Paula Craddock from KVXT news. The room went dead silent as dozens of reporters stared at her expectantly, waiting for her answer and sensing the kill.

Honest to goodness, Willa thought she was going to throw up right then and there. Her stomach heaved as all her worst nightmares came true. Even the governor was throwing her a horrified look from the wings of stage left.

She’d been a senator for two whole minutes, and she’d already disgraced the office, disgraced her family and disgraced herself. Shame, hot and acid, bubbled up in the back of her throat all but gagging her.

“Courage, Will,” Gabe breathed from behind unmoving lips. “No shame. Chin high.”

She took a wobbly breath and answered the reporter, “You’re referring to a personal matter that has no bearing on my new position. The events under investigation took place well before my father’s death, and I have confidence the truth will come out over time. Until then, I have no comment on it.”

“But you’re wrecking a good man’s reputation and have no evidence to support your wild claims, both of which call into serious question your fitness to hold your father’s job,” Paula Craddock followed up.