Rush (Breathless #1)(100)

Now he was really starting to worry. For the life of him, he couldn’t put all the pieces together. Everything had been so normal yesterday. Until lunch. When she’d gone out to get them both something to eat. When she’d gotten back, she’d been soaked to the bone, and it was almost as if she’d been in shock.

His brow furrowed further as she stared back at him, vulnerability shining like a beacon in her eyes. She was afraid. It sickened him that she was evidently afraid of him, or at least his reaction to what she would tell him.

In an effort to alleviate her tangible fear and unease, he slid his hands up the sleeves of her jacket and squeezed softly. She flinched and moved one arm away from his grasp, her hand immediately going to cover the spot where he’d grasped.

What the hell was going on here?

“Take off the jacket, Mia,” he said in a firm voice.

She hesitated, her breath blowing through her lips. Tears rose in her eyes, stunning him.

No longer willing to wait a moment longer, he stripped the jacket down from her shoulders and held her arm out so he could slide the sleeves down from her arm. She wouldn’t meet his gaze the entire time. As soon as the jacket was off, he saw her upper arm, the one she’d flinched over when he’d touched her.

His breath exploded in one huge burst when he saw the purpling bruises that painted the upper portion of her arm. His fingers went to touch the area, but he held back, not wanting to hurt her.

He reached for her other hand and dragged her toward the window where the light was better and he could see the marks.

“What the f**k happened here, Mia?” he demanded.

He ran light fingertips over the bruised flesh, and his pulse started pounding at his temple when he saw that the bruises very much resembled fingerprints. As if someone had roughly grabbed her and held on. Large fingers and hands. A man’s hands.

A tear trickled down her cheek and she hastily tried to wipe it away with her free hand. Fear seized him by the balls. What had happened to her? A knot formed in his stomach as dread foamed through his gut.

“Who did this to you?”

His voice was low and menacing and he was barely holding on to control. He wanted to find the son of a bitch who’d put his hands on Mia and kill the bastard.

“Charles Willis,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“What?”

She flinched from the explosion of his voice. Then she lifted her hand to put on his chest. He was vibrating with fury and she knew it. Her tear-filled gaze met his and there was pleading in her eyes.

“Yesterday when I went to get lunch, he stopped me on the street. On my way back, not far from the entrance to our building. He said he wanted me to give him information on the bids you’ve received on the project in Paris. He said his only chance was to undercut his competitors by enough that you’d be forced to go with him despite any misgivings on your part.”

A sense of foreboding crept up Gabe’s spine. “Did you give him this information?” he asked. Was this why she was so upset and convinced that he was going to be angry with her?

“No!” Mia said, her vehemence unmistakable. She looked devastated that he’d even ask such a question.

“Is that why he put those bruises on you?” Gabe demanded. “I’ll kill him for this.”

“There’s more,” she choked out.

She turned away, her shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms protectively around herself.

“Oh God, Gabe. He made threats. He showed me…pictures.”

“Pictures of what?”

She turned back around, her face a mask of anguish. “Of us,” she choked out. “From that night. Of me tied and kneeling with you…in my mouth.”

She shook from head to toe. Her hands were trembling so badly that she looked as though she might collapse.

“And then there was a picture of me on the coffee table with him where he was trying to thrust into my m-mouth.”

“Son of a bitch!”

His response was angry and explosive. She flinched and took a step back, her arms crowding around herself once more.

“H-he s-said that if I didn’t g-give him the information he w-wanted that he’d go public with the photos. That he’d tell Jace. That he’d ruin you.”

Gabe was stunned. He couldn’t even form a response, though dozens crowded his lips. He was so angry that he couldn’t even think straight. He lifted a hand and pushed it through his hair and then over his face as he tried to process the threat.

Mia pushed forward then, her expression pleading and earnest. “I had to tell you, Gabe. I had to come to you with this. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—betray you. But he has pictures—God, the pictures he has! He’s angry and desperate. He gave me until the end of this week to call him and give him what he wanted.”

Gabe’s hand fell as he stared at her in utter bewilderment. She hadn’t betrayed him. She’d come to him, her eyes begging him to fix this. God, she trusted him, even after what he’d done to her in Paris. He was at fault here. It was his fault that this ass**le had illicit, damning photographs of her in a position Gabe should have never put her in.

His heart was about to beat right out of his chest. Any other person wouldn’t have thought twice about betraying him. Hell, he couldn’t have blamed her if she’d turned over the information in an effort to protect herself. But she hadn’t done that. She’d come to him, had told him everything—at great risk to herself.