Page 37 of Ruthless
“You need to return to the States. I’m sure OZ needs you.”
“Perhaps, but I’m staying here until you’re ready to go back with me.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“Well, gee, that’s just too bad, Eve. As far as I know, your father hasn’t changed his politics. This country isn’t under a communist regime. I have free will and the ability to come and go as I please.”
“There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
She set her coffee cup on the table and pushed her chair back. He didn’t offer to help her because he knew she’d resent his asking. Grabbing her crutches, she said, “Let’s get this over with.”
Standing, he followed her into the living room and watched her settle into a chair. He didn’t ask why she’d moved in here to talk. He already knew she’d done it for him. He’d told her about how his parents had refused to argue at the table during a meal. Their meals had been family time, and any difficult discussions to be had were conducted away from the place where being together as family was of utmost importance.
She had liked this concept, and they had adapted it when they’d started working together. The heated discussion they’d just had was the closest either of them had come to having an argument during a meal.
“Before we get started, I have something for you.” He grabbed the papers he’d set out on a side table. “Yesterday, you asked me how much your father paid me.”
Regret darkening her eyes, she held up her hand. “I’m sorry. That was—”
“No. It was a legitimate question and deserves an answer. Hopefully, this will clear up any misunderstanding.” He handed her the pages he’d printed out yesterday and then settled into a chair across from her. “The information should be clear cut. Each quarter, I received a payment of $250,000 from your father. You’ll see the corresponding transfer of funds.”
Her mouth dry, her heart pounding, she could only shake her head as she shuffled through the pages. She couldn’t believe her eyes and was torn between thanking him profusely for his willingness to share the information and begging his forgiveness for what she’d accused him of yesterday. Yes, Gideon had been paid well. And yes, he had accepted the money. He had received a million dollars each year from her father. But what he had done with those funds was another shock, although she couldn’t say why. Gideon was the least materialistic person she’d ever known. This paperwork showing where he had put the money he’d earned was definitive proof.
Every time he’d received a payment from her father, the funds had then been transferred to a charity. But not just any charity. He had donated the money to the charities she admired and donated to herself. She remembered a discussion with him years ago of what her favorites were and hadn’t thought anything about his asking. But now it was clear that he’d asked the question for a very specific reason. Bottom line: Gideon had not benefited financially from being her protector.
Her heart turned over when she noted an additional charity had been added a few months ago. The Kacie Dane Foundation was an organization that aided young girls and women who had been trafficked or sexually assaulted. Olivia had told her about the organization because her Last Chance Rescue partner, Brennan Sinclair, was married to the founder, Kacie Dane. Eve remembered mentioning it in passing to Gideon, and that’s all it had taken.
Tears blurring the pages before her, Eve sniffed and looked up at the amazing man in front of her. “Gideon, why?”
“You mean the money?”
“Yes, among other things.”
“Because I wasn’t doing it for the money, Eve. Our relationship could never be about money.”
Like a pin stuck into an overinflated balloon, all her self-righteous anger deflated. Yes, he had lied to her. Yes, he had kept things from her, and yes, the hurt was still there, but the anger no longer existed. How could it?
“Okay. Then let’s talk about the why.”
“Let’s get the rest of the what out of the way.”
Her heart skipped. “There’s more?”
“You know I told you that I was in on the raid at the house where you were held when you were kidnapped. And I was the one who found you.”
“Yes.”
“What I didn’t tell you was that I was the one who shot Dirk Bennett Jr.”
A small, wry smile lifted her mouth. “And you couldn’t have been just a little more accurate?”
His eyes gleamed with appreciation at her quip. “I didn’t know who he was at the time. I only knew he was in front of your cell, trying to keep me out. If I had known who he was, I promise he would have been in a whole lot more pain than just a little bullet to his leg. But I was glad to hear that he was left with a permanent limp.”
She was honestly glad that Dirk hadn’t been killed in the raid. It pleased her to think of him spending the rest of his days in a federal prison in Indiana. He had been tried and convicted of terrorism and would spend the rest of his natural days incarcerated in a six-by-eight cell. And once his time was up there, hell would be waiting for him.
“What else?”