Chapter 27

27

He didn't recognize Gideon. Not the man who stood before him with all that anger and violence in his eyes. Not the man who'd pointed a gun at Ennis, ready to take his life.

Until that moment, André would've said that he didn't care if Ennis lived or died. He would've said there was no way he would ever beg for the life of the man who'd abandoned him to be spared. And honestly, he wasn't even sure how it happened, how it came to be that he was begging Gideon to spare Ennis's life.

But he did.

He'd begged.

And Gideon denied him.

André wanted to hate him for that. He watched through wet eyes that felt swollen as Samir yanked Ennis to his feet while the others surrounded them with guns drawn and pointed at Ennis—his back, his temple, his face. He couldn't believe that the man who'd fathered him had tried to kill a child. Gideon had been a child at that time. Ennis had taken Gideon's mother's life instead. Destroying any kind of innocence Gideon might have harbored and in the process ripping him away from the parent he had left.

So much damage had been done.

And still, the moment he saw Gideon put that gun in Ennis's face, André had to speak up.

The pain Gideon must feel, André couldn't begin to imagine it. And the fact that Ennis claimed he'd done it all to protect André made him want to throw up. He was the reason. His life was the reason Gideon's mother had lost hers. He was alive because she wasn't.

What was he supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to reconcile that in his mind?

He felt just as broken as Gideon looked, had been just as unprepared to hear the full truth, and now that he had…

What came next?

Could he sit back and watch Gideon kill his father and do nothing? Could he have that on his conscience too?

"Gideon." André reached for him, because even as fucked up as things looked at the moment, he still wanted to give Gideon comfort, still wanted to be there for him. "I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else to say, what else to do, to make it all make sense. It was because of him, because of André, Gideon had to grow up without a mother and had to live in the shadows, hiding from those who wanted to do him harm. How could Gideon even look at him after that? Would he want to be with André after all of this?

Gideon didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his words. Instead, he stood there with the hand holding the gun hanging loose at his side, his head bowed.

"André."

His body jerked when Ennis said his name.

"Please understand. I had to protect you." He said it as if that was the only justification any of them needed. "You're my son." His voice rose as Samir and the others started dragging him away. "I would do anything for you."

Anything. He would kill a child and take an innocent woman's life. For André, who'd asked for none of it.

"André, please. Look at me."

But André couldn't do it. He couldn't look at him. Couldn't even lift his head. Shame and grief slammed into him and he slapped a hand over his mouth. He'd thought about it, about accepting Ennis into his life. At night while he'd rested in Gideon's arms, waiting to fall asleep, he'd allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have Ennis in his life fully. To have his father there, present and claiming him openly. He'd imagined all of it.

Now, there was no chance of that happening.

It felt so much like a loss all over again. Like being abandoned, but so much worse because back then, he hadn't had a clue who his father was. Now, he knew. Now, he had Ennis claiming to love him, wanting to build a father/son relationship with him. Now, he felt robbed of what could have been.

Maybe he wasn't meant to have a father. Wasn't meant to know how it would feel to have that kind of bond. Maybe it just wasn't for him.

He clutched Gideon's hand, swallowing down his own pain, his own loss, his own hurt. It wasn't just his world that had been rocked. Gideon's had been rocked too. Though the man he loved had been searching for answers, judging by the shock on Gideon's face and in his posture, André knew Gideon hadn't expected this.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, wiping his tears. He shifted, releasing Gideon to stand in front of him, lifting his chin with a finger. Anguish bled from Gideon's eyes when their gazes met. "Tell me what to do for you." Whatever he could do to atone for what his father had done, though he knew that would be a monumental task.

Gideon stared at him, through him. It was as if he'd become frozen in place. André clasped his face in both hands. "Look at me," he begged. "Gideon, please. Look at me."

It took several heartbeats before Gideon seemed to truly focus on him. They weren't alone, but at that moment it felt as if they were; just the two of them, each man destroyed by what just transpired, but in different ways for different reasons. André was used to not having a father. He was used to that. He could push his pain aside. He could put it on the back burner to be there for Gideon. To be strong as he saw the untouchable Winters weakening under his gaze.

Gideon's lips moved and André had to strain to make out his words.

"Don't hate me," Gideon whispered. "Don't leave me." He sounded so fucking broken, grabbing André by the front of his jacket, eyes desperate and pleading now. "Don't leave me."

"Never." André hugged him close, alarmed at the way Gideon's body shook. "I will never leave you." As long as Gideon wanted him, André was staying right where he was. Ennis had taken so much from him already; he couldn't let him take Gideon too. "I love you. I love you. I love you." He kept whispering it against Gideon's lips, stopping only when Gideon sagged against him.

The move buckled André's knees and he dropped, taking Gideon with him. And they stayed on the ground, Gideon shaking uncontrollably in André's arms, André comforting him while ignoring his own heartbreak.

There were a million things to do. Myriad things pulling Gideon in so many different directions. But he couldn't even focus on them. Suddenly, he couldn't make a decision to save his life.

He also couldn't bring himself to do what he'd become so obsessed with lately—spend time with André and his sister. Because when he looked at André, all he saw was Ennis. And when André's lips moved, all Gideon heard was the man he loved begging him to spare the life of the person who'd killed his mother.

For André. Ennis said he'd done it for André. Because André's life had been threatened. Gideon couldn't believe a fucking thing Ennis said, but he still needed to know the truth. He still needed to know if there was truly someone out there who'd called the shots and pulled the strings that eventually led to his mother's murder.

Or had Ennis just blurted out something in a last-ditch effort to try and save his miserable life?

Gideon would find out. He had everyone working to find answers. And in the meantime, Ennis was locked away in a cold, dark room. Gideon hadn't seen him since the night on the yacht. That had been three days ago. He couldn't lay eyes on Ennis without feeling the overwhelming need to put bullets in him as well. But he had to wait.

Bide his time for everything to come out.

And then he would have to kill the father of the man he loved.

He sat back in his chair, scrubbing an agitated hand over his face.

There was a distance between him and André that pained him. He felt it acutely especially since they'd been so entangled in each other, hardly ever out of arms' reach. They still were, for the most part—sleeping in the same bed and sharing meals with Juliette. But the distance was there, more emotional than physical. And it was because of Gideon's own doing.

But he couldn't stop hearing André beg him to spare Ennis even after listening to Ennis's confession. Even after knowing Gideon's intention whenever he did find the ones responsible. And André had still asked it of Gideon, with tears in his eyes for the man who'd wronged Gideon so grievously.

"Talk to me." Samir's voice shook him from his deep and heavy thoughts, and Gideon refocused on the other man.

This—his office—was where Gideon spent his days now, holing up in there every day immediately after having breakfast with André and Juliette. He didn't see André again until late in the night, when Gideon crawled into their bed, and even that was torture. He'd entertained the idea of sleeping someplace else, but he was too selfish to pass up the warmth of André's skin. They didn't talk except for surface-level shit. And he was hit with the most intense sadness radiating from André whenever their eyes met.

But Gideon didn't know how to unhear André asking for Ennis to be spared.

"G," Samir prodded. "Talk to me."

But he didn't have anything to say, not really. "Any updates? Do we have anything on Traeger?" So far, no matter how deep they dug, this Traeger dude was turning out to be a goddamn ghost. They could find nothing on him, not even a photograph. It was as if he didn't exist.

Samir shook his head. His brow was creased in worry as he gazed back at Gideon. "No."

"Then there's nothing to talk about." Gideon shrugged.

"We can talk about why Ennis is still alive." Samir didn't break eye contact. "We don't need him to be breathing. Not anymore."

They didn't. No.

He didn't know that Samir had ever felt anything for anyone that was as remotely close to what Gideon felt for André. They were so locked in, he and André, that Gideon knew André wasn't asleep when Gideon snuck into their bed late at night. But he never spoke up. And Gideon knew that no matter what André told him that night, no matter what promises fell from André's lips, his lover might never recover from Gideon killing Ennis.

They might never recover.

And now, it was on Gideon. It fell on his shoulders to figure out which losses he could accept and which ones he just could not let stand. He had to decide who and what died, and though he'd made those types of decisions many times over, this one was different.

The death of his relationship.

Or the demise of all of his and his father's plans for revenge.

"We have Ennis," he answered Samir. "He's not going anywhere, so what's the big deal? What does it matter when he dies?" Those words were the weakest he'd ever uttered, and he didn't doubt that Samir caught on to it, but at least his friend didn't call him on it.

"You talked to your man about any of it?"

Gideon narrowed his eyes, but Samir didn't heed the warning.

"I think you two should discuss it."

"He begged me to spare Ennis!" Gideon spat. "He shed tears for that man." He pointed at the door, throat tight. "What do we have to discuss?" Uttering the words immediately had his breath speeding up, coming louder and louder as he allowed the anger to creep in. He shouldn't feel that way; he knew that logically. But he did and he couldn't help it.

He felt torn inside, pulled in two different directions, and he didn't know which way to go, which one to choose. Either one would destroy him.

"He loves his father," Samir uttered. "You know what that's like."

But their circumstances were not the same, he and André. "Fuck." Elbows on his desk, he placed his fists on either side of his head, knuckles rapping not-so-gently. "No matter what I choose, I lose."

"Maybe. And maybe you just have to figure out which losses you can live with and which ones you can't."

How was he supposed to?—

The office door opened abruptly and he jerked his head up as André walked in.

"We need to talk." He didn't spare Samir a glance. His gaze, a heavy mix of sadness and defiance, rested on Gideon.

It made his heart race, dampened his palms, and had him swallowing. "We-we're in a meeting."

André scowled. "I don't care."

Gideon had to dig his heels into the floor to keep from getting to his feet and going to him. Touching him. Fucking him. They hadn't been intimate since that disaster of a night, and he missed André like he knew he would miss his right hand if it were no longer a part of him.

They stared each other down, he and André, the silence thick and oppressive until Samir stood and cleared his throat. "I'll give you two some privacy."

Gideon didn't even notice when Samir left. He just blinked and it was the two of them. The defiance and bravado that had once shown in André's eyes were gone now, and all that was left was the sadness. Hurt too. Gideon didn't have to ask to know that he was the reason for it.

He was the cause of André hurting.

He snatched his gaze away, dropping it to his desk, and fumbled with some bullshit papers that were scattered on the surface. "You wanted to talk."

"I want to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going?—"

"Bullshit! Bullshit, Gideon." It was as if someone had popped the cork off a champagne bottle and the liquid came forcefully spraying out. "You haven't said more than five words to me in days. You haven't touched me. You can barely look at me." André's expression crumbled and he deflated just as quickly as he'd exploded. "What's going on with us?"

Gideon didn't know how he could answer that shaky query without burying what they had in a coffin six feet deep.

"Gideon, please." André took a step forward.

"I just need to figure some stuff out," he said reluctantly.

"And is that stuff us?" André searched his gaze. "You have to figure us out?" When Gideon didn't immediately respond, André's throat worked. "I told you I would never leave you. That I could never hate you."

"But you can't promise that." Gideon shot to his feet, rounding the desk and standing in front of the man he loved. "You can't promise me that, not when the mere thought of me doing to him what he did to my mother has you crying and begging for his life."

André turned ashen.

"If I do what's always been the plan, I will lose you." That was a surety he felt down to his bones. "Maybe not right away, but I will. Because no matter the words you say, my love, you want him in your life. You want what you never had. And I love you too much to knowingly deprive you of your heart's desire." He'd had his father's love, as difficult as it had been at times while hidden away. He'd always known Aldo loved him. Had always felt it. He cupped André's face, swiping away the tear that streaked down his cheek. "But if I don't, if I let it go…"

The thought of disappointing his father, of not following through on the promise he'd made his mother that day while her blood soaked his knees and tears blinded him. The thought of allowing the perpetrators who'd taken so much from him, who'd taken something so precious and irreplaceable as his mother's love and presence in his life, to go free. To live unscathed.

He didn't know how he could stand it.

"I don't know what to do," he confessed in an agonized whisper, forehead touching André's. "I don't know what to do."

André's arms went around him, holding Gideon in much the same way as he'd done that night on the yacht.

What was he willing to lose? Which pain could Gideon better endure? Because when André held him like this, Gideon swore he'd be willing to give up everything.

Everything.

Except the safety of André's embrace.