Page 21 of Nothing to Fear

“Willow! Come upstairs!” Her father banged something hard on the floor.

She hung her head and wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself. Gideon ached to finish what he’d started but stuffed his hands in his pockets, retreating to the doorway.

The usual disconnect wasn’t there. When he looked at her, he didn’t see a target or a mission. Only an exquisite woman, tender and sweet, ready to open herself. She was giving him the precious gift of her trust—a miracle and a mistake inextricably tangled.

He was a bad man, who did bad things for a living.

Screwing to get off was easy, but he wouldn’t screw over Willow. He was capable of gruesome, cold-blooded stuff, but there was a line he wouldn’t cross. Not with her. He respected her too much. Where in the hell had his sudden pang of conscience come from?

Tomorrow, he’d swap targets with Maddox and contend with Ares.

“We should go upstairs,” Willow said, not looking at him.

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to say more but lacked the right words. “Your father sounds anxious.” Gideon understood and wouldn’t want his daughter in a basement with a guy like him either. Stepping out of the bedroom, he extended an arm for her to walk ahead, and she did.

At the top of the landing, her dad had a baseball bat on his lap. “No boys in your room.”

Willow hurried up the stairs, her movement graceful, not making a sound. She slid around her dad and wheeled his chair down the hall.

Gideon came up behind them, hovering between the kitchen and living room, while she settled her father in front of a dining tray, facing a forty-inch television.

“There are rules for a reason. You’ll respect them,” her dad said. “No boys downstairs.”

“Gideon isn’t a boy.” She handed him a fork, her face flushed and lips a deep pink from kissing. “He’s a coworker, Dad.”

“Bullshit. If that boy can whip out nerd code, I can shit gold.” Her father took the fork.

“I’m not an analyst, sir. I manage problems of a physical nature.”

“Physical, huh?” Her father eyed him hard. “Any good at it?”

“He has thirteen commendations,” Willow said.

Gideon schooled his features, not letting his unease show. Thirteen included his time at the CIA. Was his entire personnel file logged in her head? He hoped she didn’t try to hack into the sealed parts, if she hadn’t already. The idea of her reading the redacted sections made him squirm on the inside. Willow caught him staring at her.

“I’m not a stalker,” she said. “I remember facts, figures, dates.”

Her dad nodded. “Do yourself a favor and stay away from this one. Everything gets locked up in that steel trap upstairs. It’ll come back to bite your ass in the middle of the night. Her mother had the same thing, woke me up at all hours. Steel trap.” He stuffed a forkful of food in his mouth and gagged. “Don’t misunderstand. You shouldn’t be sleeping with my daughter.”

Willow smoothed down her skirt. “Dad, stop. He isn’t interested in sleeping with me.”

Mr. Harper threw his fork on the plate. “I don’t want you sleeping with my daughter, but why aren’t you interested? Think you’re too good for her?”

“No, sir. She’s beautiful and brilliant and has a big heart. She’s too good for me.”

Willow’s wide eyes met his. The urge to touch her, to taste those lips again, rushed up like a riptide, but he eased himself toward the door.

“I like this kid. He’s got good answers.” Her dad smiled. “You drink whiskey?”

“Yes, sir, but not tonight.” Gideon put his hand on the doorknob, fighting the desire to stay. “I need to get going.”

“You’re welcome back to have a drink with me. The ole warden”—he hiked a thumb at Willow—“won’t deny me, if I have company.”

“Dad.” Willow waved a hand at him. “You’re giving him the wrong impression, making our home sound like jail.”

“Sorry.” The old guy cleared his throat. “Let me clarify. I hate ambiguity. Visiting hours here in the slammer are anytime you bring a bottle of whiskey.”

Gideon chuckled. “Willow, what time should I pick you up tomorrow?”