Thrusting open the massive doors, Gideon once again clamped an arm around her waist and ushered her across the threshold. And once again she twisted loose and turned to face him. He slammed the doors closed, the sound renting the stillness like a shotgun blast. But aside from an intense wariness that flickered through her gaze, she didn’t react with alarm. Rather her expression turned even more combative.

He had to give her credit. Piper Montgomery rarely flinched when confronted with adversity. He liked that. He liked that she wouldn’t go down easily. Their battle would be a more equal one, not that it would change the ending. It had taken five years for him to catch her brother, Spencer, at a vulnerable moment in his life and now that he had, Gideon intended to take full advantage.

Piper didn’t immediately attack, as she had earlier. Instead she stood in front of him, quietly assimilating the nuances of both the room and the man. To his surprise, she didn’t reach for her camera. But then, she’d never used it as a crutch, never attempted to hide behind its all-seeing lens. Piper had always been too vital for that, too involved in life. Rather, she’d wielded it like a sword of truth, cutting through pretense in order to bare the reality of any given situation. But perhaps this was one situation she preferred not to bare. The results might prove disastrous for both her and Spencer.

Piper offered a cocky smile. "Well? Who goes first?" She gestured for him to begin. "You, I think."

He didn’t need to ask the most obvious question—why she’d come. They both knew the answer to that. There were other more interesting issues to deal with. "Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you put yourself between me and your brother?" he offered as a gentle opening volley.

His comment hit hard and Piper felt the color bleaching from her face as it had in the boardroom when he’d warned against fighting other people’s battles. She struggled for control, using every ounce of self-possession not to flinch. Unable to continue facing him and also maintain an air of calm, she crossed to a squat antique cabinet Gideon used to conceal electronic equipment. She suspected the uncharacteristic retreat would rouse his hunting instincts, but that couldn’t be helped. She needed some breathing space.

"Nice," she murmured.

Sure enough, he came after her. "I said something wrong. What?"

"Is it a Chippendale?"

"That’s twice now you’ve overreacted when I referred to the fight I had with Spencer. I want to know why."

"It’s not a pleasant memory."

"It’s not a pleasant memory for either of us. But that doesn’t explain why you look like you’re going to faint whenever I mention it. That’s not like you. Now what the hell’s going on?"

How could he ask such a question? Had he truly become so heartless, that he’d completely lost the capacity to feel? Or did he think time healed all wounds. She fought an uncharacteristic wave of bitterness. He should know that wounds of that magnitude never healed. Not really. Sure, the pain eased, but the ache remained, buried deep where the chance of it being hit by careless words or actions was remote.

She gave her full attention to a dark scar marring the door of the cabinet. She’d hoped her own scars were less obvious, but then, she hadn’t taken Gideon’s powers of observation into consideration. He’d found that deep, dark place with distressing ease. "I didn’t realize you’d acquired an interest in antiques," she said with dogged determination.

To her relief, he allowed the change in subject. No doubt he’d return to the previous topic, but the temporary reprieve allowed her time to recover her composure. "I’m not interested," he claimed. "I acquired this piece when I picked up Ramsey Industrial."

She sensed he hadn’t offered the comment as an off-hand remark. There was a point to his supplying her with the information. Typical. He wasn’t a man prone to idle conversation. "I didn’t know you owned them."

"I don’t. They don’t exist as a company anymore. They’re now part of half a dozen different corporations."

For some reason his description made her think of a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces broken apart and carelessly tossed into the wrong boxes. Those pieces would never again form a complete whole. Nor would they fit the new puzzle they’d been added to. She ran a finger along the elegant curves of the polished mahogany. The thought saddened her and her mouth tilted into a wry smile. It was a silly reaction, she acknowledged. She didn’t have a personal connection to either the company or the people involved.

"So this cabinet is all that’s left of Ramsey," she observed.

He shrugged. "I suppose you could say that."

She risked a quick glance in Gideon’s direction. She’d spent the last twenty minutes doing her level best to remain unaffected by him, to hold the memories of their time together at a safe distance. Closeted with him in an office that formed the base of his operations made it all the more difficult, particularly after the kiss they’d shared. She couldn’t hope to escape his influence, not when they were alone together. Sheer masculine power radiated from him, seemingly amplified by the room, as though his essence had invaded every nook and cranny. The thought was an intimidating one, but no more so than the man, himself.

The years hadn’t treated him well, she decided. He’d always had an edgy appearance, his features boldly hewn into formidable peaks and hollows. But now they’d settled into a harsh remoteness warning that he’d given free reign to the darker aspects that shaded his personality. Where once laugh lines had eased the intensity of his dark eyes and stubborn jaw, now she couldn’t see any sign of the gentler qualities she’d known so well.

He’d cloaked himself in the civilized appearance of a businessman, but Piper knew better. A tailor-made silk suit and tamed black hair may have replaced his jeans and tee shirt and unruly dark waves, yet there lived a primitive soul beneath the surface polish. It glittered in the fierceness of his gaze and the tautness of a body forged into corded steel by years of hard manual labor. Simple outward trappings couldn’t hide the truth. This was a man made ruthless by circumstance, a man who lived without compromise or compassion, perhaps because he’d received so little of either in his youth.

There was another truth she couldn’t hide from, no matter how hard she tried. She’d had a hand in creating the austere man Gideon had become. She’d failed him at the most crucial moment in his life. She hadn’t been strong enough to fight on his behalf and as a result three people had lost everything they’d held most dear. Not that the knowledge changed anything. The past couldn’t be altered. But she could change Gideon’s plans for the future. Before she’d been too weak. Now she had both the will and gritty determination necessary to do battle.

Besides, she didn’t just owe Spence for what had happened all those years ago. She owed Gideon, as well. It was up to her to set right a terrible wrong. And she would, regardless of the personal price she’d ultimately pay. The only question was how to go about it.

A distinctive stirrup vessel held a place of honor on top of the cabinet and she picked it up in an attempt to give herself time to think, not the least surprised to see it was a genuine artifact. It was a gorgeous ceramic piece of a kneeling warrior painted in red and white slip. If memory served, it had been made to hold and serve liquids. "When did you acquire an interest in pre-Columbian artwork? Or aren’t you interested in collecting this, either?"

"I’m not interested. That particular piece belonged to Archibald Fenzer."

Her brow wrinkled in thought. "I’ve heard that name. Didn’t he have something to do with steel? I seem to recall reading he went belly up a few years back."

Gideon stroked the curve of the warrior’s battle club, careful to avoid contact with her hand. Was it deliberate? Did he avoid her touch because he didn’t trust himself? She instantly dismissed the thought. If that were the case, he’d never have kissed her.

"Fenzer refused to sell his firm," he explained. "Bankruptcy was his only alternative."

"That’s not much of an alternative."

Gideon shrugged. "He preferred it to selling out to me."

Oh, dear. "And did you buy the bits and pieces of his business at the bankruptcy auction?"

"No. It wasn’t worth bothering with by then."

She was missing something here. "I don’t understand. You bought his artwork, right? Why would you do that if—"

"It was his favorite piece." He carefully took the stirrup vessel from her hand and returned it to the top of the cabinet. "And it serves as a good reminder."

"For you?"

"No."

The answer clicked and she struggled not to reveal her alarm. "You keep it as a reminder for people in a similar position to Mr. Fenzer." He didn’t confirm her guess, but she knew she’d gotten it right. "Does it work? Are people more unnerved when you tell them the history behind the piece?"

"We’ll find out, won’t we?"

She eyed the artifact with distaste. If it didn’t have such historic value, she’d see to it that the thing met with an unfortunate dusting accident. Turning, she surveyed his office once again, seeing it in a whole new light. She reached for her camera, curious as to whether her photos would ultimately confirm her suspicions. "Is the entire place decorated from the ravages of other lives, Gideon?" she asked as she set up her shots.

His mouth tightened at her phrasing. "The pieces come from the various companies I’ve owned."

"Owned...or destroyed?"

"I don’t destroy the businesses I buy." A dangerous edge cut through his voice, one she couldn’t mistake. "The owners have already done that. I simply pick up the remains at a reasonable price."

She swung around to face him. "And do what with them, Gideon? What happens to the leftovers you collect?"

"I sell them."

There was no reason to get upset. He only confirmed what she’d suspected. "I see. So instead of constructing things as you once did, you deconstruct."

He allowed amusement to override his irritation. "Is that even a word?"

"I’d say you’ve made it one."

His shoulders shifted beneath his suit jacket, warning of his growing impatience. "We’ve gotten off the subject."

"No, Gideon. I think we’re very much on the subject. You must know I’ve come about Spence and the contract."

"I figured out that much." A cold pride lent steel to his gaze. "There isn’t any other reason you’d come to see me, is there?"

He wouldn’t believe the truth, so she didn’t bother offering it. "What are your plans?" she asked instead.

His mouth curved into a smile that was a mere ruin of the one she’d once known so intimately. "I plan to deconstruct your brother, of course."

"That contract wasn’t with you, Gideon." She forced herself not to plead. She’d never change his mind that way. Years ago she’d have been able to reason with him. But he no longer struck her as reasonable. Too much time had passed and too many hard feelings remained unsettled between them. She knew a man bent on vengeance when she saw one. Hadn’t she watched her brother these past five years? "Spence made that agreement with an old family friend."

Gideon nodded. "Jack Wiley. Unfortunately for you, Jack didn’t make arrangements to terminate the contract upon his death. Since he didn’t, the contract became part of the assets of his estate and came into my possession when I bought Wiley’s business from his heirs."

"That wasn’t Jack’s intention," she attempted to explain . "He was trying to help Spence."

"As I said... He should have made a contingency plan if he didn’t want to leave your brother vulnerable."

"So now you’re going to call the contract due?"

To her surprise, Gideon shook his head. "Not at all. I simply won’t renew it when it expires next month."

Anger flared. "There’s a difference?"

"There’s a big difference. If I called the contract due now, your brother wouldn’t have any options. Giving him an extra month, he can choose how he prefers to go down."

"Generous of you."

Her sarcasm had him closing the distance between them. "Trust me. I’m being more than generous." His voice lashed the still, ominous air with barely suppressed fury. "Your brother did his level best to destroy me. Did you really think I’d let that go, that I wouldn’t find a way to pay him back for his kindness?"

"It wasn’t deliberate."

"No? I think he saw it as the perfect excuse to separate us. And he succeeded, didn’t he?"

More than Spence’s accusations had separated them, as Gideon knew darn well. "And because of what happened over five years ago you intend to destroy him?" she demanded.

"Will losing what he’s spent the past five years building destroy Spencer?"

"Yes."

Gideon didn’t relent. As far as she could tell there wasn’t a hint of compassion or forgiveness. Had those qualities been completely driven from him? "Then maybe he’ll feel a small portion of what I did. We’ll also see if he has what it takes to pick himself up and move on, or if he’ll give up."

"And live his life in bitterness?"

A hint of genuine amusement touched Gideon’s expression. "Is that what you think I’ve done?"

"I think you’ve allowed bitterness to change the man you once were."

"Not bitterness, sweetheart. Try the hard facts of life." And every last one of those hard facts scored his face. "You and your brother put me on this path. Why act surprised when you discover I’ve followed it?"

Piper shook her head. "Don’t blame us for what you’ve become. We make our own choices in life, Gideon." She turned to examine his office once again. It was tragic to think he’d built his foundation atop the ashes of devastation. How many different firms did all this represent. How many ghosts haunted the various bits and pieces? "Don’t you regret any of what you’ve done?"

He took a stance directly behind her. "I only have one regret in life."

"Which is?"

His hands closed on her shoulders, turning her around to face him. "You haven’t earned the right to know."

That roused her curiosity. "Earned?"

All expression vanished from his face and it struck Piper that she’d never sensed such loneliness in a man before. It revealed a vulnerability he’d never have acknowledged. Nor would he appreciate having her pick up on it. She ached to hold him, to ease his pain as she had when they’d been together. But that was beyond her abilities. He’d never allow her to get that close. Not again. Once upon a time he’d have accepted her embrace. But now he’d see it as a weakness, a weakness in need of serious defense measures.

"Years ago I confided my childish secrets in you," he said.

"I haven’t forgotten." She regarded him steadily. "But you seem to have."

"They were foolish dreams. Pointless dreams."

"And the goals you’ve replaced them with are better?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because no one can take away what I have."

This time she did laugh, the sound edged with sorrow. "Oh, Gideon. No one can take what you possess because you haven’t built anything worthy of that. And they can’t touch you personally because you won’t let them close enough to hurt you again."

"Nor will I." His implacability only served to confirm her suspicions. No doubt it would make her job all the more difficult. "Let’s get this over with, Piper. You’ve done your duty. You’ve come to plead with me on your brother’s behalf. And I’ve rejected your pleas. Go home and tell Spencer that it’s time to pay for what he did."

She shook her head with an stubbornness that matched his. "No, Gideon. I’m not here to beg for mercy. Far from it."

"Don’t hand me that. You’re here about the contract."

"You’re right. I am."

He lifted a sooty eyebrow. "Have you come to fulfill the terms?"

"Yes."

Surprise, along with an intense irritation turned his eyes to ebony. "The terms are to either repay the loan or turn over Spencer’s property. You don’t have the kind of money it would take to pay back the loan. I’ve checked."

"No, we don’t."

"Then you plan to negotiate my takeover of the mill?"

"You’re forgetting the third alternative."

It didn’t take long for him to come up with their other choice. "You have collateral of equal value to offer?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Yes, I do."

"I’m warning you, Piper. I expect my money’s worth."

"Oh, you’ll get it."

"What are you going to give me?"

She smiled. "Myself. I’m the collateral on the loan."