42
Ava wouldn’t come with me after I killed Terrance.
Now I’ve left her no choice.
We walk along the street in the growing darkness.I’ma pace behind Ava, gripping her gun. Despite the tension in her shoulders, she shows no other signs of fear. My brave little detective.I’mcounting the seconds till she admits to herself that she belongs by my side, not in front of my weapon.
She’llrealize soon enough.I’llforce it out of her if I have to.
She frowns over her shoulder but keeps walking.“So, what you told me last night is true.”
“I’dnever lie to you.”
“When I realized you were the killer, I thoughtyou’djust been pretending to be this good guy as a front to hide your crimes. But I was wrong. Jackson remembered none of it.”
“I knew you’d believe me eventually. I know you, Ava.”
Her stare is cold as she glances back at me.“Youdon’tknow anything about me. Jackson knew me.”
I grab her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. Her faint scent of crushed lavender surrounds me. Shedoesn’tflinch as I brush her skin, my lips grazing her neck.
“Iknow you love your sister more than anything. Your foster brother hit you, and I held you as you wept over it. You blush when you talk about sex. You moan and bite your lip when you come.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, her breath caught in her throat.
My lips skim her right cheek as I continue.“You tell yourself you like being alone,butyoucan’tstand it.You thinkyou’rebroken because you chose to protect yourself as a child. I know how badly you crave my touch. I know that if such a thing as a soul exists,thenour souls are cut from the same obsidian cloth. So tell me again that Idon’tknow you. Tell me again that thisisn’treally your precious Jackson Keller talking.”
She tilts her face upward, her lips brushing mine. Every nerve in my body ignites.
“Okay, Jackson,” she whispers. “Where are we going?”
My face breaks into a dark smile.
“Home.”
***
I’m going to prove to my little detective that she’ll be happy with me.
Domesticate the wild animal. Or rather, the opposite. Show the trained pet thatshe’ssomuch more powerful whenshelets herself be feral.
I open my front door for her.“Welcome home.”
She bristles but walks in.
“Stop pouting,”I tell her as I close the door behind her, the locks snapping shut.
Her dark eyebrows crease in a frown. God, it’s cute.
“You’reforcing me to come with you at gunpoint.I’mallowed to pout at the very least.”
I lead her toward the bedroom. The obedience with which she follows my command makes my cock twitch.
I feel her eyes catch on the bedroom door, the spot where I fucked her days ago.
“I’dgive you the grand tour,”I say with a grin,“butyou’realready familiar with the place.”
I close the door behind her.
“Get changed.”
“Into what?” she retorts. “We’re at your house. I don’t have any clothes on me because I wasn’t planning on being kidnapped today.”
I ignore her sarcastic tone, reach into my closet, and drop a garment bag onto the bed. She hesitates for a moment before I nod. Unzipping the bag, she pulls out a dress.
It’ssilky black, just like the hair framing face. Dark as midnight in the dead of winter. A gift for a woman who deserves only the finest designer attire, even if shedoesn”tseem to care about such luxuries.
Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second as she looks at it.
But then she pointedly drops it back onto the bed.“Not my style, sorry.Let’sjustsayI’mmore comfortable in a bulletproof vest and combat boots.”
“You’dlook beautiful in both. But this is my request for tonight.”
Her cheeks flush at my complimentandI grin. I love how easy it is toflusterthe tough little detective.
“Fine,”she replies.“Butdon’texpect me to twirl around in it like some kind of debutante.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She pauses.“Can I get some privacy?”
“I don’t think you’ve earned the trust to be alone. Can’t have you slipping out the window.”
Her brows furrow in annoyance.“Whatever.”
As ifshe’spunishing me, her eyes lock with mine as she peels off her t-shirt and bends to pull off her worn jeans. Her expression is steadfast, challenging me.
“Don’ttempt me, little dove,”I warn, my voice a low rumble like thunder.“Idon’tneed any more encouragement to fuck you so hard youwon’tbe able to move tomorrow.”
She blushes, slowly slipping the dress over her body. It fits her just right. I had to estimate the measurements, butI’vespent hours memorizing every inch of her. My cock hardens. I want to take her right now. Fuck thegallery’sgala. But I know we need to be there.
She slides on the accompanying heels, gripping my arm for support.“I’mnot great in heels, okay? Quit staring.”
“That’snot whyI’mstaring, Ava. You look fucking perfect. Tell me you feel as perfect as you look.”
She glances at herself in the mirror. I watch as a ripple of surprise passes over her face. But my detective is too humble to admit how incredible she looks. Shelong agostopped letting herself feel the things that truly make her happy.
She catches my eye and blushes.“Been a while since I dressed up for anything.”
“When was the last time?”
She shrugs. “Maybe an ex’s birthday party years ago.”
Anger ripples through me at the thought of her dressing up for any other man.“I hope he appreciated it.”
“He hooked up with another girl in the bathroom.”
“If you give me his name,I’lldeliver his head in a box to you by morning.”
“Jesus,” she mutters. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.”
I grin.“But a little part of you loves that I offered.”
The cab drops us at the Modern Art Gallery thirty minutes later.
I step out of the car, offering my arm for her to hold onto as we walk up the steps.“It’sa fundraising gala tonight. Remember the rules. Play nice.”
She avoids my gaze, instead staring up at the gallery.“Well, this building is extremely creepy.”
“It was built in the 19th century. It was a psychiatric hospital until about a decade ago.”
“Just lovely,”she deadpans.“The fun never ends with you.”
I smirk.“I thinkI’veshown you plenty of fun already, Detective.”
She blushes as we enter the gallery. The first room is buzzing with the sound of guests mingling amidst the vibrant canvasses and avant-garde installations. Champagne flows freelyandlaughter echoes off the high ceilings.
Ava leans in, whispering.“What ifrunup to the first person I see and tell themyou’rea psychopath blackmailing me into being here?”
”Well, Detective, that would make for quite the scandalous introduction. Butlet”snot spoil the fun too soon.”
Her eyes narrow.“Cut the bullshit. Why did you bring me here?”
“Iwant to share my life with you, little dove. I want to show you what our life could be together.”
She shakes her head.“You want us to be seen together in public.”
I smile sardonically.“The hundred witnesses are just a perk.”
“Jackson!”
I turn atthe sound ofLiza’svoice, her emerald gown swishing along the floor as she approaches.
“Liza, good to see you.”I turn to Ava.“This is Liza Palmer, one ofBrookhaven’sfinest artists.I’mproud to have done a little to support her careerso far. And Liza, this is Detective Ava Cain.”
Ava tenses beside me as I say her name.I’mtangling her into my web untilshe’stoo caught up to extricate herself, let alone successfully send me to jail for any murder.
“So nice to meet you,” Liza says. “Jackson’s being modest. He’s done so much for this gallery, and for my own career.”
Tension is rolling off Ava in waves, but she obediently shakesLiza’shand.“Nice to meet youtoo.”
“I’llsee you guys around. Be sure to check out my other new installation. Reflections.It’supstairs in the attic.
“The attic?”Ava mutters to me.“Great, the night gets creepier.”
We walk through the gallery, occasionally stopping tomake brief small talkwith the other gallery donorswhowarmly greet me.
Detective Ava Cain.
I repeat the introduction again and again as the night goes on.She’swoven into the story of this night forever, whether she likes it or not.
She pauses at a painting.“Can I make a confession? Idon’tthink I understand modern art. What the hell is this supposed to be?”
I glance at the canvas. Vibrant shades of azure and maroon clash against a stark background of black and white.It’spulsating with frenetic energy.
“Artdoesn’thave to be anything,”I reply.“It just makes you feel something. Look into it and let it speak to you.”
“Looks more like someone had a tantrum while holding a paintbrush. A drunk toddler, maybe.”
“That’sthe beauty of art.It’sopen to interpretation. You see chaos, Isee raw emotion.”
Slowly, I run my hand along her lower back. She tenses butdoesn’tflinch away.
She peers into the painting.“Hmm. Now I get close,you’reright… I see a room full of elitist assholes who pretend to see meaning in random splotches of color.”
“Interesting,”I murmur.“I see the face of a beautiful womanwho’sgoing to get her mouth stuffed with something if shedoesn’tbehave.”
She glares at me, but a dark smile breaks through. “Guess we’re both right if it’s all just up to interpretation.”
I take her arm, leading her to the next room.“Maybe I can show you something that will change your mind.”
I stop her in front of another canvas.“Surprise, Detective.”
She looks atmepuzzled, then her gaze shifts to the painting. For the first time all night, her wary expression softens.
Thecanvas isexpansive, depictinga girl gazing across the tree line toward a setting sun.Despite the ominous clouds on the horizon, she exudes a sense of tranquility, as ifshe”scertainthere”scalm beyond the storm.
This is the place she told me about when we first met. Now she can keep it with her forever.
The style is impressionistic, subtle enough that the average person might not recognize it as a portrait of Ava. But that only adds to its allure—our secret, among many we now share.
Her eyes drop to the title plaque underneath the painting.
“Happy Place,” she reads.
“For you, my detective. I commissioned one of my favorite artists to create it.”
She bites her lip, as if shedoesn’twant to admit how muchit’saffecting her.“Why—why did you do this?It’sbeautiful, and it must have cost so much, andI’mtrying to throw you in jail—”
I hold a hand up, silencing her protests.“When you look at me, I feel likeyou’retruly seeing me.I’venever felt that before.It’sthe greatest giftI’veever known. I wanted to give that gift to you as well.”
“Thank you,” she breathes. “It’s perfect.”
Her eyes flit between me and the painting. She looks likeshe’sholding back her words, emotions simmering beneath the surface.
“Can we go get some air?”she asks.
I take her hand as we step out onto the balcony. The cool night air feels refreshing. The distant music from the gala drifts in, but here,we”realone.
Ava glances at me.“That dayItold youabout,my happy place. It was the day after my foster father died. I went there to be alone.”
I feel dark flames in my chest.“The day you discovered who you truly were. Your true potential.”
“No one else thinks of it that way.”
“I do,” I reply, and her face softens. “Can any part of you admit that you’re actually enjoying tonight?”
Her mouth twists to the side into an adorable,lopsidedsmile.“Maybe.”
“There, was that so hard?”
“Sorry if the whole threatened at gunpoint thing is tough to get over.”
Perhaps I can give her that one.
“Plus,” she admits. “I don’t really go to parties, at all, ever. I’m always working.”
“That’sjust an excuse to avoid living.”
“Okay, Mr Therapist.”She rolls her eyes, but it only makes me smile.“Why would I do that?”
“Becauseyou’reafraid of life.It’seasier to hide in the shadows than to risk something by going outside.”
She pauses for a moment.“I hate to interrupt this conversation, butI’vegot to pee.I’llmeet you back here, okay?”
After a second of consideration, I nod.Shesmiles, walking off back into the gala.
I can’t help it.
I really fucking try to trust her.
ButsomehowI know Ihaven’twon her over yet. Whatdo I have todo to get her to see that joining forces with me is the greatest gift she can give to the world—and herself?
I follow her at a distance as she hurriedly heads for the exit, like a predator fixated on its next meal.
Anger creeps down my spine as I follow heroutinto the empty hall. We told each other everything about our tainted pasts, but she still tried to escape. I need her to stop denying how much she loves being caught in the palm of my hand.
“Going somewhere?”
Her head whips around at the sound of my voice, her eyes widening.
“Bad girl,” I murmur.
Her expression hardens.“If you leave the cage unlocked,don’tbe surprised when your petmakes a runfor it.”
I close the distance between us, my fingers wrapping around her wrist. Her lips part as ifshe’sturned on by my touch.
“What are you going to do to me, huh?”she hisses.“We’reright in the middle of your fancy art gala.Wouldn’tyou hate it if everyonefound out the truth about you?”
“Perhaps once I would’ve hated it. But now I don’t fucking care.”
Fear glints in her eyes.
“Itold you not to run from me, Ava.But asyou’reso desperate to have me chase you, whydon’twe play a little game?I could see how much you loved running from me that night at my house when I fucked you up against my bedroom door.”
“What game?” she breathes.
“Hide and seek.”