Chapter Twenty
M y fucking head in the clouds, I strode out in to the gallery.
Standing in front of a painting, his phone to his ear, Collins spun and glared at me. “Yeah, I fucking know,” he barked. “I need that shit now .” He hung up.
Harrison, the prick, stood next to him staring me down like he wanted to kill me.
I hoped the fucker smelled her on me. “What’s going on?” I asked Collins.
Collins tipped his head at the painting he was standing in front of.
I glanced at it. Abstract shit. “What about it?”
“Look at it.” Collins gestured toward all the paintings on the wall we were standing in front of. “Look at all of them. Closely.”
Harrison watched me as I walked to the first painting. I glanced at it, then glanced at the one next to it. I didn’t see shit, but I wasn’t about to admit that in front of her fucking watchdog boy. I gave each painting a few seconds. By the third one, I fucking saw it.
Goddamn I saw it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered, glancing at the rest of them.
Nine paintings.
All with a fucking crown.
Abstract as shit, shadowed, upside down, sideways, half off the page—every fucking painting had one. Fury, instant and consuming, made me turn on her watchdog. “Who painted these?” I demanded.
The asshole crossed his arms. “I already told your associate.” Biting out the word associate, he glared at me. “I demand to know what’s going on. If Sophia is in some kind of danger—”
“Collins,” I cut her prick assistant off. “Office.” I turned just as Calandra emerged from the hallway. She looked freshly fucked and so damn vulnerable, I got even angrier. “You didn’t notice?”
Startled by my tone, she froze. “Excuse me?”
I nodded at the paintings. “All nine of them.”
Looking at me like she was confused, she stepped around me and looked at the paintings. Her back straight, her hair smoothed back into place, her dress no worse for the wear, she stood regally poised and glanced down the line of paintings.
I knew the moment she saw it.
Her quiet, but sharp inhale made her back and shoulders tense. Turning, she looked at me. “I just had these hung yesterday.”
“What’s going on?” Harrison demanded again.
She ignored him. “I didn’t notice, I swear. I was concentrating on getting them up in the correct orientation.”
“You know the artist?” Dangerous jealousy clouded my objectivity.
“ Cher .” The prick stepped toward her. “What’s happening?”
Training, instinct, raw possession, I moved between her and the prick.
Collins walked past us. “Closed doors. Now.”
I took her arm and led her down the hall back to her office. Shutting the door behind us, I dropped her arm.
Collins leveled me with a look. “I already got an address. Sawyer and Luna are on their way. Base is doing a profile. We have her call him in. Tell him there’s a problem with one of the paintings. Apprehend and question while Sawyer and Luna recon, then we turn it over to the cops.”
It was a solid plan. It was the right plan. But the taste of her still in my mouth, the scent of her still on my dick, I didn’t want her anywhere near the stalker fuck. I wanted my fucking fist in his face, and her far, far away when it happened.
“Did Luna get a hold of Brandt or Marek? ”
Collins nodded. “Both on their way.”
Good. “She makes the call. I take her home. Brandt and Marek keep guard. You hold the asshole until I get back. I ask the questions.” I was going to do a whole lot more than question the fucking asshole.
Collins tipped his chin once in agreement.
I looked down at her. “I’m assuming you have a number for the artist?”
The color drained from her face. “What are you going to do?”
Keep her safe. Beat the asshole until he begged for mercy, then make sure he never drew another goddamn breath again. “I’m gonna handle it. But first, I want you to call him and tell him he needs to come to the gallery. Make up an excuse that’ll get him here ASAP. Can you handle that? If not, tell me now.” I wasn’t being a dick. It was an honest question. “The last thing I want to do is tip him off before we get to him.”
“I can handle it.” She moved toward her desk with grace and poise.
The desk I’d just taken her on.
She flipped through an address book and picked up her phone.
I eyed Collins.
He mouthed trouble .
Ignoring him, I glanced back at Calandra. “You good?”
Without looking at me, she nodded as she dialed. Her expression an impassive mask, her hand shook. “Mr. Morrows, this is Sophia Paradis from the gallery… No, no problem.” She inhaled. “Actually, Mr. Morrows, I’m having an issue with two of your paintings. There seems to be a discrepancy between me and my assistant as to which orientation to hang them… Yes, well, I suppose I could text you a picture, but I would be more comfortable if you could stop by and check the two paintings in addition to your other pieces. I realize you sent directions with each piece, but this is a high-profile showing and we are expecting a large turnout. I would be appreciative if you could come in.” She inhaled. “Yes, now would be preferable. We are finalizing everything as we speak… Yes, I understand… Thank you, Mr. Morrows. See you soon.” She hung up.
“ He’s coming now?”
Her gaze glued to her desk, she didn’t respond.
“Calandra?” Jesus, I wanted to touch her.
“He said twenty minutes.” Inhaling again, she looked up at me. “May I have a word with you in private?” Fear leaked through her stoic expression.
I glanced at Collins. “Call Marek, ask him to swing by. He can follow us back to the house.”
“Copy.” Collins left.
The second the door closed, I pulled her into my arms, but she only stiffened. “Talk to me,” I demanded, not letting go of her.
“You didn’t believe me,” she said without preamble.
I took a second to phrase my response. “You work with art all day long. It took me thirty seconds to see the crowns. I’m not gonna lie and say my head went to a petty place, wondering how well you know this asshole.” I rubbed her back.
Her posture didn’t budge. “You were angry.”
I pulled back only to cup her face. “You’re right, I was enraged. I still am. But not at you.” I kissed her forehead. “I want to take this bastard down. We’re running a background check on whoever it is and doing a profile. While he’s here, Sawyer and Luna will look for evidence in his place, and we’ll wrap this up.”
“What if it’s not him? You haven’t met him. He’s passive. He’s not at all aggressive. He’s kind and usually always agreeable. I just don’t see him as being the stalker.”
I refrained from telling her that her description sounded exactly like a sick stalker fuck. “We’ll handle it. Either way,” I added.
She stared at me a moment.
Jesus, she was beautiful. “What?”
“I have a reputation to protect.”
I swept her hair off her shoulder. “Ten-four.”
She frowned .
“I hear you loud and clear. I’ll tread lightly until Luna and Sawyer come up with evidence.”
“And if they don’t?”
I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted the threat to her gone. “We stick to the plan and draw him out.” But after having her, I didn’t like the plan one goddamn bit.
“You frowned,” she accused.
I forced a smile. “You caught me.” I held my hands up, but then I took her face again and I kissed her. The taste of her sweet mouth pulling me under faster than I could draw my weapon, I forced myself to end the kiss. “I don’t want you as bait. Not now.” I stroked her bottom lip. “You get me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her gaze. “I don’t want you to confront Mr. Morrows.”
I chuckled. “I can take an artist, babe.”
She pushed me away. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I grinned.
She looked at me like I had two heads. “This is not funny.”
I closed the distance between us. Running my fingers down her arms, I took her small hands in mine and schooled my expression. “No, it’s not funny, and I wasn’t laughing. I was happy.”
Confusion clouded her expression. “Because you can take an artist ?”
“No.” I refrained from smiling. “Because I like you worrying about me, baby. Lets me know you care.” I was man enough to admit I wanted her to care.
The blush spread across her cheeks. “I care.”
“Good.” I kissed her cheek and forced my tone to casual. “Because you’re mine.”
“Damian—”
“Not arguing about that,” I warned.
Collins pounded on the door. “Marek’s pulling up.”