Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Thanks again, Mr. Winchester.” Alex gave the man at the door a parting wave. “I hope your wife enjoys her gift, and please be sure to tell her I said happy birthday.”
“I will. And thank you.” The man with red hair and freckles sent her a pointed look. “Darci’s been eyeing this painting for months, so I know she’s going to love it.”
“And you’re going to win some major brownie points in the process?”
The man stopped near the door with a knowing smirk. “Why do you think I bought it?”
Alex laughed. “Have a good day.”
“You, too, Alex. Thanks again.”
He left with her painting held carefully in his hands and a wide, toothy grin spread across his face. A familiar warmth spread through her chest. One that never seemed to get old.
She was proud of herself and her accomplishments, of course. Even more than that, Alex was grateful.
Hers was a God-given gift, and she was so thankful for the opportunity to share it with the rest of the world. Or her tiny corner of it, at least.
Business wasn’t exactly booming, per se, but her bills were paid, and her sales remained steady. Not every independent artist could say the same, so for that reason alone, Alex knew she was blessed.
Sure, a showing at Gordan’s L.A. gallery would have almost guaranteed her place on the map. And as much as it shamed her to admit, there was a time in her life when Alex’s desperation would have led her straight to the temptation.
But not anymore.
She was better than that. Smarter, too. And she had too big a conscience to ever sell her soul to the proverbial Devil.
That’s who Gordan was. An evil entity who preyed on the vulnerable and weak. Alex had seen the proof of his unforgiveable sins against the innocent lives he’d so gleefully destroyed.
A man like that wasn’t a man at all, but rather a monster. One she couldn’t wait to see vanquished by her personal hero and his team. A group of brave men and women working behind the scenes without any hope of the recognition they deserved.
Speaking of Colt . . .
Alex turned and walked over to her desk with a smile. Standing near its edge, she reached down and picked up her phone. Her heart flipped a little when she saw the new text notification with his name and number attached.
Headed to G’s office now.
I’ll stop by the gallery after to let you know how it goes.
Wish me luck.
She checked to see when the message was sent before comparing it to the current time. Colt had texted her shortly after Mr. Winchester had arrived.
Given the Tac-Ops building’s location in comparison to Colt’s apartment, he should be arriving right about now. Alex sent him a few quick words of encouragement, knowing he was about to drop one heck of a bomb on his brother.
You got this!
She put her phone into the back pocket of her khaki capris and reached for her favorite ceramic mug. It was lighter than she’d expected, and it was only then that she remembered she’d already finished her first coffee of the day.
If I’m going to make it through the next few hours here, I’m going to need a lot more caffeine than that.
Alex held the mug’s handle with a firm grip as she turned and walked past various works of art she’d created. Most were paintings, either mounted on the white walls or easels, while a few of her sculptures stood on sleek, white pedestals.
She’d dabbled in that a bit, and while sculpting was fun, her true passion was painting. Which reminded her, she needed to get more supplies from the loft upstairs to take home for when she became inspired . . . or bored.
You keep letting Colt stay over, you won’t have time to get bored.
Especially if they spent every night like the one before. Not the dinner part, and most definitely not the part where Gordan and his goon had been waiting at her door. No, Alex was thinking about what happened after.
It wasn’t even the sex, although she couldn’t deny it was the best she’d ever experienced. For her, however, it was the time they spent talking. And laughing. God, the man could make her laugh like nobody’s business.
And was there anything sexier than that?
Putting the secrecy and danger that came along with his job aside, Colt was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. He was much smarter than she’d ever given him credit for. He was also strong, warm, and brave. And one of the most surprising and impressive attributes that had recently come to light—
The man was nothing if not protective.
It was a quality Alex couldn’t remember ever feeling from any other man she’d dated. Not even the one she thought she’d marry. Looking back, however, it was so clear to see how self-absorbed Evan had been.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, or so they say. And if this thing with Colt lasted like she hoped, the pain she’d experienced in the past would be worth it. She just prayed Colt’s feelings for her were as real as those filling her heart.
You should tell him how you feel. Maybe he’ll open up to you, too.
The air in her lungs grew thick with nervous reservation. That conversation could wait. They were still new, and the last thing Alex wanted to do was to scare him away.
He’s not going anywhere. He’s quitting the CIA, remember?
So he said, but once the time came to resign, would Colt truly be able to leave the job behind? Only time would tell, which seemed to have become her running motto as of late.
It was true, though. His job, her feelings and his . . . those things would work themselves out eventually. Until then, Alex refused to sabotage this thing between them, choosing to focus on the positives instead.
Things like getting more coffee.
Lots and lots of coffee.
A smile lifted her lips seconds before she yawned.
Standing at the small counter in the back of the gallery, Alex inserted a new pod into the machine. With her mug resting beneath the spout, she pressed the top and waited for the liquid gold to brew.
The sounds of the mechanisms working within the machine preceded the fresh stream of java pouring into the mug from the spout. The scent of roasted beans was heavy and robust. Heat escaped into the air as a swirl of steam.
She decided not to mess with grabbing her creamer from the small refrigerator to her right. As tired as she was, she needed her second dose to be as strong and undiluted as possible.
I blame you and your magical hands, Coulter Morgan. This is all your fault.
Alex yawned again before taking a cautious sip. The slight sting from the hot coffee bit her lips in the best of ways. She may have moaned a little when she swallowed it down, feeling thankful for the extra caffeine.
Thoughts of the rest of the day’s schedule filtered through, which turned to thoughts of lunch. She hadn’t had time that morning to pack anything to bring with her, but she remembered some take-out she’d gotten a few days before.
She went to the fridge, opened it up, and was blasted with an unpleasant scent that twisted her face and scrunched her nose.
Yuck.
Alex set the mug down onto the nearby counter to keep from spilling the precious brew. Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out the disposable container half-filled with Chinese food that had clearly become rancid.
Through her mouth—as opposed to breathing through her nose—she sucked in a full, deep breath. Holding it in, she rushed to carry the container to the trash can by the back door.
Alex dropped it in and immediately set about gathering the half-filled bag’s edges. She pulled it from the can, tied it in a double-knot, and released the lock on the door with her free-hand.
No way was she waiting until the bag was full to toss it out. It was bad enough the smell had already permeated throughout the entire break room. If she left it in the can until trash day, the entire gallery would stink, and her customers would run away screaming the second they walked inside.
They’d probably think I had a dead body hiding somewhere back here.
Alex smirked as she stepped outside, releasing a harsh exhale. After taking in a few breaths of the much cleaner air, she walked over to the dumpster, lifted the lid, and dropped the bag inside with the others.
As she did, a slight shuffling sound reached her ears from somewhere close behind. She started to turn around, to face what she assumed was probably the usual stray cat or dog. But before Alex could see what had created the noise, something struck her hard in the back of the head.
Pain erupted throughout her skull. A fraction of a second later, she felt herself starting to fall. She didn’t have time to cry out, and there was no way for her to yell for help.
It was too late for that. Too late for her.
She was already knocked out cold.
“Knock, knock.” Coulter rapped his knuckles on the opened door leading to Garrett’s office.
His brother looked up from where he sat at his desk, abandoning whatever he’d been looking at on his computer. A look of surprise flashed across his rugged face. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“You got a minute to talk?”
“Sure.” Garrett waved him in. “Always. What’s up?”
Coulter entered the private space, pulling the door shut behind him as he went. He walked over to the two chairs facing his brother’s desk and picked the one he came to first.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Well that sounds ominous.” Garrett closed his laptop and settled back into his leather chair. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Great, actually.” At least he would be until his brother learned the truth. “So, uh . . . I have a confession to make. But before I do, I need you to remember I love you and pops more than anything in the world.”
Garrett’s spine stiffened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk before him. “Okay, now you’re starting to scare me. What’s going on, Colt? You aren’t sick, are you?”
“No,” he blurted, quickly shutting down that particular concern. “It’s just . . .”
Damn. This is a lot harder than I thought.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” His brother frowned. “You know I’m here for you, no matter what.”