Chapter 21
Ranger
It’s been three days since I crashed Elle’s freakout and if I close my eyes, I can still smell her. She’s leaving for the Cove today, and every ounce of my being wants to follow her. But I’ll be there in two days, promising her I’d help them finish setting up everything Wednesday night so that her show can open on Thursday. She’s walked through the shop several times, waving as she goes and on the phone each time. I don’t think she’s slept much, but she doesn’t look like she’s on the verge of a breakdown anymore, either.
I know it must suck to change a show around at the last minute, but people deserve to see that art. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about it. Like two lost souls in the night. It’s a romance novel on canvas. Something about it seems familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. I’m looking forward to seeing them again on display so I can get a better look at them.
“Boss, your girl’s man is here,” Barbie calls from the front desk, where she’s been working on the schedule for most of the morning.
My blood boils for a minute before I realize she must be talking about Jorge, and I put down my tablet and walk to the back door, calling over my shoulder, “She’s not my girl.”
“If you say so, boss!” Barbie cackles. She thinks she’s hilarious.
When I open the door, my blood pressure spikes again for a minute because there he is, standing next to the big van, Elle wrapped around him like a koala bear, both of them laughing.
When he notices me, he tilts his chin. “I hear I have you to thank for the extra work this week?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.” I grimace, my hand automatically going to the back of my neck and squeezing.
“Rather have extra work than Elle freaking out. So, thanks for that.”
The look in his eyes says so much more than his words do, and after the momentary squeeze I feel inside my chest, I reply, “Whatever works, right?”
“Speaking of, let’s get this stuff loaded so I can get back. You have everything else all packed?” Jorge asks Elle.
“What’s there to pack? I have stuff at my apartment in the Cove.”
“Alrighty then. Show me the masterpieces.”
Elle turns to the stairs with Jorge right behind her and I decide they might need some help and follow. I’m honestly hoping to catch a glimpse of the paintings again. Unfortunately, when I step into the studio, all the canvases have been boxed up for transport.
“You’re coming to help set up?” Jorge asks me as we watch Elle flit around the studio, gathering odds and ends and tossing them into an overnight bag.
“Told her I’d be there Wednesday. How hard was changing it up?”
“Oh, we owe a few people some future spots, but most were excited about the change.”
“That’s good. I want to see these again—they were amazing,” I tell him.
He gives me some serious side-eye. “You saw them?”
“Yeah, the other night. Why?”
“Even I haven’t seen them all, and I have no idea what order she’s going to put them in.”
“Um, well, I don’t know anything about an order, but they were amazing pieces on their own.” I shrug my shoulders.
“Baby girl,” Jorge turns from me and gives Elle a narrowed stare, “why is it that your man here has seen your work and I haven’t?”
“He’s not my man—”
“I’m not her man—”
We say it at the same time. I share a look with Elle while Jorge laughs at us.
“Oh, aren’t you two cute? But seriously, you’re going to make me wait to see them?”
“I already packed them up, J. Sorry.”
She doesn’t look sorry at all. In fact, she still looks almost nervous, like she’s afraid to show these pieces.
“Okay, I think I have everything.” She comes to a stop in front of us. “I’m going to follow J, and you’ll be there in two days?” she asks me.
“That’s the plan. Have a few things I need to do around here,” I tell her.
Jorge shakes my hand and Elle gives me an awkward hug before I follow them back out with the packed-up canvases. They wave as they pull out of the parking lot, and I take a few minutes to go back inside. That girl is firmly in my head. She’s definitely in my cock. And if that odd thumping in my chest is to be believed—and I don’t believe him, he’s a fucking liar—she could be worming her way into my heart.
I’m so fucked.
After two days of following Keith around half the state, I’m no closer to finding anything on him than I was when I started. He’s met with the mystery woman both nights, but I still can’t gather any information about who she is, what they’re doing, or what the endgame for them is. Maybe Joker and I are wrong about him, and he’s just a high school administrator traveling to the colleges to help his students. What? It could happen. He travels between Briar Mountain and Diamond Cove, which have two of the largest campuses in the state. The absolute biggest ones close to the Briar Ridge Mountains.
I pull into Diamond Cove twelve hours before I’m supposed to be here because this is where Keith is. He did go to the campus and then found some hole in the wall Mexican place for lunch where he met the mystery woman. They exchanged very few words and left. I followed him to the hotel the wedding party is staying at. It shouldn’t surprise me that he’d show up for this event. There’s going to be an opportunity for him to rub shoulders with Tiny’s family. In every place we’ve been together, he is automatically attracted to the biggest wallet, without fail. If I had to guess, it’s why he’s with Ginny. He thinks there might be money because of her family.
I’ve been in more than one gallery in my day, but Elle’s is amazing. It’s a wide-open space with a balcony for seating. There are also classrooms and smaller studios on the outer edges, and a back staircase that leads to her personal studio. It’s black and navy and silver with dark wood. It’s industrial but still homey. It’s a lot of things that shouldn’t work together but do.
“Like it?” Jorge smirks at me taking it all in.
“It’s amazing.”
“It is. And all of it was Elle’s doing.”
“How long have you been with her?”
“Seven years. Almost eight. I came in after the disaster that was her marriage. She’d only just opened when I found her and she needed me.”
“Tell me about him.” We both know it’s the husband comment I care about.
Jorge raises an eyebrow my way, looking for the shock and surprise of finding out she was married. Hate to disappoint him, but I knew about the marriage and divorce before she moved her first canvas into the studio.
“Narcissistic, money grubbing, man-whore. That sums it up, right? Oh, and abusive.”
“Tell me his name,” I growl before I can think about it.
“He’s long gone, big guy.” Jorge pats me on the shoulder. “Calm down. He can’t hurt her now.”
“Are you sure? Are you positive the creep leaving the presents isn’t her ex-husband?”
“Ranger, he’s dead. Drug overdose five years ago. Some new designer party drug all the richies had to have. He’s not coming back.”
“That wasn’t in the background check,” I mutter to his amusement.
“Should have done a better check. But you didn’t look into him, so you wouldn’t know.” He easily forgives me.
“Tell me who you think is leaving the presents now,” I request. “Who do I need to go after?”
He chuckles but turns serious when he looks at me. “I think his name is Stefon. She dated him briefly, but he showed some clingy tendencies. And Elle is positive he found a way into her personal studio and was fucking with stuff, but we could never prove it. That was also when the flowers started showing up.”
“What do you know about him? What’s his full name and where does he live?”
“I have no idea where he lives, but I’m sure he’ll be here this weekend for the opening. He never misses one of those.”
“Do you think he’s a threat to her?”
“I don’t know if he’s any more of a threat than any other guy who gets hung up on her.” He gives me a pointed look. “But I don’t know if he’s the type to leave threats. Flowers, yes? But the other things that ran her out of town? I don’t know.”
“Who do you think it is if it’s not him?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.”
“If you see him, point him out to me?”
“You got it. Now go lift something with your big, powerful muscles.” He shoos me away.
I laugh as I walk away to do just what he told me. But not before I flex for him, making him gasp. Yeah, that was totally worth it. I can feel myself almost smiling as I move into the first area and hang the marked paintings on their spots.
I need Joker to get to town and help me track down this Stefon guy and let him know how things are going to go from now on.
I’ve never been to an opening at an art gallery. Been to look at art? Sure. But never when it’s been brand new. Last night was low key. Just the artists and their families were invited. It was small and intimate, and Elle gave me a full tour of the building, including showing me her private studio upstairs. It looks similar to the studio she has in Boulder Canyon, actually. A large rectangular room with a seating area and a small kitchenette. This studio is about three times bigger though, and it has a kiln and sculpture and pottery equipment in one corner.
I’m walking around the gallery for what must be the hundredth time, having already seen my friends and talked to the happy, almost married couples, when Joker appears at my side.
“This is cool.” He nods to one of the paintings. This one pays homage to the 1980s Brat Pack with an almost comic book style painting of the end of The Breakfast Club. You know the part where the guy is walking across the field and throws his fist up in the air? That. Guess you can’t get more pop culture than John Hughes, can you?
“It really is. Have you looked at all of them yet?”
“I’ve made the rounds. Why didn’t you tell me she painted you?”
I do a double take, furrowing my brows in his direction. “She didn’t paint me.”
“Uh, I beg to differ. Those paintings she’s got at the end? Totally you and her, man.”
I stare at him like he’s lost it before walking away to his chuckle. I’m heading back to Elle’s paintings when I see her coming down the back stairs, and I immediately go on alert. Something is very wrong. Her eyes are glossy, and her hands are twisting and wringing each other. I turn my head and make eye contact with Joker, who starts moving my way.
Elle is looking at the ground, trying to compose herself, when I step up in front of her and grip her hand.
“What’s wrong, Tink?”
“My…my studio,” is all she gets out before she crumples into my arms, quietly sobbing.
I look at Joker and nod my head to the stairs leading up to Elle’s studio and he silently disappears up the stairs—only to return in under a minute, a murderous look on his face.
“Elle? I think we need to call an end to the party,” I gently tell her.
“No!” She pulls from my arms. “We can’t do that!”
“We can, and we need to. It’s almost over, anyway. We need to start suggesting people leave.”
“Oh, God, it’s really that bad, isn’t it?” she whispers, her arm covering up the sob coming from her soul.
“I haven’t seen it, but Joker did, and we think it’s time to clear out and figure out what we need to do.”
Hic. “If—” hic, “you—” sob, “think—” shuddering breath, “so.”
Joker silently nods at me and goes to find Jorge to clear out the crowd, while I pull Elle into an empty studio and hold her in my arms.
“What am I going to do?” she whispers into my chest, still hiccupping tears.
“You’re going to start talking.” When she starts breathing faster I’m quick to add, “When everyone is gone.”
“When everyone is gone.”