Читать книгу Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires - Rebecca Winters - Страница 102

WREN DIALED KYLIE’S number as she walked home. It would do her good to stretch her legs before the sun went down; fresh air always seemed to create space in her mind when she felt jumbled up.

“Are you going to hang up on me again?” Kylie asked.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I had to deal with something.” She rubbed at her temple while Kylie’s anger simmered on the other end of the line. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you in the dark.”

“Then come home.”

Wren sighed. “I can’t.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“Because I want to help you, Ky. And this bastard shouldn’t be allowed to hurt anyone else.” The balmy evening breeze whispered along her bare arms. It was a beautiful night, far too serene and peaceful for her to be arguing with her best friend. “Can’t you see that?”

“If you were really interested in what’s best for me then you would have consulted me first instead of running off there behind my back. You’re doing this for you.”

The words were like a slap across the face. “How on earth is this for me?”

“You needed something to focus on after Christian screwed you over. You needed some kind of problem to solve, just like you always do when your own life isn’t going according to plan.” Kylie sighed. “I love you, Wren. You’re the sister I never had, but don’t delude yourself that this is all about helping me.”

“What was I supposed to do, sit by and watch while you broke down? While he’s getting away with it?”

“You could have stayed with me. You could have done what Debbie is doing. But instead, you ran away because it suited your situation.”

“I wanted to help you,” Wren said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m getting help…with a therapist. I’m working through what happened with a professional, Wren. You being in New York and trying to force me to talk about it isn’t helping. It’s stressing me out.” Kylie’s voice wavered. “Please come home.”

For a moment Wren considered it. But what about Aimee? What about the next girl or the one after that?

She held her breath, debating how much to say. “There’s another girl…he’s hurting her, too.”

The silenced seemed to stretch out for an eternity. Only the steady sound of Wren’s footsteps against the pavement told her that time hadn’t stopped completely. There was a faint, muffled sound on the other end of the line. Kylie was crying.

“I’m sorry, Ky.” She wanted so badly to press for more details—anything that might help to gather proof against Ainslie. But her friend’s tears halted her words. “I promise I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

“I have to go,” Kylie said, her voice rough and edgy. “Maybe don’t call me for a few days, okay? I need to stop thinking about this, and talking to you while you’re there…”

Wren’s stomach sank. “If that’s what you want.”

“You know what I want. I won’t feel better until you’re far away from him.” She sniffed. “Just think about coming home. Hell, don’t come home if you don’t want. Go somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

“I’ll call you next week.”

“Why don’t I call you…when I’m ready.”

Wren blinked back the first prickle of tears. “Okay.”

She ended the call and brushed the back of her hand against a tear that had dropped onto her cheek as she walked up the path to her building. The sky had turned dark and the temperature had dropped. Goose bumps rippled across her skin.

How was it possible that she’d screwed up so badly while having the best intentions? Rhys was angry at her. Kylie was angry at her. Debbie…well, her sister wasn’t angry but she resented Wren leaving her behind.

Wren trudged up the stairs of the walk-up, her mind swirling like a tornado. She tried to shake off the bad feeling that had settled into her bones. Rhys was right; what she’d done was stupid and naive. She hadn’t helped Kylie; in fact, she seemed to have made things worse.

But Aimee still needs your help. She’s still in danger. If you don’t stand up to Sean, who knows what might happen to her?

As she walked to her front door, her gaze snagged on Rhys’s apartment. She was tempted to knock, but it was probably best to give him time to cool down. After all, she’d dropped a pretty big bombshell on him tonight.

Wren walked into her apartment and had been inside for all of five minutes when a knock on the door made her heart leap into her throat. Had Rhys decided to come to her? The thought filled her with warmth.

She rushed to the door and opened it, the smile dying on her lips when she saw that her visitor wasn’t Rhys. It was Sean.

“I hope you don’t mind me showing up on your doorstep,” he said, sounding decidedly uncaring. “I want to clear up this tension between us.”

Wren swallowed down her instinct to slam the door in his face. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not being honest with me. A true artist doesn’t bottle his or her feelings up, Wren. That’s why you’re having issues with your paintings. You’re suppressed.” He swayed and planted a hand on the door frame, leaning in. “You have no idea how to tap into your true self.”

The scent of stale whiskey invaded her nostrils. “Have you been drinking?”

“So what if I have?” He stepped forward and pushed her back into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. “Are you judging me? I should have known after I hired that twit Kylie that everyone from your hick fucking town was a purist prude.”

“I told you, Kylie and I have nothing to do with one another,” she lied, warning bells ringing in her ears. “And I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“‘I still don’t understand why you’re here,’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “Who’s the boss, Wren?”

“You are.” She forced herself to breathe slow and even.

“Are you sure you believe that? Because I’m getting a strong vibe of insubordination from you.” He raked a hand through his long, dark hair and a chunky gold ring glinted on his right hand. It looked like the kind of ring that could do a hell of a lot of damage if it connected to bone.

Like shattering an eye socket, perhaps?

“I want…I want what’s best for our working relationship,” she stammered. “I value my position at the studio and if I’ve done something—”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You know exactly what you’ve done.”

Her mind spun. Was he referring to her getting into his email? Setting off the alarm on the storage room? Had he discovered the truth about her and Kylie?

“Spare me the deer-in-headlights look, Wren.” He rolled his eyes. “I know you’ve been talking to Aimee about me.”

Damn. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“It’s none of your business.” His voice escalated, taking on the shrill edge of a person about to lose their shit. “You ought to be careful, being so nosy. I might think you were the one trying to hack into my account and delete my emails if you weren’t so stupid and obvious.”

Wren said a silent thank-you for small mercies. For as long as Sean didn’t suspect her, she could talk her way out of her supposed indiscretion.

“You’re right,” she said, hanging her head. “I shouldn’t have talked to her about it.”

For a moment she thought she’d appeased him. He glanced around her apartment as if he’d forgotten why he was there. But then his eyes landed on something behind her and a dark shadow rolled across his face.

“What is that?” he thundered.

“What?” Wren whirled around and cursed under her breath when she saw what he was looking at.

The portrait of Rhys.

“Why are you painting someone from the security company?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, but the words were breathless and hurried. “It’s just a man.”

She was about to turn when pain burned at her scalp. Sean fisted his hands in her hair and dragged her toward the painting.

“Explain yourself,” he said into her ear. The words were a mere whisper, and yet it frightened her more than if he’d yelled. “Tell me why the fuck you have a painting of Rhys Glover in your apartment.”

RHYS STOPPED HIS car at a red light. He’d driven block after block, hoping that the answer to his problems might be around the next corner. But a good half an hour after he’d left Wren at the diner, he was still at a loss.

Why the hell hadn’t he seen this coming?

Anger at himself roiled with frustration at Wren. She was so…idealistic. And impulsive.

And spontaneous and sexy and so damn beautiful.

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” he muttered to his reflection in the rearview mirror.

He drove home deep in thought. But no matter how hard he tried, the solution wouldn’t come. There wasn’t a magic bullet. No matter which way he turned he was doing wrong by someone.

Pissed as he was that she’d lied to him, he understood her reasons and admired her fierce loyalty to her friend. What he would have given to have someone stick up for him like that when he was growing up…

Still, Logan would flip if he found out that Rhys had gotten involved with a suspect. While security consultants might not be held to the same standard as police officers or other law agents, his boss was ex-military. And he ran a tight ship.

Rhys parked his car and headed up to his apartment. Maybe he should cut things off at the pass by telling Wren he couldn’t see her again. It would draw a line between them, a line not to be crossed until this thing with Sean Ainslie was over.

But then what? The only reason she was in New York was to snoop around the gallery. Once that was tied up she’d be headed back home. He pounded his feet into the stairs as if it might expel the frustration from his body.

It wasn’t worth risking his job for something temporary, no matter how much he enjoyed her company, both in and out of the bedroom. Perhaps it made him a boring rule-follower, but that’s how he wanted to live his life. It’s how he’d always lived his life.

And when has following the rules gotten you what you want?

Shaking off the doubt, he climbed the last few stairs to their shared floor. Cooling things off with Wren was necessary right now. At least until he had a plan for the Ainslie Ave assignment.

Rhys crossed the narrow hallway to her front door and lifted his hand to knock. Raised voices halted him and he pressed his ear to the door. It was hard to make out specific words but he could detect a man’s voice, deep and forceful. A second later there was a whimpering sound and then silence.

It might be nothing. But given Wren’s involvement with a man suspected of beating women, he couldn’t risk ignoring his instincts. He strained to hear through the door, but everything had gone quiet.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

A muffled sob broke the silence, and the sound speared through Rhys’s heart. Wren wasn’t the kind of person to cry at anything small, but he also didn’t want to bust into her apartment and interrupt something personal.

He hesitated until he heard something that sounded like “please, stop.” The arguing started up again, but Wren’s voice was drowned out by the deep timbre of a man.

A man who sounded a lot like Sean Ainslie.

Shit.

Rhys tested the handle, knowing that the doors didn’t automatically lock when they closed. He hoped Wren’s landlord hadn’t installed any additional security like he had.

The handle eased down and he let out a small sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was get himself into the room and convince Sean to back down. This was well out of the realm of his training at Cobalt & Dane—he was the guy who could crack firewalls and follow a digital trail. He didn’t rescue people.

The door opened soundlessly and he saw that Sean had a fistful of Wren’s hair. They were facing a painting, his painting.

“Please,” Wren pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”

“You need to come clean,” Sean growled. “Don’t make me force it out of you.”

“Sean Ainslie,” Rhys thundered. “You let her go right fucking now.”

“Let me guess, it must be her partner in crime.” Sean turned around, Wren’s hair still in his fist.

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Rhys said, stepping forward. His whole body was charged with furious energy.

Rhys wasn’t a violent guy by any means—he’d always described himself as a lover, not a fighter. But all Sean could see was that Rhys had a good half a foot and at least twenty-five pounds over him. Not to mention the sight of him hurting Wren was enough to make Rhys want to Hulk smash Ainslie’s face.

“You don’t know shit and neither does she.”

Wren’s blue eyes were wide and she winced as he jerked her head. “Let me go.”

“In fact,” Sean continued, “I’ll wager that your boss will be pretty pissed to hear that you’re involved with your client’s employee. That’s poor form, Rhys. You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

“If you don’t let her go, I’ll make it so that you can’t use that hand ever again.” He sucked in a breath, his fists shaking at his sides. “And then I’m going to make sure she presses charges for assault. I’m confident there are other women who would have a similar story to share.”

Tension vibrated in the air as Sean stayed silent, his grip tight at Wren’s scalp. Her head was bent to lessen the strain, but the redness around her eyes and blotchiness on her cheeks told him all he needed to know. He was going to nail Sean Ainslie to the wall. But he’d do it his way…by the book.

“Fine.” Sean released Wren and she gasped in relief as she stumbled backward, her hands going to her head. Sean walked right up to Rhys, cocky as ever, and tapped him on the chest. “I’ll still be putting a call into your boss. It’s Logan, isn’t it? I’ve met him before. Nice guy, I’m sure he’ll be keen to hear about his company’s deadweight.”

“Rhys.” Wren’s voice was low and warning. “Let him leave.”

But he couldn’t let Sean go, not that easily. He thumped a hand down on the other man’s shoulder and leaned in. “There’s a special place in hell for men who hurt women. I will personally ensure that you end up there.”

Sean laughed and knocked Rhys’s hand away. “We’ll see. You remember that my father is a judge, right?”

“Was a judge,” Rhys said through gritted teeth.

“Still got the connections.” Sean winked and left them alone in the apartment.

“Don’t you dare go after him,” Wren said, wrapping her arms around herself. Her slender frame started to shake. “I don’t want you doing anything that might come back to hurt you. Although it sounds like you already have.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Will it?” She went to the front door and turned the lock. “He said he was going to call your boss.”

“He doesn’t have proof of anything.”

But Rhys had no idea how Logan would take it or if he would believe Sean. Either way, there would be some explaining to do. Clients didn’t usually accuse the consultants of sleeping with their staff and compromising an investigation.

“I’m so sorry I’ve dragged you into this,” she said, her brows furrowed.

“This is my job. I was already involved.” He closed the distance between them and reached out to touch her face. “I heard shouting coming from your apartment and…”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “He showed up and bullied his way in. He was angry that I’d been talking to Aimee about him—”

“Shit, Wren.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “This isn’t a game. I don’t want to imagine what might have happened if I hadn’t been on my way over. He could’ve really hurt you.”

“I know, I know. But he mentioned something about deleted emails. Can Quinn find it? I know Aimee deleted something from his email account, but there might also be proof that he’s got something shady going on.”

“We have proof. He came here tonight to threaten you.”

“And what am I going to tell the police? That he pulled my hair?”

“It’s assault, Wren.”

“What he did to the other girls was assault.” She sighed and pulled his hand to her cheek. “Maybe we can get Aimee and Kylie to press charges, and the other girls, too—”

“You need to let it go, let Cobalt & Dane handle it. I don’t want you going back to the gallery.” Rhys sighed. “Though after he calls Logan we will probably no longer be employed by Ainslie Ave.”

“But you’ve got access to the security cameras, right?”

“Not if he terminates his contract with us.” He held up his hand when Wren opened her mouth to argue. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow.”

Right now, he wanted to wrap himself up in her. The fear he’d experienced tonight had worn him down. His mind whirred with the what-ifs—what if he hadn’t heard the commotion from her apartment? What if he hadn’t decided to go to her in the first place? What if Logan fired him and then she left, anyway?

“You look so upset,” she said softly.

“I’m not upset. I’m relieved you’re safe, I’m worried about tomorrow and I’m frustrated at myself for handling things badly.” He pulled her toward him. “But things are what they are—nothing we can do to change the past.”

“You’re right.” She nodded, pressing her cheek against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her small shoulders and let himself hold her tight. He allowed his body to enjoy the way she fitted against him, let her touch feed the gnawing ache inside him. No matter how he tried to erase his desire with logic and rules, he felt good with her. He felt…satisfied.

That didn’t happen often, if ever. His life was a constant climb, chasing one thing after another. Trying to be better. Trying to be more. Trying to be worthy. But with her, all that restlessness fell away.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked, tilting her face up to his. “Maybe some dessert?”

“Dessert is the last thing on my mind, Wren.”

“Then what is on your mind?”

Tomorrow was going to be a shit show. When Sean called Logan, he could lose his job. At the very least he’d be in Logan’s bad books, and that was not a place anyone wanted to be.

Screw it. He’d already fucked things up royally; he may as well enjoy tonight before it all came crashing down.

“You,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. “Just you.”