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I can’t believe he’s holding it. The painting’s calledTwilight Thunder, and it was the best sale I’ve ever had. A thousand dollars, twice what I’d normally charge. The deal happened via Instagram, and I never learned the name of the man I sold it to—only that he had a local PO box.
“You,” I say, my mouth hanging open. “How?”
“I fell in love with your work a long time ago.” He places the canvas down on the table. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.”
“Words usually do the trick.”
He doesn’t smile. “When I figured out that it was you we were looking for, I had a moment of panic. I thought to myself, I could let Gallo and Frost handle this. I could let them take her out. But what a fucking waste.”
“Right, because I can paint, I’m worth saving?”
“Yes,” he says. “Because you’re beautiful. Because you can do something incredible. And because I didn’t want you to die, not for something that you weren’t involved with.”
I should be freaked out. I should be angry. He kept this from me.
Instead, I’m flattered.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask him, genuinely confused. “You knew me before this happened. You own one of my paintings.”
“I told you I knew all about you. I wasn’t lying. I’m showing you this now because I need you to understand that I’m not your enemy.”
“No, of course not, you’re just my kidnapper.”
“Damn it, Hellie.” His words come out like a growl as he walks toward me. Menacing, massive. Oozing raw, sexual rage. I back away until I run into the window, staring at him with an open mouth, unable to ignore my body’s keening need.
He’s gorgeous. Every inch of him like a sculpture made just for me. If I were given the ability to carve a perfect man from clay, my masterpiece would look like him.
And that scares me half to death.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, frustration and desire slamming inside my chest. “Am I supposed to thank you for locking me in this room and forcing me to work?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Well, I won’t. If you really cared about me and wanted to protect me, you’d find some way to get me out of this. You know I’m going to work myself to death over the next five days to get this thing finished. If you thought the first time was bad, this is going to be worse.”
I can tell he hates that. His face twists in pain, but he shakes his head. “It isn’t that simple.”
“How? Why’s everything so damn complicated with you?”
“They’ll come after you sooner or later. If I tried to stall, or to hide you, or to simply help you disappear, they’d find out and they’d act. I can’t risk starting a war for you.”
“No, I guess not, which means I’m fucked.”
He snarls, coming close. He pins me against the wall beside the window, showing teeth, his hand wrapping around my wrists and holding them down at my sides. I gasp, wriggling against him, but he’s too big and way too strong.
“You’re right, you are fucked if you keep resisting. I’m doing my best for you. I’m giving you a real chance at surviving this, and all you do is make my life hell for it.”
“You think just because you owned one of my paintings means I should be thanking you for this? That won’t happen.”
“No,” he says, very slowly. “But you should at least think about your assumptions. I haven’t hurt you. I’ve treated you well. I’ve given you all of this and asked only that you don’t get yourself killed.”
“And that I paint for you.”
“Yes, and that you paint. Which won’t last forever. This is how you survive, Hellie. I need you to see it.”
I can see. I’m not blind. I see a big man, a beautiful man, a man used to getting what he wants staring back at me with raw, undeniable want in his expression. I see that he is the only thing standing between me and a couple of psychopaths hell-bent on torturing me to appease their own bruised egos.
And I see myself tumbling down into a hellish nightmare, but unable to stop, and not sure I really want to.
