“I think I loved what we could have done together. She’s smart and cunning, Ash. She singlehandedly landed me a contract I’d spent a year trying to get. Instead of going at it head-on, she went through the wife and worked them that way.”
“Maybe you should have offered her a job instead of a diamond ring.”
“You could be right,” Grant said. “Listen. Take care of my sister and call me if you need anything. Anything at all. You got me.”
“I’m all over it,” I answered before saying goodbye. That was if she hadn’t changed the lock while I was gone.
6
Ashton
I shoved the key into the lock and turned it, letting myself in, glad to be wrong. The lights were off, but sunshine was seeping through the windows. The house was the kind of quiet that I craved.
No one else’s thoughts ran rampant, taking center stage in my head without the need to use additional energy to block the barrage of thoughts that others might be thinking. Only my own to keep me company. I jogged up the stairs to the room where she’d been painting. Empty.
I peeked inside her bedroom, expecting to find her asleep since she’d been up all night painting. Nothing. I checked the bathroom, thinking maybe she’d fallen asleep in the bath. Nope.
I turned in place, trying to think of where she might have gone.
I jogged back down the stairs and was heading for the kitchen when Stella stepped through the basement door, using a key to lock it behind her.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
My voice had startled her. Her hand flew to her heart, and she almost dropped her key. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed like a kid who had been caught doing something naughty.
“Nothing,” she said nervously.
My gaze rested on the door. “You’ve either got a man chained up down there or something else you don’t want me to see.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t,” Stella said, a little too fast for my blood.
I reached for the doorknob, and she threw her body in front of the door, blocking me. “You can’t go down there.”
“Why not?” I asked, searching her eyes for answers.
“That’s where I store my unfinished paintings.” Her eyes flashed with guilt. I knew that look. Liar. The question was, why was she lying to me?
“I’ve seen your unfinished stuff before. Move aside. I want to check the entry points down there.”
“Why? The guy who broke in used the front door.”
“Trust me. I need to check all the entry points, even if it’s only for my peace of mind.” I wasn’t ready to tell her yet about the kidnappings and that it meant she was a target. Not yet. Not until I was sure she wasn’t about to kick me out and send me packing. No way in hell I’d leave now.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go down there,” she said, wetting her lips. “I never let anyone see those paintings anymore.”
“I won’t look at the paintings. Just the windows,” I said, resting my palms on her waist, lifting her out of the way, and setting her to the side.
She squealed until I put her down. I took the key from her hand and unlocked the door, yanking it open. Flicking on the lights, I was almost to the bottom when I heard her footsteps behind me.
Paintings lined the walls covered in bedsheets, all but one, which was sitting on an easel.
“Only one window,” she said in a rush and hurried across the room to show that it was locked. “See, all secure. Let’s go.”
I peeked beneath one of the sheets, and ice froze my veins. Oh no, no, no, this would put Stella in even more danger. I yanked the cover free. A man, with an unpainted face, was standing over a dead body.
Stella groaned in frustration. “Now, why did you have to go and do that?”
“You painted death once before, two weeks before your dad died in that car accident,” I said, lifting my gaze to hers. “Now, you’re doing it again?”
