by Jane Godman
“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll stand to one side of you.”
“He wouldn’t make a public move.” She turned worried eyes to his face. “Would he?”
“I don’t think so.” He placed a hand on her arm, sending electric shocks along her nerve endings. “It’s not his style.” Looking down at where his fingers connected with her bare flesh, he quickly withdrew his touch. “Sorry.”
Bree knew his intention had been to comfort her, but she didn’t know how they would get past this. Because even though they were no longer together, their need to touch each other was instinctual, as simple and as primal as breathing. And she didn’t believe it would fade with time.
She sighed. This was not the place for an in-depth analysis of her feelings toward Rylan. She spoke to Kasey, who organized for the choir to take a break while the guests gathered around the stage.
Holding up her long skirts, Bree gripped the microphone and stepped under the glare of the single spotlight. She had done this several times now and, although she was naturally a reserved person, she found it got easier each time.
Smiling at her mom and dad, who were looking at her with a glow of pride, she started with a simple thank-you. “To all of the artists who have made this such a stunning visual celebration. We have so much talent in the African American community, and it is my pleasure and honor to be able to share it with you.”
As she spoke, she felt something drop onto the top of her head. It could have been an insect, or a small piece of plaster from the ceiling. Possibly a spot of water. Bree shook her head slightly and continued, listing the people who had helped make the show a success.
The next time it happened—a definite plop onto her hair—she shifted position, trying to avoid the irritation that was distracting her. Even so, if she moved too far from the spotlight, she wouldn’t be visible to the people at the back of the room.
“...and, of course, my amazing assistant, Kasey Spencer, without whom I would not be able to function...”
This time it was three heavy droplets in quick succession, one of which ran down from her hair and onto the back of her neck. Bree raised a hand to brush the liquid away, looking up at the ceiling at the same time to see if she could locate the source of the nuisance. As she did, everything slowed.
Because her face was tilted up, she saw the ceiling tile above the spotlight move, then fall away. The liquid that poured like a river out of the gap was thick and dark, its smell sickly and overpowering. It covered her head and shoulders, running down her arms and dripping into a puddle at her feet. She must look like something from a horror movie.
Bree froze, unable to move or even breathe. She was vaguely aware of the shocked faces of the guests, of her mom’s mouth opening, ready to scream, of Trey charging toward her. But it was Rylan who reached her first. It was only when he wrapped his jacket around her and pulled his shirt over his head to wipe the sticky mess from her face that the trembling started. She staggered into his arms, her mind whirling, her heart beating a new, uneven rhythm.
“It’s chocolate.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her from the stage. “Just chocolate.”
Chapter 9
Just chocolate.
Rylan’s fists clenched every time he thought of it. He saw the thick dark liquid pouring through the opening in the ceiling onto Bree’s upturned face. Until the sweet, sickly smell had hit him, he’d thought it was worse. He’d believed for an instant that his beautiful Bree was being doused in blood.
He shook his head, clearing it of the fury that threatened to consume him. What was the point of wanting to rush out and take a swing at an invisible opponent? He had to stay calm and confront this rationally. Bree needed his skill and experience on her side. His emotions would have to stay locked away.
It hadn’t been blood, but did that make it any better? Her show, everything she loved and worked so hard for had been ruined. It was bad enough when her paintings had been destroyed. But this?
No one would remember the artwork, the money she had raised for charity, the choir, the celebratory atmosphere or the prestigious guests. They would remember Bree, standing on that stage, humiliated, covered from head to foot in chocolate. Of course, the journalists who had been there would be only too eager to report on it. Because she was a Colton, there would be those who would be equally happy to learn of her mortification.
His tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by the security buzzer, and Rylan was glad of it. It was Trey, and he pressed the button to admit him.
“Where is she?” Trey looked all around as soon as he strode through the door.
“In the shower.” Rylan checked his watch. “It’s been an hour.”
“You’re sure she’s okay?”
“She answers me when I speak to her through the door, which I’ve been doing every five minutes,” Rylan said. “Her response started out as a request to leave her alone. It’s been getting steadily less polite.”
“Sorry.” Trey rubbed a hand over his face. “I know you’re not an amateur. How did you get Mom and Dad to leave?”
“Bree told them she was fine and that she’d call them later. They didn’t want to go, but they knew I’d be here.” Rylan led the way through to the kitchen and pointed to the coffeemaker. “What did you find in the gallery?”
“David Swanson helped me to get rid of the guests. Most people were keen to leave. They were in shock and just wanted to give Bree their best wishes. The press—” Trey’s lips tightened. “Yeah, a few of them needed more persuasion.”
“I don’t suppose you can stop the story from getting out?” Rylan already knew the answer even as he asked the question.
Trey choked back a laugh. “About as much chance of that as an overnight thaw on Pine Peak.”
Rylan handed him a cup of coffee. “And the chocolate? How was that rigged up?”
“A basic electronic device with a remote control. The chocolate was in a tub. It was set up so that when the button was pressed on the remote control, the ceiling tile would drop away and the tub would tilt forward at the same time,” Trey said. “We found the remote control in a trash can in the lobby.”
“Fingerprints?” Rylan asked.
“I’ve sent it for testing, but I’m not hopeful. Anyone who goes to these lengths is likely to have taken the precaution of wearing gloves.”
A sound made them turn. Bree was dressed in gray sweatpants and a blue sweater. She wore thick socks and a towel was wound around her head like a turban. Rylan thought she looked small, fragile and so lovely it made his heart hurt to look at her.
“Hey.” He tried for a bright tone that didn’t work. “Do you want coffee? Anything to eat?”
“I’ll get some water.” She went to the refrigerator, pausing to pat Papadum as he shoved his nose into her hand.
Me and the dog. We both have it bad.
When she returned, Trey told her what he’d found out about the setup with the chocolate.
Bree paused with her water bottle part way to her mouth. “Wouldn’t that take time to organize?”
Trey shrugged. “The actual electronics might take some putting together, but I don’t think it would have been done in the gallery. I’m picturing our guy making the device and then putting it in place as a complete unit. That would only take minutes.”
“But it was in full view of the gallery,” Rylan pointed out. “Anyone carrying a tub of chocolate and an electronic device would have stood out. Plus, he must have had to climb a stepladder to booby trap the ceiling tile. Just like the stunt with the programs, it must have been done when the gallery was closed.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Trey admitted. “But there haven’t been any break-ins, right?”
Bree shook her head. “With everything that’s been going on, I would have told you.”
“Even so, someone must have overridden you
r security system.” Trey headed toward the door. “I’ll check with David before I head home.”
When he’d gone, Rylan watched Bree’s face as she picked at the label on her water bottle. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to go to her and take her into his arms.
“He’s winning, isn’t he?” Her eyes, when she lifted them to his face, were swimming with tears.
“While I have breath in my body, he won’t hurt you, Bree.”
“Even though I’ve washed myself over and over, I can still smell the chocolate.” As she choked back a sob, her cell phone pinged. Reaching into the pocket of her sweatpants, she pulled it out. “It’s an email.”
Her fingers trembled slightly as she highlighted the text and swiped the speak button on her cell phone screen. The serene voice read the email out loud.
Sweet like chocolate. Is that how your blood tastes? Guess there’s only one way to find out.
* * *
Bree hadn’t expected to sleep, and she’d been right. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind insisted on replaying the awful incident.
She had fought to overcome the shyness that had characterized her childhood, but it was still there in the background. The fear of humiliation, of pointing fingers, of being the center of attention for all the wrong reasons...
Today, her worst nightmare had become reality. She still couldn’t believe it had happened, and in front of everybody who mattered in her chosen sphere. It was as if the stalker knew and had chosen the perfect way to shame her. The chocolate had washed off, but the trauma went pore deep. She would never live this down. People would make jokes about chocolate when she was in a nursing home.
If he lets me live that long.
Abandoning any pretense at sleep, she sat up in bed, hugging her knees beneath her chin.
No. She wasn’t going to think that way. He was a coward, tormenting her from afar. Bree was determined to survive this. The question was...would Wise Gal?
She bit her lower lip. Her beautiful gallery, her pride and joy, the symbol of her independence... The stalker was getting at her through her work, trying to drive her out. She couldn’t let him win. But how could she fight a faceless enemy?
Her thoughts jumped a step, reaching Rylan of their own accord. She had never felt so conflicted. He had betrayed her. It sounded dramatic, but it was true. Bree, who didn’t give her trust lightly, had opened up to Rylan, giving him a glimpse inside her heart. When she found out he’d been lying to her, he’d taken that priceless gift and made it worthless. The pain of what he’d done didn’t recede. Somehow, it kept multiplying.
Once she’d discovered the truth, all she wanted was to walk away from him. Figuring the hurt would be wiped out if she never had to look into those smiling blue eyes. That this desperate longing to touch him would fade if he weren’t around.
But fate had other plans for them.
With a stalker on her tail and Rylan the best man to protect her, showing him the door was going to have to wait. Which meant they had been thrown closer together than ever. The attraction hadn’t gone away—it was as strong as ever—but it no longer had a release valve. Wanting him, while not wanting to want him... It was a special kind of hell. On top of everything else that was going on, it was driving her crazy.
At the same time, she was glad of his presence. If she had to face this nightmare, there was no one she would rather have at her side. Not only did Rylan know what needed to be done to defeat the person who was harassing her, he also understood how she was feeling about the long-term damage this could do to her life.
Bree had confided in him enough that he knew how hard it had been for her to break free of the Colton chains. No matter how much she loved her family, Bree had to cling to her independence. Rylan was the only person who appreciated that. He hadn’t judged or questioned her. He just got it, without the need for lengthy explanations.
Maybe his empathy had something to do with the undercurrent of sadness she sensed within him. In the short time they’d been lovers, they had been too busy enjoying being together for any lengthy soul searching. She had assumed they would get there eventually.
Bree sighed. I thought we had time to get to know each other. Back when I didn’t know it was a farce.
A snuffling sound drew her attention to the bedroom door. There were only two other occupants of the apartment, and she didn’t imagine Rylan would try to get her attention in quite such an unusual way. When the snorting was followed by a scratch and a whine, she slid from the bed and opened the door.
“What’s up, Papadum? Can’t sleep either?”
The dog nudged her thigh with his nose, then dashed down the hall to where his leash was hanging by the front door.
Bree followed him. “Oh. Call of nature?”
She cast a look over her shoulder in the direction of the guest bedroom. Papadum was a bright dog. He knew who would wake up easily, and it wasn’t his master. A glance out the window showed her that dawn was lighting the sky.
She hesitated only briefly. Rylan would tell her not to go without him, but how much harm could she come to if she had Papadum with her? The poor dog couldn’t wait for his comfort break, and there was no point in disturbing Rylan for a five-minute walk to the waste ground on Second Street. Since she was already awake, there was only one sensible solution.
After pulling on her padded coat and sheepskin boots, she stuffed doggie waste bags into her pockets. Papadum was almost dancing with excitement, or possibly desperation, as she attached his leash. Bree barely had to time to snatch up her keys before he hauled her out through the door.
She savored the silence as she walked from the Diamond along Second Street. This was a time of day she rarely saw and it was indeed a sight to behold. The pink, purple and orange hues of morning dripped from the sky and onto the dark shapes of the mountains. Colorado sunrise. It made her long for her paintbrushes.
Once Papadum had taken care of business, and Bree had cleaned up after him, she let the dog investigate for a few minutes. He charged through the grass, nose down, chasing different scents like an oversized mop swishing over the ground. When the cold made her start to lose all feeling in her hands and feet, even Papadum’s antics couldn’t subdue the coffee cravings. Convincing the dog that he needed to accompany her took all her powers of persuasion, together with most of her strength.
As she neared the Diamond, Bree’s thoughts were on the gallery. How would she approach today? She couldn’t just shrug off what had happened at the show, but how much was she prepared to tell other people? Was talking openly about the stalker the right way to deal with the situation? Rylan was probably the best person to answer that question.
A sound close by made her heartbeat quicken, and the sensation annoyed her. This was what he had done to her. The stalker’s threats had made her nervous to be around other people. When she realized that someone was approaching her from behind, her self-preservation instincts kicked in a fraction too late.
Bree swung around at the same time that Papadum growled. The man, who was inches behind them, wore a black ski mask covering his face. Grabbing her roughly by one arm, he covered her mouth with his other hand. As Bree struggled to break free of his hold, Papadum jumped up, throwing his full weight onto the attacker.
The dog had taken her assailant by surprise, and Bree followed up, twisting around and kicking him hard on the ankle. He jerked away, muttering a curse. As he released his grip on her mouth, she seized her opportunity, and let out a few piercing screams.
Shouts and footsteps came from the direction of the Diamond. Flinging Bree to the ground, her attacker ran off. Moments later, two men in delivery uniforms came dashing over and helped her to her feet.
“We saw everything. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, drawing in a deep breath of cold air. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Her fi
ngers shook as she reached into her pocket for her cell phone. There was only one voice she needed to hear. In that instant, it didn’t matter why.
“Rylan...”
* * *
“People will think I’m running away.” Bree didn’t look like a woman who was considering his suggestion.
“Who the hell cares what people think? All that matters is that you’ll be safe.” Rylan’s blood ran cold at the thought of what had happened to her less than an hour ago. He was assuming that the assailant was her stalker. It was too coincidental for it to be some random mugger. Either way, the attack was a stark reminder of her vulnerability.
From the sound of it, only a combination of Papadum and luck had saved her. Anything could have happened. The guy had upped his game, and Rylan wasn’t prepared to take any more risks.
But just when he had come up with the perfect solution, Bree’s stubborn streak had kicked in. Again.
“I don’t even know where your ranch is.” They were seated at her table, and she was hunched over her third cup of coffee.
“You want me to show you on a map?”
She sighed, pushing curls back from her face. Rylan was momentarily distracted. Most days, Bree ruthlessly pulled her hair back into a braid, but he preferred to see it loose like this. Every kink, twist and coil fascinated him, and he loved to run his fingers through them. Since the opportunity wasn’t likely to come his way again, he should probably put it from his mind and concentrate on the more immediate issue.
“That’s not what I meant,” Bree said. “It’s just...if I leave my apartment and come to stay at your place, it will feel like he’s winning.”
It was time for a cold dose of reality. “If you stay here and he gets his hands on you again, he will have won. It will be game over.” She shivered, and he softened his tone. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
She raised troubled eyes to his face. “Papadum needed some potty time. You were asleep. It didn’t seem like a big deal.”
