Gambling on the Artist

by Wynter Daniels

  Eli set out a spread worthy of a fancy restaurant—broiled lobster tails, steamed broccoli, and warm, crusty bread. While he removed the lobster meat from the shell, she lit the candles on the table.

  “Dig in,” he said.

  Her first bite of the shellfish was heaven. She shut her eyes and moaned. “Way to sweep a girl off her feet.”

  There was that sexy grin of his. He raised his champagne flute. “And now I know the way to your heart.” Staring at her over the rim of the glass, he drank.

  A sweet ache settled low in her belly. “I think you found many ways. In three short days, you’ve repeatedly come to my rescue, cooked a gourmet dinner for me, and brought me my favorite pastry.” She made a show of looking past him. “Where’s your white horse?”

  His eyebrows pinched tight for a moment. “I’m no knight in shining armor, Sam. You’ve had a lot of bad luck. You deserve better. I only want to help.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. Everyone went through rough patches in their life.

  They ate in silence for several minutes.

  “So you like the lobster, huh?” he finally asked.

  “Mm-hmm. This is only the second time I’ve had it. It’s been at least fifteen years. I was like seven or eight last time. One of my mom’s boyfriends took us to an expensive seafood restaurant in Maryland or Virginia. But they had a fight halfway through dinner, and we had to leave.”

  He finished his bread, eying her as he ate. “That doesn’t sound like a good memory.”

  She set down her fork, remembering the evening so long ago. “I don’t have many that are.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eli took her hand across the table, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “But things improved when you came to stay with your aunt, right?”

  She thought about all the back and forth time in her childhood. “Sure, it got better then.”

  He let go of her hand. “How’d you deal with your mom’s comings and goings when you were so young?”

  “Art.” She smiled. “I swear, sometimes my fingers itch to hold a paintbrush or a pencil.”

  “Why don’t you hang more of your pieces at your aunt’s shop? Or rotate them. I’m sure we could fit more on the walls.”

  She pushed away her plate, mulling over the idea. “I only put up a few because I probably won’t be here long.” Now she had a reason to stay for a while—if Eli did. “I guess I could do that.”

  “I’ll help you tomorrow.” His gaze drifted lower on her body, and her inner thermostat rose. “If you want me to, that is.”

  “Sure, if you have time.”

  “I think I can squeeze you in.” He threw her a playful wink. “You’re a talented artist. I’d love to see you make it big. It’s just…”

  She straightened. “What?”

  “Some of your work is…somber, lonely, you know?” He tipped his chin toward the hallway. He had to be referring to the painting her aunt had hanging next to the bathroom door. “It’s still good, though. I guess I’d like you to be happier.”

  A lump lodged in her throat. “Once, when I was living here with Aunt Emma, she took me to a doctor, a psychologist, who gave me pills.”

  He nodded. “Depression? I take them, too. It helps.”

  Something they had in common. “I haven’t for a while.” With no health insurance and no money for doctors or medicine, she’d quit taking the meds years ago, but now that she thought about it, she realized that not having the antidepressants was probably why her moods had been so up and down recently. “I should get back on them. I hate depending on anything.” She lowered her gaze. “Or anyone.”

  Eli stood up and pulled her with him. “I joke around a lot, but I have those dark, shadowed corners in my head, too.”

  She cupped his cheek. “Spending time with you makes me happy. You light up those spots.”

  Drawing her against him, he kissed her, and she felt his need—raw and honest and sober. She wanted him, too—all of him. Splaying her hand on his chest, she broke contact and eased him back. She answered the question in his eyes, sliding her hand down his arm to thread her fingers with his. Then she led him to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. When Eli took off his shirt, she gasped at the brownish-purple bruises on his skin and tipped her chin toward his chest. “What happened? Does it hurt?”

  He ran his fingers over one of the bruises. “It’s nothing, really.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled him down with her, lying back as he pressed languid kisses to her throat and behind her ear.

  “Are you sure?” he murmured.

  “Mm-hmm.” She brushed her lips over his, tasting wine and desire there. He was exactly what she’d been yearning for, and just for now, she planned to take her fill of him.

  Eli rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. Ribbons of early-morning light peeked through the curtains and painted Sam in hues of orange and gold. She was even prettier while she slept if that was possible. He smoothed an auburn curl off her cheek, and his desire stirred to life, but he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He ought to be spent after making love to her three times, yet he wanted her again.

  A soft, buzzing noise from the other side of the room pulled his gaze to the chair where he’d left his clothes. There it was again—his cell phone. No one called him this early—except one person, Rodrigo Diaz. He carefully peeled back the covers, slipped out of Sam’s bed, and padded across the floor. With a glance at Sam, he left the room to answer the call. Too late to catch it, he checked the display and stiffened when he saw Rodrigo’s name.

  Please let him buy my story that Sam doesn’t have the sapphire anymore.

  He dialed his voicemail.

  “Mr. Kincaid, I would love to believe you,” Rodrigo said in the message. “Unfortunately, you’ve already shown me that you can’t be trusted.”

  Damn it.

  Rodrigo went on. “But since today is my fortieth wedding anniversary, I’m in a generous mood. I’ll give you another twenty-four hours to report back with an update. Does Miss Cartwright have the sapphire or not? If she does, then it’s time to make your move and grab it. I’d hate for any harm to come to Lizzy. Mystic Pines seems like a nice place. I’m sure she’d like to go on living.” He laughed. “Go on living there was what I meant to say. Or perhaps not.”

  A chill rolled over Eli’s skin. He ended the call, but another message came through right away—a photo that made his blood run cold. He immediately recognized the short, brown, and gray hair, the narrow shoulders. The picture had been taken from behind—probably through a window—and clearly showed his sister in her wheelchair. A time stamp on the bottom of the photo displayed yesterday’s date.

  H clenched his jaw. Barely able to breathe, he returned to Sam’s bedroom. As he dressed, he avoided looking at her. What the hell was he supposed to do, sacrifice his own sister? It was a longshot, but he had to try to get to Lizzy and move her to a different facility—one where Diaz couldn’t find her—in the next twenty-four hours. After that was taken care of, he’d tell the slimy loan shark that he was sure Sam didn’t have the jewel. And then he’d disappear. It was the only solution he could come up with to keep both Lizzy and Sam from harm. They were both innocent. If anyone should suffer consequences for his actions, that someone had to be him.

  With a final glance at Sam, an unbearable heaviness bore down on his chest. On his way out, he glimpsed her portfolio, open on the kitchen table. Her drawing of him had more detail than it had the day before. Had she worked on it during the night as he’d slept? He swallowed past the lump in his throat then slipped out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Sam handed her first customer of the day his purchase—one of her smaller still life paintings. “Thanks so much.” She stuck the two hundred-dollar bills into her jeans pocket.

  “My wife is going to love this.” He took a business card from the holder on the counter. “Don’t be surprised if she comes in for more.”

&nbs
p; The prospect lifted her mood even higher. The only thing that could make her day better would be if Eli came into the store. She’d been disappointed when she woke up alone, but she could hardly expect him to sleep in as late as she had.

  After the best sex of her life, she hadn’t been able to shut off her mind, so she’d done what she always did when insomnia set in—she’d worked on one of her pieces. The drawing of Eli was nearly finished. Maybe she’d add the last few touches today, and present it to him tonight.

  She used the time between customers to shade and shadow the drawing. Just a few more details and it would be done. She texted Eli that she’d have it ready to give him tonight.

  At the sound of the door chimed, she glanced up and found the blonde woman from the cat café, Jordan. “Hey, this is from Luna,” Jordan explained. “She said you love her cinnamon buns and she has more than she needs for today. I think someone placed a special order for them and then canceled it.”

  “Wow, that sucks for Luna. But I won’t complain.” Sam retrieved her wallet to pay for the order, but Jordan shook her head.

  “No charge. Luna told me to tell you not to be a stranger.” Jordan glanced up at the artwork on the walls. “This is new. These are great.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are they yours?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Jordan widened her eyes. “I’m so impressed. Hey, do you ever draw cats?”

  “I haven’t, although I probably could.”

  The blonde held her fist over her mouth. “Hmm.”

  Before Sam could ask what Jordan was thinking, the blonde headed toward the door. “See you tomorrow,” she called.

  Shaking her head, Sam delved into the bag of pastries and bit into a still-warm cinnamon bun. She managed to eat most of the confection before a customer came in.

  The fifty-ish brunette picked up several small bundles of sage and set them on the counter. “Just these, please.”

  As Sam rang up the woman’s purchase, the brunette pointed to one of Sam’s portraits. “I love that. How much is that one?”

  “Um…” Sam’s father had once told her that when he vended at various gem and mineral shows around the country, he tried to size up any potential buyers before he gave them a price for one of his items. How expensive were their clothes, how refined their speech?

  Sam took in the woman’s buttery leather designer purse, and her perfectly manicured nails. “Two-fifty,” she told the customer.

  The woman pursed her red lips. “I’ll take it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sam’s pulse pounded. She used a step ladder to retrieve the portrait then rolled it and tied it with green ribbon. The moment the customer left, Sam let out the cheer she’d been holding back. She couldn’t wait to share the news that she’d sold a painting with Eli, but she didn’t want to text or call him again since she’d already left him a message earlier.

  A group of three women arrived at the shop and started browsing. Minutes later, a man as big as a linebacker, dressed all in black, entered while the women were still shopping. He stood at the bookshelf and flipped through several of the herb books. After Sam had rung up the women’s purchases, they left, leaving only the man.

  Outside, clouds darkened the sky. Thunder boomed in the distance. “We could use that rain, hmm?”

  He gave her a tight smile, and she noticed a long L-shaped scar across his cheek.

  “Can I help you find something?” she asked him.

  He returned the book to the shelf. Staring toward one of the paintings, he shrugged. “Maybe. I like that.”

  She followed his gaze to the piece she’d done of her father.

  “What’s that in his hand?” He stepped closer to the painting and narrowed his eyes toward it.

  “A brooch.” Something about him made her nervous. She wished Eli was there. Goosebumps rose on her skin. She moved behind the counter. Opening the drawer where her aunt kept the knife a few inches, she reached her hand inside and felt around for the weapon. Her fingers touched the cool metal.

  “What’s the significance of the that?” the man asked. His suit was expensive, judging by the rich-looking fabric and how well it fit. He didn’t seem like the sort of person who’d rob a store. A high-end jewelry store or a bank maybe…

  When he cut his eyes at her and raised his brow, she remembered that she hadn’t answered his last question. Something niggled at her insides. She didn’t want the guy to know a darn thing about her, or about the brooch. She coughed. “Oh, um…I just goofed a spot there and decided to cover it. No significance, just an oops.”

  He nodded slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure he believed her. Then without another word, he left.

  Relief swept through her. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding then checked the time on her cell. 5:30 and still no response from Eli. Her shaky confidence faltered. Would he disappear now that she’d slept with him? Was he destined to be yet another scar on her heart?

  Not that she’d changed her mind about not wanting more than a no-strings fling with him. So what that in the few days since he’d entered her life he’d done more for her than guys who’d hung around for weeks. Didn’t matter that he seemed to care.

  Ignoring the thick clog in her throat, she straightened up the bookshelf, then cleaned the glass display cases and counter. Movement out front caught her eye. The big guy in the fancy suit stood near the fountain in the courtyard, speaking into his phone. He kept glancing toward the shop.

  Something about him bothered her, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was.

  The cat café, the beauty salon, and the yoga studio were closed now. Only Medici, the Italian restaurant across the courtyard was still open. Sam locked the front door and checked her cell again. Still, no messages or texts. Last thing she wanted to do was keep bugging Eli.

  Needy is unattractive.

  Her mom used to tell her that every time Sam asked her for anything.

  Why was that weird guy still hanging around?

  She could call the sheriff’s office, but what would she say? That some dude was giving her the creeps? Surely, she was overreacting. By the time she finished getting the store ready to close, the man would probably be gone. But after a few minutes, he was still out there, no longer on his phone, now sitting at one of the bistro tables, staring toward Eye of Newt. And now it was getting dark outside as a storm rolled in.

  She turned off the lights and watched the man from behind the bookshelf. After another glance toward the shop, he walked away. Sam drew a relieved breath. She waited a few minutes before leaving the store and heading to her car. Before she came to the end of Calico Court, she noticed the same man hanging around her Impala.

  He strode past it then sat on a nearby bench. Did he know that was her car?

  A shiver of fear rolled over her skin as she ducked into a shadow between the buildings. Swallowing hard, she dialed Eli’s number. To heck with not wanting to seem needy.

  Eli’s recorded message told her to leave a message.

  “Hey, it’s me, Sam. If you’re anywhere near the herb shop, would you mind coming by? There’s this creepoid guy outside, and…” She huffed. “It’s probably nothing. I’m hesitant to call the cops. I mean, he’s not doing anything except not leaving, but he’s making me nervous.”

  Scanning the area after she hung up, she didn’t see the guy anymore. She released a big breath, and with it a bit of her anxiety. Until he came around a dark SUV parked a few yards away. He looked right at her as he lit a cigarette before climbing into the SUV.

  No way was she going to get into the Impala now. Why let him know that it was hers? She stashed her cell in her purse and returned to the store, locking herself inside. If she waited a few minutes, surely the man would move on. Sitting on the stool behind the counter, she checked her phone for messages.

  A noise pulled her attention toward the front of the store. Someone was jiggling the door handle. Her mouth went dry. The
scary guy stood at the door, his hands cupped over the glass as he looked inside. Sam’s blood ran cold.

  Alarm bucked through Eli. He floored the accelerator. He’d just crossed the county line on his way out of town when he’d played Sam’s message. Making an illegal U-turn to get to her, he gripped the steering wheel with sweaty hands and muttered a curse under his breath.

  Had to be one of Diaz’s henchmen at Eye of Newt. How many thugs worked for Diaz? One had been in Atlanta only yesterday, close enough to Lizzy to take her picture. Eli had called Mystic Pines early in the morning to make arrangements for his sister to be moved to a different facility. God willing, that would keep her safe. He’d hoped to be there for the move, but at the moment, Sam needed him more.

  He’d taken Diaz at his word that he’d give Eli a day to ascertain if Sam had the sapphire. Why would he think the loan shark could be trusted? The man was a criminal, after all. Now Sam might be in danger, and it was all his fault. He offered up a silent prayer that the person Sam had described wasn’t one of Rodrigo’s goons, and that whoever it was didn’t have nefarious intentions.

  Passing the welcome sign to Cat’s Paw Cove, Eli’s pulse sped up. Almost there. When he turned onto Sherwood Boulevard, a dark SUV with heavily tinted windows passed him going the other way. The driver was impossible to make out, but the hair on the back of Eli’s neck stood on end.

  Swallowing past the acid in the back of his throat, he drove as fast he dared through town. He parked on Whiskers Lane then ran into the courtyard to the herb shop and banged on the door. The place was locked, and the lights were out.

  Please let Sam be okay.

  Thankfully, she came to the door and let him inside.

  Eli blew out a deep breath, and with it, some of his worry. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Sure, fine.” But her wide eyes betrayed her assurances.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  The pulse at her temples fluttered. “I got scared when the guy tried the door handle. I didn’t let him in, of course. When I took out my phone and acted like I was calling the cops, he left.”