A Dangerously Sexy Secret

by Stefanie London

  “So no confirmation that he’s sleeping with any of them?” Rhys remembered Wren’s admission about Aimee.

  “Not a thing.”

  Interesting. Either Aimee had lied to Quinn or she’d lied to Wren.

  What if Wren lied to you?

  He shoved the thought aside immediately. What reason would Wren have to lie to him? If something really was going on between Sean Ainslie and Aimee, perhaps the other woman had a reason for keeping it quiet. A reason she wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with a security company.

  “I had some luck with the gallery’s ex-employees, though,” Quinn said.

  After a few minutes detailing her calls to several former Ainslie Ave employees, she got to the one that she was most excited about. “I spoke with a woman named Kylie Samuels. She worked at the gallery until six months ago when she returned to her home in Charity Springs, Idaho.”

  The name of the town rang a bell, but Rhys couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. “What’s the significance of that?”

  “Well, I did some research and it barely has seven hundred residents.” She paused as if for dramatic effect. “And guess who also happens to come from Charity Springs? Wren Livingston.”

  Rhys tried not to let the surprise show on his face. Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that someone from her hometown had also worked for Ainslie Ave? Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to her. Or maybe she didn’t know this Kylie Samuels. Though that did seem unlikely for a town of such a small size.

  “Any signs they’re connected to one another?” he asked.

  “I assumed you wouldn’t be satisfied with circumstantial evidence,” Quinn replied with a smile that made her look like the cat who’d got the cream. “They both attended the local high school and I found a picture of them from a fund-raising event.”

  She pulled up the photo on her laptop. It seemed to be several years old and showed two girls with their arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders. Wren’s ear-to-ear grin struck something in his chest. She looked so much more at ease in this picture, so free and innocent. Her hair was shorter and her face was painted with big blue flowers, making her resemble some kind of fairy or nymph.

  “That’s Wren Livingston,” Owen said, pointing with his pen. He was oblivious to the fact that Rhys knew her face intimately, and now her body, as well. “And this is Kylie Samuels.”

  They could have been sisters. Kylie had blond hair, too, though it was a few shades darker than Wren’s. And she was smaller. Skinny rather than slender. They wore the same breezy smiles and crazy face paint.

  “What did Kylie have to say?” Rhys asked.

  “She really didn’t want to talk to me,” Quinn said. “But I managed to get out of her that she ended the internship early because of a clash with Ainslie. She said it was something to do with her paintings, but when I pressed her she clammed up.”

  “Did you ask her about whether or not she was friends with Wren?”

  Quinn huffed. “Barely. The second I mentioned Wren’s name, Kylie said something about having an appointment and then she hung up on me. I’ve been trying to call her back since late last week to get more information, but she won’t take my calls.”

  For the first time Rhys felt guilty for skirting the lines of appropriateness by sleeping with Wren. Up till now, it hadn’t bothered him too much because he’d seen no reason why she would be involved in the security breaches. But this information about her friend shed some new light on the situation. It created a link where there hadn’t been one previously.

  Was it possible that she’d been lying to him this whole time?

  “Keep chasing the ex-employees,” Rhys said. “See what else you can dig up. But we have to continue servicing Ainslie as a client.”

  Rhys called an end to the meeting but asked Owen to stay behind. As much as he trusted Quinn, she had a fiery personality, and once she decided that she didn’t like someone, her mind was hard to change. He needed a more balanced opinion.

  “I want your take on this,” he said, running a hand over his closely cropped hair. “I get something seems off about this guy, but surely he wouldn’t have called us in if he had something to hide.”

  “I have seen stranger things in this line of work,” Owen replied with a wry smile. “There’s definitely something going on. He seemed resistant to the cameras, and I’m not buying the line about him not wanting to monitor his staff.”

  “Me, either.”

  “The external security is also pretty strong. He’s got a monitored system that they set every night, which notifies him if there are multiple unsuccessful attempts on the pin code at either the front door or the entrance in the loading dock. If the alarm is tripped, then it notifies our call center and we dispatch someone to check it out. But...” Owen paused, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “There were no external security cameras until yesterday. Not even for the loading area behind the gallery. That’s strange.”

  “How did things go with the tech side of things?”

  “Quinn is handling that, since that’s more her forte than mine. She’s still making her way through the email logs, but it does look like someone used Ainslie’s log-in on the interns’ terminal in the studio.”

  “Is it possible Ainslie needed to access his email while he was in that room?”

  “Sure, it’s definitely possible. But we’re going to correlate the log-in time stamp with activity on his account to see if anything strange is going on.”

  “Okay, I want an update as soon as possible.”

  “You’re getting quite involved in this case,” Owen commented. “I thought you were supposed to be the big-picture guy.”

  He was. Rhys’s role didn’t require him to get involved in individual assignments beyond the initial approach and ensuring his staff were keeping to schedule. And since the tech security part of the Cobalt & Dane business was growing quickly, he really didn’t have time to dive deep into the details. Senior security consultants—like Owen—were the ones managing such things.

  It occurred to him that maybe Owen thought he was overstepping.

  Rhys cleared his throat. “This is the first assignment that Quinn is leading and I want to make sure she’s fully supported.”

  The lie was sour in his mouth. This wasn’t like him at all; normally he was Mr. By The Book. Now he was keeping things from his team and had possibly crossed a line with Wren.

  He’d speak to her tonight, get them both on the same page. He couldn’t break any more rules now that there was a chance she was involved.

  10

  WREN NARROWED HER eyes at the half-done canvas in front of her. It had started out a mess but the vision was finally beginning to come through. Her deadline to deliver a painting to Sean was drawing near and she finally felt confident that she’d have something to hand in.

  Wren softened Debbie’s blond hair with a fan brush. She stroked the painting as if combing the hair, merging some of the brassier tones into the pale, light-reflecting sections until the color looked seamless and natural.

  She lost herself in the image until her phone buzzed. Kylie’s face flashed up on the screen like a ghost arriving to haunt her. It was the third time she’d called today.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” Aimee asked as she turned away from her canvas. “Or are you avoiding someone?”

  “I’m not avoiding anyone,” Wren replied. “I’m simply trying to find the right moment to talk.”

  It wasn’t untrue. Wren had to keep up the ruse with her friend that she was on an art retreat that restricted mobile phone usage. That meant she would call Kylie back at the time they’d agreed on over email.

  Why would she be calling early? Maybe the security company called her again.

  “I hate cell phones,” Aimee said. “People just expect you to drop ev
erything to take a call and if you don’t message back quick enough...watch out.”

  She was still wearing longer sleeves but she appeared to have forgiven Sean, if the goo-goo eyes she’d given him that morning were anything to go on.

  “How’s the arm?” Wren asked as she continued working on Debbie’s hair.

  “Oh fine, it’s nothing too bad. I, uh... I overreacted the other day.” Her voice sounded cheerful on the surface, but there was something hollow beneath it. A false confidence that Wren knew all too well.

  Her voice had been the same when she’d covered up for Christian with Debbie or her other friends. It was the sound of backpedaling.

  “You didn’t overreact.” Wren looked up.

  “It was an accident.”

  “Bruises like that aren’t an accident.”

  Aimee refocused on her painting. “I don’t want you to get involved.”

  “Then why did you tell me about it? If he’s hurting you—”

  “He’s not.” She swiped her hands through her long gold hair. “I don’t know. I was having a rough day... It’s nothing.”

  “It’s not nothing.”

  At that moment footsteps cut through the quiet of the gallery and Sean walked in, a small canvas tucked under one arm. “What’s going on?”

  “Just working,” Wren replied, keeping her face as neutral as possible. Her body seemed to tense whenever he was around.

  Aimee’s eyes had dropped to floor. Something about the way she avoided his gaze didn’t feel right to Wren. Aimee’s bottom lip was drawn tight between her teeth. Sean whispered something in her ear and she nodded, her expression blank.

  “Enough talking,” Sean said to them both. “If you’re in need of more work, the kitchen could use a clean.”

  As he walked away Wren caught a glimpse of the canvas he was carrying. The bold streaks of orange and teal seemed familiar, but her mind couldn’t place where she’d seen it. Before she could get a closer look, he was gone.

  “Please don’t ask me about it again,” Aimee said with a heavy sigh. “Okay? It’s none of your business.”

  She walked out of the room, leaving Wren alone with her thoughts. When her phone started buzzing, Kylie’s smiling face flashing up again, she answered it.

  “Hey. Sorry I couldn’t answer before, I—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me that you’re at an art retreat, Wren. Just don’t.” Kylie’s anger radiated through the phone line. “I know you’re at Ainslie Ave.”

  Shit. “I can explain—”

  “What the hell were you thinking? I got out of there for a reason. Now you’re on some secret vigilante mission and you refuse to take my calls.” She sighed. “I had to find out from some damn security company who called me to check on Sean, and then when you wouldn’t answer your phone...”

  It’s official, you’re the worst friend in the world.

  Standing up as quietly as she could, she tiptoed to the front of the gallery and slipped outside. “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to worry.”

  “How could I not? You don’t know what an evil piece of shit Sean Ainslie is.” Her voice wavered. “He’s a monster, Wren. You need to come home. Now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? What on earth do you think you’re going to do?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what he did to you, since you won’t tell me. Then I’m going to get proof of it so we can go to the police.”

  “The police? Oh, Wren.” Kylie let out a bitter laugh. “There is no proof. Ever wondered why there are no security cameras in that place and yet he keeps a giant room all locked up? That’s because he doesn’t want to leave any evidence.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “Apart from shattering an eye socket and fracturing my wrist?” The sound suddenly became muffled and Wren thought she could hear a faint sob.

  “Just tell me. We can fix this.”

  “There is no ‘we.’ You’re there, being stupid and acting without thinking—as usual—and I’m here. Broken and worrying about my best friend.”

  Wren winced at the sting of her friend’s words. “What happened to you?”

  “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

  “Why? If he’s done something so bad, shouldn’t he be punished?”

  “It’s not worth it.” Her words were strained, and Wren felt awful for putting her through this. But if she didn’t push, Sean would keep hurting people. Like Aimee.

  Kylie likely wasn’t the first victim, and she sure as hell wasn’t the last. Wren owed it to them both to put a stop to Ainslie’s behavior.

  She opened her mouth to argue, but the sight of a tall figure walking toward the gallery halted her speech. Late-afternoon light made Rhys’s skin look even warmer and more touchable. His crisp white shirt revealed a V of skin at his neck and the sleeves were rolled back to expose strong forearms.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  * * *

  WREN’S BLUE EYES WIDENED. For a moment she was silent. “Let’s chat later,” she said into the phone and ended the call. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today, Rhys. Is this official security business?”

  “It is. Can you take a minute to talk?”

  Her eyes darted to the door. “I was supposed to be starting my shift on the front desk in a few minutes.”

  “We can talk there.”

  A crease formed between her brows. “Sean doesn’t like it if we’re sitting around talking.”

  “He hired Cobalt & Dane to look into his security issues, so I’m sure he’ll make an exception.” He hated to be a hard-ass, but it would drive him crazy if he didn’t get to the bottom of Wren’s involvement with Sean Ainslie. “Shall we?”

  She nodded and motioned for him to follow her inside. “Sure.”

  Today she wore a blue skirt that clung to the sweet curve of her hips and ass, accentuating her long lines. A paint-splattered apron sat over a white T-shirt that showed a hint of creamy skin without revealing too much.

  But his mind could fill in the gaps. He knew how soft her shoulders were and how perfectly the swell of her breasts and the gentle indent at her waist filled his palms.

  Stop it. This is business, and you’re not laying a finger on her until you learn the truth.

  “So, what can I help you with?” she asked as she removed her apron and stashed it away in a cupboard behind the desk.

  “Do you know a Kylie Samuels?”

  As the color drained from her face, Rhys realized he’d made a terrible mistake. Perhaps she was a lot better at hiding things than he’d given her credit for. Judging by her expression, Kylie Samuels was more than a simple acquaintance.

  “Can we not talk about this here?” Her hands twisted in her lap.

  “This is work, isn’t it?”

  “Please.” Her eyes darted to the hallway that led to Ainslie’s office. “I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t do it here.”

  Ice trickled through his veins at the hushed tone of her voice. He knew fear when he saw it. But he barricaded his sympathy deep inside. “What are you scared of?”

  “There’s more to Sean than he’s letting on. Something bad is going on here, Rhys.” She drew a deep breath. “And I’m scared I’ve screwed things up with you.”

  Why would she think she’d screwed things up with him if she’d simply forgotten to mention that someone she knew had worked here? It was an admission of guilt if he’d ever heard one.

  “Please let me explain myself. Tonight—I’ll make dinner,” she said with a hopeful smile.

  “Maybe we should go out.” The farther away they were from any flat surfaces the safer it would be, since it was clear his self-control seemed to vanish around her.

  He scribbled the
address of a quiet diner not too far from their walk-up. They’d be able to get a booth away from prying eyes and he wouldn’t be tempted to let his body do the thinking for him if they were in a public place.

  “Do you need to speak to Sean while you’re here?” she asked. “I can call him out, if you’d like.”

  “No. Quinn and Owen will run Sean through the new monitoring system later. We’ve also got an update for him with the log-in reports.”

  “Find anything interesting?” she asked.

  “I can’t discuss that with you.”

  “Of course, I was just kidding,” she said, but her eyes were suddenly guarded. Closed off.

  In other words, message received.

  He had to draw a line in the sand with her until he knew exactly where they stood. It had been wrong to assume Wren wasn’t involved from the beginning. Naive, even. But that didn’t mean he had to continue down that path. A mistake could be corrected at any point, and that’s exactly what he would do now.

  11

  RHYS ARRIVED AT the diner early and procured them a booth. He’d been antsy all afternoon, unable to concentrate on the work he’d brought home. Unable to think about anything but how his carefree connection with Wren had become a career hazard. A potential liability.

  Of course, he could be overacting. There might be a perfectly reasonable excuse for her not mentioning her friend’s involvement with the gallery. Perhaps they’d drifted apart and were no longer friends. Or maybe she’d really believed that it wasn’t worth bringing up.

  Nothing wrong with being optimistic, but the rose-colored glasses are coming off now. Your number one priority is to get the facts.

  The moment Wren walked into the diner heads turned in her direction. She was still in the fitted blue pencil skirt, but she’d swapped the T-shirt out for a black lace-trimmed camisole. The effect was mouthwatering. Appreciative eyes swept over Wren from all directions and Rhys found himself fighting back the urge to claim her with a kiss.

  Facts first. Your lips don’t go near her until you have what you need.