LITMIR.BIZ

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wouldn’t want to have the conversation out in the open—but how would Jin keep an eye on her if he took her out back?

      “What the fuck do you want?” he asked. “If you’ve come here for your shitty canvas, I’ve thrown it out. Probably for the best. I’m not sure you have any talent.”

      “Then why did you hire me?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest carefully, so as not to obstruct the mic taped just inside of her blouse.

      The tiny thing barely looked powerful enough to capture the voice of the person wearing it, but Owen had assured her that so long as she stood within a few feet of Sean it would record his voice, too.

      “Because I liked looking at your ass,” Sean replied with a cocky grin. “Too bad you haven’t got anything of value from the waist up.”

      “Oh, so it wasn’t to steal my paintings and pass them off as your own like you did with all the other girls who’ve worked here?”

      Surprise streaked across his face but it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      “Yes, actually, I do. I know everything, Sean. I know that you hire young girls from small towns because they’re vulnerable and eager to please. I know that you steal their paintings and beat them up if they try to stop you. I know that you’re a thief and a liar and you deserve to be put in jail.”

      His eyes darted around behind her. They were still in the hallway, but right at the back of the gallery. Jin wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying, but Owen would be communicating with him via an earpiece. She just had to trust that they were good at their jobs.

      “And how are you so sure of all of this, Wren? Sounds like a great story to me. Maybe you should have been a writer instead of a painter.”

      “I’ve been in touch with your former employees. I spoke with Kylie and Marguerite. I’ve been speaking with Aimee.”

      At the mention of Aimee’s name, a fire lit in his eyes and his mouth flattened into a thin line. “Bullshit.”

      “They told me that you keep the paintings in your storage room and you cover up their signatures and replace them with your own.” Neither of them had said that directly, but it was an educated guess…one that was on the money if his thunderous expression was anything to go on. “Why do you do it? Is it because you have no talent of your own?”

      His hand reached out so quickly she didn’t have the chance to back away, and he caught her arm between his fingers. As he squeezed, pain shot through her.

      “You’re playing with fire, Wren. I know you’re not smart, but let me spell it out for you.” He leaned in so close that his breath heated her skin. Her stomach pitched violently but she managed to hold herself together. “You have nothing on me, you will never have anything on me and even if you did, I’m untouchable.”

      Wren felt a flutter of panic in her chest. Sean still hadn’t given her anything incriminating. She needed to push him harder, get him to confess.

      “No one is untouchable,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if your father is a judge. He can’t save you from everything. How would he feel if he knew his son was an abusive bastard who preyed on young women? Don’t you think he’d be disappointed in you?”

      His fingers bore down on her, making her skin burn.

      “You think he doesn’t know?” Sean laughed. “I went to him after I messed Marguerite’s face up just in case that mouthy bitch decided to go to the cops. Dear old Dad had a word with her and she didn’t make a peep.”

      “So your father threatened some poor girl just to help you cover up what a piece of shit you are? I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She tried to pull her arm away but he held tight. So tight that the blood supply to her hand was being cut off. “What did you do with her paintings? Because it’s not like you’ve made it big yet. Guess your plans aren’t working out too well.”

      “I sold them,” he said with a sneer. “Made fuck all, too. Guess she wasn’t as talented as she thought.”

      “Or maybe you just haven’t got a good eye. If you did, you would have been able to paint something decent yourself by now.”

      “Hardly,” he snarled. “I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel with you worthless country girls. But I’ve found my golden ticket with Aimee.”

      Wren tried to shove him, her fear and anger bubbling over. But she was half his size. “You leave her alone.”

      “Maybe I’ll work her over extra good tonight, just for you.”

      Tears pricked her eyes. “Please leave her alone.”

      “She’s got what it takes, and I’m going to sell those paintings for all I can get.”

      “She’ll leave you,” Wren said, blinking through her blurry vision. “She’ll realize she doesn’t have to take this shit from you and she’ll leave.”

      “No, she won’t. I’ve got her locked up now and I’m throwing away the key.” The grin on his face was bordering on manic. “I made sure to do that after you got into her ear last time. So you can blame yourself for that one.”

      A sob wrenched out of her. “You’re a monster.”

      “It’s just business. Her paintings are going to make me rich.”

      At that moment footsteps sounded beside them and Sean released Wren so quickly her knees buckled and she dropped to the ground. Her arm throbbed as the blood started moving through it again.

      “What the fu—”

      “Keep your hands to yourself.”

      Wren looked up to see Jin pointing a gun straight at Ainslie. He stood over her, giving her a chance to stand up and scoot behind him.

      “You okay, Wren?” Jin asked.

      She nodded and Sean fumed at the both of them. “Get the fuck off my property. Now.”

      “You realize you’ve just admitted to holding someone against their will?” Jin said. “I thought you were despicable, but that takes the cake.”

      “We have to find her,” Wren said, wrapping her arms around herself.

      “We will. But first we’re going to wait here until the NYPD arrives.”

      RHYS PACED THE length of his apartment, waiting for the Cobalt & Dane team to wrap up with Wren across the hall. Tonight they’d be putting her up in a hotel to make sure that she was safe—just in case Sean’s father managed to get him out of holding.

      Watching her go toe-to-toe with Sean had been one of the toughest things he’d ever done in his life. All he’d wanted to do was go to her, to step in front of her and protect her from that asshole. He’d wanted to dry the tears that had rolled down her cheeks once she’d finally gotten out of the gallery. Anything to make her feel better. Anything to make up for acting like a jerk when she’d volunteered to help take that bastard down.

      All he could do now was hope that she’d hear him out when he told her how he felt.

      After Ainslie had admitted to kidnapping Aimee, things had moved swiftly. Owen had called the police. Jin had an old buddy from his days with the NYPD who worked in the special victim’s unit. They’d jumped on the case and had thankfully found Aimee within hours.

      She’d seemed unharmed, but they’d admitted her to the hospital, anyway. She was in good hands now. As for Sean, he’d been taken into custody and would likely be charged with a slew of things, including kidnapping and assault.

      Voices floated in from the hallway and Rhys recognized the calming tones of one of the counselors Cobalt

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