Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel (13 page)

"That's a really big risk."

"I don't look the same."

"How do you know how different you really look?" he demanded, and that stopped me in my tracks.

I'd always assumed my facial reconstruction had been done to hide what I'd once looked like. Had I miscalculated…had the surgery actually been to reconstruct? "I don't want to think about this right now."

"Tough shit. You're in danger. So's Brayden." His eyes blazed fire.

"Probably anyone who spends time with me is in the line of fire," I shot back. "That's what you're really worried about, right?"

He sat back and stared at me. "You think I'm worried about me?" He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Honey, you have no idea how your past doesn't scare me."

"Then what does?" I asked, because I needed to know. I wasn't sure why I needed to know so badly, but I did.

For a long moment, I wasn't sure he'd answer. When he finally did say, "The way I fell for you," I stood and moved into his lap. He gathered me into his arms and held me there against him, and for the first time in a very long time, I felt completely, utterly safe.

* * *

I
slept for a little while
, all the emotion of the evening taking over better than any sleeping pill. But all that emotion needed more of an outlet than I'd given it, and I found myself standing on the beach in the dark. I heard the violence of the waves, the crack of thunder that broke above my head right after the flash of lightning illuminated the house I faced.

The house I'd been painting. I walked closer to it in the dark. When the sky lit up again, I saw the blood smeared on the siding, the porch.

I screamed. And I didn't stop.

"Ryn, come on—wake up. You're safe. Come on, sweetheart…you're safe."

Lucas's deep voice crooned to me through the storm and finally—
finally
—I was able to surface. I croaked, "I'm okay."
So far from it.

"You are," he reiterated.

I sat up, the sheet wrapped loosely around me. "Sorry—"

"Don't be. You've been through hell and back." He rubbed my shoulders, handed me water.

I took several deep breaths and stared out the window into the night. I didn't want to talk about the dreams, the nightmares. Not tonight. But one thing I didn't doubt was that I needed protection.

From who, though?

Maybe from myself.
"I need to tell you something else. Something more immediate. I've been getting flowers."

His eyes narrowed. "From Jared?"

"What? No." But I'd never actually considered that. Jared knew my sparse memories, so would he be trying to freak me out to coincide with his book-to-movie adaptation?

"Then who?" Lucas prompted.

"I don't know."

"Ryn…"

I took a deep breath and started at the beginning. "At first, I assumed they were from Bray. I wanted them to be from him."

"How do you know they're not?"

"Because he brought me other flowers." When Lucas looked confused, I clarified. "Someone's bringing in daffodils…and then taking them away."

Instead of scoffing in disbelief, Lucas's expression hardened. To my ultimate relief, he not only believed me, but was angry on my behalf, telling me, "You’re not going back to your apartment."

"Lucas, I need to know who's doing this." I heard the danger bells ringing as I pulled back just short of blurting out the whole truth.

"You want to come face to face with whoever's breaking into your place?"

"Yes. Because they're connected to my past. At least, they might be."

He glossed over that for a second. "Or maybe it's a stalker who likes pretty artists." That was something I hadn't considered. "Now tell me what Turner has to do with this?"

"At first, he said he was investigating my stolen painting for insurance purposes," I explained. "But then he seemed more interested in you. Specifically, warning me away from you."

His expression didn't change this time, but I swear, his eyes darkened. "You let Brayden deal with him. He calls, you don't answer."

"That's what Brayden told me to do."

"Well look at that—Brayden and I agree on something." He paused. "Can you sleep?"

I shook my head. Sleep was the last thing my body asked for now with such close proximity to his. The ache between my legs intensified.

My nipples tightened against the soft cotton of my tee. He circled one with his thumb before flicking the tip hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure to my sex. I fought—failed—to stifle a moan, arched into him, wanting skin brushing skin.

He tugged my tee off, then slid down my body, painting me with kisses. My body shuddered with an erotic charge

This would be the first time I'd be with Lucas as the girl with no memory.

He slid down my body, pressed his face between my legs and licked my cleft through my underwear. I shivered. I was ready to give myself over to his rough touch. There was no way it wouldn't be good.

He slid my underwear off, his tongue finding an inexorable rhythm. My fingers pressed against his shoulders, running along the ink because I'd memorized it. The tension built in my belly from the friction, my climax a slow, delicious build until I looked down and saw him, watching me.

I shattered.

A
s the sun rose
, I started to draw on a pad of paper I'd found on Lucas's bedside table. He stirred an hour later and found me scribbling furiously.

"Don't move," I told him and he simply blinked and stayed still, falling back to sleep for a bit until I put the paper down, exhausted.

"Do I get to see it?" he asked.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"Hard to sleep when you're being watched," he pointed out.

"You did a good job of faking it," I said, disgruntled as I showed him the pad. "Sorry, I used all your paper. When I need to draw…"

"It's fine." He flipped through the pages. "You're amazing. You have to know that."

"I know I love to draw. That's all I need," I said quietly. "Plus, you're a good subject."

"You just like me naked."

"There is that." I stretched and he caught me and pulled me down with him.

"Listen, I can move your painting stuff here if you'd feel better about it."

I studied his face. "I wouldn't mind having some of it here, but I can't move here. I can't just give up all my freedom because of Jared…or whatever else is out there."

He nodded, like he'd expected my answer. "You've met Grant before."

"Yes."

"I'm going to have him come over to wire your apartment."

"It's already alarmed."

"This is different. This would let me or Grant or you and Brayden check on rooms in your place whether you're there or not. It's a different level. I can do the hallway too."

That would help me feel better. It would be like looking over my shoulder without having to actually look over my shoulder.

I knew Lucas and Grant worked security together, but I had my suspicions that it was more than simply installing alarms. Lucas never elaborated on his work or travels. I didn't push, because part of me didn't want to know. He worked at night, fought like a cross between street kid and pro. I'd thought about asking Brayden for more specifics about what Lucas did, but maybe he'd be too honest…or not honest enough.

"And after Grant's done, I think you need to sit down with Brayden and talk to him about all of this."

One glance at my texts told me Brayden had learned the contents of Jared's book, no doubt thanks to Lucas. "You’ve spoken with Bray?"

"Yes. I told him you were okay. But he wants to hear it from you. And he's concerned as to why I'm having Grant wire your place." Lucas poured me another cup of coffee. "Here's your last bit of procrastination. Then you've got to tell Brayden about the flowers and about being followed, okay? He deserves to know."

* * *

I
was dreading telling Brayden
. I knew he'd feel betrayed that Lucas knew about what was happening with me before he did…and that there was no way he'd like that I revealed everything to Lucas.

Brayden would feel betrayed, but at this point, I doubted he'd be surprised. "Let's go to Brayden's apartment first—I want to talk to him now."

Lucas agreed, but wouldn't let me go alone. So when the three of us—me, Lucas and Grant—ended up outside Brayden's door, Brayden wasn't exactly sunshine-and-roses welcoming.

He also wasn't alone, which, for some reason, seemed to annoy the hell out of Grant. I mean, it wasn't the most comfortable situation to have a strange man coming out of Brayden's bedroom having obviously just showered and dressed, and since Brayden stood in front of us in sweatpants and wet hair, the picture wasn't hard to paint.

Except the guy wasn't Zack. I crossed my arms and Brayden muttered, "Don't start," at me and then, "See you around," to the guy, who said, "Call me," as he slid around us and left.

"Sorry to interrupt," Grant said. "But this is important."

"I don't even fucking
know
you," Brayden shot back as Lucas stayed strangely silent, watching the interaction with interest.

"Bray, this is—"

"Lucas's hired hand," Brayden finished and I swear I heard a growl come from deep and low in Grant's throat, although when I turned, Grant’s expression was neutral.

"He's my business partner," Lucas broke in as if to settle the stalemate.

"Didn't realize we were having unscheduled meet-and-greets," Brayden muttered.

"Please, Bray, let me explain." Something in my tone made Brayden stop his stonewalling.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"I am. But…" I paused. "I need to tell you something."

"About the book?" Brayden asked.

"No. About the flowers."

"Why don't you let me go downstairs and check out your place while you finish up?" Grant suggested.

"Why don't we all go?" Brayden snapped irritably, grabbing his shirt and shoes and padding toward his door. He held it open and ushered us all out.

It was a quiet, uncomfortable elevator ride even though we were only going down a single floor. Brayden was the one to open my door, shut off the alarm and survey the apartment first. Grant went in next, room to room like he was checking for something…or somebody. That made me nervous as hell, but he came out of my bedroom and said, "All clear. How does everything look, Ryn? Anything out of order?"

"No flowers," I said hesitantly after I scanned the areas I could see. "At least not in here."

Lucas followed me through the rest of the apartment. I was relieved to see everything in place and nary a daffodil in sight.

"There is one thing, though," I said slowly, pointing to a grouping of my newer paintings, which didn’t include
Man in Trees
. "These are out of order."

"What do you mean?" Grant asked.

"I put them in a certain order last night and it's different now," I explained.

"Are you absolutely sure? You remember the exact order?" Grant persisted.

"Are you calling her a liar?" Brayden broke in.

"I know it sounds weird, but I definitely remember how I leave my paintings. I do it purposely. There's a method to it." A method to trying to regain my past, I almost said, but I was pretty sure they were all thinking it.

"Is this the first time this happened?" Lucas asked now.

"Yes." I crossed my arms, wanting to study this new order but knowing I wouldn't be able to concentrate with Grant and Lucas here. Instead, I took pictures of the new order and walked away to let Grant figure out the wiring.

"You seem pretty calm for someone who had someone in here touching her art," Lucas said.

"Someone's trying to send me a message. The daffodils were a message too," I said. "Good or bad…I need to know."

* * *

B
rayden spent
the afternoon stomping around my apartment while Grant wired every inch of the place in a completely unobtrusive manner, which I guess was the whole point. He glared at me, Grant and Lucas and I showered to avoid part of that wrath. I heard them all arguing while I was in the shower, but I couldn't make out much over the running water and I didn't bother trying.

I was emotionally exhausted. Lucas was right—it was time to tell Brayden what I'd been hiding, and I knew my best friend would be angry but ultimately forgive me. Telling him would be the easiest part, and that’s what worried me most. Because from here, nothing was solved. Nothing was safe.

"I showed Brayden how to use the system," Grant told me. "I can show you too, if you'd rather—"

"I said I can show her," Brayden bit out from behind him and Grant stiffened visibly.

"It's okay," I said with apology in my tone. "Thanks for doing all of this."

"It's no trouble," Grant said.

Lucas gave me a smile, and a kiss that promised he'd see me later. They left, and Brayden locked the door behind them and immediately used the code on the alarm pad.

"It's the same code," he explained. "The only difference is that you can use different numbers to let Grant and Lucas know if you're okay or if you think someone's following you."

Brayden took the time to explain the system to me first, putting my safety ahead of everything. Then he looked at me and said, "They want to wire my apartment too. I'm letting them do it now."

"Good." Relief coursed through my body. "I'm so sorry, Bray. I didn't think about how my past could affect you too. And then I wasn't sure if I was imagining things, especially after the first flowers disappeared. I felt like I was going crazy. It was right before the show. I called Dr. B and he said it could've been a stress fugue state, like what happens when I paint…" I trailed off. "I was going to tell you about being followed, but it happened right before the party and then…"

"And then," Brayden echoed. "You shouldn't have to explain to me. I'm not one to lecture. Hell, I'm no one's idea of a role model."

"You're mine."

He side-eyed me. "Shade, Ryn?"

"Not at all," I took his hand in mine. "You're a successful business owner. I can't believe how much you accomplished from sheer will. When you explained it to me, without me asking and after I'd shared my past…you didn't have to. You trusted me as much as I trusted you. I knew then you'd be a friend for life."

"Ride or die, babe." Brayden squeezed my hand. "I can spot the broken ones. I can't always fix them though."

"That's not your job."

"It's not?"

I smiled, because I knew, underneath the joke, he was more than half serious. "You gave me a chance. You let me fix myself. That's the only way this works." I paused. "You've always given me the space to find my own way. I needed that."

He sighed. "I want to protect you from the world. I understand Lucas's need to do so."

I blinked. "You're actually agreeing with Lucas?"

"World must be coming to an end."

"Want to talk about Zack?"

"Not really."

"I thought…"

"It's easy," Brayden broke in, then conceded, "Sometimes. We don't have a commitment. We don't want one."

"I believe you don't want one, not from him but…" I shook my head. "What happened between you and Grant?"

"What? Nothing," he protested.

"Right." I stared at him he threw his hands up in the air.

"He's a good-looking guy."

"Very," I agree.

"You didn't trust me enough," Brayden blurted out, like he'd been trying to hold it inside and couldn't any longer.

He looked so hurt that tears came to my eyes. "I didn't want to worry you."

"Didn't want to worry me?" he echoed, his tone one of complete disbelief. "You're shitting me, right? You think I haven't worried about you every single day since I met you? You think I haven't worried that I've been exposing you to terrible things by asking you to share your art with the world? You don't think I have sleepless nights over this shit, Ryn?"

No, I hadn't realized just how worried Brayden was. It sounded like he might be more so than I was. "I'm sorry. At first, I thought…shit. I thought it was me being stressed. And crazy. And I thought, maybe I was taking pills without realizing it. Maybe I was that crazy artist everyone was writing about."

"If you are, I wouldn't care. You're Ryn. You're my best goddamned friend, okay?" he said roughly. "And we don't keep secrets like this from each other."

"I won't anymore, okay? I promise." I paused. "I know you said you understand Lucas's protectiveness…but you still don't trust him, do you?"

"I don't trust him," he agreed. "But I do trust you."

"Then trust me that I think I can trust him."

Brayden looked skeptical. "I'll try, babe."

"That's all I ask."