Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Awesome.”
I shook his hand and left, heading for the gallery that displayed my paintings. I was pleased when I got there to find two had been sold. Carmen, the owner, smiled widely. “They loved them, Egan. Now, I will have two blank spots. Perhaps you have something I can fill them with?”
I laughed. “Soon. I have one done, and the second is almost finished. They’re a duo.”
“Oh, those sell so well. What is the subject?”
“A place I like to go and unwind. It’s a spring and fall view.”
“Perfect. How soon?”
“Next week,” I promised.
“I’ll have your payment ready as well.”
She air-kissed my cheeks and headed to her office. I wandered the gallery, absorbing the light textures and colors. The canvases layered in oils. Delicate watercolors. Bold charcoal. Rough pottery. Sculptures of heavy, dark metal. I loved art in all its mediums. A painting caught my eye—a small one, not by an artist known to me. Whimsical. Images of lovers so faint you had to squint to see them woven into the canvas. But once you saw the image, it became sharp. Their expressions were tender, passionate, sad. Joyous. All the emotions associated with love. The man was massive, his large frame dwarfing the woman. I could feel his possessiveness in his embrace. The way he held her, the fierceness of his expression. He would kill for her. Die protecting her.
Carmen came from her office. “Interesting piece, isn’t it? Everyone sees something different. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Sex.”
I saw more.
“I want to buy it. I would like to take it with me.”
She smiled. “You’ve never bought a piece before.”
I studied it again. “I like it. It will be a perfect gift for my woman.”
She blinked, then laughed. “Your woman. Another surprise. I’ll have it prepared for you.”
I nodded, still studying the image. Sofia would love it as much as I did. I was certain of it.
At the gym, I walked around, making sure everything was up to my high expectations. I sat at my desk, returning a few calls, when Mack knocked on the door. “He’s back,” he informed me. “The pushy guy from the other day.”
I sat back, running my hand over my chin. “Bring him up here.”
A moment later, Mack escorted my visitor in. He was tall, well-muscled, and fit. His eyes were nervous, his gaze flying all over the place. His hands were balled into fists, and he looked ready to fight at any given moment, his entire body giving off a nervous energy. He looked like a thug for hire. His nose had been broken several times. He had some faint scars on his arms and the backs of his hands. The oddest thing about him was his hair. Bright gold and cut into a mohawk. It added inches to his height, yet seemed out of place.
He approached the desk, his voice deep when he spoke. “Egan Vulpe.”
I stood. “And you are?”
“Alex.”
“What can I do for you, Alex?”
“I wanted to meet you.”
His statement put me on guard, and I chose my next words carefully. “If you want a personal trainer, you can inquire downstairs.”
He scoffed. “Not a trainer. I wanted to meet the great Egan Vulpe.”
“Do we know each other?” I asked, my nerves beginning to hum with anxiety.
“No. But we will. I look forward to it.”
I leaned forward, resting my fists on the desk. “I do not like cryptic conversations. I do not know you, nor do I plan to. Now, unless you want information on the gym, I suggest you leave.”
“You will be hired.”
Hired? He wanted a bodyguard?
“If you are looking for security, contact Elite. If you are looking for a gym, talk to Mack downstairs. Otherwise, there is no other business in which to hire me. Now, I’m a busy man, and you have taken up enough of my time.”
I sat down, pointedly opening my laptop and ignoring him. My rudeness didn’t faze him in any way. He sauntered to the door and headed down the steps. I turned on the camera, watching him leave. He paused just before he walked out the door, staring directly into the camera. He opened his fists fast, mimicking an explosion. Then he grinned widely and walked off.
What the fuck?
I called Damien immediately. He listened to what had occurred and looked at the image I had captured. “He sounded North American,” I said. “But at times, his words had an accent in them. Like he had picked it up over the years.”
“What kind?”
“Old country. Russia, I am guessing.”
“Hmm,” Damien said. “Interesting.”
“I ran him through some databases. No hits,” I said. “But he knows my past, or at least part of it. I don’t know what he wants.”
Damien was quiet. “You could have an unwanted admirer.”
I groaned. “Just what I need.”
“I’ll run the picture through the HJ system. See what I can find.”