“Now, about these photographs. Ugh. Certainly not my best. I’m going to delete these.” He almost managed to snatch his phone, but I was very adept at everything I did, easily deleting them. “There you go.” That’s when I noticed a text from Maverick to the burly bouncer.
The PI was to meet Maverick in about an hour. After his onsite meeting with his agent.
After I placed the phone on the table, I folded my arms and leaned over. But I kept the phone close. Call it a bribe or maybe tossing out a treat. I had no intention of allowing him to have it just yet. “Whatever Mr. Callahan told you about me is wrong. I can easily handle the bad guys. Including you if necessary. Now, I’d prefer not to do that. Oh, and if you’re worried about your boss being angry since I deleted proof you’ve been following me, don’t be. I’ll be happy to tell him myself.”
He had no idea what to make of me, but he reached his thick fingers toward the phone, which I scooted away.
Now he developed one of those smiles that screamed he had something on me more than disinterested information that didn’t begin to scrape the layers of my personality. I was curious if Maverick was trying to keep me safe or trying to discover more scathing details about my life.
Including why the killer might risk his life to finish off the task he’d allowed to slip from his fingers.
When I stood, so did he, once again reaching for his phone.
At that moment my brilliant and highly devious friend just happened to pop by the table. With a mere sleight of hand, she took his phone and he was none the wiser.
I used the opportunity to head from the table.
As expected, her performance was utter perfection. She ‘accidentally’ tripped, bouncing into the private dick. She’d calculated the right amount of force, pitching them both onto the floor. With a loud crash and customers from other tables gasping, the noise hid the hard tapping of my heels against the wooden floor as I left.
If the handsome man believed he was going to keep a protective net surrounding me without my knowledge, he was dead wrong.
Maybe it was time for him to learn that I was no longer the terrified, clingy teenager.
And not just in the biblical sense.
CHAPTER 13
Alexia
I’d often heard that a man’s decorative style defined his personality, closely aligning his values and principles with his hopes and dreams. At least if his employer provided the opportunity as well as the funds for exploiting his decadent tastes.
I assumed if he didn’t have a decoration allowance his entire life was doomed, forced to suffer for ten to twelve hours a day in bland purgatory. If the famous literary agent was suffering to any extent, he was doing so in the lap of luxury. On this day, his opulent surroundings annoyed me more than they should or normally would.
After all, I’d picked the hefty lock so I could await his return in peace and quiet.
Why did I force myself to flirt with a nauseating man so I could slide into the security card only elevator? When the steel box had jerked to a hard stop, I’d almost panicked since the mystery man was close to having his tongue down my throat. But everythinghad worked out and here I stood waiting for two men to finish off their midafternoon cocktails and return.
So here I was sequestered in an office that should be housed in an art gallery. Sandra would love it.
In this case, the man holding court behind the walls was enough of a powerhouse that he could afford to allow his proclivities to shine. He hadn’t skimped when making his choices.
Every piece had been chosen with sadistic hunger in mind. However that wasn’t anything I’d admit to detecting because that would provide a clear indication of the wicked thoughts tickling the back of my mind. And the front. And the sides.
As I studied the space while I waited, I became amused at the selection of art on the walls. I’d learned a good deal about the most popular trends in both graphic and fine arts, the artists’ works often encapsulating their personalities. In this case, I gathered two important aspects about the painter, one being he preferred the use of extremely vivid colors.
All primal. Reds. Blacks. Blues. Yellows.
And perhaps even more important. The man was one hundred percent insane.
Instead of simply raw, primal sex in daring positions, the sexual partners were being murdered during the act. At least that’s what it would appear was happening. Then again, maybe I’d been reading too many of Maverick’s books. My naughty thoughts alone allowed me to chuckle. A rarity as of late.
Given how much I knew about serial killers and their use of their artistic abilities to soothe their abhorrent hunger for violence,I’d say the person penning his name to the oversized paintings was also violent. And should be watched.
As far as the man who’d purchased the pieces… Perhaps I was making assumptions, but I could see why the man was friends with Maverick. They were two peas in a pod, preferring their discussions to revolve around seriously twisted individuals who hadn’t even been born with a soul. I had a feeling their conversations were highly evocative.
Maybe I should hide in the closet for a little while simply to enjoy whatever they had to discuss.
I smoothed down my skirt and took another glance at the sweeping views of Miami outside the floor-to-ceiling window. Where I’d thought Maverick had a spectacular vista, offering a protected highlight of the beach and party life, I’d been wrong.
