Reynner stepped back, breathing hard, his fingers clenched.
Did the bastard really think he’d just hand Eve over? He’d kill the emotionless fucker first. No one touched what was his.
And she sure as hell was, even if he couldn’t claim her!
Chapter 11
Once healed, the bird wouldn’t settle, it flew all over her apartment, causing a ruckus.
Reynner was right, she had to set the dove free. The moment she opened the window, sensing freedom, it flew off.
A little despondent and unable to relax, Eve headed for her studio in the short, dead-end alley next to her building. The heavy heat almost suffocated her. Fitting for the mood she was in. Three hours had passed, and Reynner hadn't come back.
He doesn’t need a keeper, Eve.
How could she forget? Her fingers tightened around her can of Fanta.He’d made it clear he wanted nothing from her. He didn’t need anyone, it seemed, only her help in committing a felony. She had to stop thinking about him. His time here, with her, was momentary.
Eve turned into the narrow street and stopped farther down at a worn, brick building. The shrubs in the ceramic pots she’d arranged near the entrance to her studio detracted from the dinginess. She unlocked the door and disarmed the security system. A flick of the switch and bright lights flooded the interior of her workplace, revealing the madness—or her “artistic creativeness,” as she called it.
An eclectic mix of everything metallic inhabited her studio. Shelves set against rough brick walls held her inventory of metals and sheets.
Several of her finished works stood on the far side. The familiar acrid odor of soldered metal combined with the earthy smell of timber drifted to her. She headed for her worktable, skirting an enormous skein of fine copper wire lying on the floor, and left her Fanta, keys, and cell phone on the wooden surface.
Crossing to the life-size sculpture she was almost done with, she studied the figure. Ribbons of metal in various shades interwove with each other, emphasizing the man’s muscular physique, caught in the middle of swinging a sword. The guy, it seemed, loved swords. It was a commissioned piece for Brenna’s friend, who wanted to gift her husband with something unusual for their ten-month anniversary.
It made Eve realize just how empty her life was. Why did she have to meet the one man she wanted, who was so far out of her reach in every possible way?
She pulled back her hair and bunched it into a haphazard ponytail. Her cell went off.Like a Virginerupted in the quiet like a bad omen.
God, she really hated the tune. She snatched her cell, answered. “Hel—”
“Dammit, Eve, next time answer your darn phone,” Kataya’s annoyed voice blasted her ear. “At least let us know you're alive.”
Guilt flooded Eve. Of course, her friends would be concerned and want to hear how it all went. She’d seen their missed calls, but couldn’t bear to talk about what had happened. She’d rather eat a tub of slimy snails.
“I’m sorry, Kat. I meant to call, but I got stuck in my work and time just got away from me.”
“You’re telling me you left with the hunk and nothing happened? Yeah, right,” she said, disbelief rampant in her tone. “Now spill. Gimme the deets. What happened during the weekend?”
The weekend? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Nothing much,” Eve evaded. “We spoke, and he dropped me off at home—”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Kataya exploded, making her wince.
“No. Or I would have called you earlier,” Eve fibbed. But her mind flashed to him pinning her against the wall in his bedroom and heat licked through her veins—she struggled to shut off the thought. “I was busy, Kat. You know I have a show coming up.”
“Oh…” A defeated sigh. “Just as well, then. David’s probably a better bet anyway.”
“Look, I have to go. So much to do. Talk to you soon.” Eve hung up, tossed her cell back on the table, and scrubbed her face with her hands.
God, David—she had a date with him. After Reynner, she couldn’t think of anyone else.
Work. She needed to work. It was the one area of her life she could actually lose herself in and forget for a while.
She switched on the CD player that stayed on a shelf. And as heavy rock music took over the silence, Eve pulled out the materials she needed to finish the final piece for her show; the reclining nude Brenna had posed for. She gathered the rusty, scrapyard chains she required and set them nearby then started to screw on several lengths of rusty links, depicting Brenna’s bobbed hair.
A while later, she stepped back and surveyed the sculpture. Strips of metal and skeins of wire intertwining made up the body. Grueling work, but she liked the eye-catching results.
