“You could say that.” I rocked out of his reach, cursing the fact that I hadn’t showered properly and washed evidence away. Streaks of silver and crimson still decorated my chest beneath Gil’s T-shirt.
“He’s normally meticulous about clean up.”
“Yeah, well, not this time.” I shrugged. “I’ll get rid of the paint at home—”
The door ripped open behind me, gusting with air as Gil’s imposing presence pressed against my spine. A blizzard whipped around me as I turned slowly to face the man I’d seen in so many naked ways. Physically naked. Nightmare naked.
Yet I still couldn’t figure out a single secret he kept hidden.
“O.” His eyes pinned me to the spot. “Justin.” He looked at his friend. “Nice morning for a chat on my doorstep.”
Justin sniffed, eyeballing the yellow threads in Gil’s messy hair. He raised an eyebrow, dropping his inquisitive stare to the black smudge on Gil’s cheek and the red rimming his fingernails. “Had a busy morning, Gilbert?” His face twisted with mirth. “What have you two been—”
“Nothing.” I stuck out my chin. “We’ve been doing nothing.” Looking at an imaginary watch on my bare wrist, I chirped, “Oh, look at the time. Gotta go. See ya!” Tripping away, I tasted freedom before Gil’s dominating hand latched around my elbow and yanked me back. “Not so fast.”
I glowered. “I have to go to work, Gil.”
His nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Not today.” Pulling me back into his warehouse, he scanned the industrial area as if my mere appearance had encouraged the evil in the world to gather outside and plot their takeover.
Justin didn’t speak as he followed us inside and closed the door.
“So...” Justin rocked on his heels. “What did I interrupt?”
“Like Olin said, you interrupted nothing.” Gil stalked toward the couch where the blanket he’d used lay discarded on the floor as if he’d launched from sleep the moment he’d heard my voice outside.
Picking it up, he tossed it over the armrest before crossing his arms and facing his friend.
Justin’s friendly gaze danced around the space, landing on the paint smears, the wonky shelving, the handprint, the body print, the aura of sex still lurking on the stage. The camera waited where it had been abandoned, its casing dabbled with colours.
It was obvious what’d happened.
So embarrassingly obvious.
I prickled with heat, flicking Gil a furtive look.
He held my stare with dark, angry eyes. Not angry that we’d been caught. Angry that I’d tried to slip away while he slept. His biceps clenched as he rippled with tension, berating me in that silent, serious way of his, ensuring I knew I’d screwed up and would pay.
Tearing his eyes from mine, Gil looked at Justin. “Why are you here, Miller?”
Justin swallowed a chuckle, knowing exactly what we’d done thanks to the evidence of our activities. He cleared his throat, seriousness replacing his amusement. “Swung by to see what you think of the news.”
“News?” Gil crossed his arms. “What news?”
“Another girl has gone missing.”
I froze.
What?
Gil turned equally frosty and unmovable. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, painted again. Poor thing was tied and gagged. Couldn’t make a sound even while the cops patrolled the same area she was trapped in.” Justin brushed lint off his blazer. “She was painted to match the treetops where he’d hidden her. The killer is talented like you, Clark. I’m guessing the cops will be knocking soon to ask your opinion on how he managed to do the camouflage artwork while she was still alive.”
Gil sucked in a harsh breath.
“Guess there’s a body painter out there with murdering tenancies.” Justin sighed. “Fucked up world we live in.”
“Wha-what are you talking about?” I whispered, stepping toward Justin.
He shrugged sadly. “Another murder. Third girl this year. All the same motive. Body painted and left to starve, all while she was right in front of the police’s noses—”
“Stop.” Gil threw me a hunted, haunted look. “Don’t upset Olin with the graphic details.” His face became unreadable as he opened his arm in invitation. “Coffee first. Then we’ll talk.”
“Think the bastard could be tracked down by the paint he’s using?” Justin asked, moving forward, falling into step with Gil.
Gil didn’t reply, vanishing into his apartment with Justin by his side.
The door closed.
I was alone.
My feet moved to follow. The topic was too harrowing not to know every detail.
But...I paused.
I’m alone.
I needed to go to work. I had responsibilities.
Gil was distracted, and the exit was unpatrolled and unlocked.
I’m sorry.
Sending Gil a silent goodbye, I hoisted my handbag higher and walked out of Total Trickery’s warehouse unobstructed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
“GOOD TO SEE you, Olin. Everything okay at home?” Shannon asked as I plonked at my desk, yanked my phone from my bag, and turned on the work computer.
My breath was choppy from running, and my hair still damp from my very rushed shower, but at least I’d made it home, removed any remaining paint, changed into suitable office attire, and hoofed it over to Status Enterprises only twenty minutes late.
However, twenty minutes was an eternity when it came to being a new employee. I wasn’t exactly giving them the best impression.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I’ll stay twenty minutes behind so I—”
“It’s fine.” Shannon waved her hand, sipping on a thick mug of coffee. “Don’t worry about it. We all have a life that gets in the way now and again. As long as things are good, don’t stress.” Her eyes caught mine pointedly. “So...are they good?”
I plucked a muesli bar from my blazer pocket—my quick fix for breakfast—and nodded. “Yes, all sorted.”
“And that sexy man who dragged you out of here is satisfied the ‘family emergency’ is all defused?”
“Yes.” I opened the wrapper. “He knows not to interrupt me at work again.”
I hope.
“Great!” A broad grin spread over her cherry-glossed lips. She leaned over my cubicle wall with a wink. “He was rather yummy. Got a good catch there, girl.”
I bit into my muesli bar. “I’m very lucky.”
Or very unlucky.
Depending on my mood.
Chuckling, she pushed off from the cubicle. “Happy working. There’s a staff meeting at three. See you there.”
I waved her away and logged into my emails. Nibbling on my breakfast—wishing it was a large plate of pancakes and syrup—I replied to the questions and queries that had come in overnight, all the while Justin’s voice echoed in my mind. “Another girl has gone missing.”
Why did I not know about these murders?
Why did my heart sink with dread at the very mention of a killer with body painting skills?