Safe at Last Page 3

  He’d been her best—and only—friend. The one she turned to for comfort. Love. Acceptance. The very best part of her very being, her heart, her soul. He’d been her confidant. The one person she trusted never to let her down, as so many had in her young life.

  And yet those past betrayals paled in comparison to Zack’s.

  She shook her head, furious with herself for going back. Again. And she set her lips firmly, sending Wade a determined look he couldn’t possibly misunderstand.

  Zack had been her entire world, and he’d turned it completely upside down, discarding her like the trash she’d been called by the people of their town. By his own father, for that matter. How could she have thought he would be different from anyone else in a place where she simply didn’t exist or matter?

  But now her world was what she made it. And she had no liking for the world she’d previously lived in, one of her making. Only she could change it. Create it. Make it better—perfect even. And it was high time she got on with doing just that.

  Impulsively, she slipped her fingers through Wade’s and squeezed his hand, startling him. She could understand why. She never initiated any sort of intimacy, even in the capacity of friendship. She had a carefully constructed protective barrier that surrounded her and she allowed no one to breach it, nor did she ever venture beyond it out of self-preservation.

  But as she’d already acknowledged, everyone needed a friend. And losing one friend didn’t preclude the existence of another, as stupid as it was for the time it had taken her to have that particular epiphany.

  Wade was safe. She was safe with him. And she wanted him to know she . . . trusted . . . him. She inhaled sharply at merely allowing the word trust to drift through her thoughts.

  Because after Zack, and until Wade, she’d trusted no one. It was a lesson learned the hard way, and one that had been repeatedly taught, but it had taken the most devastating lesson of all to finally make her realize that giving her trust was akin to taking a knife and thrusting it through her own heart.

  Her chin trembled slightly, but Wade, ever observant, saw it and reached his hand to cup her chin, holding it between his thumb and fingers.

  “Don’t ever think it, Anna-Grace,” he said softly, reminding her once again that he wasn’t harmless, despite her observations to the contrary.

  He was a dangerous, tightly controlled man whose vision of the world differed from most others’. The artist in her saw in bright colors—colors that had been dimmed for a long time until finally she’d set them free. But Wade’s world was steeped in gray and shadows. Much like the initial rendering of her Dreams Lost painting.

  She shivered at the intensity in his gaze and swallowed nervously, because she wondered if she’d finally lost her mind. Befriending a man like him? Trusting him when she’d sworn never to trust anyone—especially a man—again? A man, who like her, seemed to have no friends, not to mention had the same trust issues she herself suffered. It could well be the second-biggest mistake of her life.

  Or? Perhaps . . . just maybe . . . it was her first smart move in twelve years and in Wade she’d found not a lover, husband material or romantic interest, but a kindred spirit who was offering her what she needed the most.

  Simple friendship and the opportunity to reimmerse herself in the real world, where trust and friendship weren’t bad four-letter words and were a normal part of everyday life—for most people.

  But she could change all that now. He was offering, unconditionally. All she had to do was what she’d already resolved to do. Accept. Make peace. Move on.

  Let go.

  Free herself from her self-imposed prison of isolation and loneliness, and embrace the future that awaited her with hope and optimism, two emotions she’d once taken for granted but which were now completely alien to her.

  She was in control of her own destiny and she could make it damn well whatever she wanted it to be.

  Hatred. Grief. Betrayal. Hurt. Despair. Sorrow. Regret?

  Those things no longer had any place in her life and she refused to live her life that way a single moment longer.

  This showing was her moment to shine. She was stepping into the sun after avoiding its rays and any semblance of warmth for the first time since she was but a young girl with all the enthusiasm and naïveté that only belong to the innocent.

  She was living her dream. Finally. And she was poised to share that dream—her talent—with others. People who might reject her. But she was no stranger to rejection, and having been through the worst, she could honestly say that nothing could ever hurt her more than she’d already been hurt.

  The only direction for her to go was up. There was no other option when you’ve hit rock bottom. She knew it. Wade knew it. And God only knew why he stuck with her. Why he reevaluated his wants and needs once she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—return his romantic interest. And why he then compromised and accepted only what she could give him.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why. But when she looked his way once more, he wore the same determined, piercing gaze, one that had always made her uneasy, because she knew what it was like to have the gift of reading others’ minds—their innermost thoughts. And Wade had an uncanny knack for always knowing precisely what was going on in hers.

  FOUR

  ZACK pulled into the parking lot of an upscale art gallery on Westheimer Road, on the opposite side of the interstate from the Galleria, an area known for its chic boutiques that catered to the fashion-conscious and wealthier crowd, or at least those who wanted to maintain the façade of wealth.

  He wasn’t impressed with the outer trappings of wealth. He could be considered wealthy in his own right. He had a million. Ten of them to be exact, managed and invested by his financial advisor, Wes Coyle, who worked in the Woodlands, a suburb north of Houston that had quickly become a haven for the privileged.

  With the guaranteed signing money from his contract when he’d been drafted in the first round of the pros, and then walking away after an injury in his second straight playoff year instead of getting rehab and continuing to quarterback, he’d been guaranteed financial security, even though he lived frugally, choosing to stash the money instead of running through it in just a few years.

  His truck was used when he bought it a few years ago and he still drove it. He lived in a modest one-bedroom apartment and preferred jeans and T-shirts to designer clothing. The GQ look didn’t suit him and he felt fraudulent even contemplating the lifestyle of someone considered wealthy.

  So his money was secured, gaining interest in moderate-risk investments instead of sitting in a bank drawing a measly .01 percent interest rate, and he lived on the salary he drew from DSS. It was more than enough for his modest needs. It wasn’t like he had anyone to share it with anyway. No one to lavish gifts and surprises on. A matter he intended to rectify soon.

  After his come-to-Jesus meeting with himself two days earlier, he felt at peace for the first time in more years than he could count. He had a sense of purpose. Direction. One that didn’t have a lost cause at the heart of it all.

  Gracie was gone. Lost to him. She wasn’t coming back. He’d never have his dream. So it was time to get the fuck over it and deal. Find a new dream and live it.

  He wasn’t surprised to see Dane already there, parked two vehicles away. Dane was punctual to a fault. Well, not even punctual. His idea of being on time was to show up well in advance of the appointed time. Zack was pretty much the same. He liked to size up the situation. Get the lay of the land and a feel for what they were signing on for. He suspected Dane’s reasons were similar.

  Dane got out of his SUV along with Isaac and Capshaw and started toward Zack just as Beau pulled in beside Zack. Eliza was with him and Zack turned to open the passenger door for her. She smiled and gave him a saucy thank-you as she slid out of the seat.

  Eliza was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Not that she had the distinctive look of a woman that most men found stunn
ing. Nor did she have the carefully cultivated look of a woman who went to great lengths to enhance her looks. Not that he had an issue with women who did. He was all for whatever made them happy and confident—he had a healthy respect for all women, in all their shapes, sizes and looks, natural or not. After all, it was what was beneath it all that mattered—at least to him.

  Eliza just had a fresh, natural beauty that people responded to. She was absolutely genuine and she shot from the hip. No bullshit about her. But what capped it for Zack was the warmth in her eyes, how easy with a smile she was and the fact that she could kick ass with the best of them and was a crack tech wiz to boot. Even if Quinn, the youngest Devereaux brother, was in denial when he swore his computer skills were superior to hers. Zack’s money was on Eliza in a tech war throw-down. She could probably hack into the CIA. Hell, for all he knew, she already had, because the woman did have an uncanny knack for producing information that raised eyebrows with her coworkers.

  Her diminutive stature made her look harmless, but Zack had seen her in action too many times to ever make that error in judgment. He pitied the fool who underestimated her, because there was no doubt in Zack’s mind she was capable of taking down a man twice her size and weight. Hard. And hand him his balls in the process.

  Brent and Eric got out of the back just as Dane and the others caught up to them. Brent had come off injured reserve a few months earlier after being involved in a crash involving him, Beau and Ari, who was now Beau’s wife. It amused Zack to see Brent riding since he was usually the one driving. He was a former race car driver and was usually behind the wheel personally or professionally. Judging by the disgruntled look on his face, he wasn’t happy about his backseat status.

  “Shall we?” Dane asked dryly. “Or are we just going to congregate in the parking lot and sip champagne?”

  The irony was that Zack could see Dane doing just that. He had that wealthy, cultivated look that fit well with the environment they were about to venture into. Dane wore khaki slacks, a polo shirt and expensive sunglasses. Zack wasn’t entirely sure what Dane’s story was. Zack hadn’t worked long enough with the other man to draw an accurate picture of him, and Dane kept a tight lid on his personal life. Not that Zack faulted him for that. DSS did their jobs, didn’t tend to be too up close and personal, though Beau was the closest thing Zack had to a friend outside their partnership. But at the end of the day, they all had each other’s backs. No questions. And wasn’t that the most important thing?

  But the man had money and there was no way his job at DSS gave him the kind of wealth he obviously possessed. Even at double Zack’s salary, as generous as it was, Dane’s lifestyle, though quiet, exceeded what DSS paid him. And though Zack admitted to a passing curiosity about Dane’s history, he didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it, nor did he ever attempt to pry, because he sure as hell didn’t want anyone prying into his personal life. He offered his coworkers the same respect he himself demanded.

  “Nice chunk of real estate,” Dane observed as they headed toward the glass double doors.

  Isaac whistled in appreciation. “Too rich for my blood. Wonder what the hell an art gallery owner wants with us normal folks and why he’s pulling out all the stops for security?”

  Beau shrugged. “It’s a job. Pays the same as any other. Gets the same treatment as any other.”

  No arguing that point.

  JOIE DE VIVRE, the name of the gallery, was positioned over the door, not readily noticeable from the busy street or to people driving by. It was obvious to Zack that either the owner had shitty marketing or that the art in his galleries sold by word of mouth and he didn’t need to have a flashy display to draw customers inside. He was betting on the latter.

  As soon as they walked through the doors they were greeted by an impeccably dressed woman. Her heels tapped on the polished marble floors, several strands of her upswept hair bouncing against her neck as she smiled in greeting.

  The gallery was noticeably empty of patrons and Zack hadn’t seen a “closed” sign. The doors were open, but perhaps that was because DSS had an appointment and was expected. In fact, the gallery looked as though it was being prepared for the showing, presumably the reason for the request for security. Maybe a big-name artist was going to be exhibiting here. Zack was woefully out of touch with the art world. What little he knew had come from Gracie and listening to her dreams of one day becoming an accomplished artist.

  Despite his resolve to put her and the past behind him, he couldn’t help but think that this could be her. Living her dream. Happy. Painting. Him supporting her in her endeavors.

  Damn it but he had to stop this shit. Move forward. The irony of taking a job providing security for an art exhibition mere days after his vow to put his past firmly behind him wasn’t lost on him. Fate was a fickle bitch and right now she was having one fuck of a laugh at his expense. Or at the very least testing his commitment to the promise he’d made to himself.

  After Beau introduced his group to the woman, her eyes lit up in recognition.

  “Of course. Mr. Sterling told me you’d be arriving at noon. Unfortunately he’s on the phone with an important client, so it will be just a few moments before he’s free. Would you care for coffee? Wine?”

  If she’d offered champagne, none of the DSS members would have been able to keep a straight face after Dane’s sarcastic remark in the parking lot. Even so, Eliza smirked, but then she was the most irreverent of the bunch.

  The employee’s smile was natural, not practiced like a lot of salespeople’s were. Her comportment was impeccable, and she fit into the image of an exclusive, high-end art gallery with her designer clothing, heels and makeup that made it appear as though she wore none. Her ears were adorned with simple diamond studs that might not appear expensive but were at least two carats apiece and undoubtedly cost a hefty chunk of change.

  When no one took her up on her offer, she politely excused herself and said she’d notify Sterling that they had arrived. Then she briskly walked away, her heels once again tapping a sharp staccato on the Italian marble floor.

  “Size her up enough?”

  Beau’s dry question shook Zack from his observations. The other DSS operatives liked to give him shit for having a keen eye for detail. He sat back and studied people, and let others do the talking. More often than not he found out far more by merely watching and listening than he would by simply talking to the person. When people thought no one was looking they tended to relax, to lower their guard, and in those moments they’d become careless or simply betray their character.

  Zack could be depended on to recall the minutest details his coworkers often missed. Body language. Subtle nuances that gave people away. Fidgeting, nervousness. He didn’t miss much.

  In this case, though, Beau thought Zack was viewing her with male interest, not sizing her up in a businesslike fashion. But Beau was wrong. Not that the woman wasn’t beautiful, but this was a job. Not a pickup bar.

  Zack shrugged. “She’s got money. Not sure how much a gig like this pays, but I’m betting she’s got another source, whether it’s a husband, boyfriend or money she made herself. Could be a bored heiress, but she seems quite intelligent. I’d bet my next paycheck her knowledge in this field is solid. I would also bet that she has an advanced degree.”

  Eliza quirked an eyebrow upward. “You got all this by looking at her for five seconds? I would hate to see how I’ve fared in your analyses, since we’ve spent a hell of a lot more than a few seconds together.”

  Zack grinned. “You’re the shit and you know it. You don’t need me to give you pretty compliments.”

  Eliza rolled her eyes. “Well, duh! I know I don’t need them, but they are nice to hear from time to time. Women like compliments and I’m no exception. Hanging around all the testosterone at the office hasn’t made me grow a penis and forget all about my girl parts.”

  Beau and Dane cracked up, their shoulders shaking. Zack shook his head ruefully. Yeah, he adore
d Eliza. She had a sharp wit and tongue to match. She was intelligent, compassionate, loyal and was damn good company when Zack’s melancholy kicked in more than usual.

  Though he’d never shared any of his past with Eliza, or with anyone else at DSS for that matter, he knew Eliza saw more than she let on. As a result, she gave him shit on a regular basis, prodding him and basically refusing to allow him to feel sorry for himself. She had an uncanny ability to peg his moods when they were at their worst, and as a result she never let him withdraw from the others when he would have otherwise retreated into isolation for days at a time. Hell, she even routinely showed up at his apartment to watch a football game with him. Or she’d make him buy her dinner, have a few beers and shoot the shit. It was Eliza’s equivalent of an ass kicking with a side of get the fuck over it.

  It occurred to him that maybe he should have confided in her. Her skills were impeccable and she could very well have been of help in his search for Gracie and his attempt to find out what happened to her. But he was beyond that now and he wouldn’t indulge in regret for what he’d sworn he was putting behind him. Not to mention she’d have likely thought he’d lost his goddamn mind for hanging on to a ghost for twelve years.

  Zack shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced around the gallery impatiently. He hated waiting, and even more, he hated that they’d been summoned here when clients usually came to them, not the other way around. Why it was important for the meet-and-greet to happen on the client’s turf he wasn’t sure, but he suspected it was a power play. A dick-sizing exercise so DSS would know how “important” this guy was—or thought he was.

  Whatever. He didn’t call the shots. Caleb and Beau did, though Caleb had pulled back considerably since marrying Ramie, and Beau and Quinn had taken more of a lead in the day-to-day running of DSS, even if it had been Caleb’s brainchild.

  DSS had been formed in the wake of the horrific abduction, torture and rape of Tori Devereaux, the baby sister and only sister of Caleb, Beau and Quinn. Caleb was determined that no one in his family ever be threatened again, and if they were able to help others in the process, even better. The company had suffered a few setbacks in its infancy. But it had only made Beau all the more determined to learn from those mistakes, hire better—the best money could buy—and expand. As a result, DSS was thriving, with more requests than they could logistically take on. They carefully vetted their prospective clients, particularly since some came under the guise of wanting access to Ramie and her extraordinary powers. And Caleb was insanely protective—and rightfully so—of his wife because the price she paid in using her powers was utterly terrifying.

  A few moments later, a tall, well-dressed man walked from the back of the gallery, his stride confident and purposeful, his gaze direct and indecipherable. He wasn’t at all what Zack would have expected, though he wasn’t sure exactly what he had expected. Whatever it was, Wade Sterling didn’t fit any preconceived notion Zack might have summoned.

  He wore wealth while not appearing to wear it. There were no gaudy trappings or overdone dress. He wore expensive but simple slacks, and a silk button-up shirt. No tie. His watch was several G’s but again didn’t scream expensive. And the shoes likely cost one of Zack’s entire paychecks.

  But he had a hard look to him. Dangerous even. Again, not the look of the stereotypical art gallery owner or at least Zack’s idea of one. Something about him hit a nerve with Zack, who bristled, immediately on guard.

  A quick glance at his teammates told him their reactions were mixed. Dane was unruffled and as unreadable as ever. No one ever really knew what he was thinking. Beau looked pensive while Isaac, Capshaw and Brent just studied the owner intently.

  Eliza seemed to have a similar reaction as Zack’s. In fact her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned, almost as if she was calling bullshit on the whole thing. But she was smart as a whip and he trusted her instincts. Her reaction validated his own.

  Sterling’s expression, neither a smile nor a frown, was as bland and unreadable as Dane’s as he approached.

  “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” he said in a calm voice that despite his statement didn’t reflect genuine apology. “I was unavoidably detained by an important business matter. I hope you weren’t too inconvenienced and that Cheryl, my personal assistant, took good care of you.”

  Dane was the lead on assignments even though the Devereauxs were actually the owners and “in charge.” Dane was the face of DSS. He handled the media and statements and headed the negotiations. Caleb and Beau both deferred to him as the front man. Everyone answered to Dane. Well, except Zack, who answered solely to Beau. It was an unspoken agreement that Dane seemed to take in stride.

  So it was Dane who addressed Sterling.

  He was also a get-to-the-point kind of guy and not keen on wasting time on bullshit and pleasantries, something Zack appreciated and also had in common with Dane.

  “What can DSS do for you, Mr. Sterling? I understand you want a full security detail for an upcoming exhibit in a week’s time. That doesn’t give us much time to prepare so we need to know exactly what you expect from us and what our duties will be. You want the best and that’s what you’re going to get. But you can’t expect the best if we don’t have all information and any potential liabilities exposed and assessed.”

  Sterling sized up Dane quickly, fleeting respect flickering in his eyes. Zack suspected this man didn’t offer his respect often, nor did Zack suspect he needed to. He was a man who commanded it.

  “I imagine this will be a routine matter for a firm of your reputation,” Sterling said, revealing that he’d at least done his homework. “No expected threats. I merely want a presence, a subtle presence, to ensure that all goes smoothly. This is an important event for this gallery and the artist. It will be a debut showing and I’ve put a lot of money into publicity and marketing. There will be much curiosity, as I’ve been very vague about the identity of the artist.”

  Eliza’s eyebrow arched, but she remained silent, studying Sterling intently.

  “I expect a certain dress code, which I assume won’t be a problem,” Sterling began.

  Zack could almost hear the mental collective groans going up from everyone except Dane, who was no stranger to looking the part of a wealthy art patron.

  Sterling had opened his mouth to continue when the sharp tap of heels alerted them to Cheryl’s presence as she hurried up to them, carrying a large, unwrapped canvas, excitement clear on her face.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sterling, but I knew you’d want to see this right away. The last piece was just couriered over. Shall I place it where we discussed?”

  Everyone’s gaze swept curiously to the source of her obvious enthusiasm.

  When Zack looked, all the breath left his body, crushing his chest as his world tilted on its axis.

  Voices sounded around him. Sterling was speaking with his assistant. But Zack was utterly numb. He stared at a scene so perfectly rendered, a scene that took him back to another time and place. A place he’d once shared with Gracie.

  Exactly as it had existed when he and Gracie had spent so much time under the awning of those tree branches, nestled in the roots, Gracie wrapped securely in his arms, Zack a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

  And the woman in the painting?

  Even with her back turned, he’d know her anywhere.

  This wasn’t a current depiction of that spot. Too much time had elapsed for