Marry Screw Kill(53)

“That’s some painting. When did you acquire it?” I move closer to the piece to inspect it and James moves to stand beside me.

“It’s my masterpiece.” James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, like he is savoring his words. “I commissioned it last year.”

I feel more than a chill this time. The blood in my veins turns to ice. I may not be able to prove it, but I believe his obsession with Harlow started before the night they met in the hospital. At this point, does it matter? Making sure it doesn’t continue is my focus.

“The woman is breathtaking,” I say in true awe.

“She truly is,” James says with a sigh. It’s likely the only point we will ever agree on. He shakes his head to undo the portrait’s power over him and walks toward the master bedroom closet. I stay standing near the headboard.

“I have to put a few things away. Safekeeping.” He removes the folders still tucked under his arm and disappears behind the closet door. He leaves the door slightly cracked and I have a sliced view of him as he crouches down. I hear a few beeps and clicking, then a safe’s door swings into sight. The door looks heavy and at least three feet tall.

Why does he have the safe here versus his house? I want to know what he has hidden inside, so I inch closer to the door. Before I can get a better vantage point, I watch James push the heavy door closed. Shit.

I wait for James to exit the closet before I ask him about the safe. “Hiding a pirate’s booty in there?” I tease in hopes he will cough up a few details, though it would be against his normal pattern.

“Nay, matey.” James snorts at his own joke while I laugh at him. “Odds and ends. Personal papers.”

“Kind of a large piece for odds and ends,” I say.

“I’ve had it for years. I figured papers would pile up over time. Plus, it’s built like a tank. No way anyone can break into it or carry it away.” He avoids eye contact with me and wrings his hands in a very nervous, un-James-like fashion.

Bentley once told me his family’s best safecracker could open any safe in ninety minutes. I might have to call him tonight and disturb his party at my apartment. My curiosity needs to be satisfied, but I doubt anything can be done. Still, my gut tells me more than odds and ends sit hidden away inside.

James’ cell phone rings and he digs it out of his pocket. “Doctor Elliot,” he says in a rush and goes silent. Then he raises his head and shakes it. Bad or unwelcome news would be my guess.

“I’ll be there in ten.” James ends the call and stashes his phone away.

“Trouble?” I ask.

“Transplant.” He shuffles toward the door. “No rest for the wicked.” I nod my head while I walk behind him out of the bedroom. Wicked all right.

“So, you will be okay here?” James asks while approaching the front door. I am certain he doesn’t give two shits about my welfare, or anyone’s, for that matter.

“I’m good.” I should thank him, but the words are stuck in my throat. I am studying to be a doctor, not an actor.

“I better call Harlow and tell her the news. I’ll be at the hospital until sometime tomorrow.” He pulls out his phone again. “Are you ready for this, Sinclair? Medicine isn’t for pussies, but it sure helps you get your pick of them.”

Stunned to silence, I stare expressionless at him, burying the anger until he leaves. I hear the door click behind him and the hate I’ve tried to rein in explodes.

“Fucking *,” I yell through gritted teeth while pushing my middle fingers toward the door. It feels damn good.

Time for me to make a call …

I bring up the contacts on my phone and push call when I find the friend who can help me. Safe-heir Bentley.

“Hello, Sin,” he says, his voice raspy, like I woke him.

“Wake up, bum,” I almost scream into the phone and hear him push out a long sigh on the other end.

“I’m up. I’m up,” he says in a sharp tone. Sheets rustle in the background and I imagine the woman who was in the photo he texted me last night lying next to him.

“I need to ask you a big favor.” The type of favor that will make me indebted to him for life.

“Sounds f*cking serious. What’s up?” asks Bentley.

“I met this girl.”

“Wait. This is about a girl?” I proceed to tell him Harlow’s story and how he can help me help her.

“Okay. I will have someone there tomorrow morning. I need you to text me the details about the safe. Make. Model. Even a photo. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Sin.”

I want to tell him I have in her, no matter what lies in the safe.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Harlow



“This bracelet is worth a hell of a lot of money.” The pawnshop owner eyes me with a troubled expression. His bushy gray brows almost touch each other in a straight line. “Do you have any idea how much?”

“No. It was a gift.” Was it really a gift? I earned every diamond carat shining in the shop’s light.

With a slight shake in his hand, the older man returns the small magnification device back to his right eye and bends down over the counter. He inspects the diamond stones from every possible angle. I hear him mumbling, but can only make out one word: thousands.