Safe at Last (Slow Burn 3)

“I specifically said the artist in question prefers anonymity,” Sterling said, his jaw tight.

Frustration simmered in Zack. He was perilously close to losing his shit right here and now. And it was not going to be a pretty sight. For twelve fucking years—more than a third of his life—he’d worried and agonized over Gracie’s fate and now this fuckhead was playing goddamn mind games when Zack was on the cusp of the impossible?

Oh hell no. That untouchable “I’m wealthy and powerful” act might work on others, but not on Zack. He worked for extremely wealthy but down-to-earth people. He himself was wealthy and he didn’t act like an arrogant douche bag, smug and confident that his words and actions were law. Or above the law.

“Just answer the question,” Zack said through a tightly clenched jaw. “The initials. A.G. Do they stand for ‘Anna-Grace’?” His tone was frigid, suggesting without actually stating that he wouldn’t ask again.

At that Sterling’s expression became absolutely glacial. Frost formed in his gaze. His eyes hardened, his jaw ticking as he continued to size Zack up. For whatever reason, as soon as Zack had said her name, Sterling had gotten pissed, where before he’d just been a smug, arrogant asshole. Anger vibrated from him in waves. His eyes became shuttered, masking any hint or clue as to what he was thinking. Zack wanted to put his fist right through the bastard’s jaw.

The sudden tension between the two men was palpable. Eliza threw Dane an uneasy glance and took another step closer to Zack’s side, almost as if she knew the shit was about to hit the fan.

“We’re done here,” Sterling said in a rigid tone. “I no longer require your services. I’m more than happy to pay a consult fee if you leave your billing information with my assistant on your way out.”

His response enraged Zack and Eliza quickly stepped between the two men, turning her back to Sterling and placing her hand on Zack’s chest.

“Let’s go, Zack,” she said in a low voice. “This asshole’s taken up enough of our time.” She tossed a pissed-off look over her shoulder at Sterling and said in a tone as icy as his had been, “And you can bet you’ll get that bill before we leave.”

“Lizzie,” Dane said, carefully enunciating each word so she got the message, “get the fuck away from him.”

The threat in Dane’s tone, and his body language, was clearly evident. Eliza turned but pulled Zack with her, trying to herd him toward the door.

“Eliza, stop,” Zack said quietly, not wanting to vent his seething emotions on the other woman. But he planted his feet all the same, making it impossible for her to budge his much larger frame. “This is important. The most important thing in my goddamn life. I can’t leave here. Not until I get the info I’m looking for. I’ll kick the motherfucker’s ass if it gets me the intel I want—that I need.”

“Sir, should I call the police?” Cheryl inquired anxiously of Sterling.

Before Zack could follow up and make another demand, the glass entryway swung open and a woman hurried through, her gaze immediately focused on Sterling and his assistant.

As she took in the other DSS members, her face reddened in embarrassment. Several things happened simultaneously. Wade rushed toward her and she hastily babbled an apology for interrupting.

Zack went completely still, not so much a single breath escaping his lungs as he drank in the sight before him. His throat closed in and he couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. All he could do was stare.

“I’m so sorry, Wade,” she said in a rush. “But I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to display the last painting. I just . . . can’t.”

The pain on her beautiful features was clearly evident. Her eyes were haunted by ghosts of the past. Ghosts that mirrored Zack’s own. Because he was staring at one right this very moment.

He finally managed to rip himself from the stupor enveloping him and force the single, choked word from his mouth, his entire mind quaking with disbelief.

“Gracie?”

FIVE

GRACIE’S head snapped up, obviously seeing Zack for the first time after she’d burst through the doors in her haste to recant the agreement to hang the painting Cheryl was still clutching nervously.

Her gaze was horror-stricken and her face was deathly pale. Utter terror was reflected in her wide brown eyes.

She immediately started backstepping, turning as if to flee, and she would have if Sterling hadn’t made a grab for her arm to prevent her from falling. As it was, she slipped from Sterling’s grasp, sprawling onto her backside on the marble floor, and still, she pushed herself backward, her body language signaling horrific fear as she frantically tried to escape.

Zack stepped forward, unbelieving. God. This was his dream come to life and she was running from him? Looking at him like he was a goddamn monster? What the fuck was going on?

“Gracie,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “My God, Gracie, I thought you were dead! All these years. You can’t imagine . . .”

He never got to finish his statement because her expression grew even more horror stricken—if such a thing were possible. Tears filled her eyes and devastation bathed her entire face. Gut-wrenching, terrible grief, betrayal and heartbreak. All the things he himself was feeling and had felt for more than a decade.

“You meant for them to kill me too?” she choked out, her words so garbled and panic-stricken that he nearly didn’t comprehend them. But he heard every one and it only increased his bewilderment a hundred times more. Kill her? This was his dream turned worst nightmare of his entire life.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Who are you talking about? Who tried to kill you?” Didn’t she know that he’d take apart anyone who ever tried to harm her? That there was nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her? Had she had no faith in him at all? Had their time together meant nothing at all?

He was about to explode with the need for answers. A million questions were in his mind demanding to burst free. But his primary desire was simply to touch her. Hold her. Confirm to himself that he wasn’t dreaming. That this wasn’t some morbid fantasy, a manifestation of years of wishful thinking taunting him so soon after his vow to put it all behind him.

Wade gently picked her up but then forcefully put her behind him. He wrapped his arm behind him to secure her solidly to his back, a barrier between her and everyone else in the room and especially Zack, whom he had pinned with a murderous glare that promised violence and retribution.