I was safe here because no one would expect me to come. Those who used to know me had grown used to my absence, and those who didn’t would never know what each dance studio—no matter where they were—meant to me.
Dropping my purse on the piano stool, I kicked off my heels and placed my silenced phone on the polished wood of the ivory-keyed instrument.
Ten more missed calls from Gil since lunch.
Ten more times I didn’t answer because I had no idea what to say.
I wanted him to tell me everything.
But I was too in love with him to hear the truth.
Innocent.
Guilty.
Both came with complications I wasn’t strong enough to bear.
Balancing on my toes, I spun in my stockings on the slippery wooden floor and closed my eyes. I ignored the twinge in my back where surgeries had given me the gift of mobility but taken away lithe grace. I clenched my teeth against the tightness and restriction of stolen movement. Notes of music whispered around me, and I danced...alone.
My arms rose like useless wings as I glided and spun.
My childhood found me as it so often did when I released myself from adulthood. I remembered the loneliness of having parents who didn’t really care. I basked in the happiness of knowing Gil loved me enough for any missing or absentee family. My arms fanned out to hug the teenage boy who owned my soul. The music in my veins spread louder, faster, and I answered the summons.
I threw myself into the air, performing a move I’d perfected. The grand écart en l'air had been my favourite. I found it so easy. So effortless to soar from one leg to another and slice my legs into splits at the highest point.
My teacher and employer said no one could bend as much as I could in full flight.
My eyes stayed closed as I relived the sensation of being unbelievably good at something that didn’t require skill or repetition—it was just a gift. My body’s gift. My soul’s purpose. My life’s design.
But unlike so many other hundreds of times, I didn’t land weightless and elegant. I didn’t manage to kick and split. I didn’t have that priceless gift anymore.
My ruined back seized mid-bend.
My healed bones and stitched together muscles hadn’t forgotten the punishment they’d endured.
I landed with a teeth-rattling jar on my knees, bowing on the floor before mirrors that’d witnessed my failure.
And my silenced phone vibrated against the piano.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I accepted the physical pain as well as emotional. I’d come here to torture myself deeper. To layer more agony. It might not have been intentional but the pain was double as I crawled toward the piano and grabbed my phone.
It stopped ringing; I slouched against the mirrors and stared blankly at the screen.
Gil.
I couldn’t call him back.
I couldn’t talk to Justin.
I couldn’t turn to my old dancers.
I couldn’t go home and lick my wounds.
All I could do was sit there and let my mind dance faster than my body ever could.
* * * * *
I stayed until well past dark.
Until cleaners wheeled their squeaky mop buckets, washed up shed-sweat, and tidied spaces for another day of practice tomorrow.
My stomach had quit complaining about hunger an hour or so ago, disgruntled at me for ignoring its demands. My heart had stopped grieving for my stolen abilities. My mind was exhausted from chasing thoughts and theories on Gil.
My phone was almost dead from the many internet searches and more research on the murdered painted girls.
I’d overstayed my welcome, and as much as I’d like to stay hidden, my options had drastically reduced to just one.
Regardless of Gil’s involvement, I was safer with him than anyone else.
I needed to sleep, to shower, to eat.
I needed answers so I could kiss Gil goodbye if he wasn’t the person I hoped or stand by his side if it was all a terrible coincidence.
Either way, answers would be given tonight.
The Master of Trickery had tricked me enough.
It was time for the truth.
Even if it killed...everything.
My phone buzzed again.
Instead of it being another call from Gil, Justin’s name popped up with a message.
Justin Miller: Your turn to disappear, huh? Can you call me and let me know you’re okay. Gil is frantic. To be honest, he’s scaring me a little. This morning all he wanted to do was find you so he could talk to you. Now, he’s telling me to find you and keep you the hell away from him. What the hell is going on, O? Message me back, and I’ll come pick you up. You’re staying at my place until we figure this out.
Before I could exit out of the message, he sent another one.
Justin Miller: I don’t know where you are but don’t go see Gil alone. I don’t trust him right now.
I sighed. Just like in high-school, I was trapped between two boys. One boy was the poster child for good behaviour, helpful manners, and kind deeds. The other was the warning bulletin for bad families, harsh poverty, and dirty secrets.
I’d fallen in love with the wrong one.
I’d chosen my path.
I no longer had a choice.
I never had a choice.
Clicking reply, I typed:
Olin Moss: I’m going to see Gil. I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later.
Locking my phone, I slung my bag onto my shoulder, took one last look at the studio that survived the death of my dreams, and slipped into the night.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
THE WAREHOUSE DIDN’T seem pleased to see me.
The hulking brick and graffiti held no welcome.
But at least no black van lurked down the drive and no nasty kidnappers tried to steal me as I turned off Gil’s hatchback and opened the door.
I’d been a car thief. Even if I hadn’t wanted to face Gil, I would’ve had to return his vehicle at some point.
A whip of biting wind howled down the long avenue of warehouses.
The chill made me shiver.
Wrapping arms around myself, I hugged away my trembles as best I could. My back still ached from my stupid attempt at a grand écart en l'air, and my knees held bruises from cushioning my fall.
My phone held another seven missed calls, and I braced myself for Gil’s reaction when he finally found me on his doorstep.
You can do this.
I straightened my spine.
Ask him sternly but nicely.
I sucked in a deep breath.
Don’t let him change the subject or argue.
My eyes fell to the pedestrian access. The door remained closed, but something white wedged in the gap between interior and exterior.
Walking toward the graffiti, I hissed at my new bruises and ducked to collect the large envelope.
I frowned as I smoothed out the blank, unaddressed mail.
Perhaps Gil didn’t have a letter box? Maybe the postman always delivered correspondence this way?
Standing straight, I raised my hand to knock. To get this confrontation over with. But my eyes drifted to the envelope again and my fingers traced the unseen contents.
No name...odd.
Unsealed...strange.
Firm.
Smooth.
A clue to...something.
Breaking the law and Gil’s trust, I shoved my handbag higher up my shoulder and tugged open the unstuck envelope.
Holding my breath, I pulled out a single piece of paper and a photo.
Oxygen no longer resided in my lungs.
My blood turned to sleet and my heart to lifeless stone as I read a terrifying threat. A threat addressed to The Body Painter but designed for his Living Canvas.
Me.
&nbs
p; Her.
Tonight.
No more excuses.
Time to choose.
It’s her or I steal your most precious love forever.
The simple sentences were typed in bold font and printed in morbid black. A command, not a request.
I swallowed a cry as I dropped the paper and clutched the photo.
A photo of me.
Of me leaving my office building tonight with my grey scarf hiding my hair, my steps quick and furtive.
Anxiety and fear shattered the ice crystals in my veins, sending fire into my heart. I no longer stood frozen on Gil’s stoop, I reeled backward, trying to unravel this new riddle.
But the door opened.
The door opened, and Gil was there.
And our eyes met with all the sorrow in the world.
His gaze dropped to the photo in my hands.
His skin turned white.
His face slipped into torment.
He almost stumbled to one knee.
Almost.
His hand clutched at the doorframe, keeping him upright as a riot of despair and horror claimed him. His throat worked hard as if he was seconds away from vomiting. His eyes filled with tears, his head shook in denial, and his voice broke as he muttered something incomprehensible.
His utter heartbreak scared me worse than anything.
This was truth.
Here was the evidence I needed.
Gil wasn’t a killer.
But he was involved.
Somehow.
And now...so was I.
I backed up, throwing the photo in his direction. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.”
My voice slapped away his anguish, bowing his head in defeat.
When his eyes met mine again, there were no more tears. No more torment. Just the deepest, saddest misery in his wretched green gaze. “Olin...I tried calling you.”
“I needed time to think.”
“I called to tell you to stay away.” His voice caught with rage. “Why the fuck did you come back? You weren’t supposed to come back.”
“We needed to talk.”
“We needed to never see each other again.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if every headache in the world crippled him at once. “I left messages. I told you...” Stepping from his warehouse, he stalked toward me. “I tried to tell you. I warned you. I—”
“Don’t come any closer.” My hand swooped up, forming a wall between us. A wall blocking off our teenage tragedy and fledging broken romance. “I’m leaving.”
His head shook again, sadly, slowly. “I wish you’d never come. I wouldn’t have had a choice then.”
“Forget I did. I’ll go. Right now.”
His hands opened and closed. His eyes fell to the photo on the ground. For a moment, he nodded as if he agreed. Agreed that my disappearance was the only thing to do. That he chose me over whatever consequence would follow.
But then, he buried his face into his hands and screamed. He roared with helplessness. He bellowed in whatever trap he couldn’t escape.
And he didn’t choose me.
He chose the alternative.
He accepted that my life was forfeited even while I fought to persuade him otherwise.
One step fell toward me as his head tipped up and desperation etched his features. “I can’t let you do that.”
I backed up, my heart winging with terror. “Gil...let me walk away.”
“I wish I could.” He chased me. Hunted me. Sad and defeated. Determined and depressed. “I’m so sorry, O. So, so fucking sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? What have you done?”
He choked on words too horrendous to utter. He swallowed them back, along with any sign of the boy who’d protected me in our youth. “I need you to come inside now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He gave a half-smile, reeking of destruction. “You don’t have a choice. Not anymore.”
“I always have a choice.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. A whisper that was worse than any shout or curse. “Did you have a choice when life took away your dancing? Did you have a choice when I left you at school?”
“You can’t twist this. In this, I have a choice.”
“You’re wrong.” His hand came up to capture my cheek.
I flinched from his touch, but he kept pursuing me until his icy skin seared into my flesh. He held me tenderly but firmly. A lover’s caress all while chains wrapped tight around me.
“I lost everything the moment you found me again. I thought I’d lost it all when I left you in high-school, but that pain is nothing, nothing, to the fucking agony now.” His fingers dug into my cheekbone, seeking forgiveness, absolution. “I wanted you, but I should never have been so weak. I was selfish. So fucking selfish to keep you. This is all my fault, O. I take full blame. I will never, ever forgive myself.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. Not yet.” I looked toward the street, begging for someone to fix this. To replace this terrifying, shattered version of Gilbert Clark with the protective loving one I knew.
But no one came.
We were alone.
“I’ve done so many things that are past forgiveness.” Gil’s eyes blazed with self-hatred. “Including letting you back into my life. The moment you appeared, I should’ve chased you away. I should’ve hurt you if it meant you’d never return.”
“You couldn’t have kept me away. I can’t leave when you’re—”
“I told you your goodness would get you killed.” He interrupted me, his voice strange and thick, full of misery. “You’ve always been the one I put above everyone. I would’ve done anything for you, O, been anyone, fought everything...but in this, you can’t come first.”
“I never asked to come first.”
“No, of course you wouldn’t.” His temper flared. “You’d never expect someone to love you over everything else. It wouldn’t even cross your mind that you’d be that precious, that wanted...especially after having parents who treated you as if you were an inconvenience.”
“Gil...” My heart smashed against my ribs. “Stop.”
“You didn’t ask to come first, but you were. I put you first. I never wanted you to be hurt. I did everything I could to stop people taking away what you wanted because you deserved someone to fight for you. Someone to look after you as well as you looked after everyone else.”
Tears gathered. “Is that what you did? Did you leave to...protect me?”
He stiffened, his own grief glittered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t. Don’t shut down. Tell me!”
His gaze fell to the photo of me on the ground. “None of that matters now.” His energy siphoned down his legs and soaked into the ground, leaving him downcast and tragic. “Time has run out. We have to go inside.”
“Let me go home.” My pulse pounded. “Whatever you think you have to do, you don’t. Gil, please.”
He sighed brokenly. “I told you, you weren’t safe with me, O.” He couldn’t hide the heartsickness inside. “Maybe now you’ll believe me.”
“I won’t let you do something that I know isn’t you!”
He reached for me. “I wish it was that easy.”
I ducked away; I spun to run.
But my back hadn’t recovered from my idiotic attempt at dance. My knees hadn’t forgiven me. My broken and pieced together body wasn’t limber or swift like it once was.
I moved.
He moved faster.
His hand locked around my wrist, jerking me to a halt. “I tried to stop him from having you. I truly did.” His other hand cupped my throat as if we were two lovers beneath the stars. His thumb ran along the column of my neck, burning with snow and shaking with regret. “I told him I’d do whatever it took. I’d do things I’d refused to do. I’d pay any price. I’d stay in servitude for the rest of my godforsaken life. All to protect you.” His forehead nudged mine as he pulled me into him. “I would’v
e given anything to protect you, but his price is too high. I can’t save you both.”
“What are you talking about?” I struggled to release myself, wriggling in his hold. But he was too strong. Too focused. Too lost.
“Him. The man who owns me heart and soul.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Stop saying that!” Anger washed through me. “I hate that reply. It does matter. It matters! Tell me. What does that bastard have over you?”
Gil dragged me into him. A hug full of menace and apology. His free hand threaded through my hair to cup the base of my skull. With a tattered sigh, he kissed my forehead with glacial lips.
A kiss that throbbed with true love. “I’m just as in love with you as I was back then...did you know that?” His breath warmed my skin before pulling away and nuzzling his nose with mine. “I’ve always been in love with you. This will end me. I might save a life by taking yours...but mine has been forfeit ever since I lost you the first time.”
I closed my eyes, seeking strength. “I don’t know what any of this means. I’m so sick of not knowing.”
“It means, I love you. I always have. I always will.”
My lashes soared upward, locking our gazes together. “If you love me, stop this. Come with me. We’ll go to the police. They’ll—”
“Lock me up for so many crimes. I deserve to be put in a cage. I’ve been avoiding punishment for years. But I can’t be incarcerated because then I can’t save her.”
“Her?”
His entire body flinched.
A hitch caught in his chest.
Agony tiptoed over me. “Who is she, Gil?”
“Someone who comes first.” His whisper shattered me into bleeding, gasping shards. “I’d die for her. I probably will die for her. And you...” His stare shredded mine. “You’ll...” His voice broke. He shook his head, swallowing hard. “We’ll all probably die...but I have to try.”
“Don’t.” I fought in his embrace. “The police will listen to what you’re going through. They won’t lock you away without cause.”
He huffed blackly. “They have cause. So many fucking causes.”
“I’m sure if we talk to them...” My voice wavered as more tears trickled down my face. “Gil...please. You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to fight this by yourself. No one...no one has to die.”
The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3) Page 41