by Kadi Dillon
She couldn’t say why it caught her attention, but Rebecca frowned when she saw a mark on the canvas. There was a layer of something slightly transparent—either paint or white-out—in the bottom corner of the painting. Inching closer and tilting the canvas, she saw it and froze. In small, sloppy handwriting, her own name was covered up where an artist would include his signature.
She had painted it. She couldn’t even remember doing it. She couldn’t have been very old—but the end result was the same. Austin Channing was pulling another con on someone. Someone who had fallen hard for the ploy, someone set on killing her because of it. Did they know she had painted it? If so, it was her they wanted revenge on.
Rebecca covered the painting with the sheet, fighting the urge to shove her balled fist through the canvas. She hastily crossed the cramped room and put as much distance between her and the painting as possible.
Damn Austin Channing, she thought, sinking down onto a chair. A hysterical laugh escaped and she covered her mouth to contain it. It didn’t help. She began laughing—hard. She laughed until she had to lay her head against the table. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed until she wept.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Gideon ignored his brother and continued to stare out at the water. After kissing Rebecca—and what a surprise that had been—he’d stormed outside the cabin, issued a sharp command to get the fuck away from Cleveland, and walked to the bow to think.
For the past three hours he’d been in a state of fury. He’d been gone for ten minutes back at the hotel. He’d paid for the rest of the night for that crummy little room, then made a couple of calls. He’d asked Colin to come pick them up, plus another box of Jess’s art supplies, then informed his sister of the delay.
He’d gone back to the room only to find it empty. He’d thought about just letting her go, then decided against it for one reason—Avery. He couldn’t let his boat suffer the horrible death the bastards probably had planned for her.
It wasn’t hard finding Rebecca’s house. After all, he still had her license in his pocket. He’d taken a cab and broken in with no problem. Ballet class 7pm was neatly scrawled in the Friday slot on her calendar, along with a Grace Studios business card tucked into the corner of her bulletin board.
He’d taken another cab there and waited outside for her. And boy, had she been surprised to see him. She wasn’t the only one surprised. She looked amazing squeezed into that tiny pink thing with her long dancer's legs garbed in white tights that fit her like skin. She’d been sweaty too, he remembered, and his pants jumped. Down, boy.
He’d made a mistake carting her off over his shoulder. That tiny little body he’d so admired was soft and flexible as she had wriggled in his hold. He’d pushed his own limits when he swatted her on the ass and had almost lost it when he’d put her down in the cabin of the boat. He had to have a taste of her and it hadn’t been nearly enough.
It would have been fine if she’d been appalled or slapped him. He could have handled that. But she hadn’t been offended. She’d wanted more, as he did.
Now that the cool night air was rushing over his face, he could concentrate on being angry with her instead of wanting her.
He didn’t want to be able to find her at the dance studio. She should have known that whoever was following her would have known her normal routine. But she’d gone anyway, the little fool, and thankfully nothing had happened. The bastards probably thought she was still with him. And Gideon knew they thought he’d turn her over for his boat.
Avery. It truly hurt him to lose her. He suppressed a groan as images of broken wood and glass filtered through his mind. No matter how much that boat meant to him, Rebecca’s safety was more important. He could always build another boat.
“Give me a cigarette.”
Colin looked up from the helm and grinned. “Now what kind of brother would I be if I broke my promise?”
Gideon sourly told him what he could do with his promise.
Colin threw his head back and laughed. “Sorry, Gid. I swore on my life I’d never give you a cigarette, no matter how much you begged.”
“This is an extenuating circumstance.”
“I remember there being a specific clause about extenuating circumstances in my promise. Why? What’s wrong—can’t handle the little ballerina?”
“I can handle her,” he muttered. And he would handle her.
“What are you going to tell Mom?”
Gideon looked over at Colin, puzzled. Did he expect him to lie? Their mother had always taught them to be open and honest with her no matter what they did. Both boys raised their fair share of hell and were never afraid to fess up. “The truth.”
“I thought you might. How’d she get those bruises? Ballerina, I mean.”
“You think I did that?”
“No, no. Don’t be getting your panties in a wad. Mom raised us better than that.”
Gideon was only slightly mollified. “The assholes following us gave them to her.”
Colin was quiet for a moment, then lit a cigarette. However casual the gesture, it was obvious he was trying to make Gideon suffer. He had to get back at him for making him come all the way to Cleveland at eight o’clock at night.
“You’re a bastard.”
Colin grinned and took another drag. “Yeah, I am.”
Gideon hadn’t heard a peep from Rebecca since locking her in the cabin and wondered if he should be checking on her. Then he remembered imagining her coming at him with a towel rack. The cabin had other objects she could use as weapons—like knives. Shit.
“Home sweet home,” Colin said, bringing the boat into the shallow water.
The island sat like a beacon in the night, lush and green against the moonlight in the middle of the great lake. The Avery family was the only inhabitants on the island and wouldn’t have it any other way. There, they could run their boat-building business in peace and quiet and didn’t have to waste money on shipping when they could travel by their own boats to pick up supplies as needed.
Colin and Gideon docked the boat with familiar ease. After glancing at his watch, he realized his family might be in bed. It was coming up on eleven.
He hadn’t told Rebecca where they were going. He’d just locked her up and left her to wonder. She probably thought he was going to hand her over and reclaim his boat. Recalling his frustration when he had returned to an empty hotel room and his mad dash all over Cleveland, he shrugged inwardly. Maybe she’d think twice before ditching him again.
Gideon opened the door to the cabin. Rebecca sat at the table with her hands folded. She stared at Gideon as he walked into the room. He picked up the painting and saw her wince.
Guilt gnawed at him when he saw her red-rimmed eyes. She’d been crying, he realized, and was probably scared out of her mind. He handed the painting out to Colin.
“We’re at my house,” he told her quietly. “Are you all right?”
She frowned as if not comprehending what he was saying. “But . . . your boat.”
He shook his head slowly. “Do you really think someone’s life means less to me than my boat?” He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and realized she did think she meant so little. And she had no reason to trust him.
“Come on.” He held out his hand and was surprised when she rose and took it. She looked pale and exhausted, and she favored her left side. His brows drew together. “Why are you limping?”
She looked quickly at him, then away. “I hit my hip pretty hard when I landed on your . . . boat.”
He gritted his teeth to hide his frustration. Did she think he’d rage at her if she mentioned the damn boat? He swung her up into his arms and carried her out of the cabin.
“Y-you don’t have to do this.” She sounded breathless and uneasy.
“It’s fine. We’ll get you something for the pain inside.” He liked carrying her this way. The other way wasn’t bad, but there was something about how soft a woman felt snuggled up
against a man’s chest. Of course, she wasn’t technically snuggled. She held herself a little stiff, as if she thought he would drop her.
Gideon sat her down lightly when they reached the house. He opened the door and took her elbow. He saw that Colin had put the painting in the foyer. He left it against the wall and closed the door behind them, then led Rebecca back toward the kitchen.
“Colin came in hungry as a bear, so you must be too.” His mother turned around from the stove, where she’d been stirring something in a pot, and gave a small start when she saw Rebecca.
“Hello.” She wiped her hands on a rag before walking over to them. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Rose.”
“Mom, this is Rebecca. She needs a place to stay tonight.”
His mother’s eyes widened as she looked at Rebecca’s bruised face and neck. He could only imagine where her thoughts would be heading.
“Of course. We can have the guest room ready in a few minutes. Are you hungry, honey?”
“Rebecca?” Gideon prodded when she remained silent.
“Yes, thank you. May I use the restroom?” Her voice was shaky and not like her own.
“I’ll show you.” He knew she was on the verge of more tears. And knowing Rebecca as well as he did, he assumed she’d want privacy if she was unable to keep from shedding them. He led her to the bathroom down the hall.
Rebecca used the restroom, then washed and dried her hands. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed she’d sweated most of her makeup off during dance class. No wonder the woman had looked at her the way she did.
Rebecca felt so out of place, it was almost too much to bear. Rose had offered her a place to stay, food, had called her honey—and she didn’t even know her. That much generosity was a lot for her to deal with. Rebecca couldn’t remember anyone ever calling her ‘honey’ before. She didn’t know why the simple endearment brought the sting of tears to her eyes.
Weary of her tear-streaked, half-made-up face, she washed off the remnants of the cover-up. The cool water felt heavenly on her abused eyes. She’d cried more today than she had in the past twenty years. She was used to disinterest. She was used to loneliness. But the betrayal she felt from her father had hit her unexpectedly not once, but twice now.
She’d keep her promise to him, though. She would feel like slime if she didn’t. But when‒–‒ if‒–‒she saw him again, she would let him have a piece of her mind.
She didn’t want Rose to think she was rude, so she left the bathroom and walked slowly back to the homey kitchen. It truly smelled wonderful. She loved the way the kitchen smelled when Mary was cooking, but it had been so long since she had bothered with a home-cooked meal. She didn’t recognize what Rose was making, but it looked delicious. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her again that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Gideon sat at the bar-styled table. When she walked in, he patted the stool next to him. She went to it, not knowing what else she could do, and sat down. Rose turned from the stove and sent her a look of sympathy. Rebecca worked up a small smile and folded her hands in front of her.
Rose sat a plate of biscuits down on the table in front of them, then stirred whatever was in the pot. Steam curled from the hot bread, making Rebecca’s mouth water. “Gideon tells me you’re a dancer?”
Rebecca looked down at herself. It was obvious from her leotard that she was a dancer, but she recognized the ploy to get her talking. “Yes. I’ve taken ballet since I was little.”
“That’s neat. Do you perform?”
“Whenever I can, yes.”
“Colin is getting the guest room ready for you, honey. Jess is putting some of her clothes in there for you to wear. Gideon tells me you had to leave your bag behind.”
Rebecca gave a wry smile. “Thank you. I hate that I’ve bothered you.”
“It’s no bother.” Rose smiled and Rebecca found herself smiling in return. She was a comfortable woman. Beautiful, like it seemed all the Avery’s would be. Her dark hair hung in loose curls just past her shoulders. High cheekbones sat under creamy skin. While both of her sons were dark complexioned, she had skin like porcelain. She also wasn’t very tall, a couple of inches shorter than Rebecca’s five feet, seven inches.
“Do you like chicken and dumplings?”
“I don’t think I’ve had them.”
“They’re amazing. Especially Mom’s,” Gideon said from beside her. Rebecca had almost forgotten he was there. Almost.
“They smell wonderful.”
“They’re almost ready. Oh, this is my daughter, Jess.” Rose sat the spatula on the stove and crossed the kitchen to the girl who had just entered the room.
Rebecca smiled more easily now that the initial nerves had passed. Jess was a small girl. Nineteen, she remembered Gideon telling her. She stood almost as tall as her mother with the same pale skin and dark brown hair. Her eyes were green and the biggest part of her face, and right now, they were full of nerves. Rebecca couldn’t remember ever making anyone nervous before.
“Jess, this is Rebecca.” Rose rubbed her daughter's arm before returning to the stove. “Sit down, Jess. I’ll make you a plate too.”
Jess took a seat across from Gideon and took his hand when he offered it. He gave his sister a small squeeze and a wink before releasing her. Rebecca marveled at his easy affection with his family. It wasn’t normal to her to see such closeness, but it went a long way to calming some of her fears. If the man loved his mother, he couldn’t be all that bad.
Colin came back in from the hallway and took the seat across from Rebecca. The first thing he did was tousle Jess’s hair. She swatted him playfully.
Rebecca realized she had yet to say a word to Jess. “You’re a painter?”
Jess looked down at her hands. “I paint. I’m not a professional or anything.” She eyed Rebecca’s attire. “Are you really a ballerina?” Her voice was soft.
“Yes.”
“Would you like something else to wear?”
Rebecca grinned. “I really would.”
She followed Jess out of the room without even looking at Gideon for permission. It wasn’t as if she could escape. She didn’t even know where she was. The boat ride had lasted over two hours, but that didn’t tell her anything. She’d lost all sense of direction being shut in that little room.
Jess led her into what she assumed was the guest bedroom and picked up a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. “This is your room. I put a few outfits on the bed. You’re taller than me but I think these will work. This room has a half bath right over here.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca told her.
“I’ll just wait in here.”
Rebecca changed, thankful for the comfortable cotton clothes. They reached her ankles, but she couldn’t complain. The mint green pants were loose and cozy. The bottom of her flat stomach showed a half inch or so under the grey t-shirt, but she didn’t care. She picked up her discarded dance clothes and left the tiny bathroom.
“Thank you,” she said again, laying her clothes at the foot of the bed.
“It’s no problem. Mom is a little taller than I am, so we’ll maybe raid her closet tomorrow. Do you know how long you’ll be staying with us?”
“I’m not sure,” Rebecca murmured.
Jess hesitated. “Are you okay? I mean, you have a lot of bruises. They look painful.”
Rebecca touched the sore spot under her eye and winced. “It looks worse than it is. I really almost forgot I had them.”
“Do you want an aspirin or something?”
“Maybe later. It’s tolerable now, really.” Rebecca glanced around the room she would be occupying. Like the rest of the house, it was homey and inviting. The bed was a full size, covered in deep green blankets and pillows. The curtains matched them as well. The walls were white with framed paintings hanging throughout the room. A painting caught Rebecca’s attention and she crossed over to it.
It was a picture of an island. It sat in the middle of dark blu
e water with trees and greenery shining in pale moonbeams. It was real and earthy, she felt as though she could step right into the paradise scene. Rebecca could see something like this being worth a fortune—miles away from the Rebecca Channing original. She peeked at the corner of the painting and read the initials J.A.A.
“Did you paint this?”
“Yes.”
“It’s amazing. What island is it?”
“The one we’re on.” Jess smiled and stepped up to the painting, missing Rebecca’s jolt. They were on an island? Where? What Island?
Jess put her finger on a spot in the center of the trees. “If you go straight back here, that’s where the house is.”
Rebecca looked at where Jess’s finger was and then at Jess. “You didn’t paint the house?”
“No. I painted this before we built the house.”
“What island is this?” She tried to make her voice sound casual, but even she could hear the nerves in it.
“Avery. Didn’t Gideon tell you we own the island?”
“It never came up.” That was just about the truth. He had been busy keeping her locked in the cabin. She had no idea where they were, but maybe that was for the better. If she didn’t know where she was, how could the goons? “It’s beautiful. The painting, I mean. You have a real talent, Jess. Are you going to school for art?”
“No. Well, yes. I’m taking some courses online, but I’m a CPA. I manage the books for the business.”
“Business?”
“The boat business. The boys build customized boats. They started it when we moved here four years ago and it’s taken off. The boat you came in on, they built that one last year.”
Rebecca’s heart sank. She’d felt guilty enough about Gideon losing his boat, and that was before she realized he’d probably built it. And the goons that were after her were going to destroy it if they hadn’t already, all because she had jumped onto it when she had been so desperate to get away. She had never stopped to think about the consequences of her actions.