Another Brush of Love (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 3)

by LW Barefoot

  My hopes are a little too high. After the stewardess hands me a bottle of water, Anthony and his crew board the jet. His dark presence dims the elation coursing through me.

  He takes the seat next to mine and kisses me square on the lips. I have a hard time keeping myself from wiping his taste off my mouth.

  As if sending flowers was apology enough for the way he treated me. He asks about what restaurants we should check out together in New Orleans. I’m done sharing my meals and my time with him. He might be Grayson’s friend and Evan’s competition but he’s nothing to me.

  Evan will have to win Anthony’s trust on his own. As soon as my feet touch down on my home turf, I won’t be anywhere near Anthony or his goons.

  He could have pulled off our interactions differently. I might have even found him charming, but he degraded me and I’m tired of being around people who make me feel like that. He crossed a line the other night at his home. I won’t be able to slap a smile on for him.

  “He won’t be there waiting for you, you know?” Anthony says just loud enough for me to hear him.

  I have to school my reaction not to flinch away from his words. His fingers bite against my jaw and pulls my face to his.

  “You should show me a little more appreciation for flying you back home on such short notice,” he says as his breath washes across my face and his other hand grasps my thigh.

  Grayson sits across from us and watches intently. I didn’t want to provoke Anthony, but he’s been pushing me to it, and I can’t refuse. I can taste the freedom of being back home and no longer under his thumb, it’s making me brave.

  “Thank you for the flight,” I manage to say without sounding ungrateful.

  “You’ll be thanking me for a lot more before too long.”

  His assumption pisses me off.

  “Do you realize nothing you say to me matters? You can’t hurt me,” I spit.

  His grip tightens on my leg and I hate the tremor that radiates from the pressure.

  “It does, my love. You will see soon enough that everything I do matters.”

  His intentions have been clear since the moment I left him sitting in a cabana on a rooftop bar. It seems like months ago but it has only been three weeks. Three long weeks of putting up with his bullshit. I remain still while his fingers run through my hair. His compliments fall of deaf ears as he praises the recent change.

  In less than an hour and a half, we’re descending over New Orleans. The excitement I felt earlier reading the newspaper headline is back full force. Anthony’s words and swirling fingertip on the side of my leg are forgotten.

  The lowlands and water over the Pontchartrain call to me. I have imagined and dreamt of this far off place that could only exist in dreams because it makes no sense for me to feel this way. To love a location physically and with longing should be impossible but that’s exactly how I feel. Perhaps it’s the attachment to the place I found myself, came alive and fell in love.

  Every person I’ve ever loved and probably ever will are right down there. It’s as if I feel the reunion and reconnection of their arms long before the plane touches down. I meet Brad’s quiet smile. I’m not the only one who has been homesick. Grayson’s jaw tightens as he studies Anthony’s body language and my reaction to his advances.

  When the wheels of the jet hit the tarmac, my pulse escalates. It takes all my control not to bolt out of my seat. Anthony’s thumb presses against my wrist, feeling the life pounding throb, gaging my reaction to landing.

  “Are you scared, love?”

  I don’t answer him. These men and their power plays don’t scare me. Their intentions and misunderstanding of what fear really is take on a whole new meaning for someone like me. Someone who has already stared death in the face and danced away with him in dreams. Death has claimed me and I don’t fear any weak games by people like Anthony. I don’t answer him. He doesn’t deserve my words or breath at having to voice them.

  I can’t help but feel tears prick my eyes when I see Jamie and Tom as the plane taxis on the runway. Both of them stand next to a car. The wings of the jet bounce the bright sun off their sunglasses and hood of the car. I even notice Ryan and I’m thrilled to see him.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt as the plane is still in motion but Anthony grabs my arm. His guard eyes me with disdain.

  “Get your hands off me,” I hiss.

  “Careful, love. You’re so close you can taste it, but I’ll be the one to pick you up after all,” his accent deepens with his threat because that’s all it is.

  And if I’ve learned nothing else, I will be the one to pick myself up. I’m no longer foolish enough to rely on someone else to validate my choices. The last shreds of my petty weakness vanish. I feel as if it’s a physical weight that has fallen away.

  The stewardess unlatches the door. The only reason I look back is to see if Brad has Ru’ in his arms. His brilliant eyes wink at me before I run down the steps, not caring that I wore heels.

  Jamie catches me when I jump in his arms. I see the fresh tears on his face and I want to be the one to wash them away. It doesn’t matter that I’ve spoken to him every day since I’ve been gone, it wasn’t enough. He squeezes the breath out of me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he murmurs.

  He places a kiss on my forehead and sets me back on my feet.

  “Yes, are you?”

  I’m not the only one whose life changed because of the Sculptor. Jamie’s been there every step of the way with me and I love him for it, for so much more.

  “I’ve never been happier in my life. Harper, this is good for both of us,” he says with hope.

  “I know, I know,” I answer him tripping over my tongue.

  He laughs at me. I never display excitement and here I am practically giddy. Tom walks forward and repeats the same welcome and embrace.

  “You look well, Harper.”

  He hugs me and holds onto me a little longer than I anticipate.

  “Thanks, I’ve missed you,” I tell him.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He kisses my cheek and pulls away. I smile at Ryan, who’s stoic and reserved. I walk up to him and hug him as well.

  “Harper,” he starts to say something but I stop him.

  The Sculptor’s arrest won’t fix everything. Hell, it might not even be the real one, but I refuse for those thoughts to cloud over this homecoming. I’m scared to death he found me and has been in New Orleans for weeks, but I’m not leaving. I feel safer here and I’m tired of running. I’ve been tired of running for years. This location holds everything that means anything to me and that asshole has already taken too much.

  “Tell me later, okay?” I ask and Ryan offers a rare smile.

  “Okay,” he reluctantly agrees.

  As he steps away from me, I see Mae climb out of a classic car. The clean lines of the vehicle shine in historic craftsmanship and I feel my heart break a little when I think about Evan. With each hug I’m swept into, the absence of his arms resonates.

  Mae’s enthusiasm along with her hugs and kisses are all consuming. She runs her hands through my hair.

  “Well, I’ll be, you finally got your hair done,” she says in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  Brad and Grayson shake hands with Ryan and Tom while Jamie showers Ru’ with affection.

  “I’ve missed you, baby girl. I’m not the only one,” she says.

  Her exclamation is vague but it’s exactly what I need to hear. Grayson’s eyes meet mine. The tilt of his head motions to a car behind the SUV I hadn’t noticed. I try to disentangle myself from the welcoming mob.

  I’m halfway there, this long journey finally at an end. I see the driver and the car’s still running. I pick up my pace.

  A hand goes around my wrist just before I reach the handle, propelling me backward and into the chest that’s been following me for the last few weeks. Anthony’s lips crash down on mine and I lose it.

  The engine revs and slams into reverse as
fury eclipses everything. I push against his chest. A scream crawls deep out of my lungs as he holds me to him. I bite him. If he ever comes this close to me again I’ll cut his nuts off. He pulls away from me, cursing.

  My happy tears turn to sorrow as I see brake lights. Evan’s black Mercedes turns a corner, vanishing around an airport hanger.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell.

  A hushed silence falls over the crowd. Anthony’s speechless as he attempts to grab my upper arm. The only person for the rest of my life who is allowed to touch me just left. He was so close and whatever Brad’s reported back to Evan about who we’ve been spending time with has just proven his point.

  “Grayson, for the love of all things, get this fucking prick away from me,” I scream as Anthony’s grip tightens.

  “Don’t push me, Harper,” he says as if he owns me and that’s been his biggest problem.

  “Don’t push me, asshole,” I spit as Jamie takes my hand and tugs to pull me away from Anthony. “And one other thing,” I turn around as I’m walking because I’m just getting started. “If you try to pull this shit again, you’ll be sorry.”

  I hate that it causes him to smile.

  “I look forward to it, my love,” he promises.

  “Not anytime soon,” I say wiping my hand across my mouth.

  His mercurial mood shifts as he laughs at me. His entourage smirks as if they know something the rest of us don’t.

  “Who the hell is that?” Jamie asks.

  “No one worth your time,” I clarify.

  I climb into the back of the SUV with Jamie. Grayson, Tom, and Ryan follow us.

  Anthony’s crew unloads the bags into another vehicle. Brad unlatches the back hatch and puts Rufus inside.

  “I’ll load up the luggage in Mae’s car and meet y’all back at Harper’s,” Brad says.

  Tom drives us away from the airport.

  I don’t look back at Anthony and his crew. They can go to hell for all I care.

  Harper

  “Care to tell me what all that was about, between you and the drug lord?” Tom asks from behind the wheel.

  “No, not really,” I spit.

  “We need him, Harper,” he states as if I haven’t had a role to play.

  “Yeah and he needs to use me against some past issue against Evan.”

  “Do you know what it’s about?” Ryan asks.

  “No, but you should probably ask Evan. He might actually want to talk with you about it,” I hiss.

  “Harper, you can’t stay in New Orleans,” Ryan cuts in.

  I stopped him earlier when he was trying to warn me not to get my hopes up.

  “Why?” I ask.

  It’s obvious everyone else agrees with him, but no one wanted to say it. Jamie squeezes my hand in false reassurance.

  “The man claiming to be the Sculptor isn’t the real one. I don’t want to crush you with this, but you need to know the truth,” Ryan explains. “You should have never boarded that plane.”

  “How do you know it’s not him?” Jamie asks.

  “The man in custody is right-handed.”

  That look and connection we shared weeks ago at the plantation is back. Ugly understanding slaps me in the face. The Sculptor is left-handed. That was the most helpful piece of information I provided. It confirmed the evidence of how his previous victims acquired their numbers, their welts, their bruises.

  “The man that was arrested is being held for the murder in Boston. There’s video evidence of him with the victim. The rest of the information turned in is too circumspect. Someone pieced together a package and had it delivered for someone to take the fall for the Sculptor’s past crimes,” Tom explains.

  Grayson and Jamie take turns asking questions, but I block it out.

  I knew it was possible the real Sculptor wasn’t in custody, but I thought I could, at least, enjoy being back here for a little while longer. It’s not Ryan’s fault. Someone had to tell me the truth.

  We pull up to our complex that now has valet parking. Evan has been footing my bills since he destroyed my only source of income.

  “Hello, Harper. I want to offer my sincerest apologies. I had no idea who he was.”

  I look at the elderly doorman who has been in charge of our complex since we moved in.

  “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” I question Henry but Ryan quickly walks him away from the car.

  “What is he talking about?” I ask but no one answers me.

  It’s been so long since I’ve been here. I hate that Joe’s actions forced me out of my own house, but it turned out to be a blessing. Some stroke of fate that kept me out of the city and the potential to come across the Sculptor.

  Rufus rushes through the courtyard. As soon as Jamie unlocks the front door, I want to go upstairs and sink in my bathtub. Ryan and Jamie move through the house and I watch as Ryan runs upstairs.

  “Harper, you okay?” Tom asks.

  “It’s a lot to take in right now,” I confess only half of the truth.

  Evan was there today at the airport when we landed and sped off. And this place no longer feels like home. I keep pushing away the dominant thought because I can’t have his voice creeping back up again. I’ve worked too hard to keep him quiet.

  “I’m going up to take a bath,” I say to no in particular as I move to the stairs.

  I walk up them with Ru’ as my shadow. It feels even longer since I’ve been here. My last memories here are of Fat Tuesday in an emerald green gown and sparkling wine.

  If it wasn’t for my one and only time I spent at Evan’s downtown loft, I would already be there. We spent all of our time at the plantation and he could have driven back there. I force myself to forget what Anthony said about attending one of Evan’s parties. I don’t want to think about why he started them back up.

  I reach the top of the stairs and everything is different. My closet is full. The mattress is bigger than my original queen-sized one. The worst part is the new easel and brand new paint. Nothing of what I left is here. It’s as if a stranger moved in and replaced my things with new and better materials.

  Someone walks up the stairs with the aging wood sounding their every step.

  “Harper, let me explain,” Tom states from the door to my room.

  “I know, Tom. I felt him the minute I walked in the house.”

  I turn to look at him as he stands in the doorway. I have flashbacks of my apartment in Phoenix. My intuition was screaming at me to leave the night the Sculptor was there waiting for me. I convinced myself I was paranoid and I didn’t listen to my instincts. I stare at the easel and I know he did something to it. Touched it, used my paint, wishing it was my blood. I force myself to stop the train of thoughts because it will result with his voice shouting at me in my head.

  “What did he do?” I finally ask.

  I know Evan is responsible for replacing everything. Driven by some misguided need to protect me and make everything better.

  Tom walks over with his phone and shows me the warning the Sculptor left. Seeing his mask laying on my old bedspread makes fear knot a strangling rope around my throat.

  I stare at the Roman numeral two. I want to know after all this time why he would feel like he needs to warn me like this. He only wanted to see red if he was angry. He only used the crimson hue when he needed to express his rage. He expected me to be here, there’s no other answer.

  “Is that all?” I ask because it could have been worse.

  Jamie or Kate could have been here and I shudder with the thought.

  “We’ve had the property swept and that was the only thing out of place,” Tom says. “Did you notice anything missing downstairs?”

  I wrap my thoughts around the reason every single thing in my home feels like it’s been tainted. There are clothes that aren’t mine hanging with tags in my closet. Every shiny upgrade feels like an apology and a violation. The new security system blinks like it’s waving at me to grab my atten
tion. This is where something happened, not downstairs. Ru’ digs in his toy box filled with new toys and bones.

  “There was a picture of Jamie and I that’s no longer in the living room, but anyone could have moved it,” I say and look around the room that was once the center of my world, until it wasn’t, and it hasn’t been for a long time. It has been months since I’ve been here.

  “At least, tell me the bathtub is the same?” I quip and force a smile.

  “Of course, take your time. But you heard what Ryan said. You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

  “How did you go from trying to use me as bait to wanting to keep me protected?”

  “I’ve apologized for that. And I still feel bad about it, but Harper he’s not the only one we’re worried about. You’re mixed up with the wrong people and sooner or later either the Sculptor or Joe will get his hands on you. If you stay here you’re a sitting duck. Your little display with the hot-headed drug lord earlier only seals your fate.”

  “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I admit.

  “Let me put you back in protective custody.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m tired, Tom. I’m sick and tired of running. That’s all I ever do. I want this to end just as much as you do.”

  Our eyes meet as silent understanding passes between us. This ongoing struggle of hiding and running has come to an end. We’re both ready to move on.

  When Tom and I first met there was a kinship I didn’t understand. He never questioned my need to stay out of the spotlight. He conformed to my every wish until he didn’t. Until he and the Bureau tried to use me as bait. Evan and I fought against that eventuality. But now I’m calling the shots. I’m making decisions for myself to have a future. To have a chance at a normal life. And the only place I want to be living is in this city with the people I love with tattered buildings and crumbling sidewalks.

  I’ve studied everything I could possibly get my hands on about stalkers. I know, as well as Tom, that if the Sculptor was in this room, in this house, he’s still watching it. Studying this place from a distance. Every aspect from who comes through the entrance of this complex and what happens in the meantime.