“She’ll be fine,” he replied gruffly, hoping that would be the case. “She’ll understand.” After last night, he was sure Ana would need to actually get some rest tonight. Not to mention, his woman had a heart of gold and he knew she would want to do whatever was best for Tash to ease her suffering.
Tash still looked hesitant, but the need to feel safe overcame her concerns and she nodded.
“Thank you.” Her eyes glanced backward. “Just let me grab my pillow. I’ll… I’ll be right back.”
He watched her disappear back into her room, her door shutting lightly, leaving him for a moment with his thoughts – thoughts that immediately went to Ana.
Maybe he should have talked to her first, asked her first, part of him argued.
Maybe he should have suggested that Morgan stay with her. Except Morgan slept in a bed. And except that Morgan wasn’t here. Maybe she would have rather stayed with Ana. Except that Ana had already lived through something similar; was it fair to make her relive it through someone else? Especially when Tash was his responsibility.
He’d told Sloane he would look after her. It was his suggestion that she be included in their operation that had put her in this position; it was his selfishness that had exposed her. He needed to make sure that she was safe until she got on that plane tomorrow and got back home.
The door reopened and he put to rest his concerns; he’d made his decision.
Pierce followed her up the stairs, holding the door open to his room.
Good thing Ana had gone crazy cleaning his room this morning.
“Why are you changing the sheets? You know that we’re just going to mess them again tonight?” he’d teased her this morning.
“There’s nothing wrong with having fresh sheets on your bed, Mr. Lane,” she’d retorted with an adorable smirk. At which point, he’d snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him to whisper in her ear.
“I don’t give a fuck about the sheets on the bed, Princess, as long as they have you in between them.” She’d sighed back against him and he’d stolen a long kiss from her before she demanded that he let her get back to work.
Tash set her phone and water bottle on his nightstand.
“Are you sure, Pierce?” she asked again quietly.
“Yeah, Tash. It’s my fault you’re in this situation.”
She turned and looked at him. “That’s not true and you know it.”
Normally, those words would have been accompanied by the typical Tash attitude, but tonight, even though she meant them, they were weak. And that knowledge only strengthened his guilt.
“No, it is. If I had forced Loury to tell me who else was after the girl and the painting, you would have never been at the Shard; they would have never found you.”
“Please don’t think like that,” she said, her voice shaking and he realized that she was about to cry.
“Ah, fuck.” He stalked over to her and put his arms around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Tash. I didn’t mean it… I just…” He swore. “I just feel like a fucking failure, but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you further.”
He felt her shoulders shake under him. Even though they’d slept together some months ago, Pierce almost wouldn’t have believed it considering that he felt absolutely nothing but platonic concern for her right now; he held her to comfort her.
Because that’s what friends did.
A few minutes later, her tears subsided and she pulled back. “Sorry, I’m just a mess right now.”
“Don’t apologize, Tash. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said softly, patting her back. “You’ve been so strong through all of this.”
She shrugged and shook her head, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Seriously, you fucking uprooted your entire life to come here. And then on top of that, you’re barely out of a cast and you’re volunteering to help catch an art thief. I can’t think of many women who would do those things. You’re like an Amazon woman or something,” he continued gruffly.
He knew his words sounded stupid, but he couldn’t think of what to say to comfort her, so he spoke the only things that came to his mind and hoped that would be enough.
Tash laughed and he felt a small relief. “An Amazon? Seriously, Pierce?” She chuckled again and he just stared at her like, ‘What’s so funny?’ “I’m just barely five feet. The Amazons were like over six feet, genius. I’m the farthest thing from that.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” Normally, he would have retorted something back, but he was just glad that he’d gotten a smile on her face. “Alright, why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’m going to grab some things from the other room and then I’m going to sit in that chair over there by the door—” he pointed to the armchair that sat on the farther side of the mirrored wall, “—for a little while if you need anything.”
Tash gave him a grateful smile before she swung her legs onto the bed and underneath the covers.
“Pierce.” Her soft voice stopped him. “Can you leave the lights on for just a little bit?”
He nodded and then turned and walked into his studio, giving her a few minutes to get settled and relax alone while he picked up the small watercolor canvas that he’d begun of Ana last night. He’d work on it for a little while until Tash was sound asleep and until Ana came home.
She should have been back a while ago, but something must have kept her at the hospital with Morgan. It was fine, he told himself but couldn’t stop from texting her to come up when she got home; they needed to talk.
Comforting Tash and trying to give her a small glimmer of peace had created a sense of calm within himself. He’d been afraid to care for so long, he never would have believed that being compassionate would feel so healing. For the first time, he’d allowed himself to feel, to care, because Ana had shown him that he deserved it.
He tossed his shirt onto the couch, grabbing the canvas and his supplies and walked quietly back into the bedroom. Glancing over to the bed, he saw that Tash was peacefully tucked underneath the covers, her sweatshirt lying on the still-made side of the bed.
Taking a seat in the armchair, he propped the canvas back up and began to work on the image of his beautiful muse. Just like her portrait, he had a feeling that this would be another piece that he would never be satisfied with; he would never be able to capture just how beautifully strong and seductive Ana was.
He’d been working maybe a half an hour… maybe longer… when he heard rustling coming from the bed.
She’s fine.
He continued to work as the rustling abruptly became much worse, now accompanied by moans and whimpers.
Shit. She was having a nightmare. What should he do?
He quickly washed his paintbrush in the water as the rustling turned to thrashing. The side of the bed that had been made was now in complete disarray as Tash fought wildly against attackers that only existed in her dreams.
“Please… No… Please…” Her moans now became distinguishable words – pleas to be left alone.
Pierce tossed his palette onto the floor and stood quickly. He had to wake her.
“Tash,” he said her name firmly as he walked quickly towards the bed, stopping in his tracks and abruptly turning when he realized that she’d been naked underneath her sweatshirt.
Fuck.
He looked around the room for a blanket or something that he could throw over her – something to shield her.
There was a crash behind him and he whirled around.
Fuck the blanket, he needed to wake her out of her night terror.
In the space of those few seconds, Tash had pushed herself up against the headboard of the bed. The crash had been the lamp on the nightstand – her arms flailing – pushing – at invisible attackers had knocked it off.
Without further thought, he climbed onto the bed, trying to avoid her limbs that were thrown out in every direction. He groaned as her foot kicked out into his thigh, pain shooting up his leg.
“No! Don’t! Stop!” Now, she was screaming and sobbing.
Pierce wrapped his arms around her, locking them like a vise.
“Tash, wake up. It’s just a nightmare,” he said as she thrashed against him as though he were the one trying to harm her. Her whole body felt like it was seizing against his.
No wonder she hadn’t slept last night.
“No… no…” she cried against him.
“Tash! It’s Pierce.” She continued to shake. “Tash, wake up!” he yelled with a little more volume.
Finally, that seemed to jar her; her body stopped fighting him. Her limbs sagged against him and he knew that she was finally out of the darkness.
“Pierce?” she whispered his name.
“Yeah, I’m here. You were having a nightmare,” he said tightly, finally able to breathe – and think – again now that he didn’t have to worry about her hurting herself or him.
Her arms wrapped around him and he felt her face bury into his chest as she began to sob silently.
Fuck.
He stared at the wall, trying his best to comfort her without succumbing to the awkwardness of their situation – both half naked in his bed, arms and legs tangled from the invisible battle that he’d tried to save her from.
How was he going to handle this? He tried to think. If Ana were here, she’d have a plan. Damn woman always had a plan; she always knew the right thing to do.
A moment later, Pierce, once more, learned the hard way that you should be careful what you wish for.
The door to his room flew open and Morgan surged inside, followed closely by Ana.
God, no.
Chapter 33
There were a million things that could have been done or said in that moment; most of them would have been for his benefit. Pierce knew how the scene looked, he could see it written identically on the faces of the twins. His tongue burned to quickly exonerate himself of their misperception. But, instead of thinking about himself, he thought about the tortured and traumatized woman in his arms – a woman embarrassed by her fears and her imagined weakness; she didn’t deserve to be seen like this.
He turned slightly, shielding more of Tash from their view. He saw Ana’s momentary shock turn into a look of heartbreaking betrayal before she turned and fled from the room, disappearing from his sight.
And probably his life.
Pain and anger flooded his body.
Morgan glanced over his shoulder and then back. “Pierce—”
“Get out!” he roared at Morgan; Tash was still shaking in his arms. His tone indicated that there would be no disagreement. He saw Morgan’s mouth thin as he turned to go, pausing for a second before he slammed the door behind him.
Pierce cursed himself when he realized what had given Morgan pause: the painting of Ana that lay on the floor right next to the door, having fallen from the easel earlier as he’d rushed to help Tash.
His head tipped up to the ceiling, his eyes closing shut as he held back a laugh at how royally fucked he was.
It was nothing more than he deserved.
Taking a deep breath, he focused his mind onto the most immediate situation: making sure that Tash was ok.
He could feel that she was still crying against him, but the shaking had begun to slow.
“Pierce…” Her small voice whimpered. “What happened?”
“You had a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked out.
“Don’t apologize, Tash.”
“Who was…”
“Just Morgan. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it later.” There was no sense in telling her the truth; it would just make her anguish even worse. He just needed to talk to Ana; she would understand.
He hoped.
“I’m sorry. I thought with you being here… After everything happened, when Sebastian was with me, I could sleep…” she rambled sorrowfully. “I think I’m ok now.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Once I have one… I’m usually ok afterward.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, thank you.” Her arms relaxed around him. “You can let go now.”
He let out a sigh. She hadn’t realized the full extent of their predicament. “Yeah… Ahh, well. I can. I just want you to be aware that you are naked. Not that I haven’t seen it before… but well… I know it’s not the same situation anymore.”
“Oh, my God, Pierce,” she groaned. “I’m so sorry.” Her head turned side to side. “Here, you stay still and close your eyes. I think I can disengage myself and get underneath the covers.”
“Ok,” he said, doing as she suggested.
He felt a mess of body parts move against him, the bed shifting underneath the movement. A few moments later, covers rustled and Tash said, “Ok, you’re all clear.”
He opened his eyes and stood from the bed, moving over to the armchair and the mess he’d made just a few minutes ago before turning back to her.
“You ok?” he asked again grimly.
She nodded, scooting back over to the side of the bed to grab her sweatshirt from the floor, pulling it underneath the covers to put back on.
Her gaze paused on the lamp. “Did I do that?” she asked.
Pierce nodded. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it broke.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I can’t tell you how many bruises and scrapes I would have probably ended up with in the morning if you hadn’t woken me up.”
He nodded. “I’m going to go talk to Morgan. Will you be ok?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said softly, lying back down in the bed.
He ran his fingers through his hair, picking up the mess he’d made earlier. He opened the door, leaving it cracked wide just in case Tash was wrong and she fell asleep into another nightmare. Glancing down the hall, he saw that Morgan’s door was open, which meant he wasn’t in his room.
Probably because he’d gone to get answers from Ana.
One fucking disaster at a time.
He moved down the stairwell, glancing on the second floor to see that Ana’s door was still shut, but he didn’t hear any voices.
He continued further down into the kitchen, coming to a halt when he saw his friend bracing his hands on the island countertop, a glass sitting between them, half-filled with liquid.
Pierce had a feeling that at least as much liquid had already been drained from the glass.
His dark eyes met pure rage as the other man looked up at him.
“You fucking asshole.”
“Morgan,” he began calmly, taking a step towards his friend, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it.
“Take one more fucking step and I will make every attempt to kill you. And no, I don’t think that on any normal fucking day I would have a chance at succeeding at that, but today is not any normal fucking day. Today is the day that you have betrayed my friendship. Today is the day that you have sunk to the lowest possible level of honor and respect. You fucked my sister, Pierce, and if you have any remaining ounce of self-worth or respect for me or for her, that means that today is the day you would let me succeed at killing you because you goddamn deserve it.”
Pierce ground his teeth together, his gaze dropping to the floor as his friend continued to attack him with rancorous words.
The problem was he was right.
“Nothing to say for yourself?” he questioned caustically. “No snarky, asshole comment? No attempt to try to justify or talk your way out of it?” Pierce didn’t have time to respond even if he had wanted to.
Morgan had every right to be infuriated and he had every right to say the things that he was about to say; after what Pierce had done, it was the least he could do to sit there and listen as his friend verbally cut him to nothing.
“I fucking knew something was going on from the very first second that you met her. And I fucking warned her. I warned her not to mess with you, that you would only end up hurting her because that’s all you know how to do.” He laughed bitterly. “I warned her
and I warned you. I told you to leave her alone. Hell, I even told you that she’d been traumatized – something that I had no goddamn business sharing – but I did in the hopes that it would stir whatever ounce of emotion that you possess. However, I see that it had no effect.”
Pierce bit into his cheek to keep from responding – to keep from defending the strong woman who could make her own choices – the strong woman who’d chosen him in spite of every opportunity not to – the strong woman who’d opened herself to be vulnerable to him when he’d given her no good cause – and the strong woman who saw the best in him when he refused to believe it himself.
Pierce didn’t give a shit what Morgan thought of him and his actions; the only thought in his mind was what his angry words implied about his sister.
“Honestly, did you even think twice about what I told you? I thought it would be enough. Maybe if I told you that the fucker never wanted her, that he cheated on her without a second thought, and that he almost killed her when she finally decided to stand up for herself – maybe that would have given you pause. But, I guess it’s a little too late for that now that you’ve gone and treated her just like every other goddamn woman that enters your life.” Morgan paused to down the rest of the vodka before opening the bottle to refill his glass.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
“I did think twice, Morgan.”
An irate hazel stare jerked to him, daring him to continue.
“Do you think I wanted to do this to you?” he bit out. “No, you clearly fucking do. However, that is the farthest thing from the truth. Yes, I was attracted to her and not like I normally am and yes, I treated her differently because I wanted her to hate me; I wanted her to stay the hell away from me. And if you won’t believe that I did it because you’re my friend, then believe I did it for the purely selfish reason that I don’t like to get involved with any woman who might want more.”
“Or maybe you just saw this as another game,” Morgan interrupted bitterly. “Maybe you saw her as the one woman you really shouldn’t have and just like everything else in your life that you’re not supposed to say or not supposed to do, you decided that you would take her because it’s fun to take what isn’t – what shouldn’t be - yours.” He took another sip. “For me to believe what you’re saying would mean that I would have to believe that you not only feel something, but feel something different – something more – for my sister. It would mean that you want something more with her than just one of your nightly fucks. It would mean that she would have to mean more to you than the only person I’ve ever seen you care about – your own fucking self. And after how long I’ve known you – after everything that I’ve seen you do, hell, everything that I’ve even done with you – it would be a goddamn miracle for that to actually be the case.”
The Painter's Passion Page 33