Page 13 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)

Chapter Nine

Nico

I expected her to respond with anger, to give me a taste of that fierce temper of hers, raging against me and my interference. What I didn’t expect was for her to start trembling in my arms, the shudders intensifying until her whole body was wracked with sobs as she clung to me.

My back hurt from the fall, but it was the ache in my chest that threatened to overwhelm me now. With soft, murmured reassurances, I wrapped my arms around her and held tight while her tears soaked into my shirt.

After a moment, I carefully sat up, swallowing a groan of pain as I drew her onto my lap and cradled her against my chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re both okay,” I whispered, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “We’re okay, I promise. ”

Tremors still ricocheted through her, but between the soothing words and the way she nuzzled her face into the pulse at my throat, the sobs seemed to have slowly worked their way out her system.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t . . .”

I waited for her to continue, but she simply shook her head and burrowed closer to me, so I prompted, “Can’t what?”

Silence stretched for so long, I was sure she wasn’t going to answer me.

“I lost you once, Nico, long before you even left. I can’t lose you again.”

Oh. Oh.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. She’d taken off from the cabin because she was worried about me? Risked getting lost in the middle of the woods for my sake? I struggled to wrap my mind around it, even as thick curls of warmth wound their way through my chest.

“I’m right here,” I murmured against her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t understand,” she said dully, like the tears had washed all the emotion right out of her. “He’s dangerous. More dangerous than you can imagine.”

I swallowed my instinctive response, which was to assure her I could take care of myself, and instead tightened my arms around her limp frame and said, “I’ll be okay, Kitten.”

“You must have heard the stories,” she whispered .

Oh, I’d heard them. I’d even pursued a few of them, wondering if there was any way to leverage knowledge of a crime for the painting, but there was never any proof.

At least, no proof that wasn’t already contained within the painting itself.

Either the rumors were blown out of proportion, or Aidan Willoughby was a criminal mastermind.

I was inclined to believe the latter, which meant Kat was absolutely right.

“Please don’t risk your life for this.” Her voice broke on the plea, her body curling protectively into mine.

“Okay.”

The word tore from my chest, searing a path from my heart straight through my ribcage. Losing the painting for good would be devastating in itself, but failing to retrieve the drive my father had hidden inside wasn’t an option, especially now that I’d pulled Kat into this mess.

When it came to my own safety, I could brush off potential danger—hers? I couldn’t chance it.

That drive contained something, some information my father had become privy to, something that I imagined must be evidence against Aidan Willoughby. If he thought I might have another copy, I was dead.

If he linked Kat to me in the meantime? Her life could be at stake, too.

She tipped her head back to look up at me. “Okay? That’s it? ”

Fuck, she was beautiful, even with dust and dirt coating the better part of what I could see of her. That burning in my chest eased bit by bit as I stared down into those big blue eyes.

“That’s it,” I agreed, nodding. “We’ll find another way. I swear to you I will not make a single move without your approval. Can we go back to the cabin and discuss this after that hot shower we never got? I think we could both use it now.”

She had the decency to blush a pretty pink under the layer of grime. “Right. Sorry about that.”

I swiped a thumb across her cheek to better see the color.

My thoughts had been scattered back at the cabin, bouncing between an image of Kat, sudsy and dripping, and the alerts from my computer.

Letting her distract me in the shower would’ve given me time to assess the situation before deciding on our next move.

The monitoring I’d set up had caught chatter from art collectors about convincing Willoughby to sell—if they succeeded and the painting changed hands, I would never get it back.

I didn’t have anywhere near the funds needed to buy it, and even if I did, I suspected Willoughby would rather go broke than let the painting fall back into the hands of the little French brat he’d come to despise over the years.

And knowing the type of people he might sell to, I sure as shit didn’t want my father’s “leverage” ending up in the wrong hands.

Forcing Willoughby to give it up in exchange for his daughter might have ensured I had it back in my hands before he sold it, but Kat was right—while she’d be in no danger from me, no matter how it went down, both of us would have targets on our backs if we went through with it.

And, for her protection, I’d need to back off, stay away from her, so Willoughby had no reason to think she’d been in on it. Just the thought of putting distance between us made my chest ache all over again.

Could I really hurt her like that after just getting her back?

With the ransom plan off the table, I might have to steal the damn thing. And as soon as Willoughby imagined there was any risk of losing it, security would be locked up tight.

Still, if Kat was willing to risk her own life to save mine by disappearing into the woods, I would need to figure something out. I’d been so worried about putting her in danger that I hadn’t given any thought to her doing it on her own.

I should’ve known better than to expect the ordinary out of this extraordinary woman.

The moment I realized she’d bolted had filled me with a near-paralyzing fear, not for the failure of my plan, but for her safety.

The cabin was miles from everything, including neighbors, which was why I’d bought it years ago in a quest for solitude.

Even if she’d picked the right direction—and managed to stick to it—it might’ve taken her days to hike out of the forest.

The terrifying images in my mind had nearly brought me to my knees before I forced myself to buck the hell up and rushed out the door after her .

“Come on,” I said gently, helping her to her feet before climbing to my own. “I’m too old for this.”

Kat’s startled laughter brought a smile to my face, but before we started back toward the cabin, I set my hands on her shoulders and studied her. She winced slightly when I ran my palms down her arms to take her hands.

“I think I reopened that cut,” she mumbled.

I grimaced. “We’re in good shape, both of us. I’ll take a look at it when we get home.”

Fortunately, I knew the woods better than she did, and the direct route toward the cabin only took us twenty minutes of slow trudging. I could tell Kat was distracted by pain and exhaustion when she barely managed a scowl upon realizing just how much time she’d wasted in her aimless trek.

“I was shooting for the creek,” she muttered, pausing to drum up enough energy to climb the three stairs to the cabin’s front door.

“Veered too far north,” I replied. “You were always shit with directions.”

She shot me a quick glare, but I only grinned and took her elbow to help her up the steps. I paused in the living room just long enough to delete the scheduled message that would’ve reached her father a few hours later, then ushered her into the bathroom.

We were both aching and filthy, but my breath stalled in my lungs when she tugged her tattered tank top over her head.

Even with angry scrapes marring her skin, blood seeping through the gauze around her arm, and streaks of dirt decorating her cheeks, she was so beautiful I could barely think straight.

She’d just turned to toss her shirt aside when she caught me staring at her.

A rueful smile tugged at her lips. “I guess this morning’s ship has sailed, huh?”

I knew I should agree, avert my eyes and nudge her into the shower alone, but I couldn’t. Instead, I cupped her cheek in my hand and dropped a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Only until it doesn’t hurt to move,” I replied.

“Well, that much we can agree on. I think my arms are just about useless.”

I managed to keep my eyes off her breasts, covered by pale blue lace, and turned her so I could unwrap the bandage from her arm.

Only a small section of the cut had opened, presumably during her heroic monkey bar routine on that branch, but I cleaned it with antiseptic before tipping my head toward the shower.

“Go on, get in. It’s going to take me a few minutes to bend far enough to get my jeans off.”

It looked like she was about to offer her assistance, then she snapped her mouth shut and turned away to remove the bra and her black jeans, which she’d obviously decided were a better option to flee in than oversized sweatpants.

I tried to focus on removing my own clothes, but then I saw the reflection of her bare back in the mirror as she stepped behind the shower curtain .

Certain parts of my body disagreed rather vehemently with the assessment that further relations needed to wait.

When had a woman’s back ever intrigued me like that? The sleek curve of muscle on either side of her spine, the indent of her waist, the flare of those soft, generous hips—fuck, I was like a horny teenager all over again, still lusting after Katherine Willoughby.

Plus ca change, plus c'est la même chose.

My father’s favorite phrase nudged at my brain as I leaned on the counter beside the sink and closed my eyes, trying hard to control myself in an attempt to not greet Kat with a raging erection.

From within the billowing steam of the shower, she gave a sharp gasp that went a good way toward quelling my arousal.

“Everything okay?” I called, kicking off my jeans faster than I’d thought possible.

“Yes, the water just stung for a second,” she replied as I opened the curtain to join her.