Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“That’s not necessary,” Mace said as he finally turned around. “I should get going,” he added and then he was brushing past me.
I needed to keep my mouth shut and let him go. I could afford to go with a professional contractor – yes, it would cost more, but I wouldn’t have to wonder about the things this man could do me…or what I would let him.
“Mace.”
He turned and sent me a questioning look.
“Are you still interested in the job?” I asked, knowing that I would likely come to regret my decision but finding it hard to care as Mace’s penetrating eyes swept over my entire body before coming to rest on my eyes.
“Yeah…yeah, I am.”
Chapter Three
Mace
As Jonas asked me questions about my experience with construction work, I only half listened because my body was still humming from the feel of his fingers caressing my back. And that was exactly what he’d been doing when I first sat down. It hadn’t surprised me that he was intrigued by the tattoo on my back but I was caught off guard by how good his touch had felt. Plenty of men and women had commented on it both in and out of bed but I’d never let any of them explore it the way they wanted…the way Jonas had. The angel had always been something I protected because she represented a part of my life that was gone forever…that had been stolen from me one cold Spring day almost eight years ago. But I’d let Jonas in. Another mistake – one on a list that was growing longer and longer.
The turn of events downstairs had caught me off guard. First, when Jonas looked at me but didn’t really see me after I’d crawled out from underneath that table. And then again when I’d seen the disaster waiting to happen and instead of letting the young man taste even a small amount of the same pain he’d inflicted on others, I’d been more concerned with reaching him in time to keep him from getting hurt.
While the nails in my shoulder hadn’t felt great, I’d lucked out that Jonas had dragged me upstairs to his personal space because it saved me from having to break in later to plant one of the listening devices I had with me. The second he’d stepped into the bathroom, I’d made quick work of placing the bug underneath the edge of the counter in the kitchenette and then covered the move by pretending to explore his apartment. And then I saw the painting…the one I’d seen him working on for hours the day before. I knew shit about art but I’d known the second I saw it why he’d spent so much time on it. Because he wasn’t just painting some abstract image that made only sense to him. No, he was putting himself into every stroke of the brush, into every carefully selected color. Pain, hope, grief…I saw it all. And as he’d returned to the room, all I’d wanted to do was enfold him in my arms and ask him who he was and why he needed to use a paintbrush to tell the world what he was feeling.
And then I’d gotten pissed…royally pissed. Because no sob story gave him the right to hurt those who needed to be protected the most. He’d had a choice – even if the worst had happened to him, he could have ended the cycle instead of continuing it.
“Mace?”
I jerked myself from my thoughts and saw that Jonas had actually stepped closer to me and his hand was resting on my arm. I casually pulled free of him as I tried to remember what he’d asked me. The fog of confusion finally cleared and I remembered him mentioning the hourly rate he was offering.
“That’s fine,” I said quickly.
“Great,” he said with a smile. “How about I show you what I have in mind?”
I nodded and followed him from the apartment back to the first floor. I’d already gotten a pretty good look when I first entered through the unlocked front door. The main part of the space had been constructed of mostly brick walls and there were several interior walls that broke up the openness of the space. Since I’d already known Jonas was an artist, I’d assumed he was likely planning to use that part of the space as his gallery to showcase his work. I wasn’t as sure what his plans were for the room we’d been in when the near miss had happened. The wood that had fallen was only a fraction of the debris that cluttered the area and I knew most of the work would need to happen in that room. A couple of the walls were exposed and many of the ceiling tiles were loose or gone all together and the linoleum floor was torn and dirty.