25. Art Appreciation Day

Chapter 25

Art Appreciation Day

HUNTER

" Y ou look better," Vaughn comments from the sofa as I enter my home.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Why are you still here? I thought I changed the code to the keypad lock."

He shrugs, turning his attention back to the movie playing on the screen. "I already know all the possible password combinations you'd use. Only took me five minutes to break in."

I place my suitcase against the door, muttering, "Of course you did."

Vaughn turns off the television and studies me. "Steve's dead."

My vacation from reality with Megan is over. For a few moments in time, it was wonderful not to have to think about all the messy shit in my life.

"Did Parker do it?"

"It wasn't Parker." His tone is grim, and I go still. "And it wasn't Lars."

"What the hell do you mean, it wasn't them? Did Steve kill himself?"

Vaughn shakes his head. "This happened just a few hours ago. Lars had to make a run, and Parker was taking a break, so I was the only one outside the room when the fire alarm went off. At the same time, I received a notification from the alarm on your office door. Somebody was trying to break in. By the time we realized that someone had just pulled the alarm to keep us distracted, it was too late. All the security footage had been wiped, and Steve's throat was slit."

"And you're sitting here on your ass watching movies? Why didn't you call me right away?" My voice is stern as I step towards him.

"There was no point," he replies calmly. "I just got back myself. All the staff were interviewed. All the customers were drunk, of course. Nobody saw anything."

"Who breached the security room?"

"No one. Both guards were sitting there. The monitors just turned black. Based on how quickly it happened, I suspect a cyber-attack. I just sent all the staff home and was waiting for you."

"I should have stayed here!" I growl, furious with myself, but Vaughn cuts me off.

"No, you needed a break, and it looks like you got a nice one."

I think about Megan for a moment, and an unfamiliar warmth fills my chest.

"It was relaxing," I admit.

"Good," Vaughn smiles. "Listen, we weren't prepared for this because we weren't expecting somebody to attack the club. It's neutral ground. It's a fucking death wish to come at you like this."

I sink into my favorite armchair. "What about Steve? Did we get anything useful out of him?" "Actually, yes." Vaughn looks pleased. "His death wasn't a complete loss, and let's be real. They couldn't keep him alive forever."

The new doctor I have on the payroll since my old one was dumped in the alley basically said as much before I left for Paris.

"According to him," Vaughn continues, "it seems that Johnathan hasn't met the girl he's looking for. Steve overheard him talking to a private detective about finding her, but she was in LA somewhere. Also, Johnathan is working either with or for someone, which explains a lot if he's responsible for pulling something like this off at the club. He isn't smart enough to have done this by himself."

"But why did he come back?" I comment, leaning back against the chair and studying the ceiling. "He stole from me, and I let him live."

"Yeah, it's confusing how you decide whom you're going to annihilate on any given day."

I ignore Vaughn's snide comment and try to work out this situation in my head.

"I assumed he was on the other side of the world spending my money, but he's returned? He had to know that if he came back here, I'd want him dead. He may not be a criminal mastermind, but he's smart enough to know not to come back here without a plan or without muscle."

"Right now, you're at the top of the food chain in LA. If you're removed, there's a large gap that needs to be filled almost immediately. Johnathan knows this, and he might be aiming for that."

I'm quiet for a moment, thinking over his words. "Did you take care of Steve's body?"

"Lars handled it."

Lars is meticulous about these things, so I feel better now.

"I think I should have a word with Nick tomorrow. Get in touch with him and tell him to come to my office at noon."

Vaughn glares at me. "I'm not your secretary, you know. I have my own company to run."

"Considering you're up under my ass lately, you can at least make yourself useful. Hasn't the whole thing with Shelly been resolved?"

My friend's expression turns dark. "Well, it's funny you asked. I haven't heard from her in a few days since she kicked me out. I'm starting to worry."

"I can't believe you let her kick you out of your own house," I say in disgust. "That's your house. If she wants to leave, she should be the one walking out." I shake my head. "And now you're worried."

Vaughn is quiet, and then he sighs heavily. "I don't know what I'll do if I find out she's cheating on me. I don't think I can take that."

I don't say anything because I'm not really sure what to say. Out of the few friends I have, Vaughn is the one with the softest heart. His hands are not clean by any means, but unlike me, he has some shred of humanity left in him.

"Christian is coming back tomorrow," he adds. "He wants to see you. His apartment is getting repaired, so he said he'll crash here."

"Fantastic," I mutter. "Fucking fantastic. We'll pop popcorn, eat Twizzlers, and make a fucking slumber party out of it."

"I could do with some junk food," Vaughn jokes. "You know, if you take the stick out of your ass every once in a while, it might be easier for you to breathe."

"Maybe I should just shoot you and solve all of Shelly's problems," I say darkly, but Vaughn just ignores me.

"So, do you ever plan on talking about how you just took that hot little bartender with you to Paris?" He grins. "It's not like you to whisk a woman away for a romantic weekend."

My eyes narrow at his description of Megan. "She's not just some random hot bartender; she's a manager at the Blue Whiskey and deserves your respect."

"Ohhh," he exaggerates his tone, simultaneously chuckling. "My bad."

"And it wasn't a romantic getaway."

"Then what was it?"

"None of your fucking business, that's what." I kick his legs, which are resting on my coffee table, off of it and make my way to the bedroom. "And stop breaking into my house. I'm changing the entry code again tonight. You won't guess this one."

He ignores my threats.

"Maybe I should just visit the studio and tell Nick in person that you want to have a word with him. I might see Shelly there."

Vaughn then turns on the television, and I scowl at the door. "Whatever, man."

I don't tolerate people easily, but there are a few who have stood by me for years and have proven their loyalty over and over again. Both of my friends, Vaughn and Christian, come from different backgrounds than me. Vaughn grew up on a pumpkin farm up in Seattle, which was lost during a property dispute with another family member. Christian comes from a wealthy family who has turned their backs on him for many reasons I have yet to fully understand.

I met each of them separately over a decade ago when I offered them help to deal with their personal difficulties. In return, they paid me back in kind. They are two of my most trusted friends. I would almost call them family, which is why I want to murder at least one of them once a day.

As I unpack my suitcase, I pull out the framed sketch that Megan gave me. I know that she's only a floor below me right now, but for some reason, she seems very far away. I stare at it and reflect on our time together. The trip was impulsive, and I hadn't expected to enjoy it so much. I didn't anticipate anything that happened between us. The side of Megan that I saw isn't something I'll be able to forget. She looked and acted like a completely different person.

Happiness suits her, I muse.

When was the last time I was this comfortable and at ease with a woman? When was the last time that someone looked at me without a trace of fear in their eyes? When was the last time I had a woman in my life who didn't want something from me?

Megan made me feel almost human, and then she let me drown in her. I feel my dick harden at the memory of her bouncing on top of it, begging me for more, screaming my name. I've had plenty of women in my life. The sex has always been satisfying, but with Megan, it was much more so.

God, I crave the taste of her.

But that was yesterday, and this is today–the real world. Now that she's back in her own space and hopefully out of my system, I don't have anything distracting me.

I should throw this away, I tell myself, looking down at the framed sketch. I have far more priceless paintings in all of my offices. Collecting art is a pastime reserved for the types of people who have that kind of money to blow. When I purchase them, it's all about the look for me. It tells people that I'm a powerful player and that I've got money to burn. I never much cared what kind of art it was. Half of the time, I don't even know the names of the artists.

And yet, I find myself hesitating when it comes to this piece. The look on Megan's face when she handed this sketch to me makes me falter.

I glance around my room and see a small painting of the French Riviera I purchased at an auction a few years ago. It cost me a few thousand dollars, and it's been hanging in my bedroom ever since. Without hesitation, I work diligently to remove the painting from the frame and carefully replace it with Megan's sketch.

It looks good up there.

I wasn't lying when I told Megan she had skills. It's obvious to the naked eye that she has talent.

‘I‘m going to make something of myself!'

Her fierce words resonate within me, and a small smile curves my lips as I speak to the empty room, "I can't wait to see that day."

Putting away my clothes, I step in to take a shower and wash away any remaining remnants of our Parisian holiday.

Unfortunately, I still have work to do.