Shelter Me: A Shelter Novel by Stephanie Tyler Read Free Book Online Page B

that your business?"
    "You made it everyone's business—it's in all the papers."
    "Really? All of them?" I managed dryly. "I think you should definitely speak to Brayden about all of this and not me." I flipped the sketchbook closed and tucked the pad protectively under my arm. "I've got a lot to do."
    "Have the police been by to speak with you?"
    "Police?" I asked, confused.
    "Rumor is that Meghan VanValen is pressing charges." He gave a small wince. "But I'm betting you don't deal in rumors."
    There was no good way to answer that. "Why are you keeping track of my life?" I demanded. "I didn't steal my own painting."
    "You have no idea how many times I've heard an artist or dealer lie to me about that," Turner said calmly. "I'll be back, Ryn. In the meantime, you might want to reconsider your current associations." He paused. "By the way, I couldn't find an address on you prior to the Catskills."
    "What does that have to do with your investigation?"
    "Maybe nothing. Maybe everything," he said, and I hated him.
    "Please leave. Now."
    He took his time, finished the coffee I'd poured. I resisted the urge to snatch the mug from him and throw it—either at him or against the wall—but since rumor had it I might be getting a police visit, I figured I needed to keep the assault and battery to a minimum. Finally, he went to the door and let himself out, but not before he called over his shoulder, "Watch out for Lucas Caine. Trust me on that—he's not the type of man you want in your life."
    I didn't want to tell him that maybe Lucas Caine should be the one watching out for me.

    * * *
    I was shaken . I locked the doors and stared at the goddamned daffodils. Dan Turner was up to something—Brayden should've warned me, dammit.
    I stopped myself from firing off a snotty text. Instead, I went into the studio room and painted until the sun went down. Until my eyelids got heavy, and earlier than they normally would've. I blamed the stress of last night, of the last weeks, and I curled in bed and closed my eyes.
    In what seemed like seconds, I was awake, staring up at a dreary gray sky. I blinked, and my mouth opened to a silent scream but those were the only motions I could accomplish. My body was otherwise paralyzed, slowly being covered in daffodils that kept falling on me, drifting in like a fat, steady rain.
    By the time I realized I was lying in an open grave being slowly buried alive by the flowers, I did scream out loud and woke myself up.
    Still shaking, the first thing I did was carry the vase with the daffodils out to the trash room and threw the vase down the chute. Satisfied, I went back into my apartment and locked the door behind me.
    The second thing I did was call Lucas. He answered halfway through the second ring, sounding out of breath. I closed my eyes, mortified that I might've caught him in the middle of having sex. More mortified at the thought that he'd picked up. "I'm sorry—I didn't mean to bother you," I choked out.
    "Couldn't sleep. I'm out for a run," he huffed.
    My body sagged in stupid relief. Silly, foolish girl. "It's three in the morning."
    "What's your point?"
    "I want to run with you."
    "Then get dressed. I'll ring in nine minutes."
    "I'll meet you downstairs." When I looked at the clock, I noted I'd only been asleep for a couple of hours. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and slid into jogging capris and a tank top. I put my sneakers on in the elevator. I was walking down the front hall when Lucas came into the building.
    The locked building.
    "Doorman," he said when I opened my mouth to ask how he got in, but I chose to accept that. I couldn't deny there was a certain excitement—and comfort—that Lucas could get to me at anytime.
    We walked a few minutes—he'd already warmed up so I picked up my pace. I knew he was jogging slower for me, so I pushed hard and it felt good. I lost myself in the rhythm of my feet on the pavement, the blur of the shadowed surroundings, the sounds of the city