The Collector Page 112

“We both know if she’s free she’ll come after us. That’s been part of the point.”

“She has to find us. You can write anywhere. I can paint anywhere. We’ll go anywhere. You like to travel. We’ll go from anywhere to anywhere. I saw the gypsy in you the first time I met you. We’ll be gypsies.”

“You don’t want that.”

“I want you. We’ll rent a cottage in Ireland, a villa in Provence, a château in Switzerland. Lots of new spaces for you, lots of new canvases to paint for me.”

And her, he thought, in the kitchen every morning. A short thin robe and a multi-tool.

“They’ll put her away or put her down eventually,” he said. “But until then, if this doesn’t work out our way, we have another option. See the world with me, Lila.”

“I . . .” The little bubble of panic fizzed in her throat. “I have a business.”

“We can start that way. Keep it that way if you want. But away from New York, as soon as we can manage it. Think about it,” he suggested. “It’s a big world. I’m going to contact Alexi, start setting things up, then get another hour or two in my studio. Why don’t we see if Luke and Julie want to meet us for dinner later? Get out of here for a while?”

“Getting out’s good. You’re not worried about it?”

“Interested in it, on a couple levels. No reason to send his bitch after us if he’s considering meeting with me, seeing what I’m offering. Eight work for you?”

“Eight’s fine. I think it would— Oh God.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “His bitch.”

“What now?”

“Don’t get mad—you’re a little scary when you’re mad. Then I’ll get mad, and I can be a little scary. And it was already scary.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She called. Jai Maddok called me—my cell phone. She called me.”

The amused exasperation flipped directly to cold fury. “When?”

“After you left. But a while after, so I don’t think she was just waiting for me to be alone. I don’t think that mattered.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Goddamn it, Lila.”

“I would have, was going to. I was . . . I had the phone in my hand to call you, then the buzzer—your father. And he wasn’t really happy to see me, then you came and— Damn it back, Ashton, it’s been nothing but drama. It went out of my head with all the rest. Plus I am telling you. It’s not like I’m keeping it a secret. I was—”

He sat again, put his hands firmly on her shoulders. “Stop. Breathe.”

She drew air in, stared into his eyes as he rubbed her shoulders. And felt the little bubbles of hysteria in her throat pop and dissolve. “I’d just finished the base coat. My phone rang, and it was her. She meant to scare me, and she did. I’m glad we weren’t Skyping so she couldn’t see my face. She asked if I enjoyed Italy. I tried to pull a little Kaylee—you know, give as good as you get. I asked if she had, and I brought up the art dealer. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but it gave her a bad moment, I could tell.”

“Let me have your phone.”

“My— Oh, stupid. I didn’t even check the number. It all happened so fast. But I recorded most of it. I remembered my recording app.”

“Of course you did,” he replied. “And of course you have a recording app.”

“Because you never know, right? The buzzer sounded right after she hung up, and then everything just rolled.”

She handed him the phone.

“Private caller,” he read when he scrolled her incomings.

“I don’t think she wanted me to call back and chat. It’ll be a drop phone. Everybody who reads popular fiction or watches TV knows that. Untraceable drop phone. She just wanted to spook me. She did.”

“Tell me what she said to you.”

“It’s there. You can listen.”

“Tell me first, then I’ll listen.”

“A lot about killing me, and it came through loud and clear we were right. I’m pretty sure she called me a couple of very nasty names in Chinese, which I’ll need to look up. It’s not the job to her, not now. I screwed things up for her, and I punched her—and I reminded her of that because she scared me. I was going to call you, I promise, and the police, but then your father was here, and I was in my scut clothes, so that couldn’t have been worse.”

“Your scut clothes? What does that have to do with it?”

“Every woman in the world would understand how that was worse.”

“Okay.”

Some tears had trickled through. He brushed them away with his thumbs, laid his lips lightly on hers.

He looked down at her phone. “Where’s the app?”

“Here, let me do it.” She brought it up, tapped play.

Refused to shudder when she heard Jai’s voice, when she heard the words again. She saw the fire rekindle in his eyes, saw it burn there when the recording ended and those eyes looked into hers.

“I gave her a couple of bad moments right back. I didn’t sound terrified or panicked. But—”

He wrapped around her when she threw her arms around him.

“I was. I admit it, I was. It got real. Really real—her voice on the phone, knowing she wants to kill me. She wanted to taunt me, but there was this rage under it. So much rage I could feel it as much as hear it.”

“We’ll go.” He drew her back. “Anywhere you want. Tonight. Nothing else matters.”

“No, no, no. We can’t live like that—I can’t. We can’t just walk away from it. It didn’t work for Jason Bourne either. You know, you know.” Now she had to struggle not to babble as bafflement joined the fire in his eyes. “The books, the movies. Matt Damon.”

“I know.” Her mind, he thought, stroking her hair, was a wonderful thing. “Okay.”

“This is all the more reason to finish it. She can’t get away with turning me into a tremble puddle on the floor. She can’t be allowed to dictate how either of us lives. It got real, Ash, and I’m not going to let her turn me into someone I don’t like or recognize. Don’t ask me to do that.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll call Fine.” He looked at Lila’s phone again. “I’ll take care of it.”

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