Page 89 of The Saint

“Did you see that?” I tossed my hand toward the road where the cop car had been. “Did you see what he just did?”

With no change to the blank expression on his face, he said, “I saw your boyfriend stick some woman in the back of a police car.”

“He fucking kissed her!”

“On the forehead.” Lev scowled, his eyes trailing over my face and lingering for too long on my lips. “Not how he kisses you.”

My foot connected with Lev’s shin, and he dropped me to the cement. My hands hit the pavement as his gripped his leg. I scrambled backward, but in a flash, he’d grabbed my foot, dragging me across the sidewalk toward him.

Gripping the front of my coat, he hoisted me up until my face was inches from his. Then he closed the gap, his lips pressed hard to mine.

I jerked my head back, and my fist collided with his jaw. My ass hit the pavement as I yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you?” Scrambling to my feet, I shoved him backward and he fell to the ground. “I have a fucking boyfriend, you ma’niac!

Lev gripped his jaw with his hand, then turned his dark eyes my way. As he wiped his palm across his mouth, a crooked smile appeared. “Just had to check.”

My racing heart told me to deck him, to lay him out cold and walk away. The laughter that rumbled through his chest as he dragged himself off the ground made the feeling almost impossible to resist. He leaned over me, face too close as I stood as tall as I could, willing him to try one more time and get his ass handed to him.

He may have been bigger and faster than me, but I was scrappy and had always had more stamina than him.

Lev jerked his chin in the direction Rolly had run. “Come on. Let’s go find your boy.”

* * *

I raced up the stairs to Rolly’s apartment with Lev on my heels. Just as I cleared the landing and was starting up the last flight of stairs, something plopped against the floor up ahead. I slowed, thinking maybe I’d gotten lucky, unlike in the park and the entire run here. Maybe we’d actually find Rolly, and I could beat some sense into him before walking away.

But it wasn’t Rolly. Instead, it was some kid. He was on the floor, picking up blue envelopes and piling them in stacks. He looked up at me as I passed, his head shrinking into his shoulders as he grabbed the stacks and clutched them to his chest.

“Watch out, kid.” Lev cleared the top step and was right behind me as I rushed down the hall to Rolly’s door.

He’d given me a key to the place weeks ago, though I’d never used it before. We never came here. Rolly was always at my place, and now I wondered why.

Slipping the key in the lock, I twisted it and threw the door open, barging inside.

“Shit, man.” Lev eased past me, then pushed me a foot forward so he could close the door. “This where he does all his work?”

I scowled at him, but couldn’t take my eyes off the mess. Drawings covered every wall, and there were three tripods holding canvases in differing stages of completion. Rolly’s bed and couch were covered in stacks of paper and art supplies, and the kitchen sink and counter were full of drying paint brushes and trays.

It was like the first time I came here. Before he’d hidden away every last piece, all the evidence of his true talent.

And there, in the center of the room, was the same painting he’d been working on back then.

I should have known I couldn’t just walk back into his life and expect him to come back to me. It’d all been too easy. The way he stepped into my life, but still hid behind all his secrets.

I stalked toward the painting, ready to throw it to the ground. To ruin the damn reminder that there was someone else in his life. That woman, whoever she was, lay there naked and gorgeous, body draped over the Queensboro bridge.

“Whoa.” Lev grabbed my arm, stopping me from taking another step.

Trying to jerk my arm out of his grip, I turned on him. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from ruining a work of art.”

“Art? This garbage?”

Lev shook his head. “You’re only saying that because you’re upset. Why don’t you calm down and look for something that will tell us where he might be?”

Scowling, I looked back at the painting. Rolly had worked on it more since I’d last seen it. The thunderstorm lit up the skyline, illuminating the waves below the bridge. The woman on top was still just as naked, though there was more definition. Bigger breasts, tighter abs.

My eyes squeezed shut, and I tried not to think of Rolly touching every inch of this woman’s skin. All I’d wanted since I was a teen was for him to touch me that way, like his fingers were his brush, like touching me could paint me into existence, and I could be more than the girl who wasn’t enough to keep my father home.