Only now he would be set free, and it was up to her to ensure that he would claim no further victims. Even if it meant being consigned to hell right along with him.
She should have killed him, but she’d naïvely believed in the system and that he would pay for his crimes. Now, she knew better, and unless she stopped him, he’d kill and keep killing.
TWO
“ALL set?” Wade Sterling asked his good friend, perhaps his only friend, Anna-Grace Covington.
Wade the quintessential lone wolf. He shunned personal relationships of any kind and he had little time for friends. Having a friend meant a level of trust he simply wasn’t able to give another person. Blind faith wasn’t what had made him the ruthless, successful businessman he’d become.
But his own self-imposed rules had simply disappeared when he’d met Anna-Grace. True, at first, he’d been interested in her on a more personal level, but he’d quickly discovered that the vulnerable, fragile woman had suffered unimaginable tragedy and a relationship—any kind of romantic or sexual relationship—with a man was the last thing she needed or wanted.
As a result, surprised by the true affection he’d felt for her, they’d instead become close friends, and he had become her only confidant.
Anna-Grace, or Gracie as most people called her, though Wade had always known—and addressed—her by her full name until recent months, stared anxiously at the array of paintings that were displayed to their best advantage.
Wade slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Everyone is going to love you.” Then, to distract her from her panic, he asked, “Did Cheryl arrange everything to your liking?”
Gracie nodded though she still pensively studied her artwork and she looked very much like she wanted to vomit. Wade sighed. He turned to Gracie and collected her hands in his.
“Honey, do you think I would display just anyone in my gallery? I know you think the studio is a side interest of mine that I pay little or no attention to, but I have a great deal of time and money invested in this place and before you suggest that our friendship is why I’m holding an exhibition for you, may I remind you that we only became friends because of your art? I was interested in your work and could see the potential in you as an artist before I knew anything about you. Our friendship was the result of your talent, and furthermore, friend or not, and you of all people should know how ruthless I am when it comes to business, I wouldn’t sink this kind of capital into launching you if I wasn’t one hundred percent certain that I was making a sound investment.”
True, Joie de Vivre was one of many things Wade dabbled in. One of his many legitimate business interests. But he hadn’t lied. He did enjoy art. Good art. And Gracie was a very talented artist.
The two had met when he’d seen a sample of her work when she had come in, looking for the world like someone who had lost her way a long time before. Perhaps he’d seen a kindred spirit. They’d both known pain and disillusionment. Gracie’s story, however, was worse than most.
He’d sought to protect her when the source of her anguish had stormed back into her life, but over time, he’d come to realize that Zack Covington, her husband, had been just as betrayed as Gracie. Zack had mourned the loss of his childhood sweetheart for over a decade and had never stopped in his search for her. The two had overcome insurmountable odds and even their reunion was fraught with peril. But finally, the two were happily married, and the art exhibit that Wade had planned for Gracie before things had gone straight to hell was back on the schedule with just a few days left until the big day.
“It must seem like I’m fishing for compliments and want you to kiss my ass,” Gracie said with an unhappy sigh.
Wade put a finger over her lips to hush her before she could continue.
“You are one of the most humble, genuine people I know, Gracie. No one would ever think you were fishing for compliments. Now, if the paintings are arranged to your liking, perhaps you can give me a list of your guests for the big night? It will be open to the public, of course, but I am extending personal invitations to several potential buyers I believe will love your work, and anyone you’d like to attend, I will also send a personal invitation to.
“Cheryl has been working with a publicity firm and we have an extensive marketing campaign already launched, with newspaper, magazine, internet and television advertising. I dare say you’re going to make quite a splash in the art world, sweetheart.”
Her lips rounded to an O and her eyes widened as she stared back at Wade. Then her nose wrinkled, her expression becoming one of doubt and dismay.
“That sounds awfully expensive, Wade! I could never afford anything like that.”
He shook his head and sighed. “It’s called an investment, Gracie. One I think will net me rather large returns considering I’ll demand exclusivity on your work and will receive commission on every painting sold. See? If I were doing this out of friendship or charity, then I wouldn’t be such a bastard by demanding exclusivity and commission. The way I see it, you’re going to make us both a lot of money.”
She laughed, some of the tension easing from her rigid stance. “Maybe you should be my manager as well. Lord knows I don’t know a thing about arranging, well . . . anything. If I am even moderately successful I won’t have the first clue how to handle my own affairs.”
“Which is why you have me,” he said. “You paint. I do everything else. I think we will have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Now, all I need from you is your guest list and you’re done. I’ll expect you to go home and practice that gorgeous smile. You’re going to be an absolute hit, and I’ll get credit for having discovered the next big thing in modern art.”
She donned a pensive look. “I don’t have many. Everyone at DSS. Oh and especially Eliza.” Wade stiffened at both the mention of Eliza’s name and the instant anxiety that was reflected in Gracie’s features. “Do you think she’ll come, Wade? Everyone is so concerned about her. She needs to get out more.”
“What’s wrong with Eliza?” Wade demanded, though he disagreed that she needed to get out more. If anything the fool woman needed to stay in for once. Rest. Recover. Process the horrifying ordeal she’d experienced. None of which she’d done. Hadn’t had time to do because she was too busy saving the rest of the world. Everyone but her own pretty ass.