Code Name: Aries by Janie Crouch

33

Wavy

“I can’t believe you had François Nester in your office. You know he’s a legend, right? That he’s famous for procuring new artists for the stars?”

I was lying in bed naked with Ian, trying to wrap my head around the fact that François Nester wanted to display my work at his show.

Not only that, he’d been adamant my work would be a success and people would want to buy my paintings. He’d taken it as a personal affront to his reputation when I’d questioned that.

“I meet a lot of interesting people in my line of work, although François is admittedly one of the most memorable.”

“Why do you say that, Darling Ian?”

He chuckled. “Honestly, I had forgotten I’d sent your work to his office. I wasn’t actually trying to get it in front of him, just one of his associates. If it didn’t go anywhere, then no harm. It was . . .” he trailed off.

“What?”

His arms tightened around me. “I sent the paintings a couple of days before you were taken. If I had mentioned it to you, you wouldn’t have gone to that meeting with Erick. You wouldn’t have been taken.”

“But we’re going to end up rescuing a lot of people because I was taken, so let’s focus on that.”

He reached over and kissed me as if we hadn’t spent the past two hours driving each other crazy in this bed. “Rayne says you’re pushing too hard.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ll rest once we get those people home safe and out of Mosaic’s clutches.”

I was missing something. I knew it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It had come to me after I’d left Ian’s office today. I’d been overwhelmed by everything—the conversation with Rayne, the conversation with François . . .

I didn’t want to get so caught up with all the great things happening in my life that I lost the urge to help Janice. To help the others.

I wasn’t sure why some memories came so easily and why some didn’t, but it was the key to what was happening.

Ian tucked me closer to him. “Hey, superhero girl. How about you go for twenty-four whole hours without a nosebleed, and then we can start pushing hard again?”

A nosebleed was nothing compared to what some of those people might be going through. But for right now, I would rest. “How about we sit here and think about what’s going to happen when François meets Finn? I would give a lot of money to see that play out.”

Ian laughed, the sound always beautiful. “Oh, me too. Although François will bring a ton of assistants with him to Oak Creek. So even if Finn had the entire Linear Tactical crew, I’m not sure they’d be a match for François and his gang.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me. François was so petite and flamboyant and Finn was so big and brawny. “I’d love to see them in a room together.”

“God, that sound. It fills every dream I have. The best ones, at least.”

“What sound?” I asked.

“Your laugh. I love it, Wavy. I love you, Rainbow.”

I sat up so I could see his face more clearly. “Did you talk to Dr. Rayne?”

“About your nosebleed, yes. She said you needed to rest.”

“About anything else?”

His eyes narrowed. “No. Why? Did something else happen? Are you okay? Damn it, I don’t care what law enforcement needs. If you’re hurting yourself to rememb—”

I leaned over and kissed him. Rayne hadn’t told him what we’d talked about. And Ian was more concerned about my health than that I hadn’t declared my love in return.

The words will come when they come.

It was time for them to come from me. I leaned my forehead against his. “I don’t know what I remember of being kidnapped is true and what isn’t. But I very distinctly remember thinking that this couldn’t be the end for me because I hadn’t let you know how important you were, how I’ve loved every second I’ve spent with you. I love you, Ian DeRose.”

He kissed me until we were both breathless, then eased back.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Rainbow. And if that means keeping you safe from yourself, then I’m going to do it. Tomorrow, you get a day off from Dr. Rayne.”

“Fine. One day off,” I said. “But you have to promise that if anybody else wants to talk to me, you’ll let them. No more running interference. Completely open with each other, right?”

“Agreed. Although, in my defense, I wouldn’t have kept François from you. I didn’t know if it was the right time given, like you said, the last art representative who contacted you tried to kill you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tucked me against him, and a few minutes later, his breathing evened out. He was tired, and I was glad he was getting rest.

I was still too keyed up to sleep. I couldn’t wait to see what pieces François chose for the art show. I was keyed up just thinking about it. After an hour of lying there, I decided to get out of bed so I wouldn’t wake Ian.

I wanted to paint. More than that, I wanted to use colors.

This time, I wouldn’t take them for granted. I knew that they could be taken from me at any time. That made them all the more precious.

I walked into the room we’d made into my studio and laid a barrage of colors out in front of me as well as a large canvas. I started with blues, then added purples a little bit later.

But my subconscious seemed to have other plans. It wasn’t long before my color choice and brush strokes came from a place deep inside. I wasn’t choosing any of it anymore. The painting was guiding me, rather than me creating it.

I felt the pain start, the same headaches that sometimes happened, but I ignored it and kept painting. The colors were coming faster than had ever happened before.

I filled an entire canvas in record time, then pulled out a second one without stopping. I couldn’t stop. My head throbbed, and I almost couldn’t see the colors in front of me.

Everything became muddled, but I kept painting, kept putting the paint on the canvas as the wildness demanded.

I couldn’t stop.

I didn’t know how to stop.

I kept going—stroke after stroke, color after color.

Even when my arms screamed from overuse and my mind spun with agony, I couldn’t stop the frenzy.

A hand gripped my wrist. “Wavy, enough.”

I pulled away from Ian to try to continue with the painting. It wasn’t done. I had to keep going.

He lowered my arm to my side, and I let out a sob, fighting him. I had to keep going.

“Wavy. Look at me.”

I spun toward him. “What?” I snarled.

“Put the brush down,” he said.

“No, I need to—”

“Now, Wavy. Put it down.”

I did, allowing it to drop to the ground. And with it, whatever had controlled me eased, draining from me. As did every bit of energy I had.

Ian caught me as I collapsed and lifted me in his arms, carrying me into the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

There was blood dripping all down my face. It had soaked the front of my shirt. His shirt, the one I slept in.

“What? I don’t understand. I’ve only been painting for a few minutes.”

“You’ve been in there for hours, Wavy. I just woke up and came in. You have four completed canvases that weren’t in there when I went to sleep.”

“That’s impossible. I couldn’t do that in one session. I don’t remember any of them.”

He set me down on the counter. “You were in some sort of trance. I’ve never seen you like that.”

He was worried. I could see it in his brown eyes, “I’m sorry,” I whispered, “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.” He wet a washcloth and stroked it down my chin and under my nose. “You weren’t doing it on purpose, but I think this is your brain saying that you’ve been pushing too hard. A final warning. You have to rest.”

“Okay, I will. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I hated the look of fear on his strong face.

“Rainbow. It’s okay.” He cupped my cheek and kissed me. “We’ll rest together.”