Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

said a silent thank-you for small mercies. For as long as Sean didn’t suspect her, she could talk her way out of her supposed indiscretion.

      “You’re right,” she said, hanging her head. “I shouldn’t have talked to her about it.”

      For a moment she thought she’d appeased him. He glanced around her apartment as if he’d forgotten why he was there. But then his eyes landed on something behind her and a dark shadow rolled across his face.

      “What is that?” he thundered.

      “What?” Wren whirled around and cursed under her breath when she saw what he was looking at.

      The portrait of Rhys.

      “Why are you painting someone from the security company?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, but the words were breathless and hurried. “It’s just a man.”

      She was about to turn when pain burned at her scalp. Sean fisted his hands in her hair and dragged her toward the painting.

      “Explain yourself,” he said into her ear. The words were a mere whisper, and yet it frightened her more than if he’d yelled. “Tell me why the fuck you have a painting of Rhys Glover in your apartment.”

      RHYS STOPPED HIS car at a red light. He’d driven block after block, hoping that the answer to his problems might be around the next corner. But a good half an hour after he’d left Wren at the diner, he was still at a loss.

      Why the hell hadn’t he seen this coming?

      Anger at himself roiled with frustration at Wren. She was so…idealistic. And impulsive.

      And spontaneous and sexy and so damn beautiful.

      “You’re a glutton for punishment,” he muttered to his reflection in the rearview mirror.

      He drove home deep in thought. But no matter how hard he tried, the solution wouldn’t come. There wasn’t a magic bullet. No matter which way he turned he was doing wrong by someone.

      Pissed as he was that she’d lied to him, he understood her reasons and admired her fierce loyalty to her friend. What he would have given to have someone stick up for him like that when he was growing up…

      Still, Logan would flip if he found out that Rhys had gotten involved with a suspect. While security consultants might not be held to the same standard as police officers or other law agents, his boss was ex-military. And he ran a tight ship.

      Rhys parked his car and headed up to his apartment. Maybe he should cut things off at the pass by telling Wren he couldn’t see her again. It would draw a line between them, a line not to be crossed until this thing with Sean Ainslie was over.

      But then what? The only reason she was in New York was to snoop around the gallery. Once that was tied up she’d be headed back home. He pounded his feet into the stairs as if it might expel the frustration from his body.

      It wasn’t worth risking his job for something temporary, no matter how much he enjoyed her company, both in and out of the bedroom. Perhaps it made him a boring rule-follower, but that’s how he wanted to live his life. It’s how he’d always lived his life.

       And when has following the rules gotten you what you want?

      Shaking off the doubt, he climbed the last few stairs to their shared floor. Cooling things off with Wren was necessary right now. At least until he had a plan for the Ainslie Ave assignment.

      Rhys crossed the narrow hallway to her front door and lifted his hand to knock. Raised voices halted him and he pressed his ear to the door. It was hard to make out specific words but he could detect a man’s voice, deep and forceful. A second later there was a whimpering sound and then silence.

      It might be nothing. But given Wren’s involvement with a man suspected of beating women, he couldn’t risk ignoring his instincts. He strained to hear through the door, but everything had gone quiet.

      “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

      A muffled sob broke the silence, and the sound speared through Rhys’s heart. Wren wasn’t the kind of person to cry at anything small, but he also didn’t want to bust into her apartment and interrupt something personal.

      He hesitated until he heard something that sounded like “please, stop.” The arguing started up again, but Wren’s voice was drowned out by the deep timbre of a man.

      A man who sounded a lot like Sean Ainslie.

       Shit.

      Rhys tested the handle, knowing that the doors didn’t automatically lock when they closed. He hoped Wren’s landlord hadn’t installed any additional security like he had.

      The handle eased down and he let out a small sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was get himself into the room and convince Sean to back down. This was well out of the realm of his training at Cobalt & Dane—he was the guy who could crack firewalls and follow a digital trail. He didn’t rescue people.

      The door opened soundlessly and he saw that Sean had a fistful of Wren’s hair. They were facing a painting, his painting.

      “Please,” Wren pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”

      “You need to come clean,” Sean growled. “Don’t make me force it out of you.”

      “Sean Ainslie,” Rhys thundered. “You let her go right fucking now.”

      “Let me guess, it must be her partner in crime.” Sean turned around, Wren’s hair still in his fist.

      “We know what you’ve been doing,” Rhys said, stepping forward. His whole body was charged with furious energy.

      Rhys wasn’t a violent guy by any means—he’d always described himself as a lover, not a fighter. But all Sean could see was that Rhys had a good half a foot and at least twenty-five pounds over him. Not to mention the sight of him hurting Wren was enough to make Rhys want to Hulk smash Ainslie’s face.

      “You don’t know shit and neither does she.”

      Wren’s blue eyes were wide and she winced as he jerked her head. “Let me go.”

      “In fact,” Sean continued, “I’ll wager that your boss will be pretty pissed to hear that you’re involved with your client’s employee. That’s poor form, Rhys. You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

      “If you don’t let her go, I’ll make it so that you can’t use that hand ever again.” He sucked in a breath, his fists shaking at his sides. “And then I’m going to make sure she presses charges for assault. I’m confident there are other women who would have a similar story to share.”

      Tension vibrated in the air as Sean stayed silent, his grip tight at Wren’s scalp. Her head was bent to lessen the strain, but the redness around her eyes and blotchiness on her cheeks told him all he needed to know. He was going to nail Sean Ainslie to the wall. But he’d do it his way…by the book.

      “Fine.” Sean released Wren and she gasped in relief as she stumbled backward, her hands going to her head. Sean walked right up to Rhys, cocky as ever, and tapped him on the chest. “I’ll still be putting a call into your boss. It’s Logan, isn’t it? I’ve met him before. Nice guy, I’m sure he’ll be keen to hear about his company’s deadweight.”

      “Rhys.” Wren’s voice was low and warning. “Let him leave.”

      But he couldn’t let Sean go, not that easily. He thumped a hand down on the other man’s shoulder and leaned in. “There’s a special place in hell for men who hurt women. I will personally ensure that you end up there.”

      Sean laughed and