NO MATTER WHAT GWENN did, she could not forget the feeling of Ronan's touch. Every waking moment since their break-in escapade plan was spent reliving the way he took ahold of her, pulling her into him like she was his missing puzzle piece. It didn't help that it had felt so natural, so right. She had never had a guy make her feel like she was meant to be held.
After the night she'd had, she scoured the local news, reading up on conflicts she had no idea were occurring under her nose, just to see if their break-in had spread through the media. She found an article detailing the event, but when Stephanie Xu assured everyone that nothing had been taken, everything calmed down. They weren't wanted criminals.
That left Gwenn focusing again on their escape plan in his truck.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her cream sweatshirt. Children squealed behind her, throwing one of the bouncy balls around the playroom like they were plotting to dominate the universe one hurl at a time. She turned just in time to see the bouncy ball of doom coming at her face, and reached out to grab it before it slammed into her nose like it did to poor Alice.
"You guys have so much energy today," Gwenn commented, tilting her head to the side. That got a chorus of giggles from the kids. "Please be more careful on how you throw the ball, you might hurt someone."
"Okay, Ms. Davidson," a few replied. Gwenn smiled, taking in the fresh, chubby faces of the next generation. She wondered all the things that group would accomplish in just a few years. Maybe she'd even recognize their names one day.
"Alright," Gwenn said, and rolled the ball to the closest child—Kerrie. She raised the ball over her head, gave an excited cheer, and launched to the middle of the playroom where mayhem resumed immediately.
The clock ticked by, and soon the last parent whisked away the remaining child. Devon waved goodbye at Gwenn with droopy eyes, settling his cheek over his father's shoulder as they stepped out of the daycare.
Her knees buckled, and Gwenn plopped down on the desk chair, staring at the computer screen with the day's report almost done. She registered Devon being picked up before taking a breath to tackle the rest of the paperwork. She would be done by the time five o'clock rolled around, and she'd go to her apartment and take the longest, hottest shower before sleeping until her muscles atrophied.
After cracking her spine, she went back to the keyboard, writing down the events of the day, reporting on any incident no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, in order to have the evidence needed in case anyone thought to do something annoying to her boss. If parents found any sign of abuse, they would stomp through their doors demanding answers, and rightfully so. But Cathy's Day Care did not abuse their children, so if anyone tried to place blame on them for their convenience, they had the paperwork to prove their innocence. (Though if Gwenn found out any one of her coworkers did anything to harm the children, she would take matters into her own hands).
She typed up the last of the report, and saved it to the hard drive, not before printing a copy to file it as well. She was standing up to put the copy in its respective folder when the front door pinged with a new presence. Her spine tingled as she reared around to find Ronan frozen at the entrance, gaze locked on her.
After the previous night, they hadn't spoken at all. Meek goodbyes were exchanged when she was dropped off at her apartment complex, but neither of them could even dare look at the other in the eye. She had fallen asleep to the feeling of his lips on hers, then fearing that she'd welcome the morning to the police barging through her doors to arrest her, she gasped awake to a silent apartment in the middle of the night and could not go back to her dreams. Having been running on pure caffeine and the mind-jolting memory of his touches, seeing him again was like taking in a thousand hits of a drug and feeling its effect instantly, but she feared she would overdose and convulse on the daycare floors.
Neither of them could get a word out, a million conversations spilling out from each of their expressions but none of them coming to fruition.
After an agonizing minute, Ronan seemed to sink into his own. "Gwenn," he whispered.
Her lips parted, a response wanting to slip out, but buried away when Cathy strolled out from the back. Her hazel eyes brightened at the sight of her son.
"Ronan, you're here!" Cathy grinned, and twirled to face her. Gwenn swallowed and forced the easy fake smile she had perfected. It had worked for her teachers back in Winter Bay High, and the technique proved useful even in the work field. "How's that report coming along?"
"All done," Gwenn pointed to the folder in her hand. "I was just about to file it."
Cathy clapped her hands. "Wonderful, dear. I simply do not know how I've managed here without you. You've been a blessing."
The compliment shocked Gwenn, and her cheeks darkened a red hue as she thanked her boss. Not that it was an uncommon occurrence, but every time praise fell out of Cathy King's mouth, she felt her insides twist and turn as if practicing a cheer routine on her behalf.
"Ronan, let me get my stuff and lock up, so we can head out," Cathy directed to her son. His gaze was still locked on hers before snapping his attention to his mother, offering what she could see to be his version of the easy fake smile. Cathy turned around, shooting her a tiny grin before going to the back.
Gwenn released a breath and moved to file the report when Ronan called out her name again.
"Yes?" she answered, giving her back to him. His footsteps closed in, approaching the front desk. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
"About last night," he mumbled. Her hands shook as she placed the folder in its appropriate drawer. She took in a trembling breath and shut it close. After the night they had, she didn't know how to proceed from there.
"You did what you had to do, and it worked," she struggled out. A beat of silence followed, and she raked her fingers through her mess of blonde frizz. "It doesn't matter," she continued, having the courage to face him.
His shoulders sagged just as Cathy came back. "Gwenn, you can go clock out."
Gwenn nodded, sealing her mouth and walking to the backroom to get her stuff to leave. She grabbed her purse, leaning her forehead against the cool metal of her locker. She was tempted to sit on the bench and stare off at the peeling paint on the walls and forget she existed on the earth, but she knew she had to hurry along. The rest of her life awaited her outside the daycare.
After clocking out, she walked back out, ignoring the obvious icy stare her way. She offered her goodbyes, promising to see Cathy on her next shift, and walking out of the daycare to the sun still shining in the middle of the clear blue sky. Getting into her car, she didn't dare look back up to the daycare's entrance to see her boss walk out with her gorgeous son. Her cheeks flamed, and she went through her bag to find her phone.
As soon as her hand grasped around the device, it vibrated. She pulled it out to find a single text message on the screen.
Unknown: Meet me at the Florentine Portrait Galleria, my little spy. The wolf will be waiting for you.
The whole drive there, Gwenn practiced about a hundred breathing exercises. She thought that by the time she parked by the known galleria in Lockfell, she would be calm enough to deal with Wolf Lawrence. She was wrong.
She grabbed the discarded oversized plaid coat she kept in the back of her car and threw it over her crumpled clothes, hiding the evidence that she had come from her job at the daycare. She hadn't gotten a good look at herself in the mirror, but she suspected she had a few stains over her sweatshirt, courtesy of the children she took care of.
Florentine Portrait Galleria proved to be as charming and elegant as she remembered. She pushed open the glass doors, shivering as a blast of AC fell over her. She dug her hands into the pockets of her coat as she glided across the glossy, white tiles. The space was nearly empty, save for a few couples rounding about the space in their study of several paintings.
She admired the first painting hung by the left wall. An oil painting of a black woman staring off into the sea, her hair caught in the wind. The artist had captured the tiniest of details and highlighted them in a way a viewer could not look away.
An elderly couple stood at the next painting, studying the line art, before she turned around to a front desk. Entry was free, except for showcases, so the guy sitting behind the sleek white counter looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, ignoring the few people looking at the artwork that many loved.
Gwenn bit down on her lip, peeling back a dry patch as she moved deeper into the galleria. Countless paintings of all sizes stretched out for what seemed like miles. A hallway beckoned her further, and she lowered her head following the path to find the starving wolf.
A blond head caught her attention as she stepped into the last corner of the exhibit. He stood facing a painting—a large depiction of the aftermath of a bloody war in a battlefield—his hands interlaced at the small of his back, shoulders squared. He dressed in a long charcoal coat with black pants and dress shoes. Gwenn pursed her lips and moved forward, allowing her sneakers to thud against the tiles to make her presence known.
Wolf didn't bother to look back. "You made it, blondie."
"What do you want, Wolf?" she asked. At the sound of her tired voice, he turned. His expression was pinched, eyes studying her attire before going back to the gnarly painting.
"I think we've established what it is I want, don't you think?" he replied.
She gulped, shifting her weight from side to side. She gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking back at Ronan's face. Her cheeks flushed when she recalled those desperate kisses in the dark, illuminated by police cars as they flooded the scene they had caused. Then her mind went back to him confessing Wolf had showed him up in their last assignment. His eyebrows were drawn tight, as if the topic pained him but he was filled with stubborn determination.
"You know I don't exactly talk to him about his projects every time I see him, right?" Gwenn spoke cautiously, enunciating every word so he could understand. Wolf sighed, then turned on his heel to fully face her.
"I know, beautiful." His voice sent a chill right down her spine. He stepped forward, his hands still laced behind his back. "You both are quite busy doing other things."
Just as easily as she had been chilled, a wave of heat smacked her in the face, coloring her cheeks and décolletage the same shade of red as the painting's blood splatters over the field.
She didn't dare question his knowledge, but he chuckled, as if content that he had the upper hand. He controlled the strings. He placed the chess pieces on the board and moved them however he liked. Gwenn was but a simple pawn, a puppet, he could toss around for his own benefit. She bristled at his manipulation.
"But..." he trailed off, searching in her expression for something he wanted. Perhaps a confirmation of something he already knew. His eyes flashed. "You do know the information I'm looking for, don't you?"
When she said nothing, Wolf grinned. She expected sharp fangs instead of the pearly white teeth he showed off. He stepped even closer, until she had to look up at his face to see him. With his chest only centimeters away from her, she could feel the warmth emanating from him. Sweat pooled inside her palms as she fisted her knuckles, digging her short nails into her clammy skin.
"Now, now, blondie," he chastised, hooking his finger under her chin. "You know what happens if you don't give me what I want."
It was just the two of them in the far end of the galleria. No one could witness Wolf threatening her, capturing her into his net. She had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. He would tell her mother everything—the perfect way to twist the knife further into her chest.
She lowered her eyes. "He talked about a tire sensor or reader—I can't remember correctly. A light that would appear on the rim. I'm not really sure what any of it means."
Wolf took a minute to digest her words. He let go of her chin only to raise both of his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face as if he would lower his own to meet in the middle. Her breath caught.
"You are such a good spy," he whispered into her lips. She shivered, daring to step back an inch. His grip wouldn't allow her to go any further. Her stomach flipped and turned as he moved her head down and pressed the softest, daintiest, kiss on her forehead. "Never change, Ms. Davidson."
Before she could retort with anything, he stepped back. He gave her one last feverish glance, and then walked away, leaving her stuck in the middle of the showroom, heart beating too loudly in her chest and a thud pounding too forcefully in her head.