Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,57

door of his sculpting room. Damn. He kept picturing Jessica in there, touching his pieces, fingering them in a sexual way. Hand tentative, he turned the knob and switched on the light. Working always helped clear his head. Or it had.

Sitting at his table, he picked up his chisel and started to work it over the soapstone with his hammer. For what seemed like hours, he worked to form the exact curve he was looking for, but nothing worked, every angle was too sharp. Every cut too deep.

“Fuck.” What the hell had he been thinking? This is what happens when sexy artist managers get under your skin. You start thinking you can do anything. Even when you can’t.

Leaving his tools and the soapstone where they were, he let himself out of the room. He wasn’t an artist. He'd leave that mantle to his brother. He closed the door softly behind him, but firmly. He’d given up the artist in himself years ago. He wasn’t ready to open his chest and start bleeding. If visiting his former self couldn’t soothe him, then maybe it was time to face his present.

He grabbed a beer from the six pack he’d bought on his way home. Flopping onto his sectional, he pulled up the reports he’d brought from work. The thing about bad news is that it never waited for a more convenient time. Eli squared his shoulders as he read the lab report on the last five paintings. All of the paintings contained the same signature. Shit, shit, shit. Eli felt like a steam engine roared through his head. Was this Samson? Nausea seized his gut. It didn’t matter what Eli did. He was destined to fail his brother.

Eli had to be sure. After everything. He had to know. He'd been practically bleeding to make sure Sam got a legitimate fair shake on his second chance at redemption. Shit, he'd even tied himself up lying to a woman he could actually care about to make his brother happy. No point overreacting until he talked to Sam. Just relax.

This all could be a misunderstanding. Just like Jessica and those flowers. A misunderstanding. Just like when she finally found out who he was and what he did. A misunderstanding, by way of one party deliberately lying to manipulate and destroy the other. Yeah, some misunderstanding.

Then he found what he was looking for. To convince himself to believe what he was reading, he read it out loud. “On both specimens, the paint chemical makeup, the strokes patterns, and time period is similar enough to indicate that the same source painted both specimens.”

The questions that plagued Eli rang louder and louder in his skull. What if he couldn’t save his brother? It wouldn’t take long for Vince to come calling about how the signature mirrored this old sealed case from thirteen years ago. One Samson Reynolds would morph into Samson Marks. Shit, Eli had thrown enough money at the system and paid off as many people as he could afford so none of it would blow back on his brother.

Once Samson cleaned up, Eli had made him a promise to protect him the way he couldn’t when they were younger. The only thing he asked for in return was for Sam to tell him the truth always. No matter what it was and no matter how terrible.

But something wasn’t right. Had Eli risked everything for nothing?

Chapter 17

Eli's phone buzzed in his pocket as he endured Vince’s task force meeting. Surreptitiously, he pulled it out of his pocket to see who it was. Jessica.

I can still taste you.

His knees almost buckled. He texted back. Tease.

Not a tease when I actually make you come.

Eli rolled his lips in to stop himself from moaning. He did a quick scan of the room to see if anyone was watching, but no one paid him any mind, not even Vince.

His phone buzzed again, this time it warned him there was an image attached. He opened it and had to support himself with his arm against the shelves in the back. This time everyone turned to look at him. Vince raised an eyebrow, and Eli muttered a brief apology. She would kill him.

He sent a brief text back. Jessica, you keep teasing me like this, and I swear, I’ll spank you.

Remember, I kind of like the freaky shit.

Plain and simple, she was literally going to kill him. Slowly. And he'd sure as shit die with a grin on his face. But he’d be