Free All of Me (Inside Out Series Book 6) by Lisa Renee Jones Page B

good ray of hope.”
    He cups the back of my neck and rests his forehead against mine. “Then we’ll cling to it together.”
    •    •    •
    Chris and I spend the next few hours in his studio, with “The Gift”by Seether playing over and over on the sound system. Chris stands in the center of the stone-floored room, in front of an easel in his idea of a work uniform, which includes absolutely nothing but his low-slung faded jeans, no shirt, with his feet bare. I approve; oh yes, I do. Though I have to wonder if he gets cold. I’m chilly and I’m wearing my favorite long-sleeved pink sweat suit jacket and matching pants, and snuggled on a comfy overstuffed brown chair in the corner by the gas fireplace that Chris had installed several years ago as part of a renovation.
    I try to do some research for a contract customer that Estaban referred to me, hoping to locate a rare piece he’s looking for. But between thoughts of Ella, and Chris’s canvas coming to life with dark, magical clarity for the first time since he started it the night of our arrival, I’m struggling to stay focused. The painting is one of his cityscapes—a stormy Paris that I know represents the day Tristan came to our house, and I’m in awe of how it’s come to life before my eyes. Aware that despite how much calmer he is out here in the country, away from everything else, this is a view into what he’s coping with inside. And he knows it, and has allowed me inside his creative world, though he lets no one else in. It feels like the final closed door with Chris is being opened, and I’m the only other person with the key.
    My e-mail beeps and I click on it, hoping it’s Chantal, whom I emailed to check on after her encounter with Rey. Sure enough, there is a message titled “I’m safe. Stop worrying.” I’m about to click on it, but frown when I see Blake Walker’s name in my in-box, too. I didn’t even know he had my e-mail address—but then again, the man hacked my father’s unlisted phone number. I click on the message and read, “Tell Chris to call me right away. I’ve been trying to reach you both for hours.”
    I sit up straight and set my computer on the chair, concerned by the tone of the e-mail and baffled by the fact that I get internet down here, though our phones won’t work. “Chris,” I call on my way to the stereo system built into the wall, which I turn off. “Chris.” He turns at my urgent tone, his brush still in his hand. “Blake just emailed me and said we need to call him right away. He’s been trying to reach us.”
    Chris sets down his brush and grabs his boots, putting them on. “Maybe this means they caught Ava.” He grabs a black T-shirt from the stool next to him and pulls it over his head. “Blake’s been completely absorbed in hunting her down. And I’m sure her capture will be a firestorm for everyone connected, including us.”
    Dread fills me. Her lies are many, and we always end up having to defend ourselves, as she seems to have a way of dragging everyone into her hell. Chris tugs his phone from his pocket as we hurry up the stairs, eager to find out what we’re facing. Will we have to suddenly rush back to the States? I’d love to cling to my solitude with Chris, free from interrogation rooms and the media frenzy we’ve finally escaped, but I am also eager to ensure Ava is put away where she can’t hurt anyone else.
    “What’s up, Blake?” Chris says as we enter a long, wide hallway with a towering oval ceiling, and then turn right into a kitchen of various shades of gray stone and stainless steel. “What? When?” He inhales, then lets it out. “How bad?”
    At those words, my heart starts racing. “What happened?” When Chris doesn’t look at me, I grab his arm. “Chris, please . What happened?”
    He moves the phone from his mouth and says, “Crystal was attacked and beaten up. She’s in the hospital, but she’s recovering.”
    “Oh God. Was it Ava?”
    He