by Rae Rivers
With a quiet shuffle, Eddie slithered into the row of seats and edged toward her. He wore a large shirt and smelt of cigars.
“Is this a joke?” Alex grumbled, nodding to the screen.
He smiled and slid into the seat beside her. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”
“They’re crying, Eddie.”
“It has a sad ending.”
Alex pulled a face. “It’s a movie.”
“Not everyone’s as heartless as you.”
“Ouch.”
He grew more serious. “Word on the street is you’ve shacked up with the billionaire.”
“You know he’s my latest shield.”
“You always sleep with your shields?”
“No.”
“Then why this one?”
“The sex is great,” she said in a deadpan tone and shot him an impatient look.
“Where is he?”
“Asleep.” And hopefully unaware she’d snuck out at midnight to meet with Eddie. “What have you got for me?”
“There are a couple of disgruntled people that aren’t happy you’re with the billionaire.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“You’re in the way.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. I heard you’re causing a couple of headaches, but I couldn’t find out why. You been up to shit lately?”
“Just doing my job, Eddie. They’re messing with me and I don’t like it.” Alex’s defensive wall prickled. “What about the paintings? What did you find out?”
He went quiet.
“What have you heard?”
“Shit, Alex, if you ever, ever, tell anyone you heard this from me I’ll personally slit your throat.”
“Just tell me what you’ve heard.”
“I don’t know the details so don’t push for them,” he said, straightening in his seat. “Word on the street is that there’s an order for several paintings worth a fuck load of money.”
“Who’s the buyer?”
“Don’t know.”
“How many paintings?”
“Don’t know.”
Alex dragged in an impatient breath. “Where are the paintings?”
“Don’t know.”
“Eddie! What the hell do you know?”
“All I know is that the name ‘the Taylor Museum’ is being thrown around. A lot.”
Alex slipped to the edge of her seat and gaped at him. “As in the Gabriella Taylor Museum?”
The Taylor Museum, situated in California, was known for once having housed an extravagant art collection. It was even better known for having been hit with the biggest art heist in history. Fifteen years later, no arrests had been made and the artwork remained missing.
“Yes.”
“Shit. Are they planning another hit?”
“Doubt it. They took some of the most valuable paintings in the first heist. The museum never replaced the empty spots on the walls with new paintings.”
When the owner, Gabriella Taylor, had died, her will had stipulated that the museum remain unchanged and untouched, no new paintings added and none repositioned.
“But why the sudden renewed interest?”
“I don’t know.”
Alex’s agitation grew at the lack of answers and she blew out a breath.
“So far we have two hot paintings and one dead body. Not to mention the attempts on Cole. How does that fit into the Taylor Museum?”
“Maybe they’re not related.”
“It’s too coincidental that all this is going down at the same time.” Alex tapped her fingers on her knees, restless with coiled energy. “There’s also the buyer for the paintings you’ve mentioned—”
“Paintings worth mega bucks,” he added.
“Just how much money are we talking?”
“Around two hundred million.”
“US dollars?” When he nodded, her jaw fell open. “Shit, Eddie. You weren’t kidding.”
“I never kid when talking about money.”
He glanced around, shifting in his seat, and Alex sensed his restlessness. Despite the fact that he respected her and even tolerated her out of an even bigger respect to her mother, he was still on edge about meeting her. He wouldn’t want word to get out that he was having midnight social chats in dark cinemas with her. They’d eat him alive.
Alex leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The paintings pulled at the museum have been valued at around two hundred million. That’s not a co-incidence, is it?”
“The paintings were never found and it’s been fifteen years now.”
“I know, but come on, Eddie, you know something’s going down, and I bet you the keys to my Manhattan apartment that it’s all somehow related.”
He nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know what and because of my loyalty to you and your mother, the guys are keeping me out of the loop with this one.”
“What’s my mother got to do with all this?”
“Her name has popped up on more than one occasion in the same conversation about the heist.”
“You think she was involved?”
“You don’t want to know that answer, Alex. If you did, you would’ve asked her many years ago.”
He was right. Knowing the details of her mother’s crimes forced her to reconcile their two worlds and put her at risk with the likes of Sullivan and his pals. She decided not to press Eddie, knowing instinctively he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Honor among thieves and all that crap.
The movie ended and the three couples got to their feet. Alex tilted her head into Eddie’s neck and he slipped his arm around her in understanding. When the three couples walked up the stairs and passed them, all they saw was a fourth couple sitting alone at the back of the cinema, holding each other, their faces hidden in their embrace.
Once they’d passed, Alex broke away, surprised at how tuned her instincts were to living in hiding, living as a thief would. “We better get going before the cleaning crew come in.”
“Watch your back, Alex, and watch your shield. Someone has it in for him and something doesn’t smell right.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “Will you keep fishing for more information?”
“I’ll try.”
“I’m heading down to California tomorrow with Cole. I think I’ll check out the museum while he’s in his meeting.”
Eddie arched a brow. “You’re barking up a dangerous tree by doing that.”
“What choice do I have? I need to figure out what’s going on before someone else dies, and I need to figure out how my mother fits in all of this. If I have to bark up several damn trees to do it, I will.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Eddie scoffed and pinned her with heated stare. “Alex, despite all your good intentions, you have the same bad-assed chops like your mother, but look where that got her.”
Alex stood, refusing to think about it. “Keep me posted, okay?”
“Alex,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “You never heard any of this from me.”
“Heard what?”
Their gaze held for a few seconds before Alex broke away and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Saturday morning
California
Alex studied the front of the Gabriella Taylor Museum with growing excitement.
She was curious to see what the museum held, anxious for answers, and hoped for clues that would shed some light on what had happened in New York during the last week.
In comparison to other museums, the Taylor Museum was small, but elegant and exquisite. It was a double story sixteenth century Venetian-style palace consisting of several galleries designed around a central courtyard that offered the museum a tranquil ambience.
Armed with a map and a brochure, she went inside and looked around in awe.
When Gabriella Taylor had designed the museum over a hundred years ago, she’d housed her private art collection in such a way that others
could appreciate her art in an unthreatening and inspiring atmosphere.
The gardens were immaculate and bragged a variety of flowers, shrubs, and plants. Several Roman statues added a mysterious feel to the area.
The museum housed over two thousand different pieces of priceless artwork. Sculptures, paintings, tapestries, and decorative arts by renowned and recognized artists from around the world decked the walls and filled each room.
Alex could almost imagine Gabriella Taylor meticulous in her decision as to where each piece went.
The fact that the museum had remained unchanged since her death—besides the stolen paintings—added to the museum’s uniqueness.
Alex found her way to the East Room and frowned at the several empty frames that adorned the walls. They were all testaments to the missing artwork and had remained there almost as though they were waiting, ready to house the paintings again if they were ever rightfully returned to the museum.
Of the ten paintings stolen from the museum, the most valuable had been a Matisse and a Picasso painting.
The paintings had simply vanished. It had taken the thieves less than an hour to steal the ten paintings and no one had seen them since. Despite a generous reward offered by the museum, the paintings remained missing.
Alex looked around the room, wondering what her mother knew about the missing art and why the museum’s name had reared its head in the art underworld again. Were they planning a second heist?
She’d read that the thieves had been amateurs—ruthless with gathering their loot, tearing priceless paintings from their frames and not caring how they were handled. She’d also read that several other paintings were abandoned because they’d struggled to free them from their frames.
Could it be that they’d returned to complete their hit list? After fifteen years?
None of it made any sense.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, she turned and explored the other rooms, impressed to find the most priceless of artworks from well-known artists like Matisse, Titian, Michelangelo, Degas, Rembrandt, and Manet. Gabriella Taylor had had a true eye for beautiful work and Alex suspected that each piece of art held a story of its own as to how and when they’d been acquired.
Fascinated, Alex spent two hours walking around until hunger and frustration began working on the little patience she had left. She still had no idea why the museum was receiving so much underground attention.
Half an hour later, armed with several brochures from the museum, she slipped out of the front door and summoned a cab passing by. Her instincts bristled as she opened the car door and paused to glance around.
Across the street, a short man wearing a hat and sunglasses stood staring at her.
It should’ve frightened her, but it didn’t. Heart racing, she pinned him with an all-knowing stare and climbed into the cab.
She was onto something.
Hell, yeah.
****
Cole walked into the hotel suite in high spirits. Whether it was because of the deal he’d just closed or the fact that he had a beautiful woman seated cross-legged on his enormous bed remained unclear.
He hung in the doorway, unable to resist the silly grin. She’d changed into a blouse and jeans and had her nose buried in a thick catalogue.
Her pensive expression brightened when she saw him. “You’re back.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you’re smiling. Must mean that your negotiations went well?”
“Of course.” He moved toward her, glancing at the brochures scattered across the bed. “What are you reading?”
“Some literature on the Taylor Museum.”
“You planning a heist there?” he teased and laughed at the steely look she gave him. He slid behind her, reaching for her, and kissed her head. “I missed you today.”
She turned her face into his and smiled. “You’re just horny.”
“That too.”
She laughed and he kissed her again.
Yip, the high spirits had everything to do this gorgeous woman.
He took the catalogue from her and paged through it with interest. “Where did you get all this?”
“From the museum. It’s exquisite.”
“You were there today?”
“Yes.”
Another reason why he liked her—most of the women he knew would have gone shopping, not visit art museums. “Have they taken down the empty frames from the burglary yet?”
“No. I found them rather eerie.”
“How many paintings were stolen?”
“Ten.”
“Worth a fortune.”
“Two hundred mil.”
He gave a low whistle. “Seems a lot for ten paintings.”
She pointed to the pictures of two paintings in the brochure. “The Matisse was said to be worth forty million and the Picasso was worth sixty million.”
“That’s a hefty sum for a Picasso.”
“It was one of his paintings from the Marie-Therese Walter series.”
“Ah, Picasso’s famous mistress. Christie’s recently sold another one from the series. It was called—”
“—Nude, Green Leaves, and Bust,” she interrupted. “It sold for over a hundred mil. I almost gagged when I heard.”
Cole smiled at her before turning his attention back to the catalogue. “It would be a shame if the ten paintings from the Taylor Museum were destroyed.”
“I don’t think they were destroyed.”
He lowered the catalogue and lifted a brow. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugged. “The police reckon it was a botched job to begin with and that the thieves pulled the pieces at random, but they’re wrong. They planned and orchestrated that heist with care and then made it look like they were fools.”
Cole went to pour them a drink. “Do you know this for a fact or is this one of your theories?”
“No art thief in his right mind would steal a painting without being able to fence it straight away—especially paintings worth that much money. They were very specific with what they wanted. I suspect they were working off a hit list from a mastermind collector.” She pointed to the catalogue, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I’ve studied the entire museum’s art collection in detail and I’m surprised at what the thieves took. Besides the Matisse and the Picasso, there were far more valuable paintings that were left behind.”
“It sounds similar to your theory about the Renoir and the Monet,” Cole said, handing her a glass of champagne. “You think it could be related?”
“It could be, but I don’t know how.”
“The Renoir and the Monet don’t have anything to do with the Taylor Museum, so how could they be related?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe they also form part of the collector’s shopping list. Do you know where the Renoir came from before it went to Christie’s to be auctioned off?”
“No, but I could make a couple of calls to find out if you’d like.”
“It wouldn’t have come from the Taylor Museum as it was never on the inventory list and according to Gabriella’s will, none of her paintings may be sold.”
Cole hesitated before asking his next question. “And your mother? Does she have any theories on this?”
She stiffened and he sensed the change in her mood.
“Does she?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never asked her and she’s never mentioned the museum.” Her eyes darkened and he saw a brief hint of sadness.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. “She left a couple of weeks ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. No one seems to know where she is, and I doubt we’d find her if she doesn’t want to be found.” The sadness vanished and she straightened. “I’d like to chat with her about everything that’s happened. I might have some random theories, but every instinct in my body is telling me I’m onto something. I simply need to connect the dots. She could help me do that a little faster.”
“And what about th
e cat that broke in for the Renoir?” he asked softly, sensing he was treading on unsteady ground. “Are you going to tell me his name?”
Alex wouldn’t look at him and took a large gulp of champagne. “No.”
“Alex.”
“No, Cole.”
She drained her glass and their eyes met in an unyielding challenge.
“We might both have a natural inclination to stick to the legal side of things, but I often bend the rules. Not because I like to, but because I have to. We might be sleeping together but I’ve no guarantee that you won’t ruin me with any information I give you.”
“That’s downright insulting, Alexis.”
She discarded the champagne glass and scurried off the bed. “I have to watch my back and until I know where my mother is, I can’t start ratting out her friends.”
“Fine,” he said, reining in the frustration that prickled. “Don’t tell me the damn name.” He went to the bedroom door and turned to look back at her. “You’re so adamant not to rat him out and that makes me wonder what you think he may know.”
Alex averted her gaze. “I don’t know, which is why I’m considering paying him a visit.”
Cole’s stomach lurched and he clenched his jaw, reaching for control. “You think that’s wise?” It pleased him that his voice was calm, even reasonable. Inside, he wanted to throttle her for having suggested such an absurd thing.
“Maybe not, but I’d like to question him about the heists he’s been pulling.”
“I don’t like it.” Cole walked into the living room and she followed, hanging back in the doorway.
“It’s not for you to like, Cole.”
“It could be dangerous, Alexis.” God, the thought of her conversing with the man that had shot at him drove cold shivers through his entire body.
Alex stepped forward, eyes flashing. “Everything I do is dangerous, and if we’re going to be doing this sex thing between us, then you need the balls to understand that and back off so that I can do my job!”
He took four wide, smooth strides and closed the gap between them. “You don’t think I have the balls to handle you?”
“You can’t be with me if you can’t handle what I do.”
“I can handle you.” When she tried to move away from him, he stopped her. “I’m fine with what you do, Alexis. It’s crazy and scary and downright makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing with someone that wants to rub shoulders with shady creatures, but at the end of the day, that’s who you are.” He paused, trying to hide his smile at the look of surprise on her face. She’d been steaming ahead on one of her runaway trains and he’d just removed the steam. God, he loved it when he surprised her. “I never said that you couldn’t talk to your art thief. I said that I don’t like it.”