Protecting His Interests

by Suzanne Rock

  “I don’t think so.” She nodded toward the front cab. “I think I hear voices.”

  I tilted my head and listened. She was right. Frowning, I pushed my rising libido aside and moved toward the door of the van.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “We have to hide.”

  I shook my head. “Once this van stops, they’ll be clearing it out.” I nodded to the rack. “That means taking everything out of here. It will only be a matter of time before they find us.”

  She widened her eyes. Clearly, she hadn’t thought this part of the plan through. “What are we going to do?”

  “Once we start moving again, we’ll jump out and hide in the bushes until the coast is clear.”

  “We’ll what?”

  “You heard me.” I placed my hand on the floor to steady myself as the van started moving again. “Come on. This is our chance.”

  “You want me to jump out of a moving van?” She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

  “You can, and you will.” I took her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right there with you.”

  “But—”

  There was no time to argue. Like I told her, once this van stopped, our chance for escape would be lost. The entire plan hinged on us getting away before the van stopped.

  I flipped open the door and thanked my lucky stars that the delivery guys didn’t think to lock it from the outside. Pulling Scarlett close, I watched the pavement as it passed beneath us.

  “Gabe, I can’t do this.”

  “You can. I’ll be right there to break your fall.”

  “But you’ll get hurt.”

  The van slowed down to go up the final incline, and I knew that this was our last chance. Tightening my grip on Scarlett, I jumped off the back of the van and toward the flowerbeds that lined the side of the long driveway.

  Scarlett’s legs immediately buckled, and the added weight pulled me to the ground. We rolled several times through the flowers and stopped underneath a nearby tree.

  “Are you okay?” I asked as I loosened my grip.

  “I think so.” Scarlett moved away from me and brushed the dirt off her clothes.

  “See, I told you that you could do it.”

  She stood and flashed me a frown. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

  I laughed, stood, and grabbed her hand. “Come on, it won’t take those delivery people long to set up those flowers. I want to be out of here by the time they’re finished.

  We snuck through the gardens to the back of the house. The sounds of the ocean drifted through the air as we made our way between the bushes and up onto the deck.

  “With a little luck, the staff will be busy with the flowers,” I said.

  “Let’s hope that they left the sliding glass door open,” Scarlett added.

  “Even if they didn’t.” I pulled a hairpin from my jacket.

  “You can pick locks?”

  “It’s part of the job.” We crept up onto the deck and I set to work on the lock. It wasn’t long before I heard the familiar click. Pocketing the hairpin, I slid open the door and waved Scarlett inside. Voices rose up from the front of the house, and I motioned for her to keep quiet.

  “Do you remember how to get downstairs?” she whispered.

  “I think so.”

  We quietly moved through the house, past the busy delivery men and butler, down the hall to the small stairwell in back. I went first, doing my best to step as silently as possible on the creaking stairs. Scarlett stayed right behind me, matching me step for step. Once down the stairs, we navigated the halls until we came upon the familiar room.

  “I thought there were guards here?” Scarlett asked as we stepped inside.

  “Yeah, they must be on break or something.”

  “All at once?”

  I shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose.” Possible, but unlikely. Something didn’t feel right about this, but it wasn’t as if we could leave and come back another day. I vowed to keep my senses alert. Hopefully it would be enough to keep us out of trouble.

  “It’s so dark.” Scarlett moved to turn on a nearby light, but I placed my hand on her wrist, stopping her.

  “It will draw attention,” I explained.

  “Oh, right.” She lowered her hand. “Well, let’s get this over with, I guess.”

  We made our way down the line of paintings to the one in question.

  “Is this it?” I asked her.

  She nodded and moved closer. Seconds passed and I started to feel uneasy.

  “Well?” I asked. “What do you think?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Scarlett

  The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. It was the most famous stolen artwork from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston. The FBI had been searching for years for the work, without success. I recognized the ship from my studies. I had focused on researching it during the little time I had back at the hotel. I was convinced that examining this painting was my best bet for confirming whether these works were stolen or excellent fakes.

  I frowned at the painting. This was, in fact, an oil-on-canvas, same as the original. There was the ship, along with Jesus and several disciples. Rembrandt was said to have painted himself among the disciples, and it certainly looked as if he were standing next to Jesus on the ship.

  “It’s a tough call,” I said as I moved to the bottom right corner. “There’s no signature, but Rembrandt didn’t sign all of his work. He only painted one seascape, so I can’t really say that the water carries the typical markings of the painter.”

  “We need to be sure,” Gabe said. “I can’t go and start making accusations if we’re wrong.”

  “I know.” I leaned in closer and examined the left-hand corner of the painting. “Oh my God.”

  “What? What is it?” Gabe leaned in closer and peered over my shoulder.

  “Right here.” I pointed to the edge of the canvas, where it met the frame. “It’s been ripped.”

  “Ripped?”

  I nodded and ran my gaze along the bottom of the artwork. “The tear spreads across the edges of the painting.” Excitement filled my chest as I moved to another painting. Sure enough, similar tears were present along the edge of the frame. If I wasn’t looking for them, I would have missed them. “Do you know what this means?”

  He shook his head. “What?”

  “The paintings from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston were cut out of their frames.” I turned back to the painting and grinned. “The empty frames still sit in the museum, waiting to hold the paintings once more.”

  “So?”

  “So, don’t you see?” I pointed at the seascape. “This painting looks as if it has been cut out of one frame and placed into another.”

  “Do you think it’s the same one?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’d need an expert to have a look at it, but . . .” I turned to Gabe. “Yes, I’m sure. I mean, why else would there be a tear along the perimeter? This is a stolen painting. I’d bet my reputation on it.”

  Footsteps echoed in the hall outside the room. Gabe motioned for me to stay quiet and walked to the doorway. Low voices rose up from the hall, but they were too muffled to make out any words. After peeking around the corner, he motioned for me to stay put while he went to investigate.

  I rubbed my arms and shifted from foot to foot as the seconds passed. Where was he? Soon, the voices from the hallway started to get louder. I glanced around for a place to hide.

  “Hey—You there.”

  I turned to see two figures standing in the doorway. One of them flicked on the light switch.

  “Scarlett, what are you doing here?”

  I stared at Bridget and Edgar Cox in horror. I knew I had to run, but my feet refused to move. My brain was screaming at me, but my limbs weren’t moving.

  Bridget clapped her hands together. “Security!”

  Her loud voice unstuck my legs. I ran for the
far door as several footsteps echoed on the stone floor behind me.

  Shit. Where was Gabe when I needed him? I stumbled over a small bump in the doorsill, where faux stone floors gave way to hardwood, and I felt a large hand wrap around my elbow.

  “Easy now.”

  I turned and saw an armed guard stare down at me with cold, hard eyes.

  “Please. This isn’t what it seems.”

  My words fell on deaf ears. The man hauled me back into the room, and I felt my cheeks heat as Bridget hurried over to me.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I looked up at her and knew that I should have felt embarrassment, but instead, all I could feel was rage.

  “You stole these paintings,” I said.

  “What?”

  I waved my free hand at the Rembrandt. “These paintings belong in a museum. In Boston—”

  “Call the police.” Bridget straightened to her full height and looked down her nose at me. “I want this woman arrested.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The guard pulled my arms behind my back and pushed me toward the exit.

  “You won’t get away with this,” I yelled at Bridget as I passed her. “What you are doing is illegal.”

  Bridget waved her hand in dismissal. “These aren’t authentic, they’re excellent forgeries. I’ve only hired the best artists to re-create the work of the masters for the general public.”

  “If that’s true, then how do you explain the tears?”

  Her features hardened, and I knew I had her. Now all I needed to do was to convince everyone else that I was right.

  “Take her away,” Bridget said.

  The guard dragged me upstairs and led me toward the front doors. With each step I complained, then begged, to get someone with real expertise to look at the artwork in the basement. All of the protests fell on deaf ears, however. By the time we got outside, several police cruisers were waiting in the driveway. I wondered how the cops had managed to get here so fast. It was almost as if Bridget had kept the entire Miami police force on speed dial.

  “You set me up,” I said as Bridget came to the door. Edgar came up behind her and crossed his arms.

  “I think you’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” he said.

  “Does Rocco know about this?” I asked him.

  Edgar shook his head. “My boyfriend has better things to do than to deal with jealous rivals.”

  Jealous rival? “But—”

  “Officer, I caught this woman in our basement,” Bridget said. “She was trying to steal a painting.”

  “I’m not the one who stole the painting, you are!” I would have pointed at her if the guard didn’t have my hands secured behind my back.

  “That’s ridiculous.” Bridget crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “This woman is jealous of my success. She wanted to steal the artwork I had rightfully acquired and claim it for herself.”

  “You’re insane.” I turned to face the officer. “Just go into the basement and have a look for yourself. It’s filled with stolen artwork.”

  “Replicas,” Cox said. “They are all replicas of more famous pieces.”

  “No.” I tugged my arms and tried to break free of the bindings. “You’re both lying. I saw for myself—”

  “An excellent fake, to be sure, but still a fake. Like I said, I only hire the best art students to re-create the work of the masters.” Bridget waved her hand in the air. “Take her away, please. I don’t want this riffraff around me anymore.”

  “Wait a minute.” I dug my heels into the ground as the police officer took my arm. I scanned the area quickly, trying to find a familiar face. “Where is he?”

  “Where is who?”

  I blinked up at the officer. “No one.” There was no point in dragging Gabe into this, although I was quite mad at him for leaving me in this mess. Part of me wanted to tell the police that this was all his idea, but I knew that blaming him would only make me sound like more of a lunatic.

  “Please, just go downstairs and have a look around. I swear those paintings—”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, we’ll have a look around. We want to make sure you didn’t take anything valuable from Ms. Simpson.”

  “But—”

  “Come on, let’s get into the car.” The officer put his hand on my head as he eased me into the backseat. As I sat down, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the bushes off to my right.

  “Gabe?” I leaned closer to the window and tried to peer through the branches, but saw nothing.

  I fisted my hands and tried to hold back my anger as a shadowy figure ran off through the trees. He was leaving me. Oh my God, the man was leaving me! I didn’t even want to go on this crazy mission. I was doing this for him, and he was just going to let them cart me off to jail.

  The officer closed the car door and went back to talk to Bridget and Cox. As they talked, I leaned back on the seat and closed my eyes.

  What a mess. I thought I had bad publicity before when Henri broke up with me. That was nothing compared to this. No one was going to want to work with someone who had a criminal record, especially if it included trying to steal priceless artwork.

  I didn’t believe for a second that those paintings in the basement were fake. I had spent enough time with Bridget as an apprentice to know her tells. She always lifted her chin, as if daring someone to call her a liar. She also refused to look at anyone in the eye.

  I was such a fool. The more I thought about the events of the past few days, the more I realized that I had been manipulated. First I was manipulated by Henri into molding my business into an organization that catered to his every need. Then I was manipulated by Bridget, who started a smear campaign against me before Henri’s dead body had gotten cold. Now, with me out of the way, she could safely conduct her shady business without anyone snooping around.

  Then there was Gabe, who manipulated my feelings for him to get information to close his case. Thanks to him, I was now sitting in the back of this police car, waiting to be taken off to jail. Everyone had managed to get what they wanted from the situation. Everyone but me.

  The officer got into the car and started driving back down the driveway.

  “I’m going to go to jail, aren’t I?” I asked.

  “For now, yes,” he answered.

  “Do I at least get a phone call?”

  He pulled out into the street and headed toward the station. “Yes, but just one.” He hesitated a moment before adding. “I hope you have a good lawyer on retainer.”

  No, but I had someone better. After we pulled into the station and I was processed, I demanded my one phone call. A different officer led me to a small hallway where I could use a pay phone for a few minutes before he dragged me off to my cell.

  After glancing over my shoulder to make sure I had some privacy, I picked up the receiver and dialed the only person left in my life that I could count on in a crisis.

  “Splash of Scarlett, Violet speaking.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them back. I knew I didn’t have more than a few minutes, and I didn’t want to waste this moment with emotion. There would be plenty of time later for losing my shit.

  “Violet, thank God.” I cleared my throat and tried to keep my voice steady. “I need you to come down to the police station.”

  “The police station?” she asked. “Why?”

  “I seem to have run into a little problem . . .”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scarlett

  “Scarlett, get up.”

  I sat up on the hard, cold bench and rubbed my eyes. “What is it?”

  The woman beside me groaned with my movement. Frowning, I slid away from her drooling mouth and made my way over to the jail cell bars.

  “Let me out. I’m innocent,” a large woman said as she banged her hands against the bars. “Innocent I tell you.”

  “Settle down, Janet,” the officer said.

  “I’m innocent, too,” another woman said. />
  The officer rolled his eyes and frowned at me. “Come on, Ms. Bishop. It’s time to go.”

  “I get to go home?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Who paid my bail? Was it Violet?”

  The officer didn’t say anything but instead put his key in the cell. After a few quick turns, the door opened. I stepped out and he grabbed my arm, quickly shutting the door again. He led me down the long hallway and through the desk area where several officers sat going over paperwork.

  “She’s out front,” he said when I flashed him a confused expression. “But first, she wanted you to change into this.” He handed me jeans, a shirt, and a hair brush.”

  Violet. I grabbed the clothes and hurried into the bathroom next door to change. It felt so good to put on clean clothes after the horrible night in that cell.

  Once I finished, the guard brought me through another short hallway and to a front desk and waiting area. As soon as we entered the room, Violet stood, a look of relief on her face.

  “You’re okay.”

  “Of course I am.”

  She swept me up in a bear hug. “We were so worried.”

  “We?”

  Instead of answering, she glanced up at the officer. “Thank you.”

  “Just make sure that she’s present for her hearing.”

  “Of course.” Violet took my arm and steered me from the police station.

  “What was that all about?” I asked as we walked down the front steps.

  “What?” Violet asked as we turned right on the sidewalk and made our way to the car.

  It was then that I noticed her disheveled appearance. Her normally perfect hair was askew and her clothing looked wrinkled. She wore very little makeup, and as she pressed her lips into a hard line, I knew that she was hiding something.

  “What’s going on?”

  She stopped a short distance from her sedan and put her hands on her hips. “The same could be asked of you, Scarlett.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? I mean that I’ve been holding down the fort with this company while you do God-only-knows-what. You’re neglecting your responsibilities.” She glanced around the parking lot before continuing. “People are beginning to talk. They’re beginning to lose faith in the company.”