Thick as Thieves

by Jillianne Hamilton

  Whoa.

  Three massive monitors surrounded Rhys in a semi-circle, and his laptop sat in front of those three. Lines of code, like that scene in The Matrix, ran down the laptop screen as the monitor screens showed bank information, airline updates from various people, and, of course, Facebook and Twitter. Freddie lay curled in a ball in a nearby dog bed.

  “Nice setup you’ve got there.”

  Rhys spun around in his chair. “Pfft. Nice? No. This setup is perfect.” He turned back to his monitor screen but kept talking to me. “What did you think of Danika?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’s your opinion of her?”

  I shrugged, even though Rhys wasn’t looking at me to see it. “She seems lovely.”

  “Elaborate,” he ordered, typing away at the screen of code.

  “Frankly, I think she’s too hot for you.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “You think she’s hot?”

  “Obviously,” I said. “I’m not blind.”

  He considered this. “If Danika is into it, would you ever maybe want to … sometime…”

  “If you are about to suggest a threesome, I would highly recommend you stop talking.”

  He snickered. “It was just a thought.” He went back to his screen, not sensing that I was glaring at the back of his head as hard as I could.

  I went back to my room across the hall and unpacked a few things. I didn’t want to unpack too much, because I really didn’t want to stay for too long. This felt too weird, sleeping in Rhys’s house, especially when he had a girlfriend.

  Especially since he just suggested a threesome with his girlfriend. That is just a bit awkward for everyone involved. Wait, was he serious?

  The doorbell rang, and I peered out my window. That was a real stupid thing to do. The person at the door backed up a few steps and looked up. She saw me, her eyes immediately narrowing. And then she retrieved her phone.

  I shouldn’t have answered my phone when it rang.

  “Molly, I can see you up there,” Audrey said. “Open the fucking door.”

  I’d never heard Audrey drop the F-bomb before. All I could do was nod shallowly.

  “Hey, Rhys?”

  “Yes, dear?” This was followed by another one of those stupid damn snickers of his.

  “Audrey is at the front door.”

  He laughed. “You don’t say.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “Are you sure it’s not just a salesperson or something?”

  “I’m looking at her right now.”

  Rhys took long, quick strides from his office to the window, peering over my shoulder. “Shit. Can we just hide, pretend we’re not here?”

  “She already saw me,” I said, jaw clenched.

  “My home is sacred, Molly. Sacred.” He was gesturing wildly, his accent getting thicker as he got more expressive. “If I let that woman in here, I’ll have to call in a priest to get rid of the evil spirits. I can’t have her bad voodoo in here!”

  Minutes later, the three of us all sat in Rhys’s living room, sipping tea and avoiding eye contact.

  Audrey slid her teacup onto the side table beside a lamp and crossed one leg over the other. “The two of you have put me in a rather difficult position. I had client work lined up, but unfortunately I had to redirect them elsewhere.” Her nostril twitched. “I don’t care for that.”

  “And that is our problem why?” My stomach lurched when I realized the words had actually come out of my mouth.

  Audrey turned her head toward me. She looked like she wanted to wrap her serpent body around me and crush me to death.

  Before she could unhinge her jaw and swallow me whole, Rhys spoke up.

  “Why not just get one of your other people to steal things for you?”

  Audrey squared her shoulder, picked up her teacup and looked down into the soft brown drink. “That is not your concern.”

  I smiled, suddenly seeing her in a different light. “You don’t have anyone else to hire, do you?”

  Rhys glanced at me and then looked back at Audrey, his eyebrows creeping high on his forehead. He knew I was right.

  Audrey uncrossed her legs and pulled her knees tight together. She refused to make eye contact with either of us, likely feeling vulnerable. “I had five people. Two are in jail because they were careless and got caught. One was recently gunned down because he was an idiot. That leaves the two of you. So you can understand why I’m here.”

  “Actually, I’m still not sure why you’re here.” Rhys frowned. “Have you been watching my house?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course not,” she snapped. “I had someone watch your house for me.”

  Rhys’s lips tightened, causing tiny creases to form along the line of his mouth, and he breathed out of his nose hard, like a pissed-off bull. For someone who spied on people online all the time, he apparently cherished his own privacy.

  “Again, not sure why you’re here,” I said.

  “I could say the same thing about you,” she said, pursing her lips tight. “I didn’t realize you two were shacking up already.”

  “I’m not living here, I’m just staying here—”

  Rhys interrupted, his tone louder and more pissed-off than I’ve ever heard it. “Why don’t you just answer the fucking question, Audrey?”

  Audrey smoothed a crease in her no nonsense black skirt. “I am here because I want to know what it would take for you two to work for me again.”

  The room fell silent. I glanced at Rhys. He just glared at Audrey with deep creases in his forehead.

  “Respect would be a good start,” I said.

  “Molly, you don’t have to work for her.” Rhys turned sideways in his chair, facing me directly. “You and I can go into business ourselves. We don’t need her taking a huge cut of the profits.”

  I looked at Audrey. “What percentage of the profits do you usually take?”

  She pursed her lips. “Twenty-five.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” I said. “I can have him check your bank records in ten minutes. Tell me the truth.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her legs again. “Fifty percent.”

  “If I were to work for you again, I’d want sixty-five percent of the profits.” I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.

  Audrey’s eyes widened. “That is ridiculous—”

  “Make that seventy-five percent.”

  Audrey scowled at me, her red lips tight. “Fine.”

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  Audrey rolled her eyes, pained that she had been reduced to practically begging. I loved it.

  “Fine,” she said again. “Rhys, what about you?”

  “I think you should get the hell out of my house.” He stood up and opened the front door wide.

  She nodded to me, put her tea on the table and left, Rhys slamming the door shut behind her. Her car screeched away from the curb as he took his seat again, flopping down into the armchair.

  “I can still smell her perfume.” His nose wrinkled. “I’m going to have to move or burn this place down.”

  “You really won’t work for her again?”

  “Not a chance. You and I are both too good for that parasite.” Rhys took his phone out of his pocket. “Looks like our friend Delacroix checked into a hotel in Amsterdam as planned. I guess I’ll just turn off those notifications, now that we’re not involved in that anymore.”

  I checked my phone too. Four missed calls from Ruby. I called her back.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Molly!” She sounded super panicked. “Are you alright?”

  “Of course. Why, what’s wrong?”

  “Someone broke your door down and trashed your place last night!” she exclaimed, speaking quickly. “Nothing looks to be stolen or anything, but your neighbors called the police. Grace told me because she heard about the break-in from someone at work who was at the scene. Nobody knew where you were,
so we thought you’d been kidnapped or something. Oh my god, Molly, I’m so glad to hear your voice right now.”

  Carl. Carl broke my door in. He knows where I live. He was looking for me.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound much calmer than I really was. “I’m in London.”

  “Where are you staying? Are you safe?”

  “I’m staying at Rhys’s for a while—”

  Ruby’s voice went from panicked to intrigued. “Ooh la la.”

  “Ruby.”

  “Are you guys gonna have a fun sleepover?”

  “Ruby.”

  “If you sleep with him, you’ll tell me, right?”

  “Ruby.”

  “Yes?”

  “Ruby, I love you. But please shut up.”

  I hung up and told Rhys about the break-in.

  “It had to be Carl,” I said. “Who else could it be?”

  The pace of my heart increased, thinking about Carl busting down my front door, looking around my home, my private space, and then storming out once he didn’t find me.

  “I guess so.” Rhys winced. “Are you okay?”

  A smile slowly spread across my face. “Hell yeah, I’m okay. Do you know what this means?”

  “No?”

  “It means Carl is back in the United States. Delacroix is in Amsterdam by himself with the Picasso painting.” I stood up. “You and I are going to Heathrow and we are booking tickets to Amsterdam right now. I’ll call Sophie and let her know.”

  Rhys didn’t move from his chair. “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

  “I’m not going after that damn painting. It’s too dangerous. Carl may have been in New York last night, but he could be in Amsterdam by the time we get there.”

  “You still get notifications of his flights, right? Cancel any tickets he purchases. Just make sure he stays in the United States.”

  Rhys thought for a moment. “I can probably just add his name to the no-fly list.”

  “Even better.”

  “What about Delacroix? In case you forgot, he also had a gun aimed at your head.”

  “He doesn’t scare me. Carl, yes. But Delacroix isn’t the killing type,” I said. “Can you book us a couple of tickets to Amsterdam? I have to go pack.”

  I was halfway up the stairs when Rhys spoke.

  “I don’t think so, Molly.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going. Unlike you, I like my life enough to want to keep living.”

  “I already told you, I don’t have a death wish,” I said. “I have a cash wish.”

  “Even if we got the painting from Delacroix, which would be one problem, how would we get it back to Sophie in Paris without customs finding it?”

  “Delacroix was able to get it from France to Holland,” I said. “The guy is not a genius, so it couldn’t have been that difficult. If you don’t want to go, fine. I’ll get a ticket for myself and go alone.”

  Rhys sighed. “Don’t make me put you on the no-fly list, too.”

  I walked back down the stairs and stood in front of his chair. I leaned over so our faces were at the same level and looked him directly in the eye. “Excuse me?”

  He stood up out of his chair so he was looking down at me—such an original power play, really, making himself taller. “I’d rather you be mad at me than see you get killed.”

  “This is my choice. Trying to protect me is in no way your responsibility. Do you understand?”

  Rhys stared down at me, his chest heaving. “Fine.”

  He stormed upstairs and slammed the door to his office on the second floor.

  What a baby.

  I repacked the few items I took out of my suitcase, hired a cab to take me to Heathrow and booked myself a plane ticket on the way to the airport.

  I’d never been to Amsterdam before, but I’d heard it was beautiful.

  * * *

  Four hours later, I stuffed my suitcase into the overhead bin. I settled into my seat and propped a sweater up against the window so I could nap on the way to the Netherlands.

  Minutes before takeoff, a late passenger squeezed down the crowded aisle and plopped down in the free seat beside me. Yes, it was Rhys, because it’s always Rhys, because I can’t take a single flipping flight without Rhys showing up out of nowhere.

  We didn’t look at one another. He sighed loudly so I would know he was still grumpy.

  “Why are you here?” I finally said after the plane had soared skyward and was above the clouds. “I said I was fine to go by myself.”

  “Where is that stewardess? I need a drink.”

  “Flight attendant. Answer the question.”

  “I’d feel pretty damn shitty about myself if you died and I wasn’t there to help you get killed,” he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm. “Hopefully we’ll both be killed so I can say ‘I told you so.’”

  “How will you say ‘I told you so’ if we’re both dead?”

  “Well, I imagine we’ll be lying there in the dirt, both bleeding out from knife wounds or something, and I’ll just whisper it to you.” His made his voice weak and whispery. “I … told … you … so. And then I’ll die, and my body will be dumped in the ocean, and a shark will devour my lifeless corpse as a snack, and my family will never know what happened to me.”

  “Try to be optimistic,” I said. “Might not be a shark. Your corpse could also be eaten by a whale.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I looked left. I looked right. I looked up at Rhys. “Why are there so many damn bikes here?”

  It wasn’t an exaggeration. Amsterdam was chockablock with people on bicycles and bikes for rent from sidewalk racks. People on bikes weaved around one another seamlessly and gracefully. There are lots of people who ride bikes in Manhattan and Brooklyn, but nothing like this. It was late in the evening, and the streets were still busy with cyclists, pedestrians and tourists.

  We stood on the sidewalk in front of a cartoonishly tall and narrow canal house, waiting for the owner of the house to answer the door. Many buildings in this area of the city were the same style—tremendously skinny and at least three or four storys high. They looked charming but seemed impractical to me. The canal was lined with small boats on either side, moored to the edge and bobbing gently in the river.

  My eyes traveled up the brick façade to the line of windows on the fourth story of this historic home. “Imagine having to move your stuff out of this house?”

  Rhys, still irritated with me, sighed out of his nose. “There’s a hook above the windows for pulling stuff up and lowering stuff.”

  “Huh. How’d you know that? No, wait. Let me guess.” I pretended to consider my theory. “You used to sleep with a Dutch girl.”

  “Way to go. You win a car.” He sighed again and tapped his foot, avoiding eye contact with me.

  “Are you going to be mad at me the whole time we’re here?”

  He stood over me and looked directly down at my face, his eyebrows angled down at the angry setting. “Did you ever think that my bad mood might not be about you? Everything isn’t always about you, Molly. I know that is hard for you to imagine because you’re always so fucking wrapped up in your own shit, but guess what? Not everything is about you, okay? I’ve got other shit going on that is, believe it or not, not related to you.”

  I stared at him, opened my mouth to speak and then shut it again. But I had to ask.

  “So, just to be clear, you’re not mad at me?”

  Rhys threw a glare at me as the front door opened.

  “Hello, you made it. Welcome!”

  Abel, the bearded twenty-something who answered the door, wore round John Lennon-style glasses and paint-spattered jeans. We followed him inside his extremely narrow house, dragging our luggage behind us.

  The walls were covered in paintings of all sizes, almost all of them featuring colorful animals doing mundane human activities. My favorite was a purple meerkat washing the dishes.

 
Sophie had set us up with this guy since we weren’t able to find a hotel room. Turns out Amsterdam is quite the tourist town and a busy place during the summer.

  I wondered if she knew artists from every country. I also wondered if Abel was on the straight and narrow or if he had a side gig like so many of Sophie’s art scene associates.

  Abel showed us around. “I’ve got lots of food if you need anything. Just help yourself. Or there is a store nearby.”

  I smiled shyly. Are all Dutch guys this hot? I’m diggin’ that accent.

  “We’re fine. Thanks. Where can we drop this stuff off?”

  Abel directed Rhys to the guest bedroom on the third floor.

  “Hey, honey,” I said sweetly, “can you take my suitcase up with you? Thanks so much.” I batted my eyelashes at my faux-boyfriend.

  “Yes, dear,” he said, a suitcase handle in each hand.

  Since Rhys and I would once again be sharing a guest bedroom, we were acting like a couple while staying here. I decided to take advantage of that.

  Once Rhys had gone upstairs, I smiled at Abel. He was totally checking me out.

  Yesssss, ten points for me.

  I leaned against a counter. “So, how do you know Sophie?”

  “She has promoted my work so much,” he gushed. “She helped me get a show in Paris two years ago. I owe her everything.”

  “I love your paintings. They are so playful and fun.” I smiled at the nearby painting of a neon pink flamingo holding a TV remote.

  “Thank you, that’s so nice.”

  “No, thank you. I’m not sure where we would have ended up if you hadn’t taken us in.”

  Abel offered me a glass of wine, and we clinked them together.

  “To new friends,” he said.

  I nodded and took a sip.

  Ohmygod, red wine is so horrible. Just smile, be cute and don’t cringe.

  “If you like art,” he said, “you should check out the Van Gogh museum or the Rijksmuseum. They’ve got Rembrandts and Vermeers there.”

  Delacroix headed to another art-loving city to sell the Picasso. Interesting.