Now he hadn’t seen that coming. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“I’m not sure yet. Talk to people? See if anyone noticed anything? I mean, this guy is after me. Maybe I’m the one in the best position to figure out who he is.”
Gray wanted to tell her no, to shut her away and keep her safe from the world. “I might not have known you long, but I suspect you’re going to do this whether I like it or not.”
“Smart man.”
“So if you’re going to be skipping around town talking to people, I’m going to be there with you.”
She nodded. “You are my bodyguard.”
“And you’re okay with that suddenly?”
“You mean, do I realize I’m in danger now? Yes. Am I still angry with you for lying to me? A bit. But…”
“But?” he prompted.
“But I called Devin and told him I don’t want another bodyguard. That I only want you. You saved my life twice, and I trust you. At least as far as that goes.”
And he would make damn sure her trust was warranted. “So where do we start?”
She shot him a slightly embarrassed smile. “I don’t have a clue. I was hoping you would.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. This woman was something else. Even when she wasn’t quite forgiving him, she still made him feel as if every moment around her was a gift.
He took a deep breath and reined in those sentiments. He’d let himself get distracted before, started thinking of Natalie as his plaything rather than someone he had been hired to lay down his life if necessary to protect. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He needed to be ready to take care of her, not focus on his own needs. Her life depended on it. “This started with your paintings being slashed. What if we start there, too?”
“Go on.”
“You mentioned an art dealer who wanted to show your work, and you turned him down.”
“Maxim Miles. But I can’t imagine why he even wanted them, let alone why he would try to kill me. They aren’t exactly commercial.”
“Judging from what I saw, they were pretty amazing.”
She shook her head, as if to say he had no idea how to evaluate art.
He supposed he didn’t. “I know I’m not an expert, but those paintings were beautiful. Haunting.”
“But why would he destroy them?”
“Maybe he didn’t destroy them all. You said yourself that you weren’t sure if they were all there.”
“I said that to the police, not you.”
He gave a shrug, not crazy about reminding her of the secret he’d kept.
“And my brothers passed it along to you.”
He nodded. “What if he took some of them and vandalized the rest to hide what he’d taken? You said he sold work for you before, right?”
“He even bought a few of my paintings for himself.”
This was seeming like more of a lead all the time. “And what tends to happen to the work of artists who…” He stopped himself. His theory wasn’t bad, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to lay out the rest of the scenario.
“Artists who die? Especially in a dramatic fashion when their family has been all over the news for months?” Apparently Natalie wasn’t quite so squeamish.
“If that is his plan—”
“To kill me?”
“Or to make it look like someone is trying to kill you. All he needs is the publicity in order to inflate the price.”
Natalie nodded for him to go on.
“If that is his plan, he’s only taken his first step last night.”
She frowned. “Unless…”
“What?”
“I keep thinking about that woman in the powder-blue sweatshirt. I never saw her face, you know. She was kind of big, and the sweatshirt was very shapeless.”
“You’re thinking it might have been a man?”
“It might have been Max. I really can’t say.”
“But pushing you into traffic didn’t do the trick, so he escalated to shooting. Could be. And he would have seen you with me, so he might have followed me and staked out my place. Then he was already familiar with it when I took you there last night.”
Awkward silence dropped like a curtain between them. Gray felt horrible about how last night had turned out. It never should have happened. He never should have let things go that far. But he’d apologized several times already, and he sensed another round was the last thing Natalie wanted. “If that scenario is even close, Max couldn’t have sold the paintings yet.”
Natalie turned to him, eyes sparking. “They have to be in the gallery somewhere. They’d probably be in his office.”
“Can we get in there somehow?”
She pursed her lips. “Maybe.”
“What do you have in mind?”
She laid out a rough plan for him. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off, but it just might work.
Gray nodded his approval. “Who knows, maybe we’ll have this mess all sorted out, and before you know it, you won’t need a bodyguard anymore.”
She pressed her lips into a line and nodded, but instead of the excitement and grit he’d seen a second ago, she looked strangely sad.
MAXIM MILES OWNED an art studio in the fashionable Central West End in Saint Louis. Natalie had always loved the neighborhood. Even now, looking up at the glittering green dome of the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis gave her a feeling of awe and excitement. Too bad the prospect of seeing Max Miles again did not.
They made their way through the neighborhood. Turning down the tree-lined street where Max’s gallery was located, Natalie wished she could reach out and grab Gray’s hand. That physical reassurance that he was there with her would help her jittery nerves. At least she liked to imagine so. Deep down she suspected she was fooling herself.
“Is this it?” Gray’s steps slowed.
Natalie focused on the row of shops and upscale restaurants. Delicious scents drifted from a bistro on the corner. Two doors down, the familiar white wood columns rose into the sky and curled into carved swirls like decorations on a wedding cake. “Yes, this is it.”
He held the door open for her.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The interior of the gallery was also just how she remembered it. Muted colors made the walls, flooring and ceiling fade into the background. Sophisticated lighting enhanced paintings, photography and sculpture displayed throughout the rooms. The scent of jasmine and soft lilt of classical music made the space feel expensive and sexy at once.
She’d been so excited when Max had first accepted one of her paintings, a stylized vision of the Kendall Estate’s shade garden in black, white and deep greens. She’d been over the moon when he’d given her her first real show. Now she wished she’d never met the man.
“Don’t tell me.” Max stepped from behind a sculpture of a nude made from swirls of silver metal. He was still thin. His hairpiece was still too dark and too full. His black suit, shirt and tie had the same easy elegance. And his face still held the same hard smile. “Isn’t this a coincidence? After all this time, you finally have something for me.”
“No, I don’t,” Natalie said. She tried not to enjoy his fallen expression too much.
“Then you are here to buy?” He glanced at Gray, as if it was no question that the man would be wielding the checkbook, even though he knew full well Natalie could buy her own art.
Gray nodded, as they’d agreed. “I’m here to buy some of Natalie’s paintings, in fact.”
Max’s eyebrows shot toward his synthetic hairline. “You have the artist here, and yet you want to buy from me?”
“She won’t sell anything she has. But she said you used to show her work and might have some now.”
The excuse sounded unbelievable, contrived and for a second, Natalie thought the art dealer would call Gray on it.
Instead, Max shrugged. “I did show her work. I would still be showing her work if she would cooperate.”
G
ray shook his head. “Artists are so fickle and eccentric.”
“Exactly.”
Natalie could feel her cheeks starting to heat. She was pretty sure this was an act, and Gray didn’t really feel that way about her. But she supposed it didn’t matter. When they found out who was trying to kill her and she no longer needed a bodyguard, then she would know the truth. Then Gray would either walk away or not. “So what is it, Max? Do you have any of my paintings or not?”
“I believe I might.”
Natalie peered up at Gray. “I can tell you if he is charging too much.”
Max held up a hand. The glow from a recessed light glinted off several gaudy rings. “Your job is to make the art, my dear. My job is to sell it. I will not haggle about price with you. Either I show him alone, or I do not show him anything.”
Gray shot Natalie an apologetic glance, then he smiled at Max. “I don’t need an advisor.”
“Gray.”
“We’ll just be a few moments. Have a look around. See if there’s something here you like.” Gray looked back to Max. “Lead the way.”
If Gray’s placating tone had not been part of their plan, Natalie might just have to slap him. As it was, Max led him away to one of the back storage rooms. Before the door closed, she caught the sound of Max issuing orders to his assistant in the back, and then Natalie was alone.
When she’d dealt with Max, he’d had only one assistant working during the week and used part-time help for special events. She hoped that was still the case.
She pulled in a calming breath and took off in the direction of Max’s personal office. Rounding an abstract sculpture made from hammered copper, heavy wire and stone, she slowed her steps. Once she turned down the hall that led to the office, she could no longer say she was checking out the pieces of art. Max would know she was snooping. She stopped at the mouth of the hall, listening for any movement.
Not hearing any sign of life, she stepped quickly down the hall and found Max’s office door. The door was locked, as usual, with a keypad doorknob. She punched in the old code she remembered him using, a string of nines, and tried the door.
It held fast.
So Max had changed the digits in his code. That shouldn’t surprise her. She punched in his birthdate.
Nothing. She tried his birthdate along with the date he’d opened the gallery.
No good. She was nearly out of options when she had an idea. She pulled out her iPhone. Checking to see which numbers corresponded to which letters on a standard telephone, she typed in Miles. It didn’t budge. She typed in money.
The lever turned under her hand.
Figured. She slipped into the dim office and closed the door behind her.
Nearly as large as one of the small gallery showrooms, Max’s office held a large desk, a leather couch, a wide credenza and jumbles of boxes and stacks of paintings.
How would she find anything in this mess? She had no idea. But she didn’t have time to sit around and reason it out.
She started with the closest pile of paintings. Each was stored in protective crates or other types of packing. She didn’t have enough time to sort through all of these. By the time she was able to reveal even one painting, Gray and Max would be finished with their business and looking for her. There had to be a faster way.
She focused on breathing. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four. Her pulse throbbed in her ears, making it hard to hear any noises outside the room.
If Max had taken anything from her house, he wouldn’t have had the paintings long. He also wouldn’t want them to get tangled up with the other consignments. He’d hide them someplace special.
She threaded through the stacks of artwork and slipped behind his desk. Two cartons leaned up against the credenza, plenty big enough for each to hold one of her paintings.
Voices erupted outside the door.
Natalie tried to think, to breathe. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She couldn’t hear if one of the voices belonged to Max or someone else, but it didn’t really matter. There was no talking her way out of this one. Losing her way while looking for the restroom wasn’t going to cover breaking into a locked and darkened office.
The door rattled as if someone was punching in the code.
She dropped to her hands and knees and shuffled closer to the desk. She forced her breathing to slow. She wasn’t alone. She had to remember that. Gray was here, and he was armed. He wouldn’t let Max hurt her.
The pressure in the room changed, and Natalie could tell whoever was at the door had opened it and was inside the room.
“I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
Max.
Footsteps shuffled toward her followed by the scrape of crates rubbing against one another.
“My time is valuable.” Gray’s voice boomed from the doorway. “You said this phone call would only take a minute.”
Natalie let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Gray would get Max out of the office. He would give her time to look at the contents of the cartons. She just had to make sure Max didn’t discover her before Gray could coax him back into the storeroom.
“You’re a valuable customer, Mr. Scott. Let me find what I’m looking for. I think you’ll be pleased.”
“I’d better be, because this seems to be taking forever.”
“Trust me, you will be. And since Natalie is here, she can verify them for you.”
Verify them? He must be talking about her paintings. Natalie glanced at the cartons behind the desk. In the dim light filtering through the blinds, she could barely make out a scrawled name in the corner. She leaned closer, squinting.
“Ahh, yes. I remember where I tucked them.”
She spied the name and her breath caught in her throat. Demetrius Jones. It had been a long time since she’d thought of him, but not long enough.
Footsteps rounded the desk, coming toward her.
She squeezed past the chair and slipped into the darkness under the desk. Keeping her breathing shallow, she willed Max not to hear the mad thump of her heart.
Max’s Bruno Magli shoes gleamed even in the dim light. He stepped straight to the cartons Natalie had found, the ones Demetrius had sent him. He picked them up, straightened and paused.
She tried to shrink farther back under the desk. She couldn’t tell how long he stood there, but it seemed like forever. Finally he stepped around the desk, left the office and closed the door behind him and Gray.
Natalie sagged against the desk. She’d thought for sure he’d see her, sense that she was there. But now that he hadn’t, she had another problem. Not only had he taken the paintings, based on what he’d said to Gray, he was taking them out to the main gallery to show her.
And she wasn’t there.
She rolled the chair back and scrambled out from under the desk. Bits of paper packing clung to her skirt, tights and boots. One look and Max would wonder why she’d been crawling on the floor. She brushed her clothing and legs. Fairly certain she was clean, she wound through the maze of crates scattering the floor. She reached the door and paused, hand on knob, to listen.
No sound came from the hall. Either Gray had convinced Max to go back to the storeroom, or they were now about to realize she was no longer in the main gallery.
She had to make up a cover story. And she had to hurry.
She pushed down on the lever and pulled open the door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hall.
“So there you are. What a surprise.” Max’s voice was as hard as his eyes.
Chapter Ten
“What were you doing in my office?”
Natalie’s heartbeat stuttered in her chest. She tried for words, but she couldn’t grasp any that made sense. Her fallback, the bathroom excuse, obviously wouldn’t fly. She looked past Max and focused on Gray at the end of the hall.
He gave her a tight smile, as if everything was under perfect control.
“No explanation? Then I can only assume you and y
our friend here are trying to rob me.” Max reached for his phone. “I’m calling the police.”
“Go ahead.” Gray stepped toward Max. At well over six feet, Gray towered over him. “And when you do, ask for Natalie’s brother, Detective Ash Kendall. I’m sure he’d like to know why you vandalized her studio, destroyed half a dozen paintings and stole a couple more.”
Max’s eyebrows shot toward his synthetic hairline. “What are you talking about?”
Natalie looked at Gray as well, waiting for the explanation.
“You broke into Natalie’s house and vandalized some of her paintings and stole others. Don’t bother denying it.”
“Okay, I won’t bother. But then I have nothing to say, because I wasn’t there.”
Gray picked up one of the cartons Max had taken from the office. He reached inside and pulled out a canvas.
Natalie could have sworn Max turned a shade paler. After all the times Max Miles had tried to bully her, she couldn’t help feeling as if she was finally getting a little justice.
Gray turned the canvas around.
It was a painting of a dark figure in a shadowy room. A drapery floated in the background, white and tattered, and red pooled on the floor.
“Where did you get this?” Natalie demanded.
“Demetrius Jones brought it in yesterday. He said it was one of yours.”
Natalie’s face felt hot. She could feel Gray watching her, waiting for some kind of explanation. “Is there another in the other crate?”
Max nodded.
Gray pulled out his phone. “Don’t bother making that call to the police, Miles. I’ll make it for you.”
“Wait.” Natalie held up a hand.
Gray paused, questions in his eyes.
Natalie looked once again at the painting. The dark colors. The shadowy figure just like the one she’d painted so many times. The bright red of blood. “This painting isn’t one of mine.”
NATALIE’S STATEMENT didn’t make sense. Gray shook his head and took another look at the painting. Then he returned his gaze to Natalie’s face. “What do you mean, it isn’t yours?”
“Just that. I didn’t paint this.”
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