Watercolor Hearts

by Sutton Shields

  I hadn’t cried since that summer day when I was seven-years-old, the day my life changed forever, and I wasn’t about to start now, but the desperation in my voice disgusted me. I hated showing vulnerability.

  “Throw your dice on me, Mr. Traverz. Place your chips on my number. I will not disappoint you.”

  Blake placed his hands on mine, his expression softening. “Call me Blake.”

  “Well then, Blake, you never answered my question—if you didn’t trust me, if you were concerned about my intentions, why’d you hire me back in the day?”

  “Your knowledge of art is far superior to even the most seasoned experts. You’re a prodigy.”

  “I know.”

  “Of course you do,” he said, finally pulling his hands away. My hands suddenly felt cold and lonely.

  “Art was my escape. It saved my life when I couldn’t save myself. Some kids are piano prodigies. I just happened to take to all things art. My eyes are good and my memory is better. I’m a fit for you. I’m the only fit for you.”

  His eyes sparkled. “All right, feisty one. Consider my chips on you. Welcome to the team.”

  I was in.

  Chapter Three

  My excitement blasted like fireworks inside my heart. I was one step closer to my ultimate goal…I just had to make sure Blake never, ever discovered the truth about why I needed to work for him. If he did, he would toss me out on my ear without a second glance, and I’d be done.

  “And then we—are you still with me? Maggie?”

  Oops. Last I saw, Blake was sitting next to me; now he was walking around behind me. So, one step closer will lead to three giant steps back if I don’t pull my head out of my rear and pay attention.

  “Sorry. I, uh, was still in shock at being hired as part of the Manx team.”

  Sneaking a peek at Blake, I released a giant sigh of relief, my shoulders rounding slightly, when I spied a small smile on his significantly handsome face. “How much of what I said did you catch?”

  “My name, give or take a syllable,” I mumbled, nervously digging my nails in the soft leather of the chair.

  “Fabulous.” His tone wasn’t at all mad—annoyed perhaps, but not mad. “I was talking about what we do here. You need to understand what we do—”

  “I already know…”

  “—why we do it, and address any pesky moral issues you may have because those will need to be eradicated immediately,” said Blake, continuing right over me.

  “Boy, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “Never. Unlike you, I’m about to tell you all you need to know.”

  “Operative word being ‘need.’ I’ve told you what you need to know about me. I thought we were past this?” I said testily.

  Blake leaned over me and winked. “Just keeping you on your toes, love.”

  “I’m always on my toes, even when I’m not.”

  “Like that.”

  “I’ve got a few comebacks always ready to roll off my tongue.”

  Blake smiled devilishly. “Glad to know it. Now then, the Manx’s organization—”

  “Caters to the extremely wealthy. Because the rich always want what they can’t have, the Manx simply gets the ‘ungettable’ for a price.”

  Nodding, Blake followed up with: “And what is that price?”

  “Value of the object, plus your fees, which are calculated based on the item’s value as well as the level of difficulty in acquiring it and any resources needed.”

  “Well, well, someone’s been doing her research.”

  “Told you I already knew everything the Manx did.”

  Blake held up a finger, playfully narrowed his eyes, and pulled a face. “Not quite everything.” My eyes grew wide. “Let’s start at the beginning. Over thirty years ago, my dad established the identity of the Manx, though he’d been a skilled cat burglar for many years prior. Do you have any idea why he chose the name Manx?”

  I thought for a moment, my brow furrowed. “It’s a play on meanings. A Manx is a tailless cat. What could be better than a tailless cat when you’re a high-level cat burglar? If you don’t have a tail, it can never get caught under the rocking chair,” I answered. “So to speak, anyway.”

  The pride in Blake’s eyes made my chest swell. “Well-done. Why or how my father even started life as an upper-class thief, I cannot say. He never revealed his reasons, no matter how many times I asked. Oh, but he reveled in every steal, every win. For a young boy, it was an intoxicating lifestyle. Danger and money—no better combination…except maybe danger, money, and sex.” I sat still, maintaining eye contact and trying my best not to blush. “I started shadowing my dad when I was barely a teenager and ultimately developed my own personal philosophy, my own ‘why’ behind what we do—it’s one I don’t intend to fully divulge to you at this time.”

  “Now who’s being secretive?” I quipped.

  He paused beside my seat and stared hard into my eyes. “I’ll let you in…eventually. I can’t say you’ll do the same with me, can I?” My head instantly dropped. “Didn’t think so.”

  “I just—”

  “Don’t worry about it. In this business, I’ve come to learn the need for self-protection and self-preservation is about as crucial as having air to breathe. It’s really nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s part of the philosophy behind my incarnation as the Manx. I’ve seen how evil people can be, how they can tear you apart with no regard for your feelings, your humanity.”

  “I know the inherent evil some people possess all too well. Sometimes, I wonder if those folks are really human at all.”

  Blake nodded. “I’ve wondered the same. Many of the people we serve love rubbing elbows with their own kind, yet there’s one thing they love more: tearing you down, taking you for everything you have, and breaking you. Their desire to destroy becomes an addiction they can’t live without.”

  “So, for you, the Manx is like a shield, one they can’t disarm or damage. It protects you and those you love.”

  “That’s right, in part. Down the road, I’ll show you my main reason for taking over as the Manx and continuing this rather dark lifestyle. Now, as you said, we deliver various items to the rich that they cannot otherwise possess. It’s a game for them, one they can’t see beyond. There are two benefits to this set up—they get their baubles and we get the most powerful weapon of all: leverage.”

  “You have dirt on all of them.”

  “Exactly. We have a database of names, dates, and transactions, implicating the most influential individuals around the world in a crime. This information enables us to acquire whatever we need, whenever we need it. We simply call it in.”

  “And they don’t know your identity or those of your team, so they can’t threaten to expose you.”

  “Closest thing to invincibility you’re ever going to find.” Blake sat back down, right next to me. For some reason, the fact that he chose to sit beside me and not behind his desk stirred the butterflies in my stomach. Staring at me for a moment, studying every inch of my face, he said, “I think you’re ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “To meet the team. They’re abrasive, to be sure, but…I think you can handle it. They like to call themselves CLAWS.”

  “CLAWS…playing on the whole cat thing. I get it. Cool.”

  “Plus, there’s one member in particular that quite literally will claw someone’s eyes out. You’ll meet her soon enough.” Blake hopped up, swiftly walked across the room, and gently pushed on a blue leather book. Instantly, the bookcase opened, revealing a secret passageway.

  “I should have known,” I said, shaking my head, pushing myself up out of the chair. “Your little trick-wall-door-thing leading into this office was my first hint.”

  “Wouldn’t be a very good cat burglar if I didn’t like trick walls and secret passageways.”

  “Makes sense. Tell me, do you keep scratching posts, litter boxes, and a wardrobe of black ski masks as well?” I joined
him beside the open bookcase, my eyes drawn to a dull blue light at the end of the stone tunnel.

  “Smartass. Follow me,” he said, leading the way, a slight grin creeping upon his face. “Don’t worry about the bookcase. It closes on its own.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Exceedingly.”

  I have never met a man who not only tolerated my sarcasm and general crap, but who also served it right back to me. Effing shame he was now my new boss—I wasn’t in a position where I could risk screwing things up by getting involved with the man who pays me and provides the last chance I have of finding the people responsible for my parents’ demise.

  We walked in silence until the source of the blue light became clear: a bright keypad, palm pad, and retinal scanner mounted on a large rock wall.

  Before leaning in for the scan, Blake turned to me. “Each member of my core team has their own code.” Placing one of his hands upon the wall, Blake leaned forward for the palm and retinal scan; I couldn’t help but notice the way his blue shirt tightened around his biceps and broad back. Damn. After the scan, a shifting sound followed. “You’ll get your code and retinal/palm scan abilities soon. I’m not comfortable handing those out at the moment. No offense.”

  “None taken. Trust is earned.”

  “And lost.”

  The sadness in his voice pierced the wall around my heart, creating the whisper of a desperate longing I had only ever felt for my parents. I wondered then if I wasn’t the only one with toxic secrets.

  Pushing the wall open, he moved aside, held out his other arm, and said, “Welcome to the hub.”

  I stepped over the threshold and entered a circular room made entirely of polished blue stone. With the low, dome-shaped ceiling, it really did remind me of a cave—a supremely high-tech cave. I would’ve made the obvious superhero joke, but opted to curb my overly zealous wiseass tongue. Besides, my brain was far too consumed with awe to utter much of anything coherent. This place captured every square inch of my attention: a plethora of plasma screens blanketed the walls; a digital, three-dimensional map of New York City rotated above a shiny black table in the far right corner of the room—little yellow, purple, and green tracking dots moved along various streets; the number of computers in this one room could rival those found in the Pentagon; there were onyx desks with plush black leather chairs behind each. Surprisingly, with all of this technology, there were only four people present.

  “So, Maggie, this is command central, where everything happens,” said Blake.

  Directly across the room from me, a scrawny, shaggy-haired man sporting wire-rimmed glasses peered over the top of no less than three computer screens. “Everything except the actual stealing. That happens elsewhere,” said the shaggy-haired young man.

  “Pretty sure the new girl could figure that out, Greg,” said a tall, insanely handsome man with a long, black braid trailing down his back. He extended his super-sized hand to me. Shaking it was like shaking a cement wall. “Pike Ford, lead field agent. In case it wasn’t obvious, Greg is our resident computer nerd.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Pike. Oh, wait, too late.” Greg may be a nerd, but he seemed to have a little badass in him.

  “Greg can hack anything, anyone, anywhere, anytime,” said Blake. “One-hundred percent reliability.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s the techie brains of the bunch,” Pike groaned. “But I’m the muscle, along with my co-commander. Yo, Ty! Get your ass over here, man!”

  An equally large, equally handsome man hurried over from the very back corner of the room. “Sorry about that. Tracking someone. Maggie, right?” I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the size of his biceps. He may be larger than Pike, something I didn’t think was possible. “Tyrese Greystone. You can call me Ty.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ty,” I said, shaking his hand. My hand literally disappeared in his. His skin was perfection: soft, dark, and smooth as silk. There wasn’t an inch to pinch on him, or Pike, for that matter.

  “Pike and Ty do much of the acquiring,” said Blake. “Both served in the military, are combat specialists, black belts, skilled with swords, machetes… Playing ‘name that gun’ with these two is pointless. You will lose.”

  “So, let me make sure I’ve got this right: you’re both basically made of steel, lead steal missions, and can kick ass with just about every weapon available. About sum it up?” I said playfully.

  “Actually…yes,” said Pike with a giant grin.

  Ty nudged Blake with his shoulder. “The new girl’s a pretty one, boss.”

  “Really? Hadn’t noticed,” said Blake, shrugging.

  Very slowly, I gazed up at him; though he refused to make eye contact, a sly smirk barely curled the corner of his mouth.

  “It’s nice to have some new female meat in the joint,” Pike added.

  “We were pulling for a woman to win,” offered Ty.

  “Yeah, the ivy in this place has gotten a little overgrown,” Pike said in a loud, obviously fake whisper.

  “He means me.” A woman’s voice cut through the men’s laughter. When Pike and Ty moved their massive forms aside, I saw the owner of the voice. Sauntering toward me was a tall, slender, deadly gorgeous blond dressed in a red leather jumpsuit. Her hips swayed in an almost inhuman fashion. She flipped her long, sleek ponytail over one shoulder and narrowed her icy green eyes on me.

  Blake cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Maggie, this is Ivy Raynott, our unlicensed private investigator.”

  “Unlicensed?” I quizzed.

  Tilting her head, she said, “I don’t believe in licenses of any kind, unless they’re fakes. When you’re born, you’re given an automatic license to breathe. That’s the only one you need to do whatever you want.” She spoke with a slight purr or growl beneath her words, her British accent animating every syllable.

  Ivy was the type of woman who brought men to their knees, rulers to their demise, and put women in an insane asylum. However, I couldn’t disagree with her logic.

  “License or not, Ivy’s the best P.I. in the country,” said Blake.

  Ivy glanced at her black painted nails. “To hell with the country. I’m best in the world.”

  Blake groaned. “She also has an ego that outdoes mine and a proclivity for shamelessness.”

  “And sex.”

  “Christ, Ivy,” replied Blake, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a smile. “You couldn’t just ease Maggie into the ABC’s of your colorful, oftentimes offensive, unabashedly nonconformist self?”

  Ivy, grinning like the cat that just devoured the canary, her deep voice almost purring, said, “No.”

  Pike cleared his throat. “Ivy’s the answer to every man’s libido.”

  “And woman’s,” said Ivy. “You know I always vote for equal-opportunity screwing. I like my women strong and my men weak. I’m just old-fashioned like that.”

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me,” said Pike. “I’m not exactly weak.”

  Slowly shifting her eyes to Pike, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her full, red lips, Ivy replied coolly, “Well, you were an exception. I’d never bedded a man with a braid. I keep a list, kinda like that fat guy in red.”

  “You mean Santa?” I said.

  “Yeah, the fat guy in red.”

  Blake shook his head and rubbed his forehead.

  Pike rubbed his hands together. “Ivy isn’t exactly politically correct. You’ll get used to it. We all do.”

  “Great first impression, Ivy,” Blake groaned.

  “I aim to displease.”

  “Contrary to what her mouth spews, Ivy is also our lure,” added Blake. “She’s the perfect distraction.”

  “Ivy gets it done,” said Ty. “Whatever ‘it’ might be.”

  “And believe it or not, she can turn on that English elegance,” said Pike. “She’s really a fuzzy little kitten down deep.”

  Glaring at me, she said, “Minus the fuzz…any fuzz…anywhere. I’m also one of the main researchers
around here. I understand that’s what you do, too. Am I right?”

  “That’s right,” I replied icily.

  Her smile was vicious. “I’m not sure I like you.”

  I shrugged, determined not to let her get to me. Lord knows I’d been through more stressful crap than a mere session of cattiness. “That’s fine. You don’t have to like me.”

  “For your health, I really do,” Ivy warned.

  “Okay, okay, calm the estrogen,” said Pike, drawing my stink eye, along with Ivy’s.

  Blake clapped his hands. “Enough of that. Ivy, Maggie is being brought in for her expertise. She’s a prodigy. Her eye is impeccable. In the last five years, Maggie has pegged more potential steals than anyone else in the company since its inception. That’s a helluva stat. I don’t intend to quash her telescoping abilities just because you get out of sorts. She’s our treasure hunter.”

  Ivy scoffed and folded her arms.

  “Wait. You moved me up from research…to do more research?” I asked, a tad miffed.

  Ivy cooed sarcastically. “Aw, isn’t that cute. Two seconds as an elite member and little Mags is already entitled. You’re in the inner sanctum. Be grateful.”

  “I am grateful. I just want to contribute more than my research skills.”

  “Assuming you have more to offer, you mean,” said Ivy.

  “There’s nothing more important than your knowledge, Maggie,” said Blake. “In time, you will do more. I have great plans for you, but you’ll need training. These folks have been trained.”

  “Well, uh, except for me,” Greg clarified. “I didn’t have to go through the physical training because…I…can’t.”

  “Yeah, he’d break,” breathed Ivy. “I’ve offered to break him. He hasn’t taken me up on it…yet. He will, though, and when he does, that boy will become a man.”