Watercolor Hearts

by Sutton Shields

  Greg straightened his glasses and made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a complete geek attack.

  Blake put his hands on my shoulders. “Look, I know you want to do more. The other night was a test to see how you’d do in the field. Right now, you’re just too green.”

  “But I will be ready.”

  Taking his hands off of my shoulders, smiling broadly, Blake nodded. “I have no doubt.”

  Ivy sighed loudly. “Would it help to know that you will have access to files the research cesspool you came from doesn’t?”

  My eyebrows shot straight up. “Now you’re talking.”

  “See, Blake? You just need to know how to speak ‘woman.’ We like a little spice, a little variety, and a lot of perks,” said Ivy.

  “She’s not wrong.”

  Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Watch out, now. You and I just agreed on something.”

  Smiling, I said, “Could spell trouble.”

  “Well, now that the girls have made peace…” Blake moved to the center of the hub. “Maggie, your work station will be next to Greg.”

  “You can find everyone’s work schedule on any of the computers under the folder labeled…wait for it…schedule,” offered Ivy. “Last minute changes to schedules will be flashing in red. Mine flashes quite frequently.”

  “Not gonna touch it,” mumbled Pike, smirking.

  Blake, crossing his arms, continued. “I own this building, as you may have guessed. My ownership has been buried under many dummy corporations, the statuses of which are constantly monitored by Greg.”

  “Me,” Greg confirmed, this time peering at me from between his computer screens.

  “Damn, Greg, try not to state the obvious all the freaking time, bud,” said Pike.

  Greg, disappearing behind his computer screens, simply said, “Stating the obvious is something I’ve grown accustomed to, thanks to Pike’s turd-sized brain.”

  “Bull,” growled Pike.

  “You mean to say you’re not an idiot, Pike?” asked Greg. “I guess I could be mistaken. After all, you’ve won all those chess matches against Blake. Oh. Hang on…Blake won them all. My mistake.”

  I had to give it to Greg; in my book, Pike wasn’t the type you voluntarily pissed off. “My chess matches with Blake haven’t gone in my favor…yet.”

  “Some have been damn close,” offered Blake.

  “Isn’t that nice of our boss to give muscle-man a verbal pat on the head,” said Greg, pushing the issue.

  I was surprised not to see smoke rising from Pike’s skull. “We all know Greggy is trying to put on a show at my expense just to make sure our new girl remembered who he was, since nobody ever does.”

  “I remember Greg,” I said incredulously.

  Greg shot straight up out of his seat. “You do?”

  “Of course,” I said, nodding. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He slowly sank back down into his chair. I swear he was like a jack-in-the-box with as much as he appeared then disappeared behind his computers. “Well, because Pike the prick is right…not many people remember me.”

  “I don’t,” quipped Ivy. “I just call him Tip-tap…you know, because he’s always tip-tapping on that keyboard. He hates my nickname for him.”

  “Because I have name,” muttered Greg scornfully.

  “I know you do. Tip-tap,” said Ivy to laughs from Pike and Ty.

  “I’d flip you off, but it undermines my IQ and falsely inflates Pike’s…and, well, you’re a little scary,” said Greg.

  Ivy waved a hand at Greg. “Aw, darling, the day you dare to throw me the finger is the day I’ll have you against the wall, teaching you how much more you can do with those tip-tappers of yours.”

  Pike craned his neck to get a glimpse of Greg behind his computers. “Think Greg needs some private time.”

  Greg’s tip-tapping grew considerably louder and much harder.

  “Right, carrying on,” said Blake, clapping his massive hands together, giving Pike, Ty, and Ivy each a scornful, disapproving glare.

  “So, where is this building relative to the research pool where I worked?” I asked.

  “Around the block. It’s home to many different offices, dummy corporations, etcetera. Everyone maintains an apartment in this building and one outside of it. You are not going to get an apartment here yet. You’re too new,” said Blake firmly.

  “Oh.” Damn.

  Pointing to a picture of a satellite view of an office building, Blake said, “I spend my days at Traverz Enterprises and come here at night. We’re in a part of town that doesn’t see much activity, not by New York standards.”

  “Could be because you own every building on this block and control who goes in and out,” quipped Ty.

  My eyes widened. “Every building?”

  Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “Every one. They’re all connected by hidden tunnels. It’s how we access our hub, every time.”

  I shook my head. “That really shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. So, do you all keep your other apartments on this same block?”

  “Well, that’d be massively idiotic, wouldn’t it?” Ivy sneered.

  “It sounded stupid in my head, and it sounded worse when it flew from my mouth. So, yeah, pretty stupid.”

  “She owned her stupidity. I might like her. I might like you.” I really wanted to respond with a semi-sarcastic ‘Hallelujah’, but that might send Ivy over the edge. “Each of us lives a few blocks over. As such, we never exit this building directly. Always take the tunnels to exit through one of the other buildings on this block.”

  Blake nodded. “Likewise, we get to the hub via the tunnels—walk into one of the adjacent buildings and follow the tunnel until you get here. Vary it up. Never use the same pattern, ever.”

  “This block is never watched, thanks to Greg, but you can never be too careful,” said Ty.

  “What do you do about food?” Really? Here they were talking about something important like security precautions and my mouth just had to ask about food? I wanted to crawl under one of the desks.

  “Ah, a girl after my own stomach!” said Pike. “Next block over, we’ve got the best pizza in NYC, Italian, Chinese, fast food, anything you can dream of. You don’t have to worry about food.”

  “And we have a personal chef,” supplied Ivy. “We ask, he delivers.”

  “How does that work?” I asked.

  “He doesn’t know everything,” clarified Blake. “Let’s just say I’ve done his family a few favors.”

  “Organized crime,” said Ivy. “They’re pretty good about keeping their mouths shut. Too afraid of dropping into a shallow grave. I do love what he can do with a nice piece of cow.”

  “So, Maggie, this is the team,” said Blake suddenly. “Any questions?”

  “If Blake can’t meet you all here until nighttime, what do you do all day?” I asked.

  “Depends,” said Ty. “As Blake said, he’s typically at Traverz Enterprises. For the rest of us, it depends on whether or not we have things to track down, places to scope—”

  “People to seduce,” said Ivy.

  “Except me,” said Greg. “I’m always here. I never go outside.”

  “That’s why the boy’s practically translucent,” said Ivy. “That boy hasn’t seen the sun since he was in his mother’s womb.”

  “Even then, I wouldn’t have seen the sun because technically it was my mother seeing the sun, not me seeing the sun—” said Greg in a wheeze.

  “I was being a wiseass, Tip-tap.” Ivy shook her head. “He has a problem with sarcasm, unless he’s delivering it, which he is capable of.”

  I pulled a face. “A problem with sarcasm? That’s unfortunate.”

  Ivy folded her arms and leaned against Ty. “Do I detect a fan of the wiseass?”

  “More than a fan. I’m a graduate of Wiseass Academy,” I replied.

  “I can already attest to this,” said Blake.

  “You’re moving closer to my �
�like’ circle, new girl. Just might let you in,” Ivy purred.

  Greg cleared his throat. “Don’t you mean friend circle? I mean, you have friends online, but you ‘like’ their posts. Respect the lingo.”

  With a sarcastic smirk and hardly a glance over her shoulder at Greg, Ivy, her voice playful, said, “I don’t have friends. It’s not a label I’ve ever fully understood. Too many lying, self-serving assholes.”

  “Well, on that note…this wraps up today’s introductions,” said Blake, shaking his head. “For now, your time will be filled with training. You’ll train with the team, including Ivy.”

  “Break out the champagne. Aren’t you excited?” asked Ivy.

  “I think that’s pretty much undecided at this point,” I replied.

  “As it should be,” said Ivy.

  “Tomorrow, we get started,” said Blake, placing a hand on my lower back. I hope he didn’t feel the goosebumps erupting over my body.

  “It was nice meeting all of you,” I said.

  “Yeah. Same. Sort of,” growled Ivy, as Pike, Ty, and Greg all nodded and bid their goodbyes.

  Blake walked me back to his study via the passageway. Once we reached his office, he immediately rounded his desk and pressed a button on his phone. “Finn? Yeah, pull the car around. I’m sending Miss Harred down.”

  “Reckon it’s time for me to go home.”

  “For now,” he replied. “So, tomorrow…midnight?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You good with all-nighters?”

  “Luckily, I’m an insomniac. I’m built for all-nighters.”

  “Funny. I am as well.”

  “Fellow insomniac, huh? What keeps you up?”

  “A number of things,” he said with a mixture of darkness and tease.

  Nodding, I said, “I know what you mean. So, will I be training with Pike or Ty tomorrow?”

  “Neither,” he said, joining me beside the hidden door to his office. “You’ll be in my hands come midnight. Finn and I will pick you up.” My eyes widened, the little bastards. “What? Did you think I was merely the namesake? Think you’ll be surprised to find that my skill set is quite extensive.”

  “Well, then…I look forward to being surprised.”

  “Wear dark, comfortable clothes, yeah?”

  “Translation: wear cat burglar attire.”

  “Feisty little thing.” Leaning just beyond me, he placed the palm of his hand against the wall concealing the door to his office. The wall slid open as before, revealing the long black and white marble hallway. “I can’t walk you down, I’m afraid.”

  “I get it. The bat has to stay in his cave.”

  “How long have you been waiting to make that joke?”

  “Oh, God, hours. It literally hurt to hold it in so long.”

  “Feel better?”

  “Hugely. Oh!” I blurted as a random thought popped into the forefront of my mind. “Not that this should matter, but…does this mean I have to give back the Machstellssner?”

  With what I was beginning to categorize as a trademark crud-eating smirk, Blake said, “We had a deal. I don’t go back on deals. You paid for it, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks.”

  Blake, putting his hands in his pockets, simply said, “Try to sleep well, Miss Harred.”

  “You too, Mr. Traverz.” I started down the hall when Blake called my name. I turned back around. “Yes?”

  “You’re going to fit in just fine around here. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Thanks. Hope so.”

  For years, ‘hope’ was the only thing keeping me going…until this moment. Now, a determined, angry rage, yearning for retribution, replaced hope.

  “See you tomorrow,” said Blake.

  “I look forward to it.”

  …far more than I should.

  Chapter Four

  At the stroke of midnight, there was a knock on my door.

  “Oh, tell me he didn’t come to the door.” Peeking through the peephole, I sighed. “Yep, he sure did.”

  I had barely opened the door when Blake flashed a gorgeous smile. “Good evening.”

  “Good morning.”

  “That too. You going to invite me in?”

  Leaning against the door, I crossed my arms. “Haven’t decided yet. Didn’t expect you to come to my door. Figured I’d just meet you by the car.”

  “I don’t like to do things halfway. Gentlemen, even world-renowned cat burglars, pick the ladies up at their doors. Now, how’s that invite coming along?”

  “Slowly.”

  Blake shook his head. “Didn’t know they made people as distrusting as myself.”

  “In my eyes, you are scary trusting of people, even though you claim to know almost everything about them. Not that I’m saying you can’t trust me…I just don’t know how you make such big leaps.”

  “That’s the point about making leaps—you don’t think about them; you listen to your instinct.”

  “And what’s your instinct about me? Positive?”

  He nodded. “Stronger than I’ve ever felt.”

  “Okay, fine, invite granted. Come on in,” I said, flinging my arm out, ushering him inside. “Actually, you could probably stand just inside the doorway, look from left to right, and see everything.”

  Blake slowly passed by me. He smelled like pine and musk. He studied every inch of my matchbox apartment with a mix of curiosity, wonder, and intense interest. “I like it.”

  “This coming from the man who has lived in the lap of luxury his entire life.”

  Blake tilted his head slightly. “That’s the thing about those luxurious laps: they paint an irresistible picture. Scratch off the paint, and there’s an entirely different painting behind it.”

  I thought I saw a longing in his eyes. In some respect, I think part of him desired a more simplistic life. Blake wasn’t your typical trust fund yuppie, not compared to the ones I’d had the displeasure of meeting, at least. There were cracks in this man’s exterior, cracks he hid extremely well. I wasn’t sure why I could see them so clearly—maybe it had to do with my own Grand Canyon-size cracks I’ve had to work hard to conceal. Or maybe he dropped his guard a bit with me.

  “That’s your bedroom?” One corner of his mouth curled upward.

  Crossing my arms, I replied, “Wow, good eye. Did the bed give it away?”

  His smile grew. “That your closet?”

  “That’s what the landlord calls it.”

  “May I open it, give it a little look-over?”

  “Are you serious? You interested in borrowing something?”

  “Call me curious.”

  And then it hit me. “You want to see if I was telling the truth about my severe lack of wardrobe, don’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You know, this mutual distrust we have for one another is a little alarming, given our line of work, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Alarming? Yeah, it’s alarming…and interesting.”

  “Did you trust Ivy and the others right away?”

  “I certainly trusted them faster than you.”

  For some bizarre reason, his words stung. Hurt feelings hadn’t been a part of my life for years. I’d learned to never give two craps about anyone’s opinion. Yet, here I was, trying to stifle that God-awful ‘hurt feeling vibe.’ I had no right to expect Blake to trust me. After all, I’d always viewed the Manx as a means to an end. Of course, that was when he was still a myth to me, an unknown. Now, he was here, in the flesh…a real person…a human being.

  Blake opened the squeaky sliding door to my closet. His eyebrows shot straight up.

  “Well, was I lying?”

  “You really weren’t. Jesus. There are hardly any clothes in here.”

  “Told you.”

  “Lots of jeans.”

  “Got a problem with denim?”

  “Me? Aw, hell no, I love jeans, especially when a woman knows how to wear them.”


  “Should I say ‘thanks?’”

  Blake couldn’t suppress a grin. “Wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” Closing my closet, he turned and walked the pathetically short few steps to my kitchen. “You cook?”

  “Uh, that would be a big no. Unless you consider boiling water and tossing a hot dog in a pot cooking…Ooh, and I do pour a mean bowl of cereal,” I said, leaning on the kitchen counter.

  “Well, now that is a gift. Takes a lot of time to get the ratio of milk to cereal just right,” he said, throwing me a wink.

  To say Blake and I were on the same page mentally would be an understatement at this point. “Yes, I’m quite proud.”

  “You should be.” We shared a warm, albeit brief smile. “Your mom never taught you how to cook, huh? I thought that was something all girls did with their—” My face fell, and I knew he stopped talking because he saw the pain in my eyes before I could fully conceal it.

  “Nope,” I said, my voice reaching a decibel that screamed ‘faking it.’ “My mother wasn’t much of a cook herself, so…”

  “Maggie, I—”

  “Cooking really is an individual thing. Either you take to it or you don’t.” I was reaching for any somewhat on-topic notion I could possibly find in my cluttered mind.

  Not one to miss a beat, Blake helped iron out my thoughts by colorfully adding, “That’s very true. For example, I can never get the right amount of milk for my cereal. I either overdo or under-do. Maybe you can show me how to get it right some time.”

  Without making eye contact, I smiled gratefully, falling back into my comfort zone of playful banter. “I dunno. It’s a pretty exact science, takes years to perfect. Even boiling a hot dog is an art unto itself.”

  Hunkering over the counter, his elbows barely touching mine, Blake said somewhat huskily, “Then I guess I’ll have to pay very close attention. Until then…” He backed away, surveying the entire apartment once more, only this time, his expression was determined, all business. “What measures have you taken to protect yourself and your apartment?”

  “Uh…”

  Blake turned to face me, one brow furrowed, one raised. “How much thought does the question require, Maggie?”

  “Locks.”