by Katie Allen
It was another oil painting, this one an impressionistic bird on a bare tree branch. The work was obviously not Velvet’s, since it was completely different from her usual brash and vivid style, but it did look familiar. Annabelle stared at it, trying to think of where she’d seen it before.
“Is that Winter Cardinal?” Louis asked, sounding strangled.
Velvet moved as if to touch the surface of the painting, but then jerked her hand back. “It looks like it.” Her voice shook. “Either that, or a really good copy. This is supposed to be in the Denver Art Museum. What’s it doing underneath my painting?”
“Never mind that,” a male voice said. “Just bring it over here.”
All three of them jerked around to see Max...and he was aiming a pistol right at Annabelle.
Chapter Eighteen
“Dad?” Velvet sounded more confused than upset. “What are you doing? I asked you to wait in the truck.”
It seemed like such a ridiculous thing to say to a man pointing a gun at them that Annabelle had to suck back a hysterical laugh. She couldn’t stop staring at the black handgun clutched in both of Max’s hands. It didn’t seem to fit. He’d throw out insults and shout and have tantrums, but she never would’ve thought that Max would use a gun. She tried to drag her eyes off the weapon and look at his face, but her body wouldn’t obey her commands. She stayed frozen, her gaze locked on the gun, unable to move or even think.
“Put it down, Max.” Louis’s cold command sent a fresh shock of terror through Annabelle. Oh, God, what if he hurts Louis? The idea of him injured and bleeding, even dying, made her feel like her chest was being carved out. She’d only known him for seven months, but she couldn’t imagine living without him now. He’d become woven into the fabric of her life. Without him, everything would be pointless and awful. Not Louis. Please, don’t hurt him. No, no, no.
“Velvet!” Max’s shout made Annabelle’s body jerk back. “Bring the painting over here. Come stand by me.” Velvet didn’t respond, just stared at her father with a blank, confused expression. Louis was the one who moved, shifting so he blocked Annabelle from Max’s view.
“Louis...” Her voice barely made a sound. Now he was in front of the gun, even closer than she had been. If Max pulled the trigger, it would hit Louis. There was no way he could miss, not at that close range. Panic closed off her throat, making it hard to breathe, but Annabelle fought it down. She had to think, to plan. There had to be something she could do, some way to make Max drop the gun or leave. Something, anything to keep him from shooting Louis.
“Wait... You put this behind my painting?” Velvet asked, shock and anger sharpening her voice. “Where did you get this? What were you doing with it? Is it stolen? It has to be stolen. It’s not even for sale. It’s a museum exhibit, not in a personal collection. Dad, tell me!”
“I didn’t steal it!” When Velvet let out a huff of disbelief, he raised his voice. “I didn’t! I just...bought it. It’s Martha Velso’s only famous piece. A one-of-a-kind. How could I turn down that opportunity?”
“How? I don’t know, maybe say no to stolen art? What were you going to do with it, anyway? You couldn’t have displayed it anywhere without getting caught.”
“I send them to our place in Botswana.” Max sounded sullen as he admitted that. He sounded so much like his usual self that, with her view of the gun blocked, Annabelle could almost pretend that he wasn’t holding them at gunpoint.
“No extradition?” Louis asked, his tone light, almost amused. Annabelle wanted to kick him. How could he sound so casual when there was a gun pointed at his head?
“Them?” Velvet repeated, her voice growing shrill. “More than just this one? How many? This is why you’ve been buying so many of my pieces, isn’t it? It’s not because you’re being supportive. You’ve been shipping them out of the country with the stolen painting hidden underneath. I can’t believe my dad is an art smuggler!” Her breath grew audibly shallow, coming in quick, frantic pants, and Annabelle automatically reached toward the other woman.
“Don’t touch her!” At Max’s shout, her hand froze in midair. She didn’t want to move in case it startled him into pulling the trigger. If she was the cause of Louis getting hurt, she’d never forgive herself. “Velvet, calm down. We’re just going to take the painting and leave. No one has to get hurt.”
“Oh, my God!” Velvet shrieked, and Annabelle flinched, expecting to hear the loud report of the gun going off. “You tried to steal it back. That was you!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“You hired someone, then.” All the shock was gone from Velvet’s voice; it was sheer anger now. “You hired someone, and they stole the wrong one. I can’t believe you, Dad! All this for a fucking painting?”
“It’s the only one! It’s precious!” Max bellowed, and Annabelle braced again to hear the shot and see Louis fall. “Anthony didn’t steal the wrong one. I told him... When I put the painting behind yours, it was dark, and I didn’t want to turn on the light in your studio in case you woke up and saw it. I got the two park scenes mixed up.”
“Argh!” Velvet yelled. “You’re so incompetent. You even screwed up committing a crime.”
“You watch your mouth, Velvet! Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you, for your career?” Now Max was shouting, too, and Annabelle knew that the shooting would be the next step if things kept escalating. She stiffened as a jolt of anger coursed through her. No one needed to die because of a painting and one man’s greed.
“Enough!” Annabelle snapped, using her best stern-teacher voice. The others went silent, and she ignored her thumping heart and the panic that wanted to creep in and take over her mind. Picking up the double painting, she stood on shaky legs. “Here.” She shifted over so that Louis no longer blocked her view of Max, and she flinched when she saw the gun again. “Take it and go.”
“Annabelle.” Louis’s voice had no amusement in it now, just a stern command with the slightest underlying hint of fear. “Stay behind me.”
“Take it.” She held out the paintings, which vibrated in her shaking hands. “Go to Botswana. You’re right. No one needs to die for this. It’s not even a very good painting.”
“It’s an origin—”
“Fine, yes, great.” Her patience with Max, she was finding, was even shorter when he was threatening Louis’s life. “It’s a one-of-a-kind from a one-hit-wonder artist. We’re all impressed. Now take it and get out.”
He didn’t reach for it, keeping both hands wrapped around the gun. Despite his tight hold, his aim was wavering slightly, and she wondered if his arm muscles were tiring. “Velvet, grab that roll of duct tape from the shelf over there. We need to restrain them, so they can’t call the police before we’re able to leave the country.”
“What? No!” Velvet’s voice broke. “These are our friends. You’re threatening their lives, and now you want me to leave the country with you, to live in the Botswana house, surrounded by all the art you stole? No. I’m not going to help you.”
His eyes widened, a look of betrayal flashing across his face before his lips tightened into a flat line. “If you don’t tie them up, then I’m going to have to shoot them. Either way, I’m getting you and that painting out of the country today. Decide, Velvet.”
Velvet started to sob. “Why are you doing this?”
A flush darkened Max’s face as his daughter continued to sob without making any move toward the tape, and his expression grew grim, his hold tightening on the gun. Annabelle’s brain raced as she tried to think of some way to convince him that they weren’t a threat. He could shoot them, eliminate two threats, two witnesses gone so easily, just bang, bang, and his window for escaping just widened by hours, possibly even days if no one heard the shots. Her breath started coming in short gasps as she stared at the gun, waiting for it to go off, for a bullet to bury itself inside her.
Next to her, she heard a grunt, and then a crutch was swinging through the air. The end cracked against Max’s hand and the gun went flying, smacking against the floor and skittering for several more feet. Louis swung the crutch again, this time cracking it against the side of Max’s head, making him stagger sideways.
Jerking out of her shocked paralysis, Annabelle dropped the painting and lunged for the fallen gun. Snatching it off the floor, she twisted around and pointed it at Max. Still looking dazed from the blow to his head, Max held his hands up, palms out, his face turning greenish pale.
“Good job, partner.” Louis crutched over to her side. “Velvet, call the cops.”
Her sobs renewed. “Do we...do we have to turn him in? He’s my dad.”
“Velvet. We have to. There’s no other option.” Louis’s voice was gentler than Annabelle’s could’ve been. Any dregs of sympathy she might’ve had for Max were completely gone, obliterated when he threatened to kill Louis. Her muscles tensed as she waited for Velvet’s response.
Releasing a long, shuddering breath, Velvet finally whispered, “Sorry, Dad.” The gallery went quiet until Velvet started speaking to the person who’d answered her call. “Please send the police to the Spectrum Art Gallery. My...” She choked on another sob but managed to force the words out. “My...dad just held us at gunpoint.”
As Velvet answered the dispatcher’s questions, Louis leaned lightly against Annabelle’s shoulder, not firmly enough to throw off her balance, but just enough to make contact. “Glad you’re okay.”
“You, too.” If she hadn’t had her gaze locked on Max, she would’ve given him a stern look. “As soon as we have a moment, we’re going to have to chat about how stupid it was to put yourself right in front of a desperate guy holding a gun.”
“I couldn’t stand seeing it pointed at you. I love you, Annabelle Shay. I don’t want you to be riddled with bullet holes.”
Her hands shook with the need to drop the gun and hug the stuffing out of Louis—and then maybe beat his stubborn ass. “I don’t want any holes in you, either!” She felt tears burn her eyes and blinked rapidly to hold them back. “Besides the holes that are already there. Those are fine.”
Louis’s booming laugh made her jump. “Your existing holes are mighty fine, too.”
If she wasn’t holding the gun, she would’ve elbowed him in the side. “I love you, too, you know.”
“So...does this mean you’re finally going to marry me?”
It wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined being proposed to, but this was so perfectly Louis-like that she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “Of course.”
“Of course because you love me.” Even despite the crazy and terrifying situation, his smugly satisfied words made her smile.
“I do.” It had become perfectly clear when his life was threatened that what she was feeling wasn’t a crush or an infatuation or anything temporary. “I think I’ve loved you for months.”
“I bet I’ve loved you longer.”
“You’d lose that bet.”
“Nope.”
“Louis.”
“Yes?”
“I love you. Now, can you shut up?”
His chuckle was soft and honestly amused. “Annabelle Shay, do you even know me at all?”
Chapter Nineteen
Annabelle had a plan. Louis took his babysitting duties seriously, especially since Max had been arrested a week and a half ago, and she hadn’t been able to sneak away to buy the materials she needed. However, she’d managed to order them online without him sticking his very nosy butt into her business. Even now that they were engaged, he still never got completely naked around her. Even in the darkness of their bedroom, he’d just slide his pants down far enough to expose the goodies. Even though he’d gone down on her multiple times, he refused to let her get her head anywhere close to his lower half. Whenever she’d suggested that they take a shower together, he’d always find a way to wiggle out of it.
She loved the guy, and she was positive that he loved her, and they were going to get married, but he refused to let her see his residual leg. She’d hatched an idea, though, and everything she needed was waiting in the studio for her. All she needed to do was convince Louis to play with her. As long as that didn’t require him getting completely naked, he was usually up for anything.
Sneaking a final peek in the mirror, she smoothed down the silky material of her tank top. She didn’t want to wear anything she didn’t want to ruin, so the top and her shorts were old, although still skimpy enough to show some cleavage and make her legs look about a mile long. Taking a deep breath, she let it out and left the bathroom.
She was oddly nervous. Even though they’d had sex a bunch, what she was about to do seemed even more intimate.
“Hey,” she said, trying to sound casual as she greeted Louis, who was sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of cereal.
His gaze heated as his eyes ran from her bare feet to her braided hair. “Is it pajama day in the gallery today?” His tone made it clear that he didn’t mind if it was.
“Since we’re not opening again until Friday, I figured there was no reason not to dress casually.” After the gallery had become a crime scene for the second time, they’d decided to stay closed until Louis’s show. The time off had been wonderful, like a pre-wedding honeymoon. They’d spent a great deal of the past ten days in bed, and not all of that had been sexy times. Louis had been sleeping almost as much as she had, something that made her almost as happy as making love with him. The only thing preventing the past week and a half from being absolutely perfect was Louis’s reluctance to trust her with his entirely naked self.
She took a seat on the stool next to him and saw that he’d poured her a glass of juice and put her favorite kind of dry cereal in a bowl. He’d even sliced a banana over the top of it. All she needed to do was add milk. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss on the cheek in thanks. “We’ll just be framing the last of the paintings for your show, so we don’t need to be fancy for that.”
“No objections from me.” He squeezed her knee and then ran his hand up her thigh, his fingers disappearing under the leg of her shorts. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy his exploring fingers, but then she gently pulled his hand away, knowing that it’d be too easy to end up back in bed if he continued. Not only did she have her secret plan, but they really did have to finish framing.
“Eat your cereal before it gets soggy.” Her voice was teasing as she dumped milk into her bowl. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to eat anything, though. Her stomach butterflies had a conga line going on, thanks to her nerves about Louis’s reaction to her plan.
Shooting her one of those wicked grins she loved so much, he obediently picked up his spoon. “Officer Schmidt called this morning while you were in the bathroom.”
“Schmidt.” Annabelle searched her memory as she forced herself to take a bite of cereal. They’d had more police contact over the past couple of weeks than she’d expected to have in her lifetime. “Is he the cute one?”
“No.” He huffed out the denial, sounding offended, and she turned her head to hide her smile. “That’s Officer Cortez.”
She had to cover her mouth so she didn’t spit out her mouthful of cereal when she laughed. “Right. What’d the non-cute one have to say?”
“They tracked down the guy Max hired to break into the gallery.”
“Oh! Well, that’s good.” Talking about Max and his accomplice wasn’t helping her appetite, although she was glad that the burglar had been caught. She stirred her cereal absently, her mind on the night of the burglary. Even though Max had been the one behind it, and he was in jail until his trial, since he’d been judged a flight risk, it still had been eerie knowing someone was out there who’d broken into the gallery and hurt her. She knew it hadn’t been personal, and the only reason she’d been hit over th
e head was that she’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it had still bothered her.
“You okay?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Yes.” She forced a smile that became more authentic when his dark eyes softened with sympathy. He was such a sweetheart, and now he was hers. “I just hate thinking about it. The person I really feel bad for is Velvet. Have you heard from her today?”
“She texted last night. She’ll be staying with her mom in San Francisco—until the trial, at least.” His jaw tightened. It was his turn to get a faraway look, and Annabelle hated when her fun, laughing Louis got that tense, angry expression. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him toward her. When he looked at her in surprise, she kissed him—short and sweet and surprisingly intense for what she’d planned as just a distraction.
“Wow,” he said once she’d pulled away. The fierce look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a simmering hunger. “Maybe you shouldn’t work today. It’d probably be good if you stayed in bed. I’ll stay in there with you.”
Annabelle’s laugh was husky. She was just as tempted as he was to blow off her half-baked plan and their gallery responsibilities in order to spend the day in the adult version of a pillow fort. Practicality and a real desire to try out the items that had just arrived on Louis made her shake her head. “Later.”
His molten gaze tempted her to reconsider. “I’ll hold you to that.”
* * *
“This is the last one,” she said, carefully laying the framed painting on the table. “Now we just need to hang these in the gallery and adjust the lighting before Friday.”
“Good work, team. We need to be closed for a few weeks before every show. It’s so much easier to get things done when people aren’t constantly popping into the gallery to buy things.” Louis stretched out his back, distracting Annabelle with the way his muscles stood out as he moved. He really was in ridiculously good shape, which benefited her in many ways when they were having fun in bed or on the couch or in the studio... That last thought reminded her of what she had planned, and she knew her nerves wouldn’t hold out much longer.