The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Did you tell her which one?” Tony interjected.

  Pierce glared at him. “Not that I recall.”

  “Ok, so I think we can safely assume that this wasn’t a heist for that specific painting; the thieves weren’t necessarily art connoisseurs, but merely taking advantage of the situation,” Tony continued, his thick British accent making the statement appear more impressive than it actually was.

  His fist clenched. No shit, Sherlock.

  “She said she loved art and began to ask me all these questions about the painting and what I did. I remember that I started feeling a little suspicious… like she was asking too many questions; I remember even her friend looking at her with a puzzled face when she said that she loved art.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to remember the exact details from what happened next, details that still eluded him after four years. “She said she needed to go to the restroom, taking her friend with her; not surprising since it’s impossible for women to go to the restroom alone.”

  “What did she ask you specifically?” Tony interjected again.

  Pierce was really starting to get annoyed by this guy.

  “Do you remember the things that she asked?” Ana reiterated his question. “And did her friend say anything?”

  “The friend didn’t say anything; she seemed like the shy one. The blonde talking to me wanted to know how famous the painting was, how much I thought it was worth, if I was working on it in London,” he bit out. Fuck, he hated remembering just how telling those questions should have been to him. But he was drunk and a cocky motherfucker and the women were hot.

  “Sounds like she was assessing just how valuable it could be if stolen,” Gino mumbled to himself.

  Pierce just nodded at the man. “I remember thinking about calling it a night for a split second after they left, but I was pretty wasted. And then Tristan turned to me and made some asinine comment about how I scared them off. Naturally, I argued that they were coming back and somehow, it ended up as a wager that I couldn’t get both of them to go home with me.” He noticed Ana’s eyes shift colors again even though she retained tight control of her expression; her mood-ring eyes couldn’t hide the fact that the idea of him having a threesome made her feel something.

  “They came back and immediately bought a round of drinks for the three of us. As she ordered, her friend suddenly became very talkative and next thing I knew I was handed a shot and down the hatch it went.”

  “She was—” Tony began, but this time Pierce cut him off.

  “Yes. The friend was a distraction so that she could put something in my drink. I think we all got that,” he snapped, irritated even further as Ana’s eyes narrowed on him disapproving of his tone and response.

  He speared his fingers through his hair again. “After that is when things start to get fuzzy – and not from too much alcohol, because I know what that feels like. I remember their smiling faces just before the questions started again. I remember walking down the street with one of them on each arm, steadying me.” He closed his eyes, his forehead furrowing as he tried to remember details that were so foggy he wasn’t sure if they even happened or if he’d imagined them. “I remember walking into my apartment, seeing the Monet right where I left it in the middle of the room. I remember the blonde one kissing me and pulling me towards the bed. I don’t remember seeing the friend again.” He opened his eyes again. “And then I remember waking up in bed the following morning, my head pounding, opening my eyes to see the painting – and the women – gone.”

  “Are you sure you were drugged and not just really drunk, Pierce?” Ana asked.

  “I’m fucking positive. Plus, what does it matter?”

  “Because if you were drugged, that means they had some sort of drugs on them and since it seems like they weren’t stalking you and didn’t know you had this painting, they had the drugs for another reason – another reason that could lead us to their identities or location,” she explained curtly. “How can you be sure? You don’t remember seeing them put anything in your drink?”

  Fuck. He knew he’d been drugged, why couldn’t she just leave it at that? Why did she always have to interrogate him?

  “I’m. Sure.” He growled, only she didn’t back down. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest, her small curves accentuated since she was wearing clothing that actually seemed to fit; a shot of desire sliced through him. He leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other in an attempt to conceal his physical response to the sight.

  God, she was beautiful even when she was about to scold him.

  “I heard you the first time, but that answer isn’t good enough. I need to know how that is possible?” She stared him down. Everyone else looked back and forth between the two of them – at the silent battle that was waging. “Sorry, Mr. Lane,” he hated when she patronized him, “but we can’t go off of just your pride talking.”

  If he didn’t answer, it was only going to get worse.

  Plastering his dark smile onto his face, he let all tension and all emotion drain from his shoulders as he replied as nonchalantly as possible, “Because, I wouldn’t have slept in the bed otherwise.” He smirked at her, daring her to question why. And he saw the storm in her eyes, wanting to know, but knowing that she had no reason to ask.

  “Jesus…” Morgan grumbled from by the fireplace, his hand coming up to cover his eyes for a moment.

  Whatever. She’d asked.

  The way he’d said it, Pierce had tried to imply that it was because of inventive sex positions that he wouldn’t have ended up on the mattress. Which wasn’t completely a lie.

  The truth was that he’d either have to be drugged or dead for someone to get him into a bed. And those two things were the last memories he had of being in one.

  Pierce hadn’t slept in a bed since the day after his twelfth birthday. And he certainly hadn’t fucked in one, either. No, he stayed as far away from them as possible. Instead, restricting his sexual activities to more adventuresome locations – at least, that’s the impression that he gave to his partners.

  Here though, it was only because Ana had secured their housing that he’d ended up with an actual bed. Thank God for the couch in the sitting room otherwise he would have been sleeping on the floor.

  “Is that a satisfying enough answer for you, Your Majesty?” he asked sarcastically, daring her to say no.

  She glared at him for the use of that nickname. “For now,” she finally acquiesced, backing down even though she still held his dark gaze.

  He might have fooled the rest of them with his salacious insinuation, but he hadn’t fooled her; Pierce had a feeling that his admission was going to come back to bite him later.

  Finally, her eyes moved to her favorite colleague as she began to discuss with him all of the implications of what this theory could mean. Pierce crossed his arms over his chest, brooding darkly in silence. He listened to the caramel smoothness of her voice that had the slightest hint of a British accent. Even though she and Morgan had been born and raised in the U.S., living in Great Britain for the past few years had rubbed off a little on her; the slight lift and lilt to her words again gave her tone an enigmatic effect.

  But maybe he was the only one who heard it. Maybe he was the only one who noticed any of these little things about her.

  He was always this perceptive – or that’s what he tried to tell himself.

  “Up until now we’ve only been searching for art thieves – even minor ones. But now, I’m thinking that our focus should change.” Her gaze flicked to him. “As an artist, I’m sure you can tell when someone knows something about art. Correct me if I’m wrong, but from your recounting of the evening, it didn’t seem like either of them knew much about the painting or its worth or the fact that you even had it until you told them.”

  He nodded.

  “So, I doubt they were stealing the painting for that reason. They also had drugs on them before they met you, something strong enough to knock you out. Did
they seem like they were users?”

  “No. Absolutely not,” Pierce answered, cursing himself for the quickness of his response and praying that she didn’t ask him again how he could be sure.

  He knew what a woman who was a regular drug user looked like; he’d looked at one every day for the first twelve years of his life.

  “If they were involved with drugs, it was probably as low-level distributors. Most times, drug cartels or suppliers will use attractive woman to lure potential customers onto a drug to get them hooked; that doesn’t work too well if the women are too high or too physically ‘used’.”

  At the first mention of drugs, he couldn’t help the image of Tash from a few weeks ago that flashed through his mind – bruised and beaten within an inch of her life by Julian Sanchez, a notorious drug lord – and the accompanying and exacerbating burn of rage for all those involved in that trade.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” she agreed. Thankfully, she didn’t question how or why he knew any of what he’d just said. “I’m thinking we’re dealing with two women who were there to sell drugs. They saw you, realized that you were rich and an easy target—” His lips thinned at the weight behind her words. “—but then when they heard about the painting, decided to go for the bigger score.”

  “That’s a big jump, Ana.” Morgan jumped into the conversation. “From being a minor seller to becoming an art thief in one night; that’s a huge risk. I mean, I know Pierce’s desire may have made him easy to manipulate, but that’s still a huge risk to take especially without a solid plan.”

  “Hey, thanks for that, dick,” Pierce shot back. Morgan just shrugged his shoulders and smirked as if to say, ‘the truth hurts’.

  “I agree. There had to have been something else motivating them; it obviously wasn’t the artwork, which means it had to be the money – whether they owed someone, maybe their supplier, or wanted to use it to buy more stock or to get away.” Ana nodded towards her brother.

  “And you don’t remember seeing any drugs on them or hearing them talk about —” Tony started to ask him.

  “No,” he snapped, causing the man’s eyes to narrow on him. He was poking a bear, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “I don’t remember anything else, so until we find one of them, we aren’t going to know.”

  Before Tony could respond, Ana reached down and put her hand on his shoulder to stop him from firing back; Pierce felt his body throb with anger.

  She shouldn’t be touching him; he recoiled at the thought. Why should he care who she touched?

  “Thank you, Tony.” She gave him a small smile and Pierce bit into his cheek before he did something that he would later regret. “Ok, what I want you two—” She looked from Tony to Gino. “—to do is reach out to our contacts. See if they’ve heard anything about the painting, the seller, times, places… anything. Especially now that we believe that there may be a drug connection… I doubt you’ll be able to find anything out about that night, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

  They both nodded to her, agreeing to her orders.

  “In the meantime, Morgan, I’m going to work with you to come up with a cover story. I think our best bet at finding either the woman or the painting is going to be to pose as a potential buyer. So, if… when we find out where she is going to try to sell it, we can be ready.”

  He cleared his throat, his unwelcome thoughts becoming even darker as he realized that he played no part in her plan – like a goddamn child, she was keeping him on the sidelines. “Right, well, I have some people that I can get in touch—”

  “Absolutely not.” Ana interrupted him. “This is my investigation – my team. You are not doing anything of the sort. You are the one person that this woman definitely knows. I can’t take the risk that seeing you or hearing that you are here will tip her off.”

  “Fuck that. I didn’t come three thousand miles to give my statement and then sit at home while you clean up my mess.” He glared at her. “It’s my painting.”

  “Technically, it’s not. You are just the one who lost it,” she retorted.

  “I know I’m the one who lost it,” he growled. “I am also the one who has the contacts to find it.”

  “Oh yeah? Then why haven’t you found it in four years?” She placed a finger over her lip, letting her purposeful pause hang in the air to emphasize that he didn’t have any answer, let alone a good one.

  “Just because I haven’t found it yet, doesn’t mean I don’t know people – people who she will try to sell it to, people who will want to buy it.” He pressed on, watching as her lips pursed in frustration. “There is more to what happened that night – and after it. Because if they wanted the money, they why wait until now to try to sell it? Something else is going on – something that has kept them underground for the past four years. But now that they are trying to move it, I think my attempts to find them will be met with different results.”

  He’d been trying not to lose his temper, but her perpetual calmness in the face of his rising irritation was about to disintegrate any restraint he had left.

  And then those plump, pink lips of hers taunted him again. “I have to disagree,” she returned bluntly. “I appreciate your assistance.” Her tone suggested otherwise. “But this is what I’m good at, Mr. Lane.”

  At this point, Pierce was fuming.

  He wanted to punch something.

  No - what he really wanted was to take that smart mouth of hers and show her exactly what he was good at.

  He should have goddamn known this was how it was going to go. Every minor interaction that they’d had over the past few weeks should have told him that Her Majesty was intent on calling all of the shots, regardless of who or what he knew that could help.

  “Pierce,” Morgan interjected just as Pierce was ready to let loose. His voice became the thin veil of calm trying to bring down the tension in the room. “This is her job – their job; catching thieves is what they do. Can you just follow Ana’s lead without being a pain in the ass?”

  His eyes never left Ana’s even as her brother spoke. Was that annoyance that he saw in her eyes as Morgan tried to stand up for her? She didn’t respond to Morgan though; she couldn’t. She and Pierce were locked in a silent battle, continually poking back and forth at each other to see who finally caved. No matter what had happened between them this morning, here… now… with all eyes on him, Pierce knew he wasn’t winning this one.

  “Fine,” he snapped.

  The heavy front door closing loudly drew all their gazes to the entrance to the room as Tash limped by wearing jeans, one leg rolled up to accommodate the air cast that she needed to wear, and a London t-shirt that she’d picked up in the airport and holding a bag of groceries. She stopped in her tracks when she realized the slew of people staring at her and pulled her ear buds out of her ears.

  “Oh.” She glanced around. “Hi.” Her gaze narrowed slightly on Tony and Gino since they were the two who were unfamiliar to her.

  “Miss Natasha,” Pierce said warmly, a seductive smile spreading over his face seeing the petite blonde. He walked over to her and made a show of kissing her on the cheek, turning triumphantly to see that his show of affection had broken Ana’s controlling mask. “These men work with Ana,” he semi-whispered into her ear, out of the corner of his eye seeing Ana’s eyes drop to the floor. “Tony, Gino – this is our lovely guest, Natasha.”

  The men murmured greetings and Tash did the same. Pierce had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her to his side.

  “Is there anything else I can do – any other information that you need from me, Your Highness?” His tone suddenly light, as though he no longer cared about anything in the conversation.

  “Not right now, thank you.”

  “Wonderful.” He gave her a smile that dripped with his displeasure. “Well, in that case, I think I’ll go make myself a drink.” Turning to Tash, he said, “Why don’t you let me carry that for you, darling?”

  To her credit, Tas
h just rolled her eyes, but took advantage of the help, handing him the bag of food. He kept one arm around her, shooting Ana one more look before walking off with the voluptuous blonde.

  She had no control over him, no matter what she thought; and it looked like he was going to have to teach her that the hard way.

  Chapter 3

  Ana sighed, a huge weight lifting off of her shoulders as Pierce and his aptly piercing stare left the room. Those dark eyes of his tested every last fiber of fortitude that she had to keep him in his place – a place that was as far away from her as possible. She’d felt guilty for purposefully and selfishly trying to keep him from actively being involved in their mission. Yes, he was reckless and a risk to the operation, but more than that, he was a risk to her. She should at least apologize to him later, but she wouldn’t change her mind. It was too dangerous.

  She knew his type – the bad and broken ones; they’d always been the ones that she was attracted to. Case in point – Tony, who was the most genuine and most gentlemanly man she’d ever met, didn’t make her feel a hundredth of what she felt when she was around Pierce. From the moment that she’d met him, her body responded in a way that she’d never experienced before. And that was why she’d done her damnedest to stay away from him these past four weeks. And it was why she’d shut him out from their investigation.

  She couldn’t control him… and more than that, she couldn’t control her desire for him.

  When she’d agreed to help and work with Morgan with the missing Monet, she hadn’t realized that Pierce was part of the bargain; she hadn’t realized that he was the one it had been stolen from. Morgan, her younger-by-seven-minutes little shit of a brother had managed to leave that small detail out when he’d told her what had happened. After her first encounter with Pierce, she had a feeling that her brother had omitted it on purpose.