The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Well, I’m glad that it’s not awkward. I’d hate to have to add Pierce to the list of avoidable situations, along with cabs and elevators,” Cyn replied. “Anyway, I was calling because Sloane had a question for you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you remember any other properties that you’ve either been to or know of that Julian owns?”

  “I mean, aside from the ones that I’ve already told you, no.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Cyn. I wish I remembered more, but I just don’t. What we had was pretty superficial. He didn’t talk about his business or the places that he owned; we didn’t really talk. The most talking that he did around me was if he had to make or take a call from his security, I think.” She tried harder to remember. “He’s completely paranoid, Cyn. He doesn’t even trust any of the people that he’s hired. None of them were allowed on the boat with us, none of them allowed inside his apartment – at least the times I was there. Unless he’s out in public, Julian needs to be completely alone; now… knowing what I do… I’m guessing it’s because he doesn’t trust anyone not to kill him – for money or the drugs.” Tash stopped, shuddering as words overwhelmed her; sometimes it still surpassed her comprehension that this had happened to her.

  Suddenly, her memory flashed to that afternoon when Julian had asked her to meet with him. Fast forward to the point where he was kicking her, trying to calmly tell her that if she helped him that all of this would stop.

  And then his phone rang.

  She’d been in so much pain, afraid that she was going to black out and that everything was going to get worse. She’d been trying to breathe through sore ribs, trying to focus on how to get away. But now that she was safe, she remembered his deadly, deep voice.

  “Fucking Christ Damien, I told you the shipments are going to have to wait for the new building. You need to take Maria back to Florida.” Pause. “I don’t fucking care if you are getting heat. I have nowhere to store it. Understand?” Pause. “This is going to be huge, my brother, just be patient and let me work.”

  “Tash, you there?”

  “Cyn, I remembered something,” she said, still stunned from the recollection. “About Julian… he got a call while he was –” She swallowed, unable to get the words out, instead continuing on, “– something about a man named Damien taking Maria back to Florida, that he needs another building to store… I don’t know what; I’m assuming more drugs.” She tried to remember more, but the memory was gone. “I’m sorry, that’s all I remember.

  “No, it’s ok!” Cyn calmly reassured her. “That’s great, Tash. That’s great information. Everything that you’ve just told me I’m sure will be really helpful to Sebastian. Don’t worry, if there is more it will come to you.” She paused. “I’m just about to head into my studio – classes start next Monday, so I’ve been frantic.”

  It took Tash a second – at first, thinking it was because of something that she remembered about Julian that didn’t seem right. But then it hit her.

  Sebastian.

  Shivers ran up her spine at the thought of the gorgeous man who had held her through that horrible night – the man who continued to hold her in her dreams.

  The man who was gay.

  “Why would it be helpful to Sebastian?”

  Silence.

  “What?” Cyn asked, her pitch just a hair higher now.

  “You said that what I told you would ‘be really helpful to Sebastian.’ What does Sebastian have to do with this?”

  Silence.

  “Nothing. I just misspoke. I meant to say Sloane, but I’m… ahh… showing Cam and Sebastian my studio later today so they were on my mind.”

  Tash chewed on her lip. It wasn’t the truth – what Cyn was saying; she was hiding something from her – lying to her. She vacillated between pressing her for what was really going on and how in the world Sebastian was involved and just letting it go. After what had happened with Julian, her first instinct was to stay as far away from whatever Sloane was doing to try to catch him; she didn’t want to be involved; she wanted to forget everything that she’d been through.

  She wanted a clean slate.

  But then Ana’s words rang in her head. She would heal stronger. And she’d never been one to back down in the first place.

  “I don’t believe that, Cyn, not—”

  “Tash, I have to go, I’m at my studio. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say Sebastian; I want to explain, but I can’t. Please just trust me for a little bit. I’m sorry. I love you.”

  Click.

  Tash just stared at the blank screen in her hand. What had just happened? She felt like her head was spinning. First, the memories of Julian and now somehow Sebastian’s involvement.

  God, she hoped they hadn’t enlisted him after he stayed with her that night. She didn’t think he was cut out for taking down a drug cartel leader. None of her friends were. And then that familiar sinking feeling in her stomach returned – the guilt over what her friends were being put through for her.

  “Hey, everything ok?” Morgan’s smooth voice washed over her and her gaze rose to him slowly.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You don’t look ok. What did Cyn say? Did something happen with Julian?” he asked with concern. She numbly shook her head, unsure of how to respond. “Ok.” He came over to her, taking the phone from her hand and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some lunch and talk.”

  It wasn’t a question. And she was grateful; she was tired of having to come up with answers. Instead, she allowed the gentle pressure of his hand to propel her numb body towards the door.

  “Everything is going to be ok, Tash. Whatever it is, it’s going to be fine, alright? Let’s go find some food and take this one bite at a time.”

  Chapter 8

  “Hello?” Gino’s voice answered the call as Ana quickly made her way down the stairs to the Tube.

  “Hey, sorry to bug you. Do you know a man name Loury?” she asked, slightly out of breath as she rushed to make sure she caught the next train.

  “Who? Lourdy? I can’t hear you; you’re breaking up.”

  Shit.

  “Loury. L-O-U-R-Y.”

  “Lour—” His voice cut off and she thought she lost the call for a second, checking her phone to see that it was still connected.

  “Gino?” she asked as she stepped into the train car.

  “Loury.”

  “Yes. Have you heard of him?” she repeated.

  “Ana, I think the question is: how have you heard of him?”

  “Gino…” She swayed as the train lurched forward.

  “Yes. I’ve heard of him. Not usually involved in the type of things that we investigate, but I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’s dabbling in the arena.” She heard him sigh. “Runs a bar near Covent Garden – or used to. Not sure if he still owns it. Began to be involved in small time drug stuff, then escalating to larger sales and other black market items. He’s basically a very successful and very discreet middle man. If you want something – he will know who to get it from for you; if you want to sell something – he knows who is looking to buy it or will find you a buyer.”

  “Shit,” Ana cursed, impatiently watching the display above the train door that lit with each stop that passed, willing it to move faster towards the Covent Garden stop.

  If it wasn’t already clear in her mind, the fact that this man, Loury, owned a bar in Convent Garden solidified what she knew to be true.

  Pierce was meeting this man to find out if he knew who had the painting and where they could be found.

  “What’s going on, Ana?” Gino asked, his tone indicating that he’d already asked her once but that she’d been too lost in thought to respond.

  “Nothing. I have to go. I’m probably going to lose you anyway.”

  “He’s a dangerous character, Ana, if you’re thinking about getting involved with him for this. We should discuss this – or at least let Tony or me come with you.�
�

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time for that.

  “Yup, got it. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.” And then she hung up before he could warn her again. Too late for that.

  She just had to try to catch Pierce before this Loury got there.

  And as soon as the train dinged that it had arrived at the stop, she was through the door and tearing up the stairs.

  She jogged the few blocks over to Seven Dials – the area of London surrounding a circle where seven roads converge; the center of which is marked by a large column bearing six sundials. Historically, the area was always known for its lowly and disreputable population. Now, it was a prosperous, commercial area with small streets crammed with lots of cars and people – a perfect place to meet someone inconspicuously. Although, the current event taking place there seemed more reminiscent of Seven Dial’s more infamous beginnings than its current status.

  Shit.

  She just hoped there were enough people to hide her presence from Pierce.

  She slowed, cautiously approaching the edge of the seven-street intersection. Well, there were definitely a lot of people milling about. And a few street vendors set up near the center selling food and tourist trinkets.

  She pulled her hair back in a tight bun, trying to prevent the golden mass from shining any light on her presence. She stuck close to the edge of the building as her gaze scanned for the dark devil she was hunting.

  Pierce.

  She spotted him; he was near the center spire about a quarter of the way around the circle from her. He was looking in the opposite direction and with the crowd cover, he hadn’t seen her.

  She waited for a break in the traffic before darting across the circle, grateful for the small Indian man selling trinkets out of his cart right where she ended up. Peeking around the brightly bejeweled shawls, she grimaced seeing that Pierce was already speaking to someone.

  Gino was right; she wouldn’t want to meet with this man alone.

  He was taller and more slender than Pierce with whitish-blonde hair that was shaved on the sides of his head, leaving only a Mohawk-like strip down the center; instead of it sticking up though, it was slicked back. The style, paired with the tailored dark gray suit he was wearing, actually made him look professional – edgy, but professional. His eyes were a very pale blue, almost deadly in their pallid color. That, combined with the strong lines of his face made a shiver run up Ana’s spine.

  The way that they stood made it seem as though business colleagues were just out for a stroll over lunch; she knew better.

  She was still taking in the man’s appearance when his eyes met hers and she immediately looked away, picking up one of the scarves.

  Shit.

  Deep breaths.

  She hoped she didn’t blow her cover; he didn’t know who she was, but hopefully catching her gawking at him didn’t raise any concerns. With his appearance, he should be used to it.

  She carefully walked around the other side of the cart so that her back was to them. Pretending to try on one of the wraps as some sort of head scarf, she attempted to cover her hair the best that she could just in case Pierce decided to look her way. Even though her back was to them now, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  Now, being only a few feet from them, she tried to hear their conversation, but with the bustle going on it was difficult.

  “Well, well, well…” Loury greeted him, extending his hand for a cordial shake. “After last time, I wasn’t sure you’d ever grace us with your presence again on this side of the pond.”

  Pierce gave him a tight smile. “Loury. Wish I could say it was for pleasure.”

  The deathly pale man arched an eyebrow in intrigue. “Well, I assumed as much. Especially if you were getting in touch with me.”

  “Well, I know you are the man to go to… the man who knows everyone and everything that goes on in this God-forsaken place.” Pierce tried to play to his ego; the two of them were very alike in that regard, which is why they’d had what passed as a friendship all those years ago. Theirs were parallel personalities even more so than his similarities with Tristan. With Loury though, there was one big difference – not that he would ever admit to it: there was a good chance Loury didn’t actually have a soul. While blurring the lines was Pierce’s specialty, there were some lines that he did not cross; Loury had no boundaries which is why he ended up in the line of work that he was in.

  The albino-like man smiled at the compliment, even though he knew it was just a means to an end. “Well, I can’t guarantee that, but I would say that it is a pretty safe assumption.” He held up his hand, examining his fingers for a moment before looking back to Pierce. “Who are you looking for?”

  “A thief.”

  The milky-blue eyes widened for a split second before narrowing shrewdly. “That was four years ago. Please don’t tell me you’ve gone and lost another priceless piece.”

  “Fuck you. No, I haven’t.”

  Loury’s arms crossed over his chest, one hand raising up to rest his index finger on his cheek and thumb underneath his chin, his expression a mix of intrigue and entertainment.

  “Why now?”

  “Because now the bitch is trying to sell it.” Pierce huffed. “And if you think for one second that I believe your surprise over this then you have underestimated me, my friend.”

  He laughed. “I may have heard some whispers.”

  “Who is selling it?”

  “That, unfortunately, I do not know.” A shadow swept over the man’s pale face. “Trust me, I wish I did.”

  “Do you know who is looking to buy? Or where she is looking to find a buyer?”

  Loury’s mouth thinned. He did know.

  “What do you know?” Pierce asked again, his voice harsh.

  “Don’t take that tone with me.” His arms lowered to his sides. “Before I tell you what I know, I want something in return.”

  Of course, he did.

  Pierce just waited, not deigning to give the man a verbal response.

  “When you find her, you bring her to me.”

  What the fuck. What the hell did Loury want with his thief? He barely even knew about the heist; it was only because Pierce had met the women in Loury’s bar that he’d gone to the man and explained what had happened, hoping that Loury had seen either of them before.

  “Why?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.

  “Is that the question that you really want answered?” Loury taunted. “I didn’t think so.”

  “What do you know?”

  Loury began to adjust his cuffs as the information fell from his lips. “Next weekend, there’s going to be an invitation-only, masked event held at the Shard. My little birdies tell me that invitations were only extended to those who have shown prior interest in rare art purchases; they also tell me that a certain lady will be there with the express purpose of offering these guests a once-in-a-lifetime purchase.”

  Pierce read between the lines. “You’re the one who organized the event.” Loury’s eyes jumped to his; he was right. “Then why do you need me to find her? Sounds like you’re the one who is drawing her right to you.”

  Loury’s mouth thinned. “I heard the woman was in town and looking to sell from several sources of mine. I organized the event, hoping that it would entice her to come out of the shadows for the prospect of having so many art collectors in one place.”

  “Great. Well at least I don’t have to fucking worry about where I’ll find an invitation, but that still doesn’t answer my question. Assuming I’m even going to do as you asked, why would you need me to?”

  Those pale blue eyes flashed white with rage at Pierce’s instigating, but Loury was much more adept at keeping any and all emotion well-contained under his cool façade.

  “You know I don’t like to be directly connected to any of this unsavory business. And I tend to stand out in a crowd – mask or not,” the white specter bit out.

  Pierce froze, his thoughts flying r
apidly, his brain connecting dots faster than he could even follow the path. Was this woman one of the two who had been there that night? How did the she know Loury? He’d told Pierce that he didn’t know either of them, that he ‘ran a pub’ and ‘how could he be expected to remember everyone that passes through?’ Pierce had been too pissed at the time to think about his response, but now, it didn’t fit; Loury knew everyone; he remembered everyone; that’s why everyone came to him.

  His thoughts continued down the dark path. Had he told the women about the painting? Or had they asked him first? Fuck, he’d been so drunk, it was all a blur now. Why did he have this nagging feeling that the two women had singled him out? Why did he feel like even though he hadn’t brought up the painting originally, they knew just what to say to stroke his ego into bragging about it?

  His black eyes sparked like brimstone.

  “You lying sonofabitch,” he swore, stepping towards the man who didn’t bother to deny his accusation. “You’ve known who they were this whole goddamn time.” He was irate and his tone was rising.

  “Now, Pierce, let’s not make a scene,” Loury replied with a sigh. The man acted like he was bored and scolding a child who was about to throw a tantrum.

  He’d better believe that Pierce was about to make one hell of a scene. His life had almost been ruined four years ago and Loury had just fucking stood there and watched.

  No, he’d been the one to instigate the entire thing.

  His vision went red with rage and the next thing he knew his hand was wrapped tightly in the collar of Loury’s shirt, cutting off circulation and drawing the attention of onlookers.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Pierce rasped, his face inches from the other man’s. “Tell me what the fuck you did four years ago or I swear to God, I will steal the life from your body just like you let those goddamn women almost steal it from mine.”

  The white eyes fluttered from the dwindling oxygen to his brain.

  “Told them… about… the painting,” Loury revealed, painfully pushing the words through his constricted throat.