Imperfect Forgery: (A Dark Romantic Suspense)

by G. D. Madsen

  I ram my palms into Silvio's iron chest, pushing him away with every last bit of strength I regained, but it only infuriates the beast. He locks my wrists inside his one large hand, his eyes burning with rage I had only seen twice before, and I prepare myself for him to hit me with the very hand that wipes my blood off his lips.

  "Get away from her!"

  I recognize the voice, but I cannot move.

  Help me!

  I want to shout from the top of my lungs when my eyes dart toward the door, but no sound comes out.

  "I am having a private conversation with my daughter," Silvio replies through clenched teeth. He stands up straight, widening his shoulders to intimidate Gregory. "If there is anybody who should not be in this room, it is a stranger like you. Now, my daughter—"

  "Did you call her your daughter while you raped her, you sick fuck?" Gregory throws the cup he was holding into the trash bin by the door and launches at Silvio.

  His words catch Silvio off-guard, and Gregory punches him with such force the untouchable Beltrani staggers, struggling to keep his balance.

  Something inside of me breaks. The fear recedes, and I begin to breathe again.

  Gregory did not leave, he did not look the other way, and he did not close the doors behind him. He stayed to protect me.

  A man in a uniform grabs Gregory from behind, preventing him from tackling Silvio.

  "I want him in jail," the beast roars. "I want him charged with assault! Do you hear me, officer? I am going to crush you! I am going to destroy you!"

  However, David's friend is not intimidated. "You are dead. You will have no time to destroy anything or anyone because we are going to skin you alive for every bruise on her body!"

  "Gregory!" The doctor is back in the room. "Enough. I am tired of separating fights. For God's sake, she needs peace, not war raging around all day long."

  "At last, the voice of reason." Silvio transforms into a charmer on the spot. This cunning tone makes me shrink again. Is she going to allow him to stay?

  "I want you equally out of this room.” The doctor does not fall for Silvio's act. “From now on, nobody enters without my permission. Do you understand, Tony?"

  The man holding Greg nods. "Yes, doctor."

  "She is my daughter. I have every right to be here. Tell her, Lavinia."

  "This young woman is a Jane Doe," the doctor doesn't wait for me to respond. "Unless you can prove her identity and your relation to her, I insist you leave her room. And by proving, I don't mean your word. Not even hers. I need legal proof. Otherwise, you are not getting anywhere near her. Now, please, go before I call hospital security."

  "You can say goodbye to your career, doctor. You have no idea who you are dealing with. I am coming back, and when I do, I am leaving this place with Lavinia!" Silvio storms out of the room, and I start sobbing.

  The doctor approaches me and takes my hand. "He is not coming back, but you need to press charges. That man needs to pay."

  "I can't. He... He does something..."

  "Don't worry, Lavinia, you—"

  "Not Lavinia..." I cannot handle this name anymore. It is not my name! It has never been my name! It is a prison tag.

  Only I don't remember my real name.

  "Okay, then tell me, what should I call you?"

  Kahina… But there is only one man I want to call me by that name. "Lava is fine. And you?" I smile.

  She beams. "Lea. It is short for Eleanor, but my parents always called me Lea. You probably can guess why." The crease between her neat eyebrows disturbs her flawless face when I fail to respond. "Princess Lea, you know. Star Wars?"

  I shake my head, and the crease deepens.

  "I would like to talk to you more if you don't mind. But first, you should rest. Your body is still recovering."

  "Yes, please." I smile, despite of the sting from Silvio's assault.

  Greg walks up to us. "I will leave now, but Bryan, a good friend of mine and David's, is on his way. He'll keep you company if your fierce doctor allows it."

  He turns to Lea, and I believe I spot her cheeks stain.

  She clears her throat. "As long as nobody uses this room for another boxing match."

  Gregory bows slightly with a grin on his face, and my doctor’s cheeks heat up even more.

  "Shall we?" He points toward the door, but before they leave, Gregory turns back to me. "Lava, you don't have to worry ever again. You are not alone."

  He squeezes my fingers briefly and follows Lea out.

  His words take time to reach past the chaos Silvio's presence left inside. I was naive to believe I could break free from his control with ease. Becoming the queen might take more time and willpower than I had imagined. But I will not fail, because as Gregory said, I am not alone anymore.

  I laugh and burst into tears when this assurance sinks in. "Somebody finally cares." I sigh in relief, wiping my wet face with the blanket.

  A few deep breaths later, a colossal guy walks into the room without knocking. "Hey, sugar, I'm Bryan."

  And all I can say in response is, "You're huge."

  His full belly laugh shakes the windows. "You bet I am."

  One simple remark, and my face drains of blood.

  "I'm a total jerk!" He slaps his forehead. "My stupidity is as huge as my frame, I'm afraid. Please, don't be intimidated by me, and sorry for that rude joke, sugar."

  "No problem." I offer him a smile, trying to refocus on breathing calmly again. "I'll accept the apology if you stop calling me sugar."

  He cocks his head to the side. "What do you women have against this sweet word?" he asks, pulling the chair closer to my bedside.

  The tiny wooden frame vanishes underneath him, and I wince, waiting for it to break apart. The chair creaks, but it withstands the heavy load in one piece, and Bryan titters, shifting his focus back to me.

  He appears to be studying me, amber-green eyes piercing me through, but for some reason, I am not intimidated. Instead, I do the same. I study the muscle mountain in front of me dressed in a plain grey shirt and classic-cut jeans. Aviator glasses rest on top of his black crew-cut hair, styled neatly to look casual. His square jaw softens, and a smile curves his straight lips. "Do you play poker?"

  "Do I play?" I grin, happy to get to play the game, knowing I would not be leaving with the winner. "Prepare to have your ass kicked."

  Bryan laughs, taking the cards out of his jacket. "I'm afraid I will have a hard time trying to refrain from calling you 'sugar'."

  Chapter 15

  David

  "I was on the fucking phone with my brother, bitching about Lava, while she was going through hell. that's where I was!" I see red just by thinking of my stupidity now. "Actually, you should arrest me. I am as guilty as that bastard! I told her to leave. I refused to listen, I refused to trust her. She gave everything up to spend the weekend with me, and I repaid by throwing her out into the night."

  "I'm sorry, David," Detective Reynolds, says, putting her pen aside, and collecting the papers from the table. "We don't doubt you, but in this situation, under pressure from the Mayor's office, we will require more than your word."

  "Mayor's office?" My mouth gapes. "What does the Mayor have to do with this?"

  "Beats me, man," Detective Foster responds, rubbing his bald temples. "We received the orders to investigate this case with utmost priority. The mayor wants to keep an eye on the investigation due to the prior complaints that you and Gregory harassed the young woman. You are not stupid, David, you realize how it all looks. Your DNA links you to the victim directly."

  "I am not denying we had sex!" My fists hit the table. "Yes, some of it was heated enough for her to scratch me! Damn it, we've been through this twice. I did not rape her! You told me yourselves, there are other traces of DNA not matching mine." I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Yelling at them is not going to get me anywhere. "I was on the other side of the lake when it happened. Check my phone records, track the phone location. Anything. I don
't care. Let's just finish this so I can go back to the hospital."

  Reynolds stands up to leave without ever meeting my eyes. "I am sorry, but that's not possible. You cannot be near her during the active investigation, not to mention you violated the restraining order."

  "She never signed that bloody paper." I am ready to pull my hair in desperation.

  "Her father's lawyers—"

  "That psycho is not her father!" My voice bounces off the walls. So much for keeping my cool. "Beltrani and his bastard son abused her for years, yet you are not the least interested in what they have to say. You’d rather allow that scum to pin his sickening crimes on me!"

  "There's no evidence against him; thus no cause for obtaining his DNA so far," Foster says, rising to his feet and motioning for me to do the same. "As for leaving, Beltrani's lawyers filed a complaint against you for assaulting one of them. You are spending the night here, I'm afraid. Tomorrow we will talk to the victim if the doctor allows it."

  "Fuck!" The chair I sat on falls back as I jump to my feet. I fight the urge to grab it and throw it into the mirrored wall, but this would only give them more reasons to keep me locked up.

  I won't grant Beltrani the satisfaction of having me cornered for longer than absolutely necessary. The bastard may pull some major strings, but Lucas holds just as many strings, or maybe more, in his hands. I will be out of here by tomorrow morning.

  "I'd like to make that phone call now," I say before we exit the interrogation room.

  After I dial Lucas and learn of Beltrani’s visit to the hospital, I turn into a caged animal, pacing back and forth inside my dark cell. The tiny window by the ceiling gives only a glimpse of the outside.

  I plummet onto the bunk and close my eyes, but my mind buzzes with various scenarios, and they all come to the same conclusion – that bastard wants her back.

  Over my dead body!

  No. Over his dead body.

  Silvio Beltrani will never lay a finger on my Kahina again, and he sure as hell is not going to offer her around.

  I jump to my feet at the memory of her leaving with Silverstone and punch the wall. "Fuck! How did I fail to see this?" The wall receives another punch.

  That millisecond of horror I caught in her eyes before she turned back to Beltrani… If only I had focused on that instead of her forced smiles and flirting, and my own unreasonable jealousy.

  Now, the idea of Lava with the CEO heats my blood for very different reasons. Beltrani forced her to act and feel like she was a worthless whore for no other reason than to steal that damn painting!

  "The painting..." I mutter, the memory of Lava's last words ending my fight with the wall. I rub my bloody knuckles, trying to grasp what she meant by "not mine".

  The doors slam. The same guard I convinced to smoke a cigarette back in a day brings in a guy in a suit and tie. Drags him in would be a more suitable depiction of the scene as the poor bastard cannot even walk straight, reeking of alcohol from a mile away.

  "Brought you a friend, so you don't get bored." The guard chortles after locking the drunkard's cell.

  Great.

  His round shiny face and small grey eyes twist in a creepy grin as he walks past me, definitely satisfied to see me locked up after the reprimand he received for abandoning his post.

  Whatever. Nobody forced his hand. I have way more important things to focus on, if only I could hear myself over the drunkard's ramblings.

  How could Lava tell if the painting was hers or not, when she only got a short glimpse of the photo before I tore it out of her hands?

  Another onslaught of guilt stabs my chest. "You bloody loser, why couldn't you give her a chance to speak then?" I mutter, covering my ears, as the guy continues whatever monologue he has going.

  This is going to be a long night.

  Ignoring the sound of the doors opening again, I lay on the bunk and close my eyes, desperate for a blackout to get me through the night.

  "Room service," a familiar mocking tone reaches past the background noise. Gregory grins and extends a paper bag through the bars when I look up at him. "Thought you might want a burger, some fries, and a coke to cheer you up."

  I take the food, and Greg continues, "Bryan is still with Lava. Unfortunately, the doctor refused to let any of us stay through the night after all the havoc we caused today. I doubt Beltrani would try anything at night, and besides, Tony seems like a good cop."

  "Yeah, but good cops can be easily replaced if they cannot be bribed," I mumble, biting into the burger.

  My friend proceeds on telling me every detail of his encounter with Beltrani while I eat.

  "No matter what, I am certain Lea is not going to let that man anywhere near Lava's room. You should have seen how she stood up to him – not the least intimidated."

  "Lea, ah?" I raise my eyebrow, and he tells me to fuck off.

  Saint Gregory appears to be charmed by the charming doctor. I stuff my mouth with fries to resist the temptation to tease him about it. But he is right, the doctor proved on more occasions than one to be trustworthy.

  I put my food aside for later, walk up to the bars, and motion for Greg to lean closer. The drunken guy might be just that – another drunkard – but when it comes to someone with connections like Beltrani's, nothing is too safe. "Lava told me the painting was not hers, and her statement kept bugging me until I remembered the canvas we found in her apartment. Do you know if the FBI took over the evidence including the forged canvas from Silverstone’s vault?"

  "No idea," Greg replies with a frown. "On Monday Catherine kicked them out empty-handed due to some incorrect paperwork, and did the same yesterday. So either they succeeded at pacifying the red-haired dragon today, or everything is still in evidence."

  "Well, in any case, we have the photo of the forgery, and the one Lava made. Could you contact the art professor I talked to at the Academy and show him both paintings? He is quite an expert on Classical art. See what he has to say. If my suspicions are correct, we might be in for a big surprise."

  "You think there's a copycat thief? Or another forger?"

  "I don't know what to think anymore. One thing I am certain of, Kahina didn't make it."

  His eyes light up. "Kahina, ah?"

  "Fuck you!" I wave him off, and Greg leaves laughing his way to the door.

  Yes, Kahina… And I will protect her with my life. She may also be the only witness capable of bringing Beltrani down.

  If only I could make her talk.

  It's not that she doesn't want to. She can't. Every single time I try to encourage her to open up to me, she goes into this panicking state, where she cannot recognize me. Beltrani must have done something sinister to achieve this kind of control.

  ∞∞∞

  Greg returns the next morning just as a different guard unlocks my cell. As expected, Lucas did not disappoint. Although, it was an easy task, considering my legal surname was never on the bogus restraining order. As for the other charges, I could not care less of his methods, as long as they work.

  Greg delivers the professor's verdict as we head outside, and for a brief moment, I wish I still had the bunk to sit on.

  "Is he certain?" I ask when we get to his car.

  "Boy, I have seen it with my own eyes and admired its beauty, just as I am relishing it right now, " Greg cites the professor who personally examined the canvas still stuck in our evidence storage unit.

  No wonder Lava was convinced. That damn canvas is the original artwork!

  "This makes no sense," I say, opening the passenger side door. "Why would the CEO report the painting stolen? His experts confirmed the canvas was a forgery. Wait..."

  I glance at Greg and see the expression matching mine. Suspicion.

  "I'll be damned," he finally speaks, gripping the wheel. "The police expert equally confirmed it was a fake. Beltrani's ties indeed run deep. No wonder Lava believed he would always win." Greg loosens his grip. "Nonetheless, I called the FBI as soon as the professor examined
the painting, and this time, they rushed in to seize the evidence directly from the storage. The agents also asked the professor to assist them, and he agreed."

  "Good. We have a rat among us. We need to find out who picked the expert to evaluate the painting, but first I want to pay one certain CEO a visit," I smirk, "and it will not be a pleasant one!"

  A short drive later, ignoring Silverstone's receptionist's attempts to stop us, I kick in the double wooden door, its hinges twisting out of place as it flies open.

  Before a single word escapes his mouth, my fingers wrap around his throat, and I slam him against the wall. "You better start talking! Why would you report your painting stolen when it never left your vault?"

  "I have no idea what you mean." His face turns beet red, eyes darting frantically between the two of us before he settles on pleading with my friend. "Do something!"

  "Sorry, what?" Greg comes closer, holding a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you. My hearing is failing me today. Did you say you were going to confess?"

  "You can't do this, you're cops," Silverstone hisses now as my hands tighten around his throat.

  "Not anymore." I loosen my hold anyway. Not because I would never stop being a cop, but because dead scum cannot speak. "If you don't start singing, I will demonstrate just how much I am not feeling like a cop today."

  "Look, I needed the money," Silverstone rubs his neck as he speaks, his eyes focused on the floor. "The plan was simple. She said we would easily get away with it."

  "Who is "she"?" Greg steps in front before I grab the bastard's neck again.

  "My girlfriend," he whimpers.

  My mad laughter drains Silverstone’s red face of blood. "You are one cheating fuck, aren't you? What's her name?"

  The CEO shakes his head. "I can't tell you. She is the love of my life. She came up with this plan for us to start a new life together and contacted the man to help us execute it. This man is a walking menace; if he believes he's been compromised, he will not hesitate to hurt her. I'd rather go to jail."

  "And the genius plan was?" Greg cocks his head, open smirk on his lips.

  "I buy the painting at the auction and get to keep the original, and thirty percent from each sold forgery on the black market. They would have been primarily offered to the other high bidders."