by Rae Rivers
“Why would you care if he’s a thief though?” Alex asked, her voice clipped with irritation and surprise. “You’re a thief. What difference would it make if he’s one too?”
Jennifer’s expression hardened and she pinned her daughter with a cold stare. “Because he’s a violent man and a murderer, Alex. Many of those items in his basement are items I recognized and many of their owners have died in his greed and determination to have them. I watch the news and I read the papers. Most of the artwork in that room has blood on it. He started his collection years ago, sending in men like Steven Bryson with an order of what he wanted as well as the order to kill off any resistance. Many people died so Barry could fill his gallery.”
Cole vaguely remembered stories in the media of various murders and robberies that had occurred. Spaced far apart, in various parts of the world. There’d been no connection between each murder so no one had suspected that one man was responsible for them all.
“He found me in his gallery and I ran.” Jennifer briefly explained the hell she’d endured that day, the pain, the loss, the sadness. She’d run, she’d jumped, and she’d lived. And somehow, she’d accessed her emergency rucksack stashed in a locker at the local bus station consisting of clothes, passports, cash, essential tools, and a photograph of her daughter. “I stayed hidden but close. Once I heard your name mentioned, I knew I had to keep in the shadows until I’d figured out what was going on.”
“That’s how you knew about the bomb,” Alex said, a visible shiver running through her.
“Yes. I was in Barry’s office in New York at three o’ clock that morning and he came back for something. I hid and while he was there, his phone rang and I heard the conversation. When he left, I used his office phone to call you.”
“And the disk?”
“Recorded by a friend of mine.” Jennifer smiled. “It helps to still have friends in the underground circles.”
“You saved our lives.”
“You’re my daughter,” Jennifer replied in a tone that suggested that statement alone was enough of an explanation. “What’s happened with Barry and Steven?”
“Steven was arrested yesterday for murder and robbery,” Cole replied, unable to mask his satisfaction. “He’s squealing on Barry in an attempt to buy some favors with the cops. According to Sullivan, neither man will see freedom for a very long time.”
“Were you a part of the museum heist?” Alex asked softly, staring at her mother. “I need to know.”
Jennifer nodded, looking away. “Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The heist went down as planned. Barry made a hit list of paintings he wanted from the museum, a list that included the Renoir and the Monet from the art exhibition. He recruited a fence who recruited McAllister and I for the job. The hit was easy and we tried to make it look like amateurs pulled off the theft. We hit a snag when we couldn’t get to the Renoir and the Monet so we left them behind. It sparked a huge argument between McAllister and the fence at the drop off.” Jennifer stared down at the city below as she recounted her story, her expression grim with the memory. “One moment they were arguing and the next moment they were shooting at each other. The fence went down first. I ran. McAllister fled with the paintings and simply disappeared.”
“How did the paintings end up in my basement?” Cole asked, still having trouble wrapping his head around the events of the last few days. It was all so surreal, so far from the reality he’d grown accustomed to.
“McAllister transported them to New York and roped in his father to assist him.” Jennifer glanced at Cole. “His father was the previous owner of your townhouse.”
“An art thief’s father lived there?”
“A fairly wealthy man himself.” Jennifer took off her baseball cap and loosened her hair. Her hair was black and curly like her daughter’s, but shorter. “McAllister was caught red-handed on another job he’d pulled and arrested. He left the paintings in his father’s basement. Not wanting more incriminating evidence against his son and unable to get rid of the paintings without bringing suspicion on them, the old man hid the paintings in hope that they would remain hidden until the heat blew over or the statutes of limitations ran out.”
“Where’s the old man now?” Cole asked, intrigued.
“He died from a heart attack and his house went on the market.”
“With two hundred million dollars worth of paintings in the basement,” Cole said, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Did you know?” Alex asked. “About what happened to the paintings?”
Jennifer gathered her hair in her hands, twisted it into a knot and replaced her cap. “Not for a long time, no. No one knew what had happened to the paintings as McAllister simply vanished. But eventually word got out to Barry Jenson.” She grimaced and shrugged her petite shoulders. “He tracked McAllister, got him to spill, and drew me in. The rest you know.”
Jennifer looked at her watch and frowned. “I have to go before Sullivan arrives. I needed to make sure that you’re okay. I haven’t been able to get you alone in the last few weeks as you’ve always been with the billionaire.”
“Yes.”
“You two shacking up really rattled Barry’s shit barometer,” Jennifer said with a small smile. She settled her eyes on Cole, studying him. When she turned to face her daughter, her smile disappeared. “This changes things, Alex.”
“I know.”
Jennifer nodded and moved forward to wrap her skinny arms around Alex. “I’ll be in touch. You stay safe.”
Alex nodded and they watched as her mother slipped back onto the balcony, elegant and cat-like.
“Mom!” Alex called, rushing outside. Her mother was already on the roof. Crouching, she turned to look down at her daughter. “Be careful.”
Jennifer smiled. “Always.”
And then she was gone.
Alex’s eyes filled with unshed tears and she quickly turned her back to Cole.
“Alex,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
It surprised him to see her so emotional, and for the first time since they’d met, he fully understood the anguish that her mother’s profession brought her. It was the age-old war within her, between them, that she fought. Her yearning for a relationship with her mother, her loyalties to the only family she had left, and the contrasting career paths they’d chosen.
Cole came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “What did she mean that this changes everything?”
“Being with you changes my relationship with her.” Alex leaned her head back against his chest. “Because of who you are. Because of who she is.”
Cole nodded. It certainly would hurt him to be associated with a suspected cat burglar.
“I can’t change who I am, Alex,” he murmured, his lips next to her ear, “but she could change who she is. So far, there have only been rumors and speculation but nothing concrete.”
“Several of her statutes of limitations haven’t run out yet. They could still arrest her for work she’s done in the past.”
Cole turned her to face him. “How the hell did she get on the roof?”
Alex brightened. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
“She could have killed herself.”
“No,” Alex replied with a brief smile, “not my mother. I sometimes think she has nine lives and has the agility of a cat, always landing on her feet when she falls.”
“Sounds a bit like you, my love.” He drew her closer, relieved that the saddened look in her eyes had started to fade.
“Cole,” Alex mumbled into his chest.
“Mm?”
“How soon could we leave for our trip?”
“We could leave tonight if you’d like.”
Alex tipped her head back and offered him a breathtaking smile. “Really?”
“A couple of calls and we could be on our way. But we’d need to make a quick stop before we leave.”
“I don’t mind a quick stop
.”
“Even if it means a visit to my sister?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Your sister?”
“Pizza night, remember? Under the circumstances, she won’t expect us to stay long.”
“Will she expect us at all?”
“Probably not, but I made her a promise. It’s a traditional family affair and should be fun.”
“Sounds very domesticated.”
“It is very domesticated, but if you can handle a mastermind art thief and a gun, I’m sure you can handle dinner with my sister and her family.” He chuckled at her expression and laced his fingers with hers. “Besides, I’d really like for them to meet you.”
She met his gaze and eventually nodded. “Okay, providing no one expects me to hold the baby.”
“You might change your mind when you see her. She’s adorable.”
“With the Anderson genes, I’m sure she is.” Her expression brightened, and her eyes danced with excitement. “We should pack for our trip.”
“It’s not necessary. I’ll have someone stock the house for us before we arrive.”
Alex laughed and kissed him. “You’re so awesome, rich guy.”
“Mm, being rich does have its advantages.”
“As long as you know that I’m not here for your money, but for you,” she whispered against his mouth. She pulled back, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “And for the sex. Yes, definitely the sex.”
Cole laughed and led her inside to make his calls.
A word about the author...
Rae Rivers believes that chocolates and books, not diamonds, are a girl’s best friend. Rae is an avid reader and writer who loves writing spicy romance novels. She lives in Cape Town, South Africa, with her high school sweetheart husband and two children.
For more information on Rae, please visit her blog:
www.raerivers.com
