“What?” I yelped.
“Aw, Blake, that is a stupid freaking idea,” Ivy growled.
“Maggie pointed something out to me,” began Blake. “She felt like this whole thing was almost too easy, a setup…to catch the Manx. I told her almost every heist is a setup, in its own way.”
“Everyone wants to be the one to catch the Manx,” said Pike.
Blake shot Pike a disturbing look.
“Yeah, I get that, but this one is too perfect,” I said. “It’s the ideal setup. Don’t you think it’s strange Blair’s museum gets something as rare as this diamond over a more world-renowned establishment?”
“The Huntslee Museum is well-regarded and highly competitive, even among the greats,” said Blake.
“Except Huntslee Museum has one fairly concerning feature the others don’t possess: Blair. She has a fascination with the Manx, or did that escape your notice? I saw it clear as day during her yacht party. I thought it was a sexual fascination, but what if it’s more than that? What if it’s the thrill, the power of being the one to capture the Manx? I’ve said this before, Blake. I’m sure you remember.” It was never a great thing when my temper entered the conversation.
“I hate to say it, but the little gnat has a point,” said Ivy.
“When did I become a gnat?” I asked.
“The second you thought of something worthwhile before me,” Ivy replied coolly.
Blake leaned over the table. “You’re right, Maggie. No way would any museum owner in their right mind allow an object of such value out of the highest security possible just to be waved around in front of a room full of drunks on New Year’s Eve without some other motivation.”
“Well, with all due respect, if you think this is a contrived trap to catch us, then why the hell are we going through with it?” Ivy asked somewhat angrily.
“Because we have a buyer…and because I never let anyone intimidate me into backing down. We haven’t failed yet, and I don’t intend to let someone think they can outwit me now.”
Dammit, Blake, this wasn’t the time to let your ego do the talking, thinking, and walking, I thought to myself, my temper flaring.
“At least let me or Pike go in and get this thing,” said Ty. “Don’t hang yourself out there like that.”
“No. This is something I have to do myself,” said Blake sternly.
“Why do you have to do it?” I couldn’t bite my tongue any longer. “Is this some male ego thing? Because sometimes men need to learn to check it at the damn door.”
“Eh, it’s a little more personal than an ego trip. Don’t worry,” said Blake with a wink, which was the furthest thing from reassuring.
I crossed my arms. “When you have Ivy concerned, you can’t expect me not to flip out.”
“It’s not exactly my first rodeo, Maggie. I’ve been doing this since I was a teenager. Even before I took over as the Manx, I’d go in and do the acquiring.”
“He’s good, Maggie,” said Ty. “He’s the best, even better than his dad.”
“Trust me,” implored Blake.
“Against my better judgment, I do,” I conceded. “But it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
“We’re going to be prepared,” said Ty. “And we can always back out should something go wrong.”
“Yeah.” I looked to Ivy, who, with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, was still seething. But another emotion took her over as one eyebrow arched and the tiniest of smirks forced itself on her plump lips: excitement. The lure of danger was just too strong, easily defeating rational thinking.
“Think we’re good,” said Blake. “Until after Halloween, there’s not much more we can do except make sure we have the blueprint of the Mankazian Mansion committed to memory. Greg has the most work of all of us right now. He’s hacking into the security system as we speak.”
“Aww, that’s like giving him a girlfriend,” said Pike.
“You would know, since you’re so friendly with your hand,” Greg quipped, drawing a much need chuckle from all of us…well, except Pike.
“So, next stop, Blair’s…what was it called, Ivy?” asked Blake.
“Spider Ball. Purple and Black Spider Ball. I just love when the bluebloods work a dress code into the name of a ball. It’s so tyrannical.”
“And there was an asterisk next to ‘Purple’, making sure we knew the acceptable shade of purple,” I said.
Ty shifted sideways. “Had to be Blair’s contribution, wouldn’t you think, Blake?”
“No question.”
Ivy whipped her head at me. “Wear that gown I picked out for you. Don’t even think about chickening out or all the points you recently gained will be eradicated.”
I shrugged. “Had no intention of chickening out.”
“Good. The look of disgust on Blair’s smug little mug makes my world deliciously darker,” said Ivy, grinning.
“Don’t you mean brighter?” Though always working on his computer, Greg never missed a single word uttered. It was rather remarkable. “If something brings you happiness, it makes your world brighter, not darker.”
“Unless that person prefers the dark. The sun is so overrated. Much too perky. Now, the moon…there’s a ball I could grab onto.”
“And on that note…I guess we’ll adjourn this meeting,” said Blake.
“Uh, wait, you forgot about me,” I said. “What’s my job?”
“Shadowing Ivy,” Blake reiterated.
“Not at Halloween. On New Year’s Eve, during the heist.”
Blake straightened his back, crossing his arms. “You’ll be here, at the hub with Greg.”
“What? No, I won’t. Absolutely not,” I said angrily.
“Told ya that’d go over well,” said Ivy.
“I want to be there to help,” I said.
“You’ll help more being here,” he said firmly.
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re doing this. So, you’re going to shove me in a corner?” Oh, I was pissed.
Right on cue, Pike said, “Yeah, with Greg.”
“Not now, Pike,” I warned.
“It’s where I need you to be,” said Blake.
“No.”
“I’m not going to argue over this, Maggie.”
“Oh, you’re not going to argue? Well, too bad, ‘cause I sure as hell am.”
“This topic is closed for debate. I’m sorry.”
“If you think you’re sorry now, just wait until later.”
“Can I see you in my office? Now.”
The walk from the hub through the tunnel to Blake’s office was a fast paced one. I was so angry and consumed with worry for him taking on this heist that I hardly remembered the walk from the hub.
When we got to his office, and as soon as I heard the door close behind me, I spun around. “This is a joke.”
“You’re not ready.”
“Of course I am!”
“You’re not.”
“I can be. I have the rest of October and until the end of December. I can do this, Blake! I don’t want you going in there without…”
“You’re worried about me.”
“Yeah, I am. I stupid-damn-well am.”
“Can’t you see it’s the same for me? That’s why I need you to stay here.”
“What does that mean?” I shouted, my mind spinning.
“This is such an obvious trap for us. I’m not willing to risk you getting caught in it.”
“I should be there, Blake,” I demanded.
“You’re worried about me doing something I’ve done many times before. I’m worried about someone who has never been a part of anything like this.”
“Well, dammit! Why’d you have to go and make sense? I kinda thought I was ahead on the count.”
He slowly took my face in his hands, gently caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“If you let something happen to you, then it’s like letting something happen t
o me.”
“Then I won’t let anything happen to me.”
“But, how do you expect me to get the experience without letting me go on a heist?”
“This is not the one to cut your teeth on.”
“Blake, none of them are minor. They’re all big time crimes with big time objects and big time buyers.”
“I realize that, but this one is in a league of its own. It’s not the right situation for you to gain experience. You’ll learn a lot just by watching with Greg.”
I sighed. “Losing battle, here, huh?” He nodded and then had the audacity to start kissing me. I pushed him away. “I’m still pissed.”
“At me?”
“At the whole situation. I’m angry and not in the mood to be kissed all sweet like that.” I pushed by him to head back to the hub, but before I could get back to the door, Blake’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him.
“We don’t have to be sweet. If you’re mad at me…show me.”
Smirking, I turned around and gathered his shirt in my hands. As soon as he saw that smirk, my back was up against the bookcase. There was nothing sweet about our kisses now. They were hungry, passionate. All the anger and aggression I felt escaped me in a wild way, and I couldn’t have a more willing recipient. When he suddenly lifted me off the ground, I wrapped both legs around his waist and gently squeezed. I bit his neck slightly, a move that elicited a moan, forcing him to whip around and sweep half of his desk clear.
From the first day I walked into his office, I knew his desk was an antique. I wasn’t sure how many documents or meetings this desk bore witness to, but I was certain it hadn’t seen anything quite like what Blake and I revealed to it this afternoon.
Chapter Thirteen
Halloween, Mankazian Mansion. The limo ride to Mankazian Mansion was a lonely one. For the past few weeks, Blake and I had been nearly inseparable. In all fairness, since I started working for him, we spent very little time apart. But that early time together was primarily work related. Oh, we still trained together; it was just far more likely our training included sexy moments and concluded with some naughty love. I’d never look at the balance beam the same way again. We stole time for ourselves at the brownstone his aunt used to call home. It was just far enough off the grid to let us shelve all of reality’s harsh truths.
Tonight, however, was Act I of an elaborate production destined to end with either laughter or tears. The plan required us to give award-worthy performances and wear disguises, only our faces were our masks, meaning Blake and I had to act as virtual strangers—our body language would have to lie, our eyes couldn’t betray us. Blake would be the dutiful date to one Blair Huntslee, and I would be alone. I prepared myself for the sight of Blair on Blake’s arm while sitting in the back of a limousine, one of many stuck between countless others awaiting their turn to reveal passengers to a mob of reporters crowding the red carpet entrance, hoping for the perfectly scandalous photograph.
As I adjusted my earpiece—the means by which the team would communicate with one another—my phone whistled, alerting me to a text. It was from Blake.
Tricks or treats after the ball?
Wish you were on my arm.
It was exactly what my silly heart needed. I quickly typed a reply, barely sending it before the attendant opened my door:
My inner witch is good for tricks and treats—you have been warned.
Wish it was me on your arm too.
The attendant helped me out of the car. I straightened my lavender ball gown, took a deep breath, and willed my hesitant feet to move forward. The photographers aimed and snapped, just in case I was newspaper material. One even asked if I was ‘someone.’ I almost replied with, ‘No, and I hope to God never to be someone’, but even my slightly unhinged mouth recognized the dramatics of that one and wisely kept shut. Perched over the East River, Mankazian Mansion was the largest townhouse in New York City. The blueprints astonished me; I honestly had no idea such a place existed in Manhattan. Over twenty-five stories tall, this one townhouse held the following and then some: a swimming pool, squash court, theater—we’re talking state of the art—wine cellar, spa, bowling alley, and, of course, a ballroom.
The ballroom was something out of an animated fairy tale, only modernized with sleek architecture, gray and cream marble walls and floors inlayed with delicate silver flower designs, and abstract chandeliers.
Of course, the large automated spiders dangling from the ceilings, wriggling their hairy legs, added a new twist to the traditional fairy tale ballroom, as did the ghosts intermittently swinging over the heads of guests, issuing ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. Purple and black flower centerpieces and lace spider web table runners adorned tabletops.
“For you, Miss,” said a waiter dressed as a zombie with a single bottle of beer on his tray. “From the gentleman just beside the middle pillar across the room.”
I followed the waiter’s nod, knowing who I’d find: Blake. I knew we couldn’t say anything personal, not with Blair likely hovering nearby and our team listening in, so I took the beer, subtly held it up, and tilted the neck of the bottle in his direction. Blake smiled equally subtly. Perhaps it was the Halloween spirit stirring up the naughty in my mind’s cauldron, but that tuxedo was seriously doing it for me…until a witch in a dreadfully garish black and purple frock draped her arms around him. Lord. Any tighter and her boobs would pop out for a little ‘boo’ moment.
I gulped down a huge portion of my beer when WHOOSH! One of the flying ghosts jettisoned just over my head, startling the hell out of me. I stumbled backwards and nearly crashed to the floor when two arms caught me.
Grinning down at me was Colt Krane, curator of the Huntslee Museum. Helping me to the upright position, he said, “Damn ghosts. Always dropping in for a quick, unexpected haunt. Impressed you managed to keep that beer from spilling.”
“Priorities.”
With a chuckle, he said, “Right. Of course. Now, you want to tell me where you managed to find a longneck? Because all I’m finding is champagne.”
“On a server’s tray.” It wasn’t a lie.
“Huh. You must’ve found the renegade server.”
“Renegade server?”
“Yeah, sometimes the serving staff hired for these parties will get a renegade server or two. They’ll purposely do something that goes against the host’s instructions just to see if it’s caught. The more ridiculous the instructions, the greater the chance for a renegade,” said Colt.
“Gutsy,” I said, taking another sip of beer. The more I get down, the less anxious my stomach would be.
“It is, and I would know,” he said with a wink.
“You were a renegade server, weren’t you?”
“Sure was, in my teens.”
“Ever get caught?”
Colt thought for a moment. “Once. I served a few glasses of red wine at a ‘clear liquids only’ party. The hostess had a fear of someone spilling red wine on her white cashmere carpet.”
My eyes widened. “Who has a white cashmere carpet? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You really run into some crazy stuff when people have too much money and too much time on their hands,” said Colt, shaking his head. “Anyway, she bitched me out like a raving lunatic. It was great. Completely worth it. Her guests were appalled by her behavior.”
“That’s just so ridiculous. Here’s an idea, how about don’t have a white carpet if you’re afraid of stains. I mean, you walk on it. Lord have mercy.”
Laughing, Colt said, “Tell me about it. Sometimes I think the super rich like to see just how much they can get away with, no matter how ludicrous it might be. For example, have you heard any rumblings about what Blair and her daddy are doing New Year’s Eve?”
Uh, yeah, I know. “No. Should I have?”
“Actually, no, but with your connections, I figured something might have leaked. Let’s just say it’s probably the most asinine move I’ve ever heard of. So much could go
wrong. And then you have the Manx.” Ah. So, alcohol gave Colt some loose lips; of course, this instantly reminded me to slow down my alcohol intake. Last thing I needed was to ruin my first recon by blabbing.
“Mmm-hmm. Well, whatever it is sounds really risky.”
“Yep, just another Blair brain child,” said Colt, clinking his champagne flute with my beer bottle.
“What’s that about my brain?” Blair and Blake stood right behind us. God, he looked truly delicious.
“This party,” Colt quickly ad-libbed.
“I was just remarking to Colt about how much I like the décor, especially the ghosts. The crawling spiders are great too.”
Every now and then a few yelps sounded around the room, no doubt due to the spirited flying ghosts.
Blair puffed out her chest, and I feared for the seams of her dress. “Yes, well, I had a sweet pet tarantula named Venoma when I was eight. She influenced the spider idea. And I suppose being stalked by a ghost when I was fourteen prompted the flying ghost idea.”
Wait. Oh, Lord. This just got impossibly fantastic in the craziest way. Blair has some seriously loose screws, my friends. Eyebrows high on my forehead, I shot Blake a brief ‘wow’ look.
“Beer? Where did you get a beer?” Blair squeaked, despite her plastered smile. Her eyes bugged so much, I could swear they were either about to spin in their sockets or roll out on the floor, both fitting options for Halloween.
“Well, I—” started Blake.
“I brought it with me,” I said on the fly. “Yeah, I never acquired much of a taste for champagne. Thought it’d be kind of a harmless Halloween trick. Hope you don’t mind.”
Blair, holding her lips in a tight, forced smile, waved a hand. “Of course not. It is, as you say, Halloween.” Running a measuring eye over my gown, she added, “Was the deliberate selection of a lavender gown a trick as well, or did you not see the asterisk on the invitation specifying the proper shade of purple?”
Watercolor Hearts Page 19
