Abandoned (The Beckett Series Book 6)

by Mary Martinez

  If you had the computer skills he did, it wasn’t hard to find things like travel itineraries. He had watched from afar from the moment their plane had touched down.

  And now was his time. The agents were gone with the four men, and soon Glenna’s boyfriend would be gone. It had been pure luck that he’d seen him knock on the door across the hall, now he knew where the painting was.

  He couldn’t believe how things were turning out. After months of searching, almost getting caught by Glenna’s nosey neighbor, not to mention those Black Cats had scared him off the night he’d planned to search the basement he’d just found out about. The night they’d shot Glenna’s assistant Alex.

  He’d liked the girl.

  It had thrown a monkey wrench into his plans because then the place was crawling with cops and agents.

  Yeah he’d been patient in spite of the fact he hated waiting. And tonight he’d be rewarded by his perseverance. He still hadn’t figured out how the men knew about the painting, nor did he know who they were. Every time he caught a glimpse of them, they either had their black ski masks on, or they were parked in a shadow.

  Didn’t matter. He had a plan. That would be to get rid of the Neanderthal he’d seen entering the Berlin woman’s room. All the agents, except the boyfriend were gone, but he hadn’t seen the huge man since the commotion. He had to be somewhere.

  Fuck.

  The boyfriend just rounded the corner. Had he slipped in to the alcove in time? Luckily these boutique hotels were frillier with billowing, or at least this one did, curtains at the window. He stepped behind the fabric and held his breath. The man paused and looked his way, but after a moment moved on.

  He waited another few seconds before he let out his breath

  *****

  Patrick reached the end of the hall and let out a frustrated breath. Nothing. No sign of anyone let alone the man he’d seen at the opposite of his hiding place. He’d only caught a glimpse of him, but something raised a flag. There was just a touch of recognition. He’d seen him somewhere, or he could have seen a picture.

  He made his way around the floor again, trying to settle the pitching in his gut that he was missing a piece of the puzzle. He gave a brief knock on the door. Glenna called out to inquire who it was. Then unlocked the door to let him in, but he didn’t enter. He needed to get to the office.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off?” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

  Her smile almost dislodged the unease, but then it settled in with a vengeance. He didn’t want to leave, but then he looked at the former football player dwarfing the overstuffed chair where he lounged. The other guy must have gone to his room, with the threat over.

  “We’re not going to stay much longer. You go get what you need done I’ll see you at home.”

  Home he liked the sound of that. “Okay, you take care.”

  He started to turn, then thought better of it. He needed to let Agent Coleman in on his concerns. Even if they were unfounded.

  “I just need to let Coleman know something, then I’ll be on my way.”

  He walked over to the man, who didn’t so much as move a muscle just looked up from his sports magazine with a bored expression and a lift of a brow. As if Patrick was interrupting the reading of a masterpiece.

  After he described what he had seen of the man. The guy straightened and listened intently. Not that Patrick had had an up close and personal, so it was more a general description.

  “I’ll keep a look out, McGinnis. The British dude has gone to bed. I told him I’d stay until they left for the airport.” Verifying what the guard had told him.

  The man let his attention return to the magazine again. Patrick got the distinct impression Coleman was more alert than he let on. Hopefully, Patrick was seeing dragons where there weren’t any.

  As he pulled out of the lot and headed south, toward San Francisco. His mind wouldn’t stop going over the day, and it all came back to the unknown man.

  They had Danny boy, they had the play boys, who else was there?

  Lance Gordon. It was the man bun, he’d remembered making fun of it when he’d seen the man’s picture.

  He’d still been interested, hadn’t Lance gone through Glenna’s house again? Patrick slammed on his breaks. The blast of a horn indicated the people behind him weren’t appreciative of his driving skills. He pulled to the side of the road to let them pass, and ignored the finger, knowing he deserved the gesture.

  He made sure no other traffic was coming and flipped a U-turn.

  How hadn’t he known? Because he was focused on The Black Cats and nothing else. Using his hands free, he put a call through to the station to let them know he would be delayed and why. They’d contact Coleman, he’d removed his earpiece, not that it would have worked this far from the hotel.

  Thank God he’d only gone a few miles.

  *****

  Lance called the front desk. “Hey, I just saw some guy sneaking around the third floor. I thought all the excitement was over, anyway that’s what the busboy who knocked on my door a few minutes ago said.”

  “Sir, it is. It is. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’m sure it’s just one of the other hotel guests.”

  Lance sucked in his breath and then inspiration struck.

  “With a gun?”

  “Oh. I’ll call the officer who’s still here.”

  He didn’t correct her, he’d been almost positive the agent was still lingering. Now he knew. And the minute the guy left the room, he’d slip in. Earlier, he’d taken advantage after he’d seen the boyfriend right before everything went down. He slipped down to the registration desk and created a key card with the information from the room where Glenna and the art expert were laying low.

  He stood at the end of the hall praying the guy would check the opposite direction first. No luck, but Lance was ready. The agent had him by six inches and a good fifty pounds, but anyone could be felled if they were caught unaware. All this ran through his mind in a split second as the man rounded the corner, hand on the gun in his holster, though probably because he didn’t want to alarm anyone, by pulling it out.

  Lance pulled his own gun out, waited until the man was by him, then he slipped out of his hiding place, reached up and brought the butt down on the back of the man’s head. The way someone who’d been in prison had bragged was the correct way to knock someone senseless without killing the bastard. Of course, the prison bird was drunk and spouting all this at a bar. Lance took a moment to watch for any movement. When there was none, he took off as quietly as possible toward the door that separated him from his treasure.

  He drew in his breath and slipped the card in. When it blinked green, he pushed down the handle and used his shoulder to slowly open the door. The room was dim, so he stood in the entry to get his bearings. The women were chatting in the sitting area. He took a step and stopped.

  Three? He hadn’t noticed Effie slip in earlier, and she was hard to miss. He’d really liked her also, too bad he hadn’t liked Glenna. That wasn’t fair, she was nice enough, she just had what he wanted, and he’d been detached from her in order to keep his bearings. Not wanting to let any emotion come into play when he found the painting. He didn’t want his conscience to get in the way.

  It was now or never.

  “Good evening ladies.”

  It was gratifying to see all three start and gape at him.

  “Lance?”

  “Your true love.” Keeping the gun level on them he tilted his head to the side and winked at Glenna. “Though I hear I have competition.”

  “Lance?” This time it was Effie.

  The woman from Berlin calmly sipped her wine. Did this happen a lot in her line of work? It was a bit disconcerting to have no one take you seriously when you had a gun pointed at them.

  “It’s the man bun.” The woman said.

  He felt his arms drop a fraction. “What?”

  He straitened his arms, he took the stance
he’d seen on NCIS, one of the only police shows he watched. He probably couldn’t hit the side of the barn, but they didn’t need to know that.

  The woman chuckled at his question. “Your man bun and come on, you look like you just walked out of men’s fashion magazine. How can we take you serious?”

  He straightened his shoulders. “I needed to blend in, so no one found me suspicious.”

  “It probably worked in the lobby. But I’m sorry, Glenna, Effie, are you shaking in your heels?”

  And then the bitch had the audacity to outright laugh.

  “Shut up.” He pointed the gun at her forehead. “Carefully stand and get the painting and I’ll slip out before your bear of an agent gets back. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Instead Glenna stood. “Lance put that thing down. We’ll forget all about this, just leave.”

  Effie stood, and then the other damn woman did also. This was getting out of hand. If he took a shot, he may hit one of them. Worse it would draw attention.

  “Effie, Glenna both of you sit or I’ll shoot your art expert.” He kept his focus on the woman. “You go get the painting now.”

  All three women sat down. He was running out of time and he needed to get the upper hand. Damnit he was out of his element. This painting must be cursed or something, first the professional men were caught and now it wasn’t looking good for him. He may be a computer wizard, business man, and antiquities dealer but he was not a criminal.

  He wasn’t until that moment.

  “Is the damn Madonna and Child cursed or jinxed or something?” He blurted and then felt his eyes go wide, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

  “Actually there have been rumors about several of the pieces stolen during the Nazi occupation. It’s been said that the artists’ ghost watches over their work to make sure it finds its way home.”

  Normally he wasn’t a superstitious man, but he couldn’t discount the chill that just scampered down his spine. Nor could he discount all the bad luck that all of them had encountered since they’d discovered Glenna had it in her possession.

  “Lance.” The sharp command in Glenna’s voice brought his attention back to the present. “Put that thing down before you hurt someone. I know you’re not going to shoot us. And Adelle is not going to get the painting for you. It’s going back to Berlin in the morning as planned.”

  So that was the woman’s name.

  “Adelle, I’m afraid Glenna is wrong. I can and will shoot one of you if you do not get the painting.” When she didn’t move he took a sidestep bringing himself to Effie’s chair, he redirected his gun to point at her head. “Now.”

  Adelle looked at his gun visibly shaking, but still pointed were it wouldn’t miss Effie if it went off. He saw her throat work in a swallow, then she sat her glass down and stood.

  “Fine, but you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”

  As he watched her walk into the other room he pondered her words, what had she meant? Stealing the painting or was there really a curse? The fine hairs on his arms prickled against his shirt and it was all he could do to repress the shiver that wanted to overcome him.

  His turn to swallow, he looked down at Effie, big mistake. Large blue eyes stared directly at him, her ponytail as usual a mop on her head, tilted to the side.

  “Lance, you’re not going to shoot me.” When he didn’t move, she sighed. “You know you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you going to be able to live with yourself if that thing goes off?”

  “Lance, she’s right.” Glenna inched forward in her seat, he made himself keep focus on Effie. “You’re not a bad person. What I want to know, why?”

  Without breaking eye connection with her friend, he replied to Glenna. “Why? What do you mean? That Madonna and Child is worth a fucking million or more dollars on the Dark web.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me about the painting? Why go all of the trouble for two years to get me to marry you, just so you could find the painting?”

  “Do I need to repeat myself about the worth?”

  “No, but that doesn’t answer my question. You could have just asked. I had no clue what I had, or what the worth was. All you had to do was ask if you could see some of my things. I knew you were part of the art community and into art and treasures, one of the many things we had in common.”

  Frustration ran over him. He’d gone to all the trouble and headache to con her into falling in love with him, though now he knew she’d more fallen in love with the idea of love than him. Still he could have just asked her? Really?

  “Well what are you going to do now?”

  Adelle brought his attention to her. She stood at the door leading to the bedroom her own gun pointed at his chest.

  “Drop the gun and nothing bad will happen.” She shrugged her shoulders somehow without the gun wavering. “Berlin takes their treasures very serious. Do you think they’d send someone untrained to bring home one of their priceless pieces of art? Not to mention I have security with me.”

  Startled he glanced around, what did she mean security? What to do?

  Well this had gone to hell in a hand basket in a hurry. If he didn’t think fast he’d be in the cell next to the boys.

  He felt sweat pool at the small of his back. Awareness ran through his veins, and not the exciting kind. The kind where you know you should be having a little movie in your head about your life. Isn’t that what they said that your life flashes right before you die? He seemed to have a blank reel of film.

  *****

  Patrick blew into the lot, slammed on the brakes in front of the hotel. Threw the car in Park, but didn’t bother turning it off. He waived the valet off as he ran, the glass door barely having enough time to open for his entrance. He paused at the desk. “Grab your master key.” He didn’t wait for the girl he punched the elevator button by the time the door slid open she was at his side.

  “The agent called you?”

  He had been intent on watching the numbers change, took an hour or so it seemed just to reach two. He should have taken the stairs. Then it registered what she’d said. He looked down at her and frowned.

  “What?”

  “We had a call about some guy on the third floor snooping around with a gun, I called Agent Coleman and he said he’d check it out.” She raised a brow. “He never called me to let me know what was going on, I assumed that was why you were here.”

  Dread ran through him. Lance had to have called to distract the agent.

  He held an arm out to stop her from leaving the elevator. “Let me have the key, you need to go back to your desk. Call the number I gave you earlier and let Officer Beckworth know I need backup.”

  He stepped out, gun at the ready. He glanced both ways. He didn’t have the time but he needed to at least have a looksee. He turned left walking softly but swiftly. At the L of the hall he made sure the other hall was clear, then retraced his steps and continued to the other end where another turn was. That was where he found Agent Coleman, struggling to stand. Blood dripped through hair from a head wound.

  “Whoa.” Patrick holstered his gun, leaned down and gripped the man’s elbow and hauled him up. Steadied him. “Back-up should be coming.”

  He glanced around, spotted a chair in one of the many alcoves. He helped the agent over to sit. He didn’t have time to question him, he could figure out what had happened.

  “Stay here.”

  When Agent Coleman didn’t put up a resistance, Patrick paused. Maybe he should call an ambulance. He looked a little more closely, but Coleman had his head down in his hands elbows resting on his knees for support.

  He hesitated.

  “Go, I’ll be fine.”

  Patrick could barely make out the other man’s words, but he didn’t need any more encouragement, he took off at a trot toward room 341, across from where everything went down earlier.

  He leaned in to listen. No sound of a commotion. Could be good or bad. He went to slip the card in, but the door had
n’t shut all the way, the upper latch was holding it open a fraction. He carefully nudged the door open, slowly hoping the thing was well oiled.

  The room came into view, and his heart dropped to his toes at the scene. No one was hurt thank God, but he’d pretty much walked into a Mexican standoff. Gordon had his gun on Effie, though it wavered a little as he looked toward Adele, who had her gun trained at his chest.

  Then he glanced to Glenna who had her eyes on him. He nodded in a way he hoped conveyed not to give him away.

  He held the door and gently helped it close as soundlessly as possible. The good thing about hotels, their floors rarely creaked or groaned, he took a few steps in, Effie cast him a discrete glance out of the corner of her eye. If Adele noticed him, she didn’t so much as blink. Gordon had his back to him.

  “We could stand here all night. You’re not getting the painting.” Adele kept Gordon’s attention. “And you’re not going to shoot Effie or anyone for that matter, you’re just not a killer.”

  Patrick took another step, then another.

  “Lance, come on. You don’t want to go to prison. You have a world class collection. Is this piece worth it? Don’t make things any worse than they are.” The gun in Gordon’s hand shook as he listened to Glenna’s entreaty. The arm holding the weapon started to drop, but then he brought it back up and straightened his shoulders.

  Damn, Patrick had hoped he’d give in. Things could get tricky when your perp had a gun pointed at someone. Even though he was behind Gordon if he grabbed him from behind he could pull the trigger in reflex. He’d planned to grab him from behind pinning the arm with the gun to his side. But it was still up and pointed.

  He drew in his breath took a step to bring him directly behind the other man and placed the barrel of his Glock at the back of Gordon’s head.

  “Federal Agent, keep both hands where I can see them, slowly lay your weapon on the ground.” He gave a little tap where his gun aimed. “No quick movements.”

  Gordon’s arm didn’t move, but the gun hit the ground with a thud. Thank God it didn’t discharge.