Ellery glanced at Tinsley in surprise. Hamburg paintings were notoriously hard to come by.
“I don’t know,” the man admitted.
“Well, I’d be happy to sell it for her,” Ellery said slowly. “However, I’d need to get it appraised and also see all of the paperwork on it.”
“There’s paperwork for art?” the man asked.
“A Certificate of Authenticity,” Tinsley explained. “It’s proof of the chain of ownership going back to the artist. It’s the artwork’s provenance, used for insurance purposes to prove who the artist is and the list of owners is in date order to help with appraisals and stop forgeries, prevent ownership disputes, and such.”
“Yes, it’s standard in the art industry,” Ellery told him.
“I don’t know if my grandmother has that. Can’t you sell the painting without it?” the man asked.
Ellery shook her head. “No gallery or art buyer will buy a piece of this value without it. I hope you find it. Many people keep those papers in a safe deposit box or a safe.”
“Yeah, I’ll check those out. I didn’t know they were needed. Thanks a lot. You’ve been very helpful.”
Tinsley and Ellery watched the men leave before turning toward each other.
“That was strange, right?” Ellery asked. “Did you notice they never looked at any of the artwork?”
Tinsley nodded. “Very strange. Think it was a forgery?”
“Has to be. No one has a Hamburg without guarding the provenance with their life.”
“They didn’t even know who Hamburg was.” Tinsley shook her head. Unfortunately, art forgery was more common than people thought. “Well, are you ready for your pedicure?”
Tinsley looked at Ellery and saw her face wrinkle in confusion.
“You know, where someone rubs your feet and makes your toes pretty?”
The grooves in Ellery’s forehead deepened before her eyes shot wide open. “Dammit!”
“What?” Tinsley asked.
“I’m not going to get my pedicure,” Ellery said as a tear rolled down her face.
“Why not? We’re going right now.”
“Because I just went into labor,” Ellery cried.
Tinsley looked down at Ellery’s stomach as if expecting the baby to pop out right this instant. “What do I do?”
“Call Gavin,” Ellery said as she made her way to her office as quickly as she could while Tinsley fumbled with her phone.
“Gav, Ellery is in labor!” she yelled the second her cousin answered his phone.
Ellery came walking back out with her hands supporting her lower back and walked to the front door. She flipped the sign to Closed and locked up before cringing again.
“Get her to the hospital. I’ll tell them you’re on your way. I’ll be there soon. How is she holding up?” Gavin asked.
“She’s pissed she didn’t get her pedicure.”
“I’ll work something out. Take care of her, Tins.”
“I will,” Tinsley swore.
“Just look at them. They’re mocking me.” Ellery glared at her toes from her hospital bed.
A nurse was waiting for them at admitting and whisked Ellery up to the maternity floor, leaving Tinsley to handle the registration. They’d gotten Ellery changed into a hospital gown, hooked her up to all these devices, and examined all before Tinsley arrived from the land of endless paperwork. Ellery was five centimeters dilated and had just gotten what she called her happy juice.
The door to the room burst open and Ryker Faulkner was standing there in a thousand-dollar suit with a look of pure panic on his face. “I’m here!”
Tinsley looked at her cousin and tried not to laugh. “That’s nice of you to come support Ellery and Gavin.”
Ryker shook his head and held up a drug store bag. “Gavin called and said it was an emergency. I left a very important and sensitive negotiation to get this to you. He said you couldn’t have the baby without it.”
Tinsley stood up and walked to the door where Ryker seemed stuck. She grabbed the bag and opened it. “This is very nice of you, Ryker.”
“What is it?” Ellery asked.
“It’s nail polish for your toes,” Tinsley said, bringing the bag to the bed. It wasn’t just nail polish—it was a whole collection of nail polish. Ryker had bought one of every color.
“Ryker! You’re amazing!” Ellery said before bursting out into tears.
Ryker’s pale face paled even more. He started to back slowly out of the room, but Ellery motioned for him to come to her bedside. Warring emotions of fear, panic, and Southern manners slid across his face. In the end, manners won and he stepped forward slowly. Ellery reached for his hand and Ryker looked as if he were sticking it in a vat of acid as he tentatively put his hand in hers.
“Thank you so much. I know it’s silly, but it’s important to me.”
“You’re welcome,” Ryker said slowly, still acting as if someone were about to jump out and scare him.
“What color should I do?” Ellery asked as she began going through the bottles.
“This one,” Tinsley said, picking up a bright red. “It’s called Red Hot Mama.”
“Perfect,” Ellery said as she clapped her hands. Ryker tried to sneak out, but Ellery stopped him. “Will you stay for a bit, Ryker?”
“Don’t you need something else? I can run and get you some food or maybe some bourbon. I feel bourbon would be helpful right now.”
Tinsley hid her laugh at her cousin. Ryker had changed so much since that night long ago. His laughter and carefree attitude had vanished in a single moment. Ryker had turned into a stone-cold business tycoon. However, every now and then, flashes of the old Ryker came through.
“Baby!” Ellery cried out suddenly.
“Where?” Ryker jumped up, looking at where Tinsley was painting Ellery’s toes.
“I think she means me,” Gavin said with a laugh as he walked into the room with Ellery’s bag and the biggest smile Tinsley had ever seen. “I guess I’ll need a new term of endearment or it could get confusing.”
“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Ryker said with relief as Gavin hurried to Ellery’s bedside with the rest of the family right behind him.
Tinsley kept right on painting Ellery’s toes as the rest of the Faulkner family entertained Ellery.
Ryker had silently slipped from the room within seconds of their arrival, but now four hours later he was back in the waiting room with the rest of the family. Ellery was progressing, and the family had taken up half of the waiting room.
Tinsley sat next to her brother, Ridge, and his wife, Savannah, and talked to pass the time. Her cousin Wade, and his wife, Darcy, sat talking to Gavin’s sister, Harper, and her husband, Dare. Trent was off to the side talking with Ryker. As the hours passed, people rotated around the room until Tinsley had talked with everyone.
The elevator doors opened and a woman with brown hair and a blood-splattered shirt raced out. “Did I miss it?”
Trent shook his head at his wife, Skye. Skye Jessamine was a famous actress and currently shooting her first action movie in Atlanta. Luckily, the blood on her shirt was fake and part of her costume.
“No, the baby isn’t here yet. You had time to change.” Trent kissed his wife as the other people in the waiting room gaped and rushed to ask if they could take her picture.
Skye agreed to photos then politely, but firmly, disengaged from her fans so she could focus on her family. “Tell me everything.”
“A nurse told us that she’s started pushing,” Trent told her.
They turned as the door to the labor room opened and out came Gavin with a bundle in his arms.
Tinsley gasped and felt tears rush to her eyes. She was a softy and didn’t care who knew it as Gavin showed off the chubby-cheeked baby.
“I’m an auntie,” Harper whispered in quiet wonder as she ran a finger down the baby’s cheek. “How’s Ellery?”
“She’s perfect. She was simply amazing. And this littl
e bundle came out bright-eyed and ready to meet everyone. This is our son, Chase.”
2
The summer heat in Charleston was worse than in Atlanta. Paxton Kendry would never give Charleston the satisfaction of complaining, but the ocean breeze did very little to lower the humidity.
Paxton rubbed his chest where three bullet wounds had healed and scarred over as he looked at his computer in the FBI’s office. Six months ago, he was working deep undercover in Atlanta as second-in-command of the Violent Gang Task Force and now he was stuck sitting behind a desk in a freaking suit looking at art crimes. He’d taken three bullets on the job in Atlanta, but instead of moving up to head the task force when his boss retired, Paxton had been shipped off to Charleston where he was dealing with several complaints about forged paintings. On top of the lack of excitement, so far none of the galleries had actually purchased or sold said forgeries so there was no evidence for him to examine. Just gut feelings of several art gallery owners.
“Kendry, are you working on anything right now?” his boss, Peter Castle, asked from the door to Paxton’s small office.
“Nothing important. What have you got?” Paxton said a prayer that a new gang had moved into town or something equally threatening to get him out of the office and back on the streets.
Peter stepped into the office and took a seat at the one chair across from Paxton. He held out a file and Paxton took it. He flipped the file open and began scanning the documents. “Home burglary really isn’t our thing, but sure, why not? I’ll take it.”
“It’s not your run-of-the-mill burglary. There have been three break-ins in very upscale neighborhoods where only jewelry and artwork have been taken. And,” Peter said dramatically, “not all artwork. Only very specific, high-value, artwork.”
Okay, that got Paxton’s attention. “Interesting. Any suspects?”
Peter shook his head. “Local police couldn’t find any common denominators. They all use different service providers, from house cleaners to yard maintenance. They are all in different neighborhoods, have different jobs, and donate to different charities, as far as we can tell. Nothing is the same except they have very expensive taste in art. Hence, local police have asked for our help.”
Paxton finished reviewing the file. “Well, jewelry can be melted down, but artwork is different. Was it insured?”
“Yes. They were all insured.”
“Have they been ransomed? Lots of art thieves ransom the artwork back to the insurance companies so they end up paying out less than the claim. It’s a quick turnaround for the thieves, and the insurance companies usually agree to it because it’s cheaper than paying out the claim.”
“Nope. Not a single ransom or a hint of any contact whatsoever,” Peter told him.
Paxton looked at pictures of the artwork taken and groaned. “I know my art but I don’t know it well enough to know if there’s some hidden connection to the artwork.”
“Good thing we have an FBI consultant when need be.” Peter smirked and Paxton wanted to groan. “How can you not like Tinsley Faulkner? She’s literally one of the sweetest people I know.”
Oh, it wasn’t a matter of not liking her. It was a matter of liking her a little too much. Over the years, he’d been told that all good things come in small packages. Well, Tinsley was a perfect example of that. She only came up to his chest and had curves that he dreamed about. She was sweet as the apple pie she’d brought to welcome him to Charleston. Only Paxton didn’t do sweet and this attraction bugged the hell out of him. He was used to controlling everything and everyone around him. You didn’t get as far as he did in Violent Gangs without pushing people around.
He’d tried to push Tinsley around when she’d helped on a case. Tried to shunt her off to the side and retain control of the case and his feelings. Then the worst thing happened. Tinsley hadn’t backed down. She’d poked him in the chest and told him if he wanted to solve the case, he either needed to listen to her or go back to school to learn about art. It was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen. He’d wanted to pick her up, have her wrap her legs around his waist, and . . .
“I never said I didn’t like her,” Paxton pointed out.
“I can take these to her when I go home tonight if you don’t want to. Maybe you’re a big elephant afraid of the little Tinsley mouse,” Peter said, interrupting Paxton’s thoughts.
“No, I’ve got it. I know how much you enjoy your time with Karri. How is she doing? Tell her I really loved the meal she sent me last week.”
“She’s doing great. Her partnership with Harper Reigns is taking off. Their specialty paired meal and drink menu is even attracting people from Charleston to drive out to Shadows Landing,” Peter said proudly. Paxton had met Peter’s girlfriend on the first day in the Charleston office when Peter had taken him out to dinner at Karri’s restaurant in Shadows Landing. The two of them were totally in sync and completely in love.
“I’ll have a flyer sent to the galleries so they’ll be on the lookout for the stolen paintings before I talk to Tinsley,” Paxton said, turning to his computer.
Peter left his office as Paxton’s fingers flew over the keyboard. He’d send his notes to his assistant and have him mail out the graphic to all the galleries in a hundred-mile radius after he uploaded the artwork into the stolen art database.
Paxton was working even though his mind was on Tinsley. He didn’t mean to always get into debates with her, but she was just so damned sexy when she parked her hands on her hips and told him what’s what. Her intellect was sexier than those curves she had, and that was saying something. If Tinsley loved with the same passion she debated with, she would rock Paxton’s world. That is, if Tinsley ever let him into her bed. However, Tinsley struck him as a long-term relationship kind of woman, and one thing Paxton wasn’t was a long-term kind of guy. He never knew when he’d be transferred, and he fully intended to get back to the Violent Gangs Task Force in Atlanta as soon as possible. That meant instead of wrapping those legs around his waist and pushing her up against the wall, debating Tinsley would have to do.
Tinsley stepped back to look at her canvas and frowned. How did that man get there? Why was he kissing that woman? Why did the man look suspiciously like Paxton Kendry and the woman look shockingly similar to her?
Tinsley let her head fall back on a groan before she moved to turn off the music in the back room of her gallery. She had been free painting and apparently her subconscious was tired of being shut out of her thoughts.
She’d overheard two tourists trashing all the art in her studio and needed to refresh her creative soul which had been crushed at the unnecessarily cruel criticism. She knew it was part of life, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she heard them laughing and saying nasty things about her work. So, Tinsley had turned off the lights, lit a roomful of candles, and turned on her favorite music. Then she’d gotten lost in the world of color, music, and unconscious movement. Her mind told her that Paxton was a pain in the ass, but her subconscious was connected to her heart and painted a different picture. This painting showed how strong and protective Paxton was. His storm-gray eyes were closed in the painting as he clutched her to him. Her back was curved into the shape of a C as Paxton bent her back and kissed her.
Tinsley had been annoyed because Paxton liked to dominate every conversation they had, even when they weren’t arguing. And while she was petite, she wasn’t a pushover. However, her annoyance had shifted recently when she realized his whole body came alive when they were together. The storm clouds cleared from his eyes. His body language wasn’t intimidating, but proud. He leaned toward her when they talked, he smiled at her, teased her, and that’s when her annoyance turned into anticipation.
Everyone around her treated Tinsley like she was some kind of fragile flower. She was the smallest and the youngest of all the Faulkners and her family tended to think of her as a child still. Then a couple of years ago, she’d been attacked when she was trying to protect her best friend, Edi
e Greene Wecker, from the man who had killed Edie’s husband and was trying to kill her brother.
Yes, Tinsley had been injured. Yes, she’d been scared. That didn’t mean she was broken, though. She’d fought back. She’d been taking self-defense lessons not only in Charleston, but also at the church in Shadows Landing. Only when she felt fully capable of handling a weapon safely herself did she go out and buy Tina, a paint-splattered handgun she kept for safety at her house. Tinsley’s gallery was in downtown Shadows Landing, but her house was out in the country. She felt better knowing she had Tina when she went home alone at night.
Tinsley looked at the painting and smiled. Paxton might be pushy and refused to admit he didn’t know the difference between Monet and Manet, but he didn’t treat her as if she’d break if he looked at her cross-eyed. Instead, he treated her like an equal. He constantly pushed her intellectually, and she was finding herself looking forward to their next debate. Maybe looking forward too much if her painting told her anything.
“Tinsley.”
Tinsley spun with her paintbrush out like a dagger as a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Are you going to paint me to death?”
Tinsley rolled her eyes at the object of her fascination. “Agent Kendry, what are you doing here and why didn’t you knock?”
Paxton’s lips turned up into a slow smile and Tinsley bit the inside of her lower lip to prevent herself from staring. “I did knock, but you were lost in thought. I’m sorry to interrupt your work.”
Paxton moved to look at the painting and Tinsley jumped in front of it. Would he notice she’d painted them kissing?
Paxton looked down at her and chuckled. His eyes were alive as he kept his smile in place. “You’re cute when you’re self-conscious about your work, but it doesn’t do much good to try to hide it when I’m taller than you by a foot.”
“Then you should respect my obvious wishes for no one to see it and look away,” Tinsley said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at him. Unfortunately, her eyes never made it past his lips until his smile widened after he noticed where she was staring.
Framed Shadows: Shadows Landing #6 Page 2
