by Nana Malone
East
When we pulled up to the hotel in its stunning opulence, Nyla’s mouth dropped open. "I expected modern and shiny, like the hotel in London."
I lifted one shoulder in an offhand shrug. "We decided what we wanted for the branding is for the London Lords logo to fit anywhere. It should be simple elegance that can blend into whatever style of architecture we find. Which also lends to our sustainability and core mission. We aim to design hotels that look like other structures near them. Monaco is known for its opulence and its glitz and glamour. So we designed this hotel to match."
"It's… wow."
Before I even approached the desk, the concierge located me in the crowd. "Mr. Hale, we're so pleased to have you with us. As we discussed, we have the suite available. I didn't realize you'd be bringing a guest."
"It's fine. Pierre, this is Agent Nyla Kincade. She works for Interpol."
Pierre, ever affable, didn't even blink when I said Interpol. Instead he bowed low and offered to take her bags. Between him and the porter, they took all of our luggage, leaving Nyla only with her cross-body purse and me with my keys as I headed toward the garage. "Follow me."
"We're not going to the room? And PS, where am I staying?"
I laughed. "When I said suite, I meant a three thousand square foot suite with four bedrooms."
Her mouth formed a small O, and then she closed it. "Okay then."
The drive to my sister's residence was beautiful and scenic, the sun pouring in. I'd chosen to let my driver go and drive us there myself. We kept several personal vehicles at each of our hotels to use when we visited on business, and I decided the black convertible would be a great choice because of the scenery along water. When I slipped into the car and slid my jacket off, Nyla just glanced at me deviously. "You realize that this isn't some Roman Holiday kind of outing, right?"
I grinned. "Oh, I'm well aware. Get in."
Even though she'd been skeptical, the moment we started to drive up the coast, she extended her arms, turned her face up into the sun, and laughed. She had the kind of laugh that gripped a guy by the balls and wouldn't let go. Deep and throaty and so buoyant. When I parked at the back of AJ’s building, Nyla grabbed her laptop out of the back and met my gaze, her eyes sparkling. "Oh my God, that was the most incredible drive."
"Yes, I know. I'm always stunned by it when I come here too. There's nothing quite like the Riviera, especially in summertime with all the sunshine. I’m always aware that I shouldn’t take it for granted.”
My inner me wanted to roll my eyes at myself.
Oh yeah, real smooth. Keep flirting with her. See how that goes. Don’t forget she tried to bug you.
And that was true. She had tried to bug us, but I’d found it. Still, I couldn't look at her without feeling like I’d been hit in the sternum. She was stunning. More than that, she was smart and cunning, and she had the kind of spirit that couldn't be bought anywhere. The back door to the offices swung open, and my big sister leaned in the doorway, looking more like my father as she aged. Behind her, stood her wife, Margaux. Margaux wrapped an arm around AJ's waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek before stepping forward. "East, maybe next time you’ll give us more than a two-day notice that you're coming. We would have opened the villa."
Margaux's hug was tight. AJ and Margaux had been together since I'd been at Eton. To me, Margaux was as much my sister as AJ was. But when AJ told the old man she was in love with Margaux, Dad had disowned her. Asshole. I would never forgive him for that. AJ approached Nyla first. "Agent Kincade, I assume."
"Yes. I’m Nyla." She thrust out her hand and AJ clasped it with both of hers.
"It's delightful to meet you. This is my wife, Margaux. You're going to have to forgive her. She's exuberant in her actions. Also, I'm pretty sure she's a bit in love with my little brother."
Margaux released me, checked me over like a worried mother hen, and then smiled. "If I wasn’t completely in love with his sister, I would make a play for him."
AJ just rolled her eyes, and I laughed as I said, "Nyla, you'll have to forgive them. They're not used to visitors."
AJ grinned and then came over and gave me just as tight of a hug as Margaux had. "East, it’s so good to see you. You didn't have to come all this way. I would have come to London next month anyway."
"I know. But Nyla here has a little problem, and I'm hoping we can help her fix that."
AJ's brow furrowed. "What's the problem?"
That was what I loved about my sister. It didn't matter what it was, or what was going on with her, or anything like that. If she heard someone was having a problem, she wanted to help fix it.
"Why don't we take this inside?"
AJ and Margaux guided us through their main quarters. Their residence was connected to the museum, just at the back of the grounds. It wasn't overly large, but they loved it and had been fixing up the nursery since Margaux found out she was pregnant. I couldn't help but notice as we walked through their house that there were about a million of pictures of myself and AJ in various stages of growing up on display. Nyla noticed too, and every now and again, she would pause at a picture and laugh. There was one where I was bare-assed, running after my sister and wailing. Our nanny had gotten that photo.
AJ liked to joke that it didn't matter what was going on, I would always follow her, even if I was bare-assed.
When we hit the living room, Margaux went to get everyone drinks, and AJ took Nyla's hand. "So, Agent Kincade, what can I do for you?"
Nyla wasted no time. "Well, I'm on the trail of some thieves. Some art, but mostly jewels. The incident you had at the museum a few years ago resembles their MO. The thieves managed to replace and pawn off forgeries in a visiting exhibit. I'd like to take a look at your collection, and maybe you can fill me in on the process of authenticating your pieces and how you detected the fraudulent reproductions. I'd love to talk to someone who's an expert on how one would even go about doing something like this."
AJ's brows popped and she turned her attention to me. "My God, East Hale, you’ve finally brought home a woman that I could fall in love with."
Nyla
"Thank you so much for taking the time out to speak with me. I know you must be very busy."
A.J. waved her hand. "Oh, come on when my little brother asks for a favor, of course I have to comply."
I slid my gaze over to East. Somehow picturing him as someone's little brother was difficult. "Yes well, he must have been very annoying as a child."
The dark-haired woman laughed. "Oh, absolutely."
I settled my attention back on her. "Can you tell me about the forgery incident that occurred here?"
"Yeah. I mean it was quite odd."
"Anything you can remember from that time could be extremely useful."
A.J. rubbed at her nose. "Okay. Well, there were several pieces that had come in as part of the Tillson collection, mostly jewelry, but also two art pieces. The jewelry were these ornate, intricate brooches and necklaces, a couple of tiaras. All total, the value was about fifteen million."
I jotted notes down on my tablet. "And how did you recognize that the items weren’t genuine?"
A.J sighed. "That's the thing. I didn't notice. We had hired an assistant curator to help us with the collection, and he’d been on staff for several months. We had authenticators on staff and security, obviously. But somehow the items were replaced before the exhibit opened."
"And you didn't suspect anything?"
AJ shook her head, her dark locks shifting over her shoulders. "No. We didn't notice. They'd already been authenticated and placed in our secure vault. There was no reason to think as we prepared for the collection to be shown that anything had been switched. There were no security flags."
I nodded as I took more notes. “Okay. So how did you figure it out?"
She chuffed softly. "Believe it or not, it was one of the paintings. the last one. It was discovered completely by accident because I was being a klutz. W
e had just gotten the painting back from the authenticators. I had just opened it up and pulled it out of its crate. We all had on our gloves and everything we needed. Security was on hand overseeing everything, and I tripped.”
“Did you drop it?”
She shook her head. "I reached for the edge of the table and tried to avoid scratching the painting. But my finger caught onto the very corner edge."
“Oh shit.”
“Oh shit is right. I thought I‘d brought ruin to the museum until I pulled back my gloved hand and noticed the paint had rubbed off."
"Paint? But you said the piece had already been authenticated and then it came straight to you."
"That’s right, but I think the switch was made either at the authenticators or in transit."
"And you figured out who was doing it?"
She nodded. “The assistant curator. He'd attended one of the best art schools in the world. Loved art and was a painter himself. But yeah, even East‘s extensive background check couldn't find a thing on him. It was like he was a ghost. Sure, on paper, he’d had a real life. School, great parents, the perfect life. But his other life, the real one, there was no record of him. It's as if his background was manufactured just for this purpose."
"Okay, so between the authenticators and the museum, a switch was made?"
AJ nodded. "Seems that way. The authenticators certified authenticity upon handoff. When we debriefed with them, they said the painting was an authentic Thomas Ackerman, valued at about two million."
"How long between the authentication and your unboxing?"
"Probably about eight hours. That's when we noticed it. So everyone who could have come in contact with the collection and would've possibly been able to make a switch was called in by the police."
"Yeah. I remember the case. It wasn't mine. But I remember hearing about it. So, the assistant curator was part of some group of thieves?"
AJ nodded. "Yeah, the Wilsons. They're responsible for millions of dollars of artwork and jewelry going missing all over Europe. They'd never done anything this sophisticated before though. This required careful planning over a series of weeks. They could have been discovered at any time. So it was very unusual."
"And the jewels, when did you discover those had been swapped?"
AJ shrugged. "Well, as soon as we discovered that one painting was a forgery, we looked at the other painting and pulled all the jewels in the collection, and we found they were also forgeries. They were replaced with emeralds and rubies and diamonds, but lower quality ones. Gems where clarity wasn't as good., Whoever arranged for the heist paid a pretty penny for those replicas, but in the thousands, nothing in the millions range."
“And the jewels had also already been authenticated and prepared for viewing?"
“Yes. We got lucky. We would have handled them with care and shown them off to the public. Replicas."
I tried to tamp down my excitement. Maybe I could turn this into a genuine lead. "That's exactly what my jewelry forgers have been doing as well. Replacing priceless pieces with less expensive pieces. So you said it was the Wilson crew and they were caught?”
AJ nodded. "Yes. The assistant curator didn't want to give them up. But once we started looking in the right places, tracking his movements in Monaco and France and Italy, they were able to piece things together and caught most of the crew. But there was one forger who worked for them that we did not catch.”
I sagged. I couldn't help tugging on that little string of hope. "And the forger, tell me the one you caught wasn’t the jewelry forger? Maybe he got away?"
"Sorry, but it was. The art forger is one of the best artists I've ever seen in my life. The curator had done a few of the pieces himself, but a few of the others required a skillset even he didn’t possess. To be able to replicate the Thomas Ackerman. That's just brilliant. The forger could have been an artist in their own right."
"Were most of the authentic pieces recovered??"
"Yes. If I hadn't tripped, we never would have known. We would have returned the collection, and then obviously the shit would have hit the fan. As it was, it was ugly, but we were able to recover the jewels and both paintings, thanks to the authorities. They hadn't hit the black market yet."
I sighed. “This is extremely helpful, thank you. Did you notice anything else unusual around that time?"
She shook her head. “No. And thanks to my brother, we were able to repair our relationship with the family that loaned us the pieces, and everything turned out okay. But that feeling of being duped, you don't shake it."
I slid my gaze to East. "Believe me; I know all about that."
The MO was the same as my cases. But if all of them but one had been caught and the only one who hadn't was the art forger, where were my fake jewels coming from? And where were the originals disappearing to?"
"I wish I could tell you more. I still think about it. I got lucky. It could have been a lot worse."
I frowned as I looked at my previous notes. "And nobody died? Nobody was injured, shot, anything?"
She shook her head. "No. Nothing like that. Nothing violent."
I sighed. Because the crew that had been recently forging jewelry all over Europe had no compunctions on killing.
Either my forgers were copycats, or something else was going on.
Nyla
It was easy to talk to East. Too easy. Despite myself, I liked him.
Beyond the charm and the witty comments, and that panty-melting, crawl-your-way-out-of-your-own-clothes kind of smile, he was thoughtful. And he listened. I watched him with his sister and Margaux.
I paid close attention as they talked. And as AJ walked me through the ins and outs of catching the forger, with the devil being in the details and everything from the stroke to the feeling of the painter at the time being a clue, I observed that East was a voracious learner. I would have expected him to be impatient, blasé, cynical. But there was something about him that was always eager to know more.
“You’re awfully quiet. Overwhelming, is it?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s good. My brain is just running through all the scenarios, the forger’s signatures. It’s a lot. But it’s giving me a lot of avenues to investigate. I just need to piece it together.”
“Glad to give you a good starting point.”
We were walking along the streets of Le Rocher, Monaco’s old town. The peach, vanilla and terracotta colored buildings and tight winding streets made me feel like I was transported back in time to long-ago centuries.
East had driven over to this part of town and then called someone to come and get the car so we could take a walk, which seemed like a fantastic idea at the time. But now I saw it was dangerous because next to me, East was almost irresistible with his long-sleeved summer sweater sculpting the muscles at his broad shoulders, showing off the breadth of them, his casual slacks that emphasized the model-like legs, and with his hair a little windblown and smelling like ocean breezes.
But you will resist him, because you don't need that pain.
That was true. And he wasn't hitting on me.
Why isn’t he hitting on me?
And then my memory, of course, helped me out. When I'd met him at the benefit, he had told me he would not lay a hand on me until I asked him to. Well, good thing I had zero intention of doing that.
"A penny for your thoughts?" he asked.
"Sorry, I'm just running the case in my head."
"I’m glad AJ was helpful."
I felt the injection of adrenaline in my blood. “Oh, she was more than helpful. I’m really impressed. The painting was flawless. I mean, at the end of the day, if something can be replicated to that level of detail, is that actually a replica, or is the creator a true artist?"
He angled his head and regarded me, eyes dancing, lips twitching in a suppressed smile. "Careful, Agent Kincade, you don't sound like an Interpol agent right now."
I shrugged. "You'd be surprised. I don't sound like an Interpol ag
ent most of the time. Much to my father's chagrin."
His smile bloomed, and he aimed it down at me. "Let me guess, Daddy's girl wanted to make the old man proud?"
I laughed. "I’ve hardly made him proud. Hell, it’s hard to do that when he keeps me away from most of the bigger cases. He's my father, so I know he worries about me. I just wish that I could, you know, spread my wings. I wish I could really grow. I just always feel like he's ready to clip my wings in case I do something just a little too dangerous."
He slowed his pace, taking us to the square. "Are your feet okay? Do you want to go back?"
I shook my head. "No. I like this. The weather is beautiful, and the company is okay."
He made a shocked face and clutched his chest. "Just okay? I'll have you know I've been told my company is stellar."
"You know what? I actually believe that."
"As you should." He chuckled softly and then took me back to the topic. "So why follow in his footsteps if you think he'll never let you blossom?"
I shrugged. "When Mom died, I lost my person, you know? I was eleven. And Dad tried, but he had no idea what to do for me. He just wanted to be on a chase. And we honestly didn't know much about each other. When Mom was alive, he would leave home in New York and off he would go, whether it was for the FBI or some international task force or Interpol. Then she was gone, and he had to come home and take care of me. He was going to leave his job, but I told him not to. That nothing had to change."
I frowned at myself. I never talked about that time in my life. Why was it so damn easy to talk to him? Still, I added, "I just made a choice, you know, that since he was all I had, I was going all-in with him. I was going to be exactly the kind of kid that he wanted, so that being with me was not going to be a chore or a burden."
"He's your father, Nyla. You wouldn't have been a chore or a burden." East’s voice was so soft. I could hear the pity in his words.
"Well, tell that to an eleven-year-old. So I changed everything about myself to be more like him. I just wanted him to love me. And lucky for me, I love the chase too. It turns out, I’m a lot more like him than I thought."
