Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Freddy would stay, even when things grew difficult. Maybe he had cared about me all this time.
Sure, he’d left when we were eighteen. I’d been thrown out of my parent’s house and had to make my own way. I’d blamed him for a long time—but he was only trying to make his way in the world, too. He’d been studying on a scholarship and his entire future had hinged on his performance.
We’d both been two kids under immense pressure, and maybe it was time for me to forgive him.
My heart felt peaceful for the first time in years at the thought of forgiveness. I realized that forgiveness wasn’t something that just happened, it was a conscious choice. All I had to do was choose to forgive Freddy, and all that hurt would dissolve away into nothing. It was time for me to let go.
Then, I heard the rumbling of a truck in the alleyway. Instantly, I was on high alert. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I strained my ears to listen.
Thankful that I’d already turned off the lights, I tiptoed over to the wall that faced the alleyway and placed my stepladder beneath the high windows. I moved slowly, pulling myself up once again to peer over the window ledge.
The same men were outside, having the same difficulty backing into the loading bay beside my studio. This time, their truck was bigger, so there was no way they’d be able to back it into the small space. I watched, wide-eyed, as they abandoned their efforts and rolled the trailer door up to start unloading the paintings by hand.
Breathless, I watched. I didn’t dare move. I knew the studio was dark and it would be almost impossible for them to see me looking through the corner of the window, but it still felt risky. Now that I knew that the CIA were watching, all the puzzle pieces started falling into place.
Art exhibitions. Large movement of money. Gianni ripping open that canvas last time. Was he moving money in those paintings? That would explain the connection to the art gallery—and also why their paperwork had been squeaky clean. They weren’t laundering money through the art gallery. They were physically moving it.
My heart thumped. How had I not realized this before?
Up until last night—until Freddy and I had talked about our past—I hadn’t really believed him about Gianni. I’d trusted Gianni more than I’d trusted Freddy. Gianni had given me a career, a future—and Freddy had only given me heartbreak.
But now…
Something shifted inside me. My doubts about Freddy were evaporating, and I started questioning every interaction I’d ever had with Gianni. The business meeting at the Four Seasons, the way he dodged all my questions about the art gallery, these late-night deliveries…
I was in the middle of a dangerous hurricane. I didn’t know anything about these people—but my gut was telling me to trust Freddy, and to distance myself from Gianni.
The gallery door rattled, and I nearly fell off my step stool. I jumped off, grabbing my headphones and throwing them on my head as I dove onto my yoga mat again, pretzeling myself into a pose just as the door opened. Gianni appeared in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until he saw me.
I jumped, pretending to be startled. “Gianni,” I said, my voice sounding too fake to my own ears. “You’re still here?”
“I was going to say the same thing about you,” he replied. His eyes looked black in the low light of the studio.
I pulled my headphones off my head and forced a smile. A garage door slammed outside and the truck rumbled to life again. I pretended not to hear it. “Can I help you with anything?”
“What do you know about Thomas Langston?”
Thomas Langston – Freddy’s fictional identity.
Uh oh.
“Umm… not much.” I toyed with the edge of my shirt.
“He seems to have taken an interest in you.”
“Has he?” My voice squeaked.
Gianni gestured to my new painting. “This is different from your usual style. Happier.” He frowned.
I gulped. “I… I know. I’ve just… Since I broke up with Jayden and you connected me to all these art lovers, life has just been a lot easier.” I took a deep breath. “I realized I never properly thanked you.”
“Well, Hailey,” he said, walking toward me. His face was still cast in shadows, and dread started snaking up my spine. “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement—and I wasn’t using this studio space anyway.”
There was an edge to his voice and I wondered, for the first time, if Gianni was really as generous as I’d first thought. Maybe all this time in the studio—all these sales and commissions—were him just using me as an all-too-innocent artist willing to paint whenever he told me to, supplying him with an endless stream of canvasses to stuff with his dirty money.
As if reading my mind, Gianni spoke. “I want you to paint a new series for the gallery opening in three weeks’ time.” He pointed to the new painting. “I like that one.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“I have special clients from all over the United States coming, so I’ll need at least…” he squinted, tapping his fingers against his leg as if he were counting. “At least a dozen new paintings.”
“A dozen paintings in three weeks?”
His eyes narrowed toward me. “Is that a problem?”
“I… No. No, of course not. I can do that.”
“Good.” He turned around and walked out the door without another word.
My hands trembled as I reached for my phone. I was about to dial Freddy’s number when I hesitated. Was Gianni watching me in here? Had he seen me and Freddy, too? Had he seen me peering over the edge of the window?
Panic and paranoia made me freeze, staring at the door through which Gianni had disappeared. Instead of calling Freddy, I just slipped my phone into my purse and locked up the studio. I would call him when I was home.
My legs felt like jelly and my brain like scrambled eggs. The only thing that kept me upright as I walked away from the Russo Art Gallery was bright, sharp, white-hot fear.
26
Freddy
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, but it crept into the edges, and Hailey winced. I took a deep breath. “You should have told us about the original delivery two and a half months ago. This is crucial information, Hailey.”
“I didn’t think… I don’t know. I didn’t…”. She bit her lip, drumming her fingers on her kitchen table.
I balled my hands into fists. “You didn’t what?”
She straightened up. “I didn’t trust you, okay? And I didn’t think it was relevant. Up until recently, I thought this whole investigation into the Russos was a mistake.”
Frustration gurgled inside me, but I pushed it down. Hailey wasn’t privy to the information that I had. I’d just walked into her life and turned it upside down, forcing her to work for the Agency. Of course she didn’t trust me. I knew that already.
But if we’d known about that delivery, we could have set up surveillance in the alleyway. We could have been ready for the one that had happened today.
We weren’t, and I needed to move on. Hailey was opening up to me in ways I’d never thought were possible, and that was something to be grateful for. I’d tell Berkeley about the deliveries, and we’d be ready for the next one. At least Hailey had started trusting me.
I stood up and walked over to Hailey, putting my hands on her shoulders. I massaged them until she started to relax. “It’s okay. You’re doing really well. I’m sorry I got mad. You’re a natural at this undercover stuff, and I forget you haven’t had the training and information that I have.”
She nodded. “Thanks.” Hailey put her hand on top of mine and leaned her head back until it rested against my stomach. I brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and leaned down to kiss it.
“So what happens now?” Hailey looked up. “I have a feeling this exhibition is important. I don’t know, Freddy. Gianni’s never asked me to paint anything so fast. He’s never aske
d me to paint anything on a timeline, to be honest. When he came to see me it felt different. It felt like he wasn’t telling me something.”
“What do you think he wasn’t telling you?”
“He said something about New York—maybe that guy I met is coming back? Wei, or whatever his name was?”
Hailey’s eyebrows arched with worry and my heart twanged. She wasn’t built for this—even if she was a natural at it. Undercover work was stressful and dangerous, and Hailey was far too sensitive.
But she did have good instincts. If she was right, then the holiday exhibition would be the perfect cover for move large sums of money.
“Did you say you saw Gianni rip open one of the paintings?”
Hailey nodded, kneading her hands together. “I’ve never seen him be so rough with anything. You think they’re using the artwork to move money?”
I took a deep breath. I hadn’t considered that—none of us at the agency had. I thought the art gallery had been part of the financial side, but their records were squeaky-clean. If the artwork itself was hiding cash…
Hailey stood up and wrapped her arms around my waist. I brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead, forcing a smile onto my lips. Her face was drawn.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Just do what you do best and create the best paintings you can. I’ll handle the rest.”
“What’s going to happen, Freddy?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth. The exhibition was in just over two weeks, which didn’t give us much time to organize a full-scale sting operation. The Russos were making a move, and this might be the only chance we had to expose them for the dirty, sex-trafficking criminals they were.
Art lovers, my ass.
I wrapped my arms around Hailey as my heart swelled. The most important thing was keeping her safe—and that meant locking the Russos up. If they ever sniffed any CIA-involvement from her, they’d kill her.
I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’d been responsible for her losing her family, her name, and her future. I wouldn’t be responsible for Hailey losing her life as well.
“I’ll protect you, Hailey. I give you my word. I’ll be there beside you, every step of the way. I won’t leave you.”
I tightened my hold on her and tilted her chin up. I kissed her with all the strength of my emotion, teasing her lips open and deepening the kiss. I pressed my hand to her lower back as heat flooded down my body.
This was the woman who’d accepted me for who I was, back when I’d been a poor, skinny teenager—alone and different in a prep school where I hadn’t belonged. She was the woman who’d given up her future to protect me. She was the woman that I’d left behind.
But I wasn’t going to do it again. No matter what, Hailey would come first. Yes, Berkeley wanted to use her. Yes, she was part of this operation now—but I wouldn’t put her in jeopardy for the sake of nailing the Russos.
“Hailey,” I said, cupping her face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Her eyebrows drew together as her fingers slipped under my shirt.
“For everything. For leaving. For not being there for you. For bringing you into this investigation instead of protecting you at the first chance I got.”
Then, Hailey did something I didn’t expect. She laughed. “You think I would have accepted your protection? Freddy, for the past two and a half months I’ve been trying to convince myself that I hate you. I don’t, by the way.” She dropped her hands from my waist and looked away. “I can’t hate you. Even after you left, I understood. Deep down, I knew you had to go. At least one of us got out of that situation.”
Hailey sighed, running her hand over her face. “It was awful, and I was angry and hurt for a long time—but it’s over now, and we’re both better people for it. Thank you for apologizing.”
Emotion choked me. How could she be so generous? To let me back in? To forgive me when I’d been a coward.
She flicked her eyes up to mine and they shone bright. “I forgave you as soon as you walked into that gallery opening and ripped my heart out of my chest all over again.”
I squeezed my arms around her. “That wasn’t what I meant to do, Hailey.”
“I meant it in a good way. I happen to be a bit of a masochist—and having my heart shredded over and over again by the same man is somewhat enjoyable.”
My face must have fallen, because Hailey laughed and kissed my lips.
“I’m kidding. Mostly.”
“I’m not going to shred your heart again, Hailey—and I’m not going to let this ruin your career. Whatever happens with the Russos, you’re still an amazing artist. No one can take that away from you—not even the CIA.”
Hailey smiled sadly. She brushed her lips against mine and leaned her head against my chest. We stood there, arms around each other, as something else shook loose from my heart. Another wall was falling down between us. Hailey’s forgiveness was healing my broken heart, and I knew that I’d do anything for her.
I knew in the next few weeks, that commitment was going to be tested, but I had no idea how much.
27
Hailey
I painted like I’d never painted before. For two weeks, I woke with the sun and painted until late at night, often sleeping at the studio. It was fast, passionate, and intense. I produced some of my best work. I only saw Freddy in snippets during that time, when I collapsed in my own bed in my apartment a couple of nights a week.
Opening up to Freddy—allowing him in—had changed something within me. Forgiveness had healed me. I thought I’d forgiven him a long time ago, but I realized I’d only pushed the hurt aside. This time, I faced it head-on and realized that I didn’t need hurt to be an artist. I didn’t need to carry pain with me everywhere I went.
I’d never hated him—not really. But saying it out loud had made me realize that I did forgive him for leaving. I was glad he was back.
I wanted him by my side.
The energy in the gallery was shifting, too. Excitement and anticipation for the exhibition mounted, with Gianni rushing to and fro as he organized everything. Even Francesca and Marco—who I hadn’t seen in weeks—visited my studio. They inspected my new paintings and said all the right things, congratulating me on my genius.
Unease crawled up my spine until they were gone, and then bitterness coated my mouth for the rest of the day. I couldn’t paint after their visit, and that scared me.
The day before the gallery opening, Freddy showed up at my apartment with a small jewelry box.
“Here’s the microphone and camera you’ll be wearing,” he said, opening the box to show me a beautiful, pendant necklace. I ran my fingers over it, my heart skipping a beat at the thought of wearing a wire. This was more dangerous than eavesdropping on conversations or spending additional time at the gallery. This was more dangerous than peeking out of a window at those clandestine deliveries.
This was real.
I put on a brave smile and nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Gianni is expecting me. We’ll have two other agents at the exhibition and three teams outside. You’ll be completely safe.”
I nodded again, words sticking to my throat.
“Don’t worry, Hailey, you’ll do great. We just need you to act natural, and we’ll get a record of everyone who purchases the artwork. Anyone that Gianni introduces to you—anyone that commissions a painting—we need to know about them.”
“Okay,” I said, not able to manage more of a response than that.
Freddy closed the box and wrapped his arms around me. He kissed me slowly, gently—teasing my lips open and slowly working the tension out of my body. I wrapped my arms around him and melted into his embrace, relishing the strength and safety of his touch.
He undressed me slowly, his eyes darkening as he ran his fingers over my bare skin. I expected him to say something—to be dominant, and rough, and dirty just like I loved him to be.
But he wasn’t. Instead, his hands barely brushed my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He teased my legs apart and touched me tenderly. Softly. Slowly.
We made love on the living room floor, not saying a word to each other. The fire burning in his eyes said enough. His touch spoke volumes. His kiss told me what I needed to know.
Freddy cared about me. He always had.
And in three short months, he’d smashed my defenses wide open and made me fall in love with him all over again. He grunted as he came inside me and I wrapped my legs around him, trembling.
Whatever happened tomorrow, I knew Freddy was there for me. I was safe. I was loved.
I was his.
The night of the holiday exhibition, I was just as nervous as I had been for the first gallery opening back in September—but this time it was a different type of nerves.
I was nervous about Freddy, about Gianni, and about what would happen after the exhibition. Now that we suspected how the Russos were using the artwork, there was a real buzz to the investigation. This exhibition would hopefully expose a lot of bad people, the Russos included.
I slipped on another rented gown and fastened the pendant to my neck. I touched it softly and then took a deep breath. Showtime.
This time, I wasn’t late. My cab pulled up outside the Russo Art Gallery just as the bulk of the guests were arriving. The wide, marble steps were as grandiose as ever. The columns were illuminated in bright, white light instead of the previous multitude of colors. Another banner hung above the doors, with my name in huge letters alongside a few other artists.
I wore an off-the shoulder black gown that swirled around my legs. As I climbed the steps, I was careful not to fall. There were a lot more people here for tonight’s event, and as much as Freddy found my clumsiness endearing—plastic cups and all—I didn’t exactly want to make a show of it in front of an audience.
My eyes scanned the stairs, the street, the guests around me—but I didn’t know if Freddy or the other agents were here. I didn’t recognize anyone.
His Word: A CIA Military Romance Page 13
