Logan wondered if he’d be able to get in to see it before it shipped. If the painting in Bishop’s house was authentic, then he could follow it to the auction house, like chain of custody. Somewhere in the chain, the link was broken and the forgeries were being slipped in to replace the originals. Cybercrimes had been scouring the internet to find sales of the original painting, but they’d come up empty-handed for Scott’s. Ingram’s was a whole different situation. The rightful owner’s heir suddenly popped up with the painting and donated it per his father’s wishes.
With any luck, his meeting with Agent Stokes tomorrow would prove fruitful.
Mia stopped in front of a painting of a mother and child. Logan read the tag beside the painting. Note to self: do more homework and know this shit before arriving at an event.
“The brushstrokes on this are amazing.”
Brushstrokes? He’d assumed the art was a print. He didn’t see brushstrokes. He leaned closer and the faintest of lines could be seen where the colors blended.
“It is beautiful.” It was a safe comment seeing as the sunset depicted in the background was objectively pretty.
“Do you have a favorite? In college, I was all about pointillism, but in recent years, glazing has caught my eye.”
He searched his memory for any information relating to the words she spoke. Pointillism. The park painting. Lots of dots. “Pointillism was okay. I prefer the Impressionists, though.”
See? He’d paid attention in class. When he wasn’t flirting with his female classmates.
Mia sighed as she moved on to the next painting. “I understand love for the masters, but it sometimes feels like people choose them as their favorites because everyone knows them. Although I will always make an exception for Degas.”
“Why is that?”
“I was a dancer when I was younger.”
She said nothing more. Gave no further hints. Maybe he should’ve paid closer attention in class.
They walked past three more paintings in silence. Logan didn’t know what else to talk about. “So you like Degas. What are your feelings about Van Gogh?”
“He was prolific. He played with light and movement. But I don’t feel passion when I look at his work.”
“Really? He’s known as one of the most passionate artists.”
Mia glanced up at him with a raised brow.
“Come on. The man cut off his ear for love. Sick and twisted, but passionate.”
She shook her head. “That’s legend. Most historians agree that wasn’t what actually happened.”
Fuuuck! This was why he shouldn’t be discussing art. “But the story originated somewhere. Its basis is rooted in his passion.”
“I guess I’ll give you that point.”
Nice save.
“Mia!” a pretty blonde called from the opposite corner of the studio.
“Carolyn. It’s so good to see you,” Mia said as she crossed the small room.
Logan hesitated and decided to follow.
Carolyn looked around. “No Jared tonight?”
“No, he had plans.” Mia leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And he really only attends art functions because of me.”
Carolyn eyed him. “So you didn’t need Jared because you had a date. Introduce us?”
Mia’s gaze swung to him, as if just realizing he was still there.
Logan extended his hand past Mia. “Hi, I’m Logan Freemont, and although I would be more than happy to be Mia’s date, we actually just happened to run into each other here.”
Carolyn took his hand in a barely there grasp. Really kind of limp. “Oh, that’s too bad.”
“It was nice to meet you, Carolyn, but I’ll let the two of you catch up.” He turned to Mia. “Thank you for the dance. I’ll be around if you’d like to go for another spin. Or if you decide you’d like to go out for coffee. Or dinner. Or anything.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’ll see you around, I’m sure.”
He backed away, watching her until he reached the stairs. Then he winked, turned his back, and went to gather more information. And probably Google Degas and Van Gogh.
Chapter Three
“Giiiirl. How did you say no to that?” Carolyn said as soon as Logan descended the stairs.
“Rather easily.”
“But why? Did you not see the smile? And the wink?”
“Oh, I saw them all right.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t have time for a relationship right now.” She waved in the general direction Logan had gone. “Feel free.”
“As nice as it is for you to offer, I know when a man is smitten, and it wasn’t me he winked at.”
“Whatever. What’s going on with you?” Mia genuinely liked Carolyn. Her father and Carolyn’s had been friends, so they had spent a lot of time together as teenagers at family get-togethers and society functions. However, Carolyn’s mother had held out hope that Carolyn and Jared would end up together.
“More of the same.”
“She’s not on the list of people we need intel from,” Audrey said in her ear.
Was that a hint of jealousy Mia heard?
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Mia asked.
“Absolutely.” Carolyn pointed toward the railing, away from the art, that overlooked the first floor. Not really private, but better than the middle of the room.
They walked over and Mia peered over the edge. She immediately saw Logan, who stood near the back looking at the crowd.
“Shoot,” Carolyn prompted.
“Do you know what’s going on with our fathers’ friends?”
Carolyn’s face grew serious. “What do you mean?”
“It seems like so many of them are selling artwork. It feels rushed, like there’s something going on.”
Carolyn touched her arm. “Did you talk to Jared about my dad?”
“No. Why?”
“When Jared and I went out to dinner a while ago, I mentioned that my dad was looking to sell some property. I overheard the bunch of them talking about liquidating art and jewelry and hiding the profits. I’ve been worried.”
“Why all of a sudden are they making these moves?”
“I have no idea.”
“Any guesses?”
“I really don’t know.”
Mia was pretty good at reading people, and Carolyn was genuinely worried. Part of her sincerely hoped Steven Draper wasn’t involved in this latest mess. For Carolyn’s sake.
They continued to look out over the crowd below them while Carolyn moved on to more mundane conversation. When Mia figured she’d shown her face enough at the event, she excused herself to leave. She wouldn’t get more information from these people tonight.
While waiting for the car, she talked into the comm but pulled out her phone as if to make a call. “I’m done. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“No. You need to come here. We need to talk.”
That sounded ominous, which was the last thing Mia needed, so instead of being irritated that she was being summoned—yet again—a hint of worry crept in.
At the apartment, Audrey and Nikki were deep in conversation about the possibilities for the next heist.
“All right. I’m here. What is so pressing that you needed to talk to me tonight?” Mia set her purse on the table and unclasped the camera necklace. Then she set her earpiece beside it.
“Who is that Logan guy again?” Nikki asked.
“Seriously? You had me come back here to give me a hard time about a man flirting with me?” She huffed.
“His name, Mia. What is his name?”
“Logan Freemont. Why?”
Nikki strode over to the TV where Audrey had images from the event already cued up. “While you were talking to what’s-her-face—”
“Carolyn,” Audre
y provided.
“You were facing the crowd. Look at Logan.”
Mia stared at the screen where Logan was looking at guests. “What am I looking for?”
“That dude’s a cop.”
“What? No, he’s not.” Mia’s heart pumped wildly. What was Nikki accusing her of?
“He’s watching the crowd the way a cop does. I know those eyes. I’ve seen them hundreds of times. They’re all the same.”
“He works for Atlas Insurance. I told you. His company is worried about the thefts and forgeries. Wouldn’t that give him the same type of look?”
“Audrey?” Nikki said.
“Already on it,” she called from behind her computer screen.
“On what?”
Audrey typed and scrolled, staring at her screen. “There is no Logan Freemont listed as an employee of Atlas Insurance.”
“He’s probably from a different office. New York, maybe.”
Audrey scoffed. “I hacked their internal system. No Logan.”
Mia sank to the back edge of the couch. What the hell was going on?
“Okay,” Nikki said. “We treat him like he’s an undercover cop, which he probably is.” She took a deep breath. “You need to call him.”
Mia heard Nikki talking, but the words didn’t register.
“Mia.”
Her head snapped up and she schooled her features. “What?” she asked sharply.
“The guy has a thing for you. You need to call him.”
“I will not.”
“Mia.” Nikki paused and fisted her hands. “We can use this to our advantage.”
“What if he suspects what we’re doing?” All of her planning. Five years’ work. Gone.
Nikki laughed.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Sure it is.” Nikki pointed at the TV screen to a picture of Mia and Logan. “That is not the face of a suspicious man. That look says, ‘I’m horny.’”
Mia huffed again. Her brain was full of static. She couldn’t think about anything. It felt like the moment she found out her dad had fled the country. Which didn’t truly make sense seeing as she had zero relationship with Logan.
But there was the possibility.
So many things suddenly added up. The suit that wasn’t quite expensive enough, insurance agent or not. His lack of opinion when discussing art. The way he looked confused when she mentioned glazing. And then there had been calling Van Gogh an Impressionist. Any one of those things could have been excused due to distraction, but all of them together now made sense. He probably didn’t know anything about art.
Mia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, she looked at Nikki, her composure back in place. “How, exactly, do you think we can use this?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” Nikki said with a saucy grin as she plopped on the couch. “Of course, it would be nice to know what branch of law enforcement he’s with, but even without that knowledge, you just need to con him into giving you information about the case he’s working on. That way, we know how close he’s getting and we can continue to operate undetected.”
Mia stared at Nikki. “How am I to con him into anything?”
“Really? Your dad is a notorious con artist. He got people to fork over millions, and you learned nothing from him?”
She’d definitely learned from her father. His lessons were burned into her memory and she’d held on to them as she worked to whittle away everything he’d done:
Spending money to get the best is worth it 99% of the time.
Endearing yourself to others makes it easier to manipulate them.
Loyalty to the right people is vital to success.
The first, she had no problem with. It was the reason her inheritance had taken a hit; she wanted the best thief, forger, and hacker money could buy. And that ended up flowing directly into number three because these women, along with her cousin, were loyal, which had led to their collective success.
Conning Logan Freemont was going to require number two, and there, she was out of her depth. He was not like her father’s friends, where she could bat her lashes and pretend to be stupid. He would never buy it.
“In theory, I know what you’re looking for. You want me to pretend to be enamored with Logan, lead him on, and get him talking.” She licked her lips. She didn’t like to admit inadequacies. “But I’m not very good at faking it, so to speak.”
“I beg to differ. We’ve watched you at numerous society functions and you fake it with all those assholes. Every time you talk to Randall Scott or Max Ingram or any of the others.”
Audrey nodded. “Not to mention the fact that most of the interactions we witness with all of these snooty rich bastards are pretty damn phony.”
They had a point, but faking pleasantries with them was something she had been trained for.
“All right. Where do we start?”
* * *
Logan still felt like he was spinning his wheels attending all of these art events. It wasn’t like thieves were stealing during a party. Not to mention that they still had no proof that this was a theft ring. As far as the Bureau was concerned, they had forgeries circulating.
But in his gut, Logan knew.
He just couldn’t find the missing pieces to connect everything. And his continued running into Mia Benson wasn’t helping.
The file the Bureau had on her was less than helpful. Reams of paper were devoted to her father, but they had almost nothing on her. She’d lived an unremarkable life, especially once her father fled. Prior to his indictment, she’d been a society princess with solid footing in the world of old money as well as in the world of self-made millionaires. Her mother’s family was legacy. The Washington name carried weight.
Benson had built his financial consulting firm using the Washington name and reputation, but created his company with his brother-in-law from the ground up. No Washington money had been used in the venture.
The Washington women were shrewd. They protected what was theirs. That included their children once the men had been indicted.
Mia had dropped from the society pages. Her fiancé broke off the engagement. She lost a museum job in New York.
She rebuilt her life and from the outside looking in, it appeared as though nothing affected her. But Logan had seen the pain when she mentioned her last name as she warned him off. She was a law-abiding citizen who spoke quietly to those close to her about how much her father’s deeds bothered her. She’d spent her own money hiring a private detective to track him down.
She’d even shared his last-known location with the FBI. She wanted her father to face the consequences of his actions.
All of that added up to her having nothing to do with the forgeries.
But something continued to niggle at him. He didn’t know if it had to do with Mia or the job or both. So, he went to the one place where he was just one of the kids looking for comfort in a home-cooked meal and the ability to forget his problems for a while: Mama Mae’s house.
Cruising down the block, he took in his surroundings. The houses looked a little more run-down than he remembered, but families still sat on stoops to talk while kids ran through sprinklers. He squeezed his SUV into a spot at the end of the block. The one thing he hated about driving in the city—finding parking.
He hadn’t lived here in over a decade, but he still viewed it as home. He’d landed here as a foster kid when he was twelve, full of piss and bitterness. Mama Mae and Joe had taken him in and let him be an asshole until he realized there wasn’t anything he could do to make them give him the boot.
That realization changed his life.
He grabbed the tray of cookies and pie from the passenger side and walked down the block and around to the back of the house. Only strangers used the front door. The skinny three-story house
was unique in the neighborhood full of bungalows. It was old and always needed work. The blue-gray asbestos siding was still intact, which completely boggled Logan’s mind when he considered how many baseball, football, and hockey puck hits it had taken over the years.
He slid up the handle on the chain-link gate and tested the wooden steps to see if they were good. Then he swung the door open and called, “Who’s home?”
Mama Mae rounded the corner with her hands on her hips. “All these years and you still haven’t figured out how to enter the house without yelling?”
“How else would you know it’s me?” He bent over and kissed her cheek.
“If you came around more often, we’d get used to it.”
“I like to keep you on your toes.” He set the pie and cookies on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
“Why do you insist on bringing that junk every time you visit?”
“Because the kids get excited over this crap and that means I get more of your cooking.”
“Oh, you.” She pushed a hand at him.
“Where are all the kids?”
Mama Mae had been taking in foster kids for about as long as Logan had been alive. She sought out the kids no one else wanted—the troublemakers, the teenagers. She gave them a place and loved them until they were ready to leave.
“Katie is at softball practice and Paris is doing homework at the library. Anton is probably running the streets as usual.” She took it all in stride, but she was getting too old for running a teenager down like she had when Logan was young.
“He’s not adjusting yet?”
Mae took the cookies from the bag and opened the tray. “It takes time. He’s only been here a little more than a month. It took you three times as long to settle in. He’s testing the waters. Wanting to make sure we won’t stop him from seeing his friends. They’re all he has.”
“He has you and Joe.”
“Anton hasn’t figured that out yet. So what’s the reason for the visit?” She bustled around the kitchen making a fresh pot of coffee and opening up a dish that contained homemade banana bread.
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