Big Deck

by Blake Wilder

  I approached Maxwell’s house, pausing outside the view of the security cameras that scanned the street. I pulled out the phone I’d bought specifically for this purpose. It was programmed to mimic Maxwell’s, so it was easy enough to put in his password, shut off his cameras, and open the gate. I slipped around the edge of the ginormous wrought iron contraption as it swung open, pressing myself against the interior of the wall until it had swung shut again. It was the middle of the day on a Thursday. Hopefully none of his neighbors would notice the gate opening and shutting without any cars driving through.

  Once the gate clanged shut, I sprinted to the front door.

  I had a plan. It might not have been a great one, but it was something.

  Warren was at the office. He’d be there for a little while in the meeting with Declan and Jordan. I could get into his house without breaking in.

  Then I was going to hide the painting.

  That wasn’t illegal. I was not breaking and entering and I was not stealing. Okay, the hacking-into-his-account thing wasn’t great, but I was prepared to live with that very, very tiny sliver of guilt.

  I was simply going to hide the painting so that Declan couldn’t find it. If he couldn’t find it, he couldn’t steal it. If he didn’t steal it, he couldn’t go to jail and we could…

  I frowned as I keyed in the code to unlock Warren’s front door. What did I think Declan and I were going to do? Go to St. John and fuck our brains out on the beach, sure. But what then? I lived in Kansas City. He lived in Vegas. He worked for the FBI. I was pretty sure they dictated where he lived and what he did. Apparently, he got vacation time if he was planning a trip to St. John…

  The door swung inward as I realized that it was possible Declan was not allowed to go to St. John and he was willing to steal and skip town for me. Maybe he figured once he was in trouble for the painting, he might as well get a couple days in the sun before they locked him up again.

  My gut twisted. No, he was not going back to prison because of me. Period.

  I shut the door behind me and stood in the foyer of Warren Maxwell’s house. It was massive. The foyer was massive. This house hadn’t looked this big online.

  Okay, didn’t matter. I just needed to get to his bedroom, locate the painting, take it up to the attic, and stash it. When Warren saw it was missing, there’s no way he’d think that it was still in the house. The cops would then come over and search the house and find it. But I was gambling on the fact that Maxwell wouldn’t want cops in his house with all of his “poker buddies.” So the painting would be missing while Dec was here so he couldn’t steal it, but then they’d find it before anyone got arrested.

  I started for the stairs that led to the second-floor bedrooms, including the master suite, the door at the far east end of the hallway that split at the top of the stairs and led to three bedrooms on either side. Yeah, six bedrooms. Warren Maxwell was an asshole. Who the fuck needed six bedrooms? Even the Brady Bunch hadn’t had six bedrooms.

  Actually, I didn’t know that for sure. I’d seen a few reruns. I think the girls shared a room and the boys shared another one. Anyway, my point was that six bedrooms just seemed excessive.

  I started up the steps but only got to the fifth before I heard something that made my heart stop.

  Humming.

  My heart turned over in my chest as I heard the humming and footsteps coming down the lower level hallway that led from the kitchen.

  Fuck!

  It wasn’t Warren. It was a woman. But it didn’t really matter who caught me, did it? Could I outrun her? Could I somehow overpower her and stick her in the pantry to be found later? Maybe. But I didn’t really want to risk it. Not to mention that there might be others. The fact that I hadn’t thought of a housekeeper or even a whole staff of people annoyed me. Hell, they might just be a cleaning crew or caterers getting ready for the party, but that hadn’t even occurred to me.

  I was definitely not prepared for this.

  But I could kick myself for all of this later. At the moment, I had no choice. I sprinted up the stairs, hoping that the house was expensive enough to not have squeaky steps. At the top, I dashed down the hallway toward the master suite. But at the last second, thought better of it. Maybe I should hide in a different bedroom. One that the maids wouldn’t be making up. But if Maxwell was having guests, the chances were some would stay over in his guest rooms and the maids would be more attentive in those rooms possibly.

  Fuck it. I headed for the master suite again, adrenaline pumping, grateful that Dec had run me through various scenarios that I had internalized enough to wear tennis shoes instead of heels today.

  I slipped into the master bedroom and quietly closed the door behind me. A closed door would give me warning that someone was coming. I surveyed the room for my second exit that Dec had insisted I have. There was a window that led to a balcony and a doorway that led into the bathroom and another that led to what I assumed was a closet. Okay, so window and balcony to escape, closet to hide. A cleaning crew would likely go into the bathroom but might not need to do anything in a closet. If Maxwell’s front foyer and master suite were any indication of how big everything was here, that closet had to be a walk-in with space to hide in.

  I started in that direction, but then my gaze caught on the very thing I’d come here to find.

  The painting.

  It hung on the wall above the wingback chair and side table in one corner. A reading corner by the looks of it. There was a short stack of books and a pair of glasses resting on top of them on the table. Huh. Maxwell read. I was almost curious enough to go see what books were in his little collection, but I was aware that I had a limited timeframe here.

  I wanted to grab it now. My palms itched with the need to pull it off the wall and run. But I had to be smart. And patient. I had to scope out my surroundings, gather what information I could while I was here.

  I tiptoed to the window first, ignoring the painting in spite of the fact that it was right there. For a second I felt my eyes burn with tears thinking of how it had hung right there while my mother had been missing it as she died.

  God, I wanted to stick around and smother Warren Maxwell in his sleep, too.

  But no. No. There were bigger things here. I couldn’t change what had happened with my mom. It hadn’t been my fault. I would always feel sad and regretful and resentful about it, but I couldn’t go back. I needed to look forward. I needed to think about the person I cared about now and how I could keep him out of prison.

  I peeked around the curtains that hung from the top of the door that led out to the balcony. The balcony hung off the side of the house, which was helpful. If I needed to climb out there and down, I wouldn’t have to climb down in front of any windows in the main parts of the house. I tried the door. It opened outward and I slipped onto the stone balcony and looked around. The next neighbor over was at least a football field length away and there were trees between here and there. They wouldn’t be able to see anything happening on the balcony. I went to the end of the balcony and peered over. I could barely see the back of the house but there was a white van with bright lettering on the front. Either the cleaning crew or the caterers, I figured. So, at least some of the people in the house were temporary.

  Damn, I really wished I knew who and how many of them there were.

  I leaned back and looked up. There was no way to scale the side of the house to the roof. Which left climbing down from the balcony. I looked over the edge. Ugh, that wasn’t going to be easy either. But it would be doable. Not with a painting in hand, but that was okay. I was leaving it here.

  I sighed and turned back to the bedroom. I crossed to the painting and tipped the corner of the frame to look behind it. Hung with just a simple wire. Okay, that was good.

  Unlike the painting at Declan’s house, I knew about how heavy this one was. I’d helped my mom hang it a couple of different times. It was also smaller. I eyed the window. I wasn’t going out with it though. I n
eeded to get it down from the wall and then out of the room and up to the attic. That was suddenly a lot more complicated, what with other people in the house and all.

  Well, I’d just have to wait them out.

  I heard the doorknob rattle behind me and for a second I thought I was going to faint. Thankfully, I pulled myself together and darted for the closet door. Damn, Dec had been right about shutting the door behind me.

  I slid into the closet that was, sure enough, huge and pulled the door shut just as I heard the bedroom door open. The light came on automatically in the closet—something I hoped they wouldn’t notice with the sunlight in the room—and I looked around.

  The closet was the size of my entire bedroom.

  I snuck behind the row of suits and a garment bag that hung nearly to the floor. If someone glanced inside they wouldn’t see me. I had no idea how long I was going to need to be in here, but I had to remember hiding behind the sofa at Dec’s place. I needed to be patient and stay put.

  I heard the humming again. Then I heard some drawers opening and closing. Then a vacuum ran. I listened hard for the sound of the bedroom door shutting again but didn’t hear it.

  How long had I been in here? It felt like forever, but I had to be sure. I counted to five hundred, slowly, listening intently and telling myself that patience was a virtue.

  I also told myself that I should really buy a watch. It felt like I’d been in here for two months, but it could have been only ten minutes. Or three hours. Or anywhere in between those two.

  There were no more sounds outside the door when I got to five hundred and I breathed out in relief. Unless the maid had taken a seat in the reading corner and was catching up for book club, she’d likely left the room.

  Now I just needed to see where everyone else was in the house. Without being seen myself.

  I snuck to the closet door and pressed my ear to the wood. I didn’t hear anything. I made myself count to a hundred again. Just to be sure. Dec would be so proud of my patience. Breathing out slowly, I turned the knob carefully and cracked the door. I didn’t hear anything so I pushed it open further and looked around.

  As I turned to my right, I felt a hand go over my mouth and an arm wrap around my waist.

  I immediately started to struggle and scream but the man—it was clearly a man— lifted me off my feet and stepped back into the closet with me. He put his mouth against my ear.

  “It’s me.”

  It took a good five seconds for it to sink in past the adrenaline but finally my brain recognized the voice. I slumped back against Dec, feeling lightheaded.

  “I’m going to let you go, but you can’t make noise.”

  He waited until I nodded, then he moved his hand. I sucked in a deep breath, and as he unwrapped his arm from my waist, I turned to face him.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack!” I whispered angrily.

  “Image how I felt when I was about to lift a painting off the wall and the closet door opened!” he said back in a whisper.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  He gave me a look. “I’m guessing the same thing you’re doing here.”

  “I’m not stealing it,” I told him. “I came to hide it.”

  “Hide it from who?”

  “You.”

  He blinked at me a few times. “What?”

  I nodded. “If it wasn’t here, then you couldn’t steal it. I’m saving you.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re saving me?”

  I nodded again.

  “But I’m saving you,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling up.

  “From?”

  “Stealing the painting and ending up in prison. I came to get the painting now, before the big party, so that I can set up one of the more notorious men that will be here tonight.”

  “You’re going to set someone up for it?”

  “Of course.”

  I shook my head. “This is all a way bigger risk to you,” I said. “You could throw everything away.”

  “If you steal it and get caught, you’ll be throwing everything away.”

  I stared at him and swallowed hard. “You’re right. Which is why I was going to just stash it where you couldn’t find it to steal it. Then I was going to get on the plane to St. John.”

  He frowned. “But then…you wouldn’t have it.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s…”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  He looked confused. I stepped in. “It’s okay,” I repeated. “I’ve realized I don’t need it.”

  “But—”

  I covered his mouth with my hand and shook my head. “I don’t need it. But I’m very glad I came to Vegas and went through all of this. Because I’ve found something way more valuable. You. If, of course, you’re free for the taking.”

  Dec wrapped his hand around my wrist and kissed my palm before pulling my hand away. “I was yours the second I realized you were cheating me at poker.”

  I smiled up at him. “I’m glad. Because I was yours the moment I realized that you realized that I was cheating you at poker.”

  We just stared, grinning goofily at one another for a long moment.

  “I can get it for you,” he finally said.

  “I know. But I’d rather have you. Out of prison and free.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not exactly free. Not for five more years.”

  “But you can come and go from your house and around town, right?”

  “Around Vegas. Or wherever Jordan is. Occasionally, we’ll go out of town for a job.”

  “Okay, then,” I said.

  “Okay, then? What does that mean?”

  “Looks like I’m moving back to Vegas.”

  His eyes went hot. “You’d move back here? To be with me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You could get a job out here and everything?”

  “Oh, for sure. I’m very good at what I do.”

  “Hey,” he said with a slight frown, as if realizing he didn’t know the answer to this question. “What do you do exactly?”

  I gave him a grin. “At the moment, I’m the marketing director for a company that sells high-end, high-tech, home security systems.”

  “Security…” He trailed off as understanding dawned. “You sold Maxwell his system?”

  I nodded. “He doesn’t know it was me, but yes.”

  “You are…” Dec shook his head. “Amazing.”

  I lifted on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his. “Let’s get out of here before he comes home.”

  “I have to be back here tonight,” he said. “But I can take you to the airport.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not going to St. John without you.”

  He opened his mouth, but then shut it without a word.

  “You can’t join me there, can you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I just wanted you out of town when everything went crazy here.”

  “But now it won’t. Or at least, it won’t be about the painting,” I said. “Instead, I can just wait for you at your house. In your bed. Naked.”

  He gave a little growling sound and kissed me deeply for a moment. Then he lifted his head and moved toward the closet door. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

  “Are you supposed to be here?”

  “Yes. But probably not hiding in the closet with a hot girl instead of starting my security checks.”

  “Got it.”

  He pulled the door open and started to step out, but froze with only one foot on the other side of the threshold.

  “What is it?”

  “Maxwell,” he hissed. “He’s home early.”

  Dammit. I leaned out of the closet and, sure enough, heard the low sound of Warren Maxwell’s voice talking to someone in the foyer.

  Swearing, Dec stalked to the door that led to the balcony.

  “No,” I said. “Not that way.” I spun and headed for the white shirts that hung to o
ne side of Maxwell’s closet. I pulled one from the hanger and slipped into it, buttoning up as Dec came back in.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m part of the cleaning staff,” I told him, looking down at my black yoga pants. They’d have to do. Hopefully Maxwell wouldn’t look too closely. His shirt was huge on me, so I tied it up in a knot at my waist.

  “He knows what you look like,” Dec pointed out.

  “So you’ll have to do your best to shield me from him getting a good look,” I told him.

  Dec nodded. “Okay.”

  I loved the way we just automatically shifted into teamwork.

  I led the way to the bedroom door, which was cracked open now. I looked back at him. “A closed door gives you notice someone is coming and gives you a few seconds head start,” I said, throwing his words back at him.

  “It also slows me down when I need to get out,” he said, in my exact words. “I planned to stash that in the closet in the bedroom the guy I’m setting up will be using.”

  “But then the cops would find it. You wouldn’t be able to steal it.”

  “I’m the cops,” Dec pointed out, with a smile. “I fully intended to be the one to find it.”

  Ah. I grinned. “And you’re setting this guy up in particular because?”

  “He’s done some really horrible shit. But he’s good at covering his tracks. I don’t really care why he’s in prison, only that he is. If it has to be for art theft, that’s better than nothing.”

  “What’s he done?” I asked, unable to help myself.

  “Sex trafficking.”

  I shuddered at the answer and the coldness in Dec’s tone. “We need to stash it in his closet after all.”

  Dec nodded. “I intend to. But I can do it later. I was trying to get it out of Maxwell’s bedroom before you showed up to steal it before getting on the plane.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You knew I’d do that?”

  “I knew you’d try.”

  We’d both shown up to hide the painting from the other in order to keep them from stealing it.

  Wow. I’d found my soul mate.

  “Just don’t steal it after you ‘find’ it in his room, okay?” I asked.