by Elise Noble
The van started with a quiet purr, and I eased out after the Mercedes. Fuck my damn life. I should’ve kept the handcuffs from earlier because when I got ahold of Lenny, he was never going out by himself again.
CHAPTER 14 - EMMY
“DID YOU EVEN go to Vinnie’s birthday party?” my husband asked. On screen, his dark eyes had turned into two hard chips of granite, and the rest of him didn’t look happy either. I propped my elbows on the desk in the study we shared at Albany House, our London home, and rested my chin in my cupped hands. Funnily enough, I hadn’t been thrilled by today’s events either.
“Yes, I went.” For all of twenty minutes after I left the gallery yesterday. Enough time to hand over a gift and take a couple of photos before I met Alaric for dinner. But then the office called and I had to go chase assholes. “I didn’t lie.”
“So Alaric just happened to be in town?”
Black was pissed, as I knew he would be. When it came to Alaric, he suffered from an irrational jealousy that clouded all reason. Other men got him wound up too, but with Alaric, the green-eyed monster was more like Godzilla. Day to day, I lived with it. Sometimes it could even be fun—jealous, possessive sex was wild like nothing else—but mostly, I wished he’d get over himself and accept that I was able to spend time in the same room as Alaric without wanting to stick my tongue down his throat.
Which was why I may have led him to believe I was coming to London to attend an old friend’s fortieth birthday celebration rather than hunting for a missing painting with an ex-lover.
“I knew Alaric was here,” I admitted. No matter how many lies I told other people, I never lied to Black, not outright. “He asked me to help out for a few hours, and I could hardly turn him down. I don’t care what everyone says—he didn’t take that money, and if he can get Emerald back, it might go some way to restoring his reputation.”
Alaric jointly ran a private intelligence agency now, but there were still a lot of people who didn’t trust him, and trust was everything in our business. It was the difference between landing contracts with government agencies and skulking around in the shadows. At the moment, Alaric’s involvement in Sirius was mostly a secret, even though he owned a quarter of the company. One of his business partners fronted the operation while he did what he did best—collected secrets and ferreted out information. He was good, but Emerald had been his nemesis for eight years now, and I was beginning to believe his claim that the damn painting was jinxed.
I touched my nose gingerly. Another victim of the curse? I’d felt the fucking thing crunch when Sky slammed her head into it. Blackwood had an arrangement with a London doctor who’d treat our people without asking questions, and she’d checked out the damage after I got back. The verdict? A fracture in the bridge. Hopefully, it should heal without needing further treatment, but in the meantime, I had a face like a clown, an economy-sized packet of ibuprofen, and an upset husband.
“You don’t know for sure that Alaric didn’t take the contents of that briefcase,” Black said.
“Oh, please. Firstly, he had no motive. He wasn’t exactly hurting for money thanks to his parents. And if he had nicked it, he’d have got straight on a plane to the nearest non-extradition country, not hopped on a yacht and sailed out into the middle of nowhere to get shot at.”
Alaric knew how to disappear. I’d found that out first-hand. The aftermath of the shooting had been brutal, weeks of questioning and a fruitless search for cash, diamonds, and a painting that had vanished from the face of the earth. In the chaos of the battle, I’d gotten a fleeting glimpse of Dyson off the stern of the scalloper in the Zodiac boat, but Alaric’s colleagues had been too busy panicking to track him. After the way Hooper behaved, I’d been tempted to shoot him myself, motor back to shore, and use my own helicopter to give chase, but Alaric overruled me and insisted on taking the former marine to the hospital. The prick had made a good recovery, and the last I heard, he was working as a mall cop, which as far as I was concerned was too much responsibility for a man with the impulse control of a toddler. Actually, that was unfair to toddlers.
Black had helped with the investigation, but grudgingly. I got the impression he was more annoyed at Alaric for dragging me into the case than at the various thieves. And his suggestion that the cash and diamonds might have been swapped before the pay-off left FBI headquarters hadn’t gone down well with the brass, although they didn’t have any better ideas. At one point, they’d fingered me as a suspect, and I thought Black was gonna take the director’s head off in that meeting. To say the atmosphere had been strained was an understatement.
Anyhow, after a month of daily interrogations and with his termination from the FBI imminent, Alaric had simply vanished. Gone. Poof! Believe me, I’d looked for him. At first, I’d been terrified he’d done something stupid, worried that the next call from an unidentified number would be news of a body. Eleven months had passed before the first pair of shoes arrived. Just cheap things, more like embroidered slippers really, but there was a clock drawn onto the box with the hands pointing to midnight, and I knew who they were from. Over the years, slippers and doodles turned into birthday cards with Louboutins, and I figured Alaric was doing okay.
But I’d almost given up hope of seeing him again until he’d materialised in the quarantine unit where I was busy cheating death, and I couldn’t even kill him for abandoning me because there was a glass wall between us.
And now? Now here we were, dancing around each other, whatever relationship we had still kind of awkward and off limits for discussion. Turning back the clock wasn’t an option because Black and I were a thing now, but I didn’t want to lose Alaric as a friend. Not again.
Which meant I had to deal with Black’s jealousy.
“Alaric nearly got you killed,” he griped. “And today, he got you hurt.”
“Bullshit. What happened on the boat was unfortunate, but I’m trained for that. You trained me. Are you doubting your abilities?”
Silence.
“And today was my fault. I let my guard down and underestimated the opposition. Does that remind you of anyone else we know?”
More silence.
I’d met Black seventeen and a half years ago on a dark night in London, a night when I’d stolen his wallet and broken his nose. He’d miscalculated my abilities back then, although there had been a certain amount of luck involved too.
“Well, enjoy Belize. I’ll see you back in Virginia.”
I hung up, and when he tried to call again, I shut the lid of my laptop and left the room to lick my wounds. Let him think about things for a while. I sure needed to.
Upstairs, I had my “thinking window,” a glass oval above a window seat at the far end of a second-floor hallway. Bulletproof glass, of course. Black had insisted, although he swore he wasn’t paranoid, just careful.
The spot overlooked the garden, and I watched a flock of sparrows attacking the bird feeder as I considered my next move. A lot would depend on how Alaric and Sky got on in Richmond. How long had it been? Four hours? So far, there’d been no news, but I knew better than to interrupt Alaric in the middle of a job. He’d call when he was ready. Either that or he’d fuck off to Outer Mongolia or somewhere again, which would sting like hell but would actually make my life easier.
“Hey.”
I whipped around to find Alaric standing at the other end of the hallway, hands in his pockets.
“How did you get in?”
“Ruth.”
Ruth was our London housekeeper.
“I sent her home.”
“Yeah, she said you did, but she also said you looked miserable so she’s making you dinner.”
Alaric appeared thoroughly cheesed off too.
“What happened in Richmond?”
“Got any wine?”
“That bad?”
“On second thought, I might start with whisky. How’s your nose?”
“Less painful than the chat I had with Black.”
&nbs
p; “Empathy isn’t exactly his middle name.”
“It was partly my fault. I might have forgotten to mention I was meeting you here.”
Alaric snorted. “Ever ask yourself why you didn’t tell him?”
“We’re not having this conversation, okay? Richmond? I half thought you might’ve brought Sky back with you.”
She seemed to like Alaric. More than she liked me, at any rate.
“Maybe I would have if she hadn’t done a disappearing act.”
“She ran out on you?”
That revelation annoyed me more than I let on. Sky interested me. And I hadn’t sent her out with Alaric because I was incapable of going myself—I’d battled through more than a broken nose in the past—I’d sent her because I wanted to see how she coped. To hear she’d bugged out was…disappointing. Sure, I could find her again by staking out the squat she called home, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“I left her outside the second hotel, and when I finished in there, she’d gone. She may also have taken another vehicle. The receptionist said a delivery van went missing around the same time Sky did.”
Sadly, that didn’t surprise me. “Second hotel?”
Alaric started at the beginning with the tale of how they’d followed the guy who met Bethany at the Ash Court Inn to another establishment nearby. Alaric had charmed the man’s room number out of the receptionist, only to find things weren’t quite as they seemed.
“An out-of-work actor?” I asked. “Are you serious?”
“Some guy hired him via email. Said it was for a low-budget spy movie.”
“Didn’t he wonder where the cameras were?”
“Apparently, it was ‘raw and real,’ so they were using hidden cameras. They just told the guy to act natural and he didn’t question it.”
“Not the brightest crayon in the box, eh?”
“Not even if you set him on fire. I’ve got copies of the emails, but they came from a free-to-use webmail account.”
“I can get Mack to check into it.”
“We both know it’ll be futile. He was told to collect a key from the desk and check in to room 312, zip the box with the painting into the open suitcase on the bed, and then have a drink in the bar before he left. That’s where I found him. Candace checked with her colleagues, and one of them saw him walk in there.”
“Candace?”
“The receptionist.”
“Tell me you didn’t get her phone number.”
“Why would it matter if I did?”
Why indeed? I had no right to get snippy about shit like that anymore. But even so, it felt as if there was unfinished business between Alaric and me. We hadn’t so much broken up as been forced apart by circumstances. There’d be no going back to the way things were, but the transition to the friend zone wasn’t as simple as flipping a switch.
Still, I wasn’t about to start that discussion.
“Because we’re meant to be working.”
“Sometimes, mixing business with pleasure gets the best results, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Black?”
Ouch.
When you don’t have a good comeback, change the subject. “Who booked the room?”
Alaric’s smirk said he knew exactly what I’d done. He didn’t see into my soul the way Black did, but once upon a time, he’d certainly been tuned in to my thoughts. Seemed not much had changed.
“Our favourite gallery owner.”
“Pemberton?”
“Unless there’s another one you haven’t told me about.”
“Shit. Did anyone see who went into the room after the actor?”
“Not that I could find. There weren’t any security cameras on that floor, and it looks as though he left via the rear fire escape.”
“It wasn’t alarmed?”
Alaric grimaced. “Apparently, the housekeeping staff propped it open because of the heat. The AC’s been faulty lately, as have the cameras at the front of the building. Budget cuts. The place got a shitty review from a lifestyle blogger with ten million followers, and business has been bad for months.”
“What about the buildings across the street? Surely one of them must have CCTV?”
“Everything’s closed now. I’ll go back tomorrow and start asking questions.”
“Do you need manpower? Blackwood might have a spare person or two.”
“Thanks.”
“And if nothing turns up, then we’ve got one option left.”
Pemberton. The possibility of him being merely negligent with regard to the restoration of Red After Dark had all but vanished. Firstly, he’d lied to Bethany about which painting she was delivering, and secondly, he’d booked the hotel room. But who for?
“Yes, I know.” Alaric sighed. “But Pemberton reminds me of my grandpa. I feel like I should be making him cocoa, not interrogating him.”
“Fine, then I’ll do it. I don’t have any grandpas.”
“The other issue is that if we talk to him, it’ll tip off a bunch of art thieves that somebody’s after them. Fifty bucks says Red After Dark isn’t the first stolen painting he’s restored, and we might be better served snooping around again instead.”
“Bethany knows who we are now.”
“Bethany won’t tell Pemberton.”
“How do you know?”
Alaric just shrugged and gave a wan smile. Ah, the old McLain charm.
“Okay, she might not tell him deliberately, but she’d probably gawp and drop her tray of champagne if we turned up at another exhibition.”
The smile faded because he knew I was right.
Albany House was full of cameras and wired for sound. I’d deactivated everything but the perimeter security when I arrived, but if Black thought Alaric might be there, chances were he’d override the system to check up on me. Even so, I took a step closer and squeezed Alaric’s hand.
“I know why you want to find Emerald, but don’t let this shadow hang over the rest of your life.”
“Sometimes…it feels like I can’t find the light switch, you know?”
“I’ll go to the gallery with you, and I’ll catch the damn champagne.”
“What about Black?”
“I’ll deal with Black.” Easier said than done, but I’d manage somehow. After the initial Emerald incident, I’d offered to replace the ransom out of my own money, and Black had been furious. Alaric refused to accept, and even if he had, a lot of the damage had been done by that point anyway. Everyone thought he was a thief. “Come on, let’s go out. If we stay here, we’ll both end up miserable and drunk.”
“Out where?”
“Dinner?”
“Ruth’s making you macaroni and cheese.”
My comfort food, and her recipe was the best. She put onions in it, and usually bacon too. “Okay, we’ll eat and then go out. How about a show? Or a club? Not my club, obviously.”
Black’s, my London nightclub, had too many eyes and ears as well, and guess who monitored the cameras? Yup, Blackwood. I didn’t particularly want to fuel the office gossip for the next month.
“A jazz club?”
Not my favourite—I preferred my music to come with a tune—but Alaric had always told me that jazz wasn’t about the words, it was about the feelings. If it made him happy, I’d go.
“Okay, jazz.”
But no sooner had I uttered the words than my phone rang with the theme song from The Office. Fuck. If this was Black’s doing… I wouldn’t put it past him to invent an emergency to give me something to do that didn’t involve Alaric.
“Yeah?”
“Emmy? It’s Tom.”
He didn’t need to tell me that. Tom’s voice never wavered, never changed in tone. A tranquil lake in a raging sea. No matter how much shit hit the fan, he remained unflappable, which made him the perfect choice to be one of our control room managers. With the day shift over, he’d be in charge of the building at the moment.
“What’s up?”
“There’s a young lady asking for
you at the front desk. Says her name’s Sky Malone?”
Ever had one of those moments where despair turns to hope? My heart gave a weird skip, and I felt my lips curve of their own accord. Perhaps I hadn’t misjudged Sky after all?
“I’m at Albany House. Can you get somebody to drive her over?”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“Zander’s just about to leave. I’ll see if he’d mind a detour.”
I could get Alaric to meet them downstairs rather than showing off my messed-up face to Zander. One of my eyes was going black too. I could hide it with make-up—I’d had plenty of practice over the years—but I was still pissed off about it. But you know what they say—out of darkness cometh light. Which sounded all very biblical but was actually the motto for the city of Wolverhampton.
“What are you smiling about?” Alaric asked.
“Sky’s just turned up at the office.”
His eyes brightened too. “Really? Why?”
“Tom didn’t say, but he’s sending her over here.”
Except when Tom called back a minute later, it turned out he was no match for a strong-willed teenager.
“Sorry, boss, but Miss Malone doesn’t want to go with Zander.”
“Why? He’s hardly an axe murderer.”
“Apparently, she’s already late for work.”
Well, I had to give her points for being conscientious in at least one area of her life.
“Can you put her on?”
“One moment.”
I held the phone out to Alaric. “You need to convince her to come here instead of going to work.”
“Why me?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, she isn’t my biggest fan.”
“She just doesn’t know you the way I do, Cinders.” He flashed me a grin as he took the phone. “Hey, Sky. We’re about to eat dinner. You like macaroni and cheese? Call in sick, and I can order a pizza too if you want.”
A pause.
“How much will skipping work cost you? … Then I’ll give you that much in cash. Yes, as many toppings as you want. … See you in half an hour.” He passed the phone back. “She’s on her way, and we owe her fifty pounds and a pizza with everything. The way to her heart is through her stomach.”
