Booked to Kill, page 9
His gaze dipped to the painting in her arms. Heat crept along the back of her neck as he quietly studied the splash of emotion that had poured out of her the day before. She should have covered the canvas with a sheet or something, but she hadn’t expected anyone to see it during the brief trip to the gallery. Especially not Jack.
Gosh, she hated how his silent scrutiny tightened the muscles in her core, as though his approval mattered.
He cleared his throat before meeting her eye. “Did you paint this?”
She nodded.
“It’s amazing.”
His praise lifted her lips. “Thanks, but it’s also really heavy. Do you mind letting me in?”
The look of awe vanished from his face, replaced with concern. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder before easing the painting from her hands. “You might as well see this.”
His words tightened her insides like a vise. She trod lightly over the broken glass and followed him inside. Another slash of yellow tape caught her attention on the wall. “Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. “Someone broke in and ruined the artwork?”
Jack tilted her painting against the wall, then ushered her away from the vandalized art. “Correction. Someone broke in and ruined your artwork.”
She swiveled around to face him. “What?”
He urged her forward. “Please. I’ll explain, or at least let Mr. Consuelo explain. But there’s something more important for you to see.”
Dread slowed her steps, but she continued in the direction until she approached Detective Green standing beside a scowling Edward.
They both turned at the sound of her footsteps.
“I stopped by to drop something off.” She pushed the words out of her suddenly dry throat, fear keeping her from turning toward whatever the two men had been looking at.
“Mrs. Hickman,” said Detective Green. “I’m afraid what’s happened here involves you.” He dipped his head toward the indent in the alcove. “Now we just need to figure out why.”
She sent her gaze in the direction he indicated, and crushed her eyes closed at the message scrawled across the image of the church she’d been married in. Her legs wobbled, and the spike of her blood pressure made dizziness swim in her head. Her body swayed, her muscles refusing to keep her upright.
A sturdy hand settled on her lower back and the heat of a large body invaded her senses. A hint of orange peel and spice, a scent that had taken hold of her and refused to leave the last few days, told her exactly who kept her steady on her feet.
Jack.
“Take it easy,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. “I got you.”
Three simple words that meant so damn much right now. Not a flurry of questions or even a hint of pity. Just a promise to keep her on her feet and be there. Even if only for a second until she found her bearings. Opening her eyes, she stared at the shocking words: I would have given you everything.
“I guess this threat isn’t any worse than the one left on the website. I shouldn’t find it so shocking. But I do.” Her voice cracked, and she rubbed her palm over the base of her throat.
“What other threat?” Edward asked, eyes wide.
“That’s none of your concern,” Max cut in before she could open her mouth to offer an answer.
She swallowed her response, understanding there were things that needed to be held back from the public. Although she didn’t understand why Edward had to be kept in the dark about anything, especially now that he too was a victim of whoever was behind this.
Realization struck down on her like a blow to the temple. “Were these the paintings that had been sold? The ones that were to be packed up today?”
“Yes,” Edward said. “Every single one of them. Ruined.”
“Were they insured?” Jack asked, somehow giving voice to the question she hadn’t quite formed.
Edward nodded. “We’ll get reimbursed for some of what they’re worth. I’ll need to figure out numbers and payments. Call the buyer.” He shoved his hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, giving him an unkempt appearance she’d never witnessed.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as her reality grew grimmer by the second. Hopefully the insurance money could keep her going until she sold her loft. Because her decision had been cemented after stepping onto another crime scene. She needed as much distance as she could get from this entire situation. Selling the loft would set her up for her future—open the next chapter that lay ahead of her. All she needed was enough money to see her through.
“Is it normal for one buyer to purchase all of an artist’s work from a gallery at one time?” Jack asked.
He had asked her the same question the night before, but she was interested to hear Edward’s answer.
Edward shrugged. “Not necessarily, but it’s not unheard of. If a serious buyer wanders into a place and has the means to buy whatever they’d like, it’s happened before. Sometimes people want to snatch everything up before anyone else has a chance.”
The word snatch made chills dance down her spine. The threats left for her on the rental site and on her painting made it clear that someone wanted to do a lot more than just snatch her up.
“We’ll need the contact information of the person who bought Olivia’s work, as well as access to the video feed from your security system.” Max pointed at a camera hoisted in the corner, near the ceiling.
“Anything else?” A hard edge clipped the words.
Edward’s sour attitude made her bristle with irritation. She sympathized that his property had been vandalized—hell, she’d experienced the same thing multiple times in the past two days—but the detectives were here to help.
Help find a killer before he slashed her like he’d slashed her paintings.
Chapter 11
A paleness swept over Olivia’s smooth complexion, making the pink of her lips stand out like a beacon. Hell, who was he kidding, her mouth always stood out to him. But at this moment, he wasn’t tempted to erase the space between them and taste those lips.
Now the urge to protect her had him positioning himself between her and Edward. She shouldn’t have to be here, staring at her mutilated painting with a message aimed at her while the gallery owner was being questioned. Something didn’t sit well with him where this guy was concerned, and it was time to figure out why. And while Max talked to Edward and tried to get to the bottom of what had happened at the gallery, he’d press Olivia for details only she could give. “How about we step outside for some fresh air?”
Olivia nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll see that she makes it home safely while you finish speaking with Mr. Consuelo,” Jack said.
“Shouldn’t take me long,” Max said. “I’ll text you when I have everything I need.”
With his hand still on the small of her back, he led Olivia out to the sidewalk. “You all right?” What a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t all right. How could she be?
Leaning forward, she inhaled deeply. “When is this going to end?”
Jack waited for two young mothers to pass by with their strollers, a large umbrella shielding them, before coming to Olivia’s side. “I wish I could tell you. All I can say is we’re doing everything we can to catch the person responsible.”
“Poor Edward,” she said, straightening. She hooked a lock of hair behind her ear and stared through the window into the gallery. “This place is his entire life’s work. He was shaken up. I could tell just by the way he spoke. He’s usually not so defensive.”
So she’d noticed it, too. Jack had spoken with a lot of people who had been victimized. Although it was true everyone responded differently—had a whole host of defense mechanisms—he’d found that the ones who were defensive usually had something to hide. “So his asshole behavior in there wasn’t just his shining personality?”
Olivia huffed out a sharp laugh. “Not usually. He can have a bite sometimes, but he’s one who resorts to honey more than vinegar to attract flies.”
Her description of the man didn’t quell Jack’s suspicions. He didn’t trust someone who could ooze charm when necessary, then switch to a rude jerk when the chips were down. “How did you meet Edward?”
“A friend of a friend kind of thing.” She flicked her wrist as if to connect one person to another, but hesitancy flickered behind her eyes.
“How so?” A gust of wind barreled against him, bringing with it a smattering of raindrops.
Sighing, she turned to face him head-on—eyebrows hooked high and lips pursed. “He saw my work at Christine’s bakery. I made some custom pieces for her when she opened.”
He rocked back on his heels and digested the information. Her good pal had crossed paths with a lot of people in his investigation. And guessing from the look on Olivia’s face, she understood the suspicion swimming around in his brain. But he’d deal with his questions regarding Christine later. Now he needed to focus on Edward. “So he sought you out? Then what?”
“He told me he had a gallery and wanted to display my work,” she said with a small shrug. “It was a big break for me. I was selling pieces from our home before that. Trying to get noticed as best I could.”
“What did your husband think of him?”
“He was happy for me. Dave was always my biggest cheerleader.” A sad smile stretched her lips.
Cheerleader or not, it was clear neither of them had done their due diligence as far as Edward and his past business ventures were concerned. “But nothing seemed off about the guy to either of you?” He watched her carefully, searching for any signs she was keeping anything from him.
“Nothing.” She threw up her hands. “Edward has been gracious and helpful. He’s promoted me and taken my career to a whole new level.”
A horn blasted, and he searched for the obnoxious driver—tensing when a college-aged man jaywalked across the busy street. “Were you aware that he previously owned two galleries that went bankrupt?” Jack asked, refocusing on her.
She blinked, long and slow. “No. He never mentioned that. But then again, why would he?”
“Maybe so you’d know who you were trusting your career with? He’s managing your sales. Taking a part of your earnings to finance his gallery. Transparency is important. Someone who hasn’t had success with two different businesses might not be trustworthy with a third.”
A flash of lightning sliced through the gray clouds, drawing Olivia’s attention overhead. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, then wiped away the rain from her face. “Listen, I understand where your concern is coming from, but I don’t have the information you’re looking for. If I had any inkling that Edward was involved with any of this, I’d tell you. But I don’t. And honestly, doesn’t this show that he’s a victim as well?” She swept an arm toward the busted door.
Moisture coasted down the back of his neck, and he shivered. He weighed his words carefully before responding. “Possibly.”
“Possibly? Seriously? How can you even say that?” She took a step back as if the word assaulted her, nearly stumbling into a passing jogger.
“Listen. I get you know this guy and he’s been good to you, but I have to look at all the facts. The facts right now are telling me I need to be wary of him.”
“His gallery was just broken into. How does that make you wary of him?” A heaviness weighed down her words as though she struggled to understand his logic, no matter how hard she tried.
Jack blew out a long breath and tried to calm his frustration. “And his security system just happens to be down with no video footage or indication someone broke in. All we have is a vandalized studio, where he can now collect insurance money on your artwork.”
“Those pieces were sold. Why would he need insurance money when he’d get commission?”
“I don’t know,” he said, suddenly exhausted from the morning. Damn, he needed a second cup of coffee to push him through the rest of this day. “But once I have the name of the person who bought the artwork, I’ll know a lot more.”
Her head fell forward. “I can’t think about this anymore. I just want to go home.”
Sympathy pulsed inside him, increasing with each steady beat of his heart. “I’ll walk you back.”
She offered a weak smile, then fell in step beside him to close the short distance to her apartment building. The sounds of the city rang between them, and he stayed by her side as she opened the door and entered the lobby. She might be inside the building, but he wouldn’t be satisfied she was okay until he saw her safely tucked into her apartment.
He walked behind her up the three floors. When they reached the landing to her hallway, she came to a quick stop, and he bumped into her. Instinct had him latching his hand to her hips to steady her. His chest heaved with the feel of her pressed against him, but warning bells went off in his head. “What’s wrong?”
She shifted her head to the side and kept her voice low. “There’s a man standing in front of my door.”
Urgency propelled him into action, and he swept her behind him. He rested his palm on the butt of his sidearm secured at his hip, hidden behind his jacket. He stared at the broad back of a man who stood in front of Olivia’s door with something in his hands. A box?
Without moving, he yelled, “Whoever the hell you are, take a step away from the door and put your hands in the air.”
* * *
Olivia hid behind Jack’s back. Fear expanded her lungs. A man had made it into her building without being buzzed inside and now stood in front of her door. She tightened her muscles and stayed on the balls of her feet, ready to run in a second’s notice.
“I said hands in the air,” Jack repeated, authority clear in his gravelly tone.
She stayed hidden, not wanting to come face-to-face with the man on the other side of her protector.
“Now slowly turn toward me.” He barked out his command. “Place the box on the ground, then put your hands right back up.”
Olivia held her breath. The sound of her rapidly beating heart hammered against her eardrums. She fisted the back of Jack’s jacket in her hand, the soft material damp from the rain.
“I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m just here to see a friend.”
The familiar voice sagged her shoulders. Staying behind Jack, she peeked around him. A squeak of relief escaped her mouth. “Mason!”
Jack lowered his weapon, but his frown stayed firmly on his face. “You know this guy?”
“Olivia, what’s going on?” Concern furrowed Mason’s brow, his light eyebrows dipping low above his green eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Of course she’s okay,” Jack snapped.
Stepping to Jack’s side, she smoothed her palm over his bicep. His tight jaw told her that she needed to defuse this situation as soon as possible. She couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or lingering suspicion that made him look like he was about to explode. “Jack, this is Mason Shaffer. He’s an accountant at the firm where my husband used to work.”
Mason dropped his arms to his sides. “And who are you, Jack?” He smiled, but it fell way short of a friendly offering.
Jack tucked away his gun. “Detective Jack Stone. I work for the NYPD.”
Mason’s smile fell. “Police? What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Olivia said. One she hoped not to retell. She’d wanted to escape everything, not relive it. “Did I know you were stopping by this morning? I’ve had a lot going on the last couple of days. I’m sorry if it slipped my mind.”
He cut his narrowed gaze to Jack before aiming a sheepish grin her way. “Nah. I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you wanted to grab some breakfast or something. Haven’t seen you in a while. Just wondered how you’re doing.”
Jack cleared his throat, and a weird tension hung heavy in the hallway. She didn’t want to hurry either of the men away, but it was clear some kind of unspoken challenge had been exchanged between the two of them.
“I’d love to catch up.” She felt Jack tense beside her, and she fought the urge to keep him close. She needed some space before she did something stupid. “Jack, thank you for walking me home. If you or Detective Green uncover anything else, please let me know.”
He worked his mouth back and forth, pivoting to block her view of Mason. “I’ll call you later. Be careful.” He shot a hard look Mason’s way, then hurried down the stairs.
She watched him go and ignored the regret that dotted her heart like tiny pinpricks. These feelings were so new and raw and complicated. Hell, her world had been turned upside down. Chances were whatever she felt was just some weird attachment to the man who offered her protection and security.
“Olivia?”
She turned back toward Mason. “Sorry. It’s been a day.” A forced laugh lifted the last word, making it come out pitchy and cracked.
“And it’s only 8:00 am.” He lifted the side of his mouth, making one of his dimples more prominent through the rough patch of whiskers.
Securing her keys, she made her way to the door and opened it. “What’d you bring with you?” She dipped her head to the package at his feet.
“Nothing. This was sitting here when I came up.” He scooped up the brown box and followed her inside. He placed the package on the coffee table. “Want to talk about what happened?”
Mentally beaten down, she flopped on the couch and shrugged out of her wet jacket. She tossed it on the floor and sighed. “Not really.”
“Fair enough.” He sat beside her and rested his palms on his thighs. “With the exception of whatever it is that’s going on, how’ve you been? I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t checked in. I’m sorry about that.”
“You never have to apologize for being busy.” Mason had showed up to support her in a more subtle way than her brother. Where Jason was a bit overbearing and had stepped in to do whatever he thought she needed, Mason had sent texts of support or had meals delivered so she didn’t have to leave her apartment. He was never pushy—never crossed boundaries. Just been a friend at a time when she desperately needed one.
