Page 17 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)

Chapter Twelve

Kat

A fter I returned, Nico seemed just as distracted as before. When I questioned him about it, he said it was because he was all too conscious of my naked body hiding beneath a layer of cotton. He even closed his eyes while I made the call to my assistant from his phone.

Erin answered on the first ring, acting like I must be at death’s door to have taken a day off—which was fair, since my last sick day had involved a dangerously high fever and a bout of dehydration requiring IV fluids.

It happened only three weeks after Erin started working for me, and it had taken her hours to convince me to go to the clinic in town.

Shit. Maybe Nico was right to mock my rigid routine.

“Boss! I was getting ready to call the hot firefighter down the hall to come check on you. How are you feeling? ”

“Better. I should be back on Monday. Everything’s going okay there with the auctions?”

“I’m all over it. If you need another day to recover, I can handle things Monday, too. I don’t want you pushing it when you’re sick.”

Guilt slithered through my belly. “I’ll be okay, but I’ll let you know if things change. Enjoy what’s left of your weekend, boss’s orders.”

She called a cheery farewell that made me feel even worse for lying.

When I tossed Nico the phone and dropped down beside him on the couch, I asked, “Is Pokey just sitting around, waiting for your next instruction or something? Standing on call for your orders?”

Nico burst into startled laughter. “Oh, shit, I can’t wait to tell Gumby you’re calling him that, but no. I sent him home. I just didn’t want your father or any of the neighborhood gossips seeing my car at your shop.”

“So Pokey knows about the painting?”

“He does.”

“And what does he think I’m doing here?” I asked, certain he was hiding something.

“I might’ve given him the impression I was planning some kind of romantic little getaway the entire time, enacting a fantasy of yours. You know, being whisked away to a remote location for a little tryst. ”

He was lying—I knew it as surely as I knew he’d lied about putting down two aces during our game of Bullshit. Still, there was something in his eyes, a certain vulnerability, so I was willing to let it slide.

For now. Gumby, Pokey, whoever he was, knew more than Nico was willing to admit.

“You’re the one here making cute little quips about tying me up, you jerk. If anyone’s fantasy is coming into play, it’s yours,” I replied.

He bounced his eyebrows. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

My cheeks flushed hot, but I continued to glare at him. “Now you’re just trying to distract me,” I accused.

“Not at all. If I wanted to distract you, I would use my hands. And my mouth. And my—”

I slapped my palm none-too-gently over his mouth. “I get the picture, thank you very much. Are we discussing the actual situation or not?”

Nico waited patiently for me to remove my hand. Once I did, he nodded solemnly.

“You’re right. Time to focus on work. I suppose pleasure can wait. When’s the last time you were inside your father’s house?” He pulled his laptop out, along with a notebook and pen, and laid them on the coffee table in front of us.

“It was six months after your dad died, so I guess a year and a half or so?” I answered. “I stopped by to drop off a birthday gift for Beardsley. No one even bothered to tell me your dad was gone. There might have been an epic screaming match involved when I found out.”

His eyes widened. “Screaming match?”

“Well, yeah. I always considered your father part of the family, and even if I hadn’t seen you in a while, you were one of my best friends, Nico. What kind of self-absorbed asshole neglects to mention that kind of news to his only child?”

“I should’ve told you myself. I’m so sorry.” Guilt twisted his mouth even as sorrow filled his dark eyes.

“Yes, you should have,” I said simply, “but you had enough on your plate at the time. There was no reason he couldn’t have told me.

I was living across town, not on the moon.

But in any case, I didn’t see the painting, not that I spent much time wandering around the house.

I delivered Beardsley’s gift, ran into my father on my way out, screamed until my throat was raw, and stormed away from the house.

I haven’t been back inside since that day. ”

“Kitten.” Nico swallowed hard as he laced his fingers with mine on the couch between us. “The image of you swooping down into that cavern of a front hall like a Valkyrie on my behalf . . . it means more than you know. Thank you”

I scowled slightly, though I did love the feel of his big hand enveloping mine.

“It’s really nothing to thank me for. Believe me, he deserved every word I threw at him.

In any case, neither of us can turn back time so I could be there when you needed me the most, and it gives us no insight about the painting, either. ”

He lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckles. “I still appreciate what you did. I wish I could’ve seen it, though. You really are something special.”

For a long moment, I was silent. Regret was a heavy thing, as was grief.

Maybe, now that we’d found each other again, we could help to lighten one another’s load. I leaned my head against his shoulder and sighed softly when he pressed his lips to my temple.

Already, I felt lighter with him by my side.

“So, our options are straight up burglary, maybe some blackmail if we can find enough dirt, your truly terrible ransom scheme, a prolonged legal battle if we could prove the provenance of the painting belonging to your family . . . what else is there?”

Nico snorted. “If we had ten or fifteen million dollars on hand, convincing him to sell could be an option, maybe, but I still don’t believe he’d agree to that, not with our history.

And no offense, but your father’s the shadiest lawyer I’ve ever known, so I think the legal battle is off the table, along with the ransom.

If he knew you were involved in conning him, I’d be terrified of what he might do to get revenge. ”

“And blackmail would require concrete proof of something.”

“Which I spent a long time searching for, with nothing to show for it. He covers his tracks too well. ”

He paused, like there was more he wanted to say, but he fell silent.

“What about your computer programs?” I asked, studying the laptop.

“What about them?”

“Do they save information about the alerts you get? Like, any news footage mentioning the painting and my father, for example?”

Nico nodded slowly. “Yes. Most of the articles or news segments I’ve seen just showed a single photo of it in the frame, nothing that stood out to me as a clue as to where it might be hanging. I have logs of everything, though.”

For a second, I tapped my bottom lip. “What if we could arrange an interview with him in order to get some current footage of the painting from inside the house?”

“How would we do that?” he asked.

I shot him a sly grin. “I know a journalist who, with a few tips on the right wording to use, might be able to convince my father to agree to it. Unfortunately, her number was in my phone contacts. I don’t want to reach out through any official channels.”

“And then what? We break in and steal the painting?”

Humming thoughtfully, I said, “The thought did cross my mind, though maybe that option should be kept as a last resort. You’ve obviously been doing plenty of research, but the specific location is one thing we don’t know for sure.

There’s no way I’m letting you break into the house—if we have to steal it, I’ll be the one going in.

I snuck in and out all the time in high school.

My father’s not going to have his goons beat me to death if I got caught inside, but you? There’s no guarantee.”

I watched as Nico’s urge to tell me there was no way in hell he’d allow me to put myself in danger rose and died before it reached his throat. This was no time to be macho or heavy-handed; he clearly knew it would certainly do more harm than good.

“Agree to disagree,” he said in a low voice.

Stealing the painting was firmly relegated to the role of last resort, because I was right and he knew it. It would make more sense for me to be the one to go in, even if we ended up just needing reconnaissance, and he’d probably cut off his own arm before he’d put me at risk.

I squeezed his hand because I knew just what was going on inside his head.

“Look, as much as I’m enjoying this little love nest you’ve got here, I think it would be smart to combine forces back home so we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves.

Erin might forgive the aberration from my schedule for a day or two, but if I’m gone longer than that, she’s going to get suspicious.

I told her I should be back at work Monday. ”

“Love nest, huh? I like the sound of that. How about we keep enjoying this little love nest until tomorrow afternoon, if I promise that I’ll get you back to your apartment in time to get a good night’s sleep before heading to work Monday morning?

God forbid I throw you too far off schedule,” he murmured, nuzzling my ear.

My annoyed humph turned into a sigh as his lips traced my jawline. “I like my routine, is that a crime?”

“No,” he replied, nipping lightly at my chin, “but maybe we can throw some new routines into the mix.”

“You know, Nico, I think you might just be able to convince me.”