Page 30 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nico
I n standard Kat Willoughby fashion—stubbornly and with no small hint of that fiery temper of hers—she immediately shot down my suggestion of keeping her distance from me, even temporarily.
I’d tried to broach the subject as diplomatically as possible when I arrived at her apartment that evening, but the fury that rose within her was truly a thing to behold.
If it hadn’t been directed at me, I might have been impressed.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she snapped. “I’ll be damned if I let him ruin another single thing for me, Nicolas Beaumont. Whatever your macho sensibilities are telling you, I suggest you shut them the hell up.”
With a long-suffering sigh, I raked my hands through my hair.
“The painting is just a thing . An important thing, sure, but it’s just canvas and paint.
You’re a living, breathing human being who I am madly in love with.
If something happens to you, if anything happens to you because of my role in all this, I will never forgive myself. ”
Despite her annoyance, there was still a crystal clear image in my mind of patching up her bleeding arm at the cabin, of how I’d taken care of her, fussed over her, soothed her. I’d already caused her harm by involving her in this mess. The thought of hurting her more was like an arrow in my heart.
“The more obvious the connection between us, the more likely it is your father will lump you in with me when shit hits the fan.”
“I am not staying away. Not from this fight, not from you. We’re in this together.”
“I need you to be safe.” The alternative was unthinkable.
“Look, Nico,” she said softly, her tone conciliatory now, “you know that I’m safer with you watching my back than I would be alone, and vice versa. And anyway, I have a gift for you.”
I blinked at her in surprise, but I waited quietly while she disappeared into the bedroom.
Knowing Kat as I did, it was just as likely to be an antique toy that reminded her of my eyes as it was to be something bizarrely useful.
She possessed a knack for gift-giving that had always intrigued and enchanted me—like when she was fourteen and happened upon a signed copy of my father’s favorite vinyl at a consignment store in town .
It had been so long since we’d spent a holiday together, I hadn’t even realized just how much I’d missed those goofy, quirky gifts of hers.
Kat returned after a moment bearing a stiff manila envelope, which she handed over with a slightly misty smile. “I wasn’t sure I had anything of use, but after our success in France, I decided to take another look.”
I lifted the flap and slid out three glossy photographs.
The first featured my father with one arm looped playfully around my ten year old neck and the other knuckling the top of my head.
Fighting a wave of grief, I spent a minute staring at the image, then set it aside to look at the other two pictures.
The next one was me by myself, taken just before my junior prom, dressed in an uncomfortable rented tuxedo and holding the magenta corsage my date insisted I buy for her.
The last was a picture of Kat at fifteen or so, her golden locks still long enough for a bouncing ponytail, pecking my father playfully on the cheek.
All three photos had been taken inside our cottage behind the Willoughby mansion. All three showed the painting clearly in the background.
“It might be just canvas and paint,” she said quietly, “but it’s also family and connection and legacy.
Even if you didn’t want it back, I would go to war with my father just to see that returned to you.
This is airtight proof it belonged to your family during the years your father worked for him, in case he claims he misremembered when he bought it. ”
I laid the photographs carefully on the coffee table and yanked her into my arms, crushing her against my chest. As I buried my face in her hair, I wondered what the hell I’d done in this life to deserve her.
“I regret a lot of things in my life, Kitten, mostly related to walking away from you all those years ago, but I will never be able to regret the way you came back into my life, even if my stupidity made you think you were being kidnapped.”
Her laughter was muffled against my shoulder. “There’s been more excitement in my life these past few weeks than in the past decade,” she joked.
“If anyone is going to war for me, I’m glad it’s you. He doesn’t stand a chance against the two of us.”
It settled me somewhere deep inside, that simple statement, settled both of us if her soft sigh was any indication. Even if I was still concerned for her safety, having her by my side was a comfort, a strength I simply didn’t have on my own.
It was also, I had to admit, sexy as fuck to see her turning so fierce on my behalf.
“Look, I’m going to scan the photos in and work up a program to send them out when we’re ready.
If you’ve got any particular news outlets in mind, let me know.
I think it’s probably best if we scatter them to make sure your father doesn’t take it out on any one reporter or organization.
We’ll need a message to send along with the photos, though—I think aiming for subtle rather than combative would be in our best interest,” I said, tugging her across my lap as I sat down on the sofa .
Kat drew back and let her jaw drop. “Are you calling me combative?”
“I would never,” I deadpanned. My steady gaze held hers until she smothered a laugh with her palm, then I grinned. “I would, however, describe you as tempestuous, ferocious, and just the tiniest bit impulsive at times.”
She sniffed delicately and hiked her chin in the air, but her eyes glinted with amusement. “And you, Mr. Kidnapper, are just an even-tempered sweetheart, huh?”
I grinned. “Clearly.”
Despite the particularly pleasant form of distraction Kat offered, my mind continued to circle back to the photos. Once they were released, that was it. There would be no taking it back. Willoughby would know for certain who was behind it.
I wished I could predict exactly how the man would react, how much danger we might be in, whether her father would try to hurt Kat in retaliation.
Maybe , I thought just before I dozed off later that night with Kat spooned in front of me, maybe I can convince her to take a long weekend at the cabin. When I finally fell asleep, memories of our time at the cabin filled my dreams.
I spent the following day setting everything up for the release of the photos, but my suggestion of a weekend retreat was met with a flare of annoyance and not-so-subtle disdain from the woman in question.
No matter how I pitched it, Kat brushed off my concern and insisted that she needed to spend the weekend scouting out new items .
“Nico, for fuck’s sake, just give the program the green light and let’s get on with it,” she said, leveling a knife at me from where she stood chopping vegetables in her kitchen.
“The more we delay, the more on edge you get. If I have to murder you for my own peace of mind, I’m going to be really pissed, but I can’t take it much longer. ”
That sentiment I certainly understood. I squeezed the bridge of my nose between my fingers.
“Fine, you’re right. I’ll make sure it goes out tomorrow, then. But if you think I’m leaving you to traipse through garage sales and antique malls alone this weekend, you’re very much mistaken. I’m sticking to you like glue as soon as those photos go public.”
Kat leaned over and gave me a smacking kiss on the lips. “I happen to like when you stick it to me,” she teased, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I laughed, but even her light-hearted quips couldn’t dissolve the knot of nervous energy in my gut when I sent out the photos just before lunchtime the next day.
I’d held back the one of Kat and my father, choosing instead to turn that one into the wallpaper on my phone screen.
Maybe I could pick up a frame for the printed version while I tagged along on her scouting expeditions.
As soon as the slew of anonymous messages were launched into cyberspace, I grabbed my overnight bag and headed to Kat’s Keepers .
Erin, for one, was delighted to see me. “Kat’s busy with some repairs at the moment. Can I get you some coffee? We have a fresh pot brewing.”
I gave her a broad smile. “That’d be great, thank you. If I don’t touch anything, is it okay to poke around and look at this stuff?” I asked, gesturing to the shelves lining the big warehouse space.
“Oh, of course! Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” She slipped into a break room beside the office, the door to which was still firmly closed, and I stuck my hands into my pockets as I wandered the perimeter.
They had an impressive array of old toys, ranging from iconic to quirky to downright bizarre.
My phone pinged as I studied a mechanical tin shepherdess, and I let out a tight breath—the first news site had thrown a slapdash headline together and published some of the photos.
By the time Erin came out with a mug of coffee for me, three more had gone live as well.
For a brief moment, I considered storming the office to inform Kat, but Erin managed to convince me to sit down in the break room with my coffee and a slightly stale donut leftover from what she called their “TGIF morning splurge.”
By the time Kat emerged from the other room, her fingers streaked with some kind of grease that required dish soap to remove, a dozen more alerts had come through my phone.
She paused just inside the break room doorway, hands aloft to avoid staining the vintage movie tee she wore under her beloved jacket, and raised her eyebrows in question when she saw the look on my face.
“It’s done,” I said simply.
It seemed to take a great deal of effort for her to move her feet, but she eventually made it to the sink so she could scrub the grease from her hands.