Page 37 of Canvas of Lies (Spruce Hill #3)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Nico

A ccording to my intel, Willoughby’s appointment with Lavigne’s appraiser was scheduled to take place just after noon the next day.

Gumby had been assigned to surveillance duty on the street outside the tidy brick office of Perkins-Hallihan, while Kat and I remained at my apartment with an arc of a dozen different packaging options spread before us.

All we had to do was wait for word from Gumby about how the painting was packed for shipment.

As soon as it was confirmed, we’d package the velvet Elvis in the closest option we had, deliver him to Erin, and fade back into the woodwork so I could work my magic with the tracking numbers.

I was well aware that the inaction put Kat on edge. None of her numerous skills really correlated with any part of this particular plan of attack, unfortunately, and I knew her patience with herself was wearing thin.

While we waited, I cupped the back of her neck and massaged gently.

Even without her actively complaining, she’d never been one for sitting around, always buzzing with energy, ready to throw herself into the fray.

These past few weeks had been tough for her, probably even more than they’d been for me.

As I checked again for a text from Gumby, I fantasized about taking Kat on an actual vacation—not a research trip or a hideaway, but a proper romantic adventure.

“Heart-shaped jacuzzi tubs, cheesy or enticing?” I asked as my thumb eased a knot of tension from her neck.

With a startled laugh, she tipped her head from side to side as she considered it. “Room for two?”

“Of course. Maybe some bubble bath, champagne. Plush robes, room service.”

“Enticing,” she said firmly. “Very enticing. Making some big plans, Romeo?”

I grinned. “I’m dreaming of a weekend getaway that doesn’t involve kidnapping or attempted murder, that’s all. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Kat leaned into my hand, but before she could do more than smile in response, my phone vibrated. All her tension returned as the time for action finally arrived. I read the message and nodded to the fireproof box at the end.

“There’s our winner. ”

“Let’s get it done, then,” she said. Her tone was light, but the edges of her mouth were tight with anxiety.

The sooner this was all over, the better.

Once packaged, the box was slipped into a canvas duffle and slung over my shoulder. In my sweet new ride, as Kat had taken to calling it, we took a winding path between the apartment and Kat’s Keepers. There, we’d meet up with Erin, but first we needed to make sure no one followed us.

I wondered how long that unnerving sensation would linger, how long we’d keep glancing over our shoulders, whether Kat blamed me for bringing this chaos into her life.

Then her fingers brushed the hair at the back of my neck, a simple gesture filled with tenderness and affection.

I let go of those unspoken fears to embrace the here and now.

Once we were parked behind the warehouse, I grabbed the duffle from the back seat, but before I opened my door, I leaned over and kissed her, hard and swift.

“What was that for?” she asked, a smile tugging at those rosy lips.

“Because I can.”

Her laughter followed us as we got out of the car to meet Erin, who stood beside a purple Volkswagen. She winked at Kat and took the bag from my hand. “Hello, my lovelies. We’re not going to get arrested for whatever it is we’re doing, right?”

“No, you are definitely not doing anything illegal,” Kat assured her. “Just ship this to the address I sent you. ”

“Don’t think for one second that I didn’t notice you said you instead of we. In any case, I don’t need the details. It’s going to your family in France, right?” Erin asked me.

I flashed a wide smile. I liked Kat’s quirky assistant. From what I’d seen of her, of their interactions together, the two women complemented one another perfectly.

“Yes, to my uncle in Avignon. Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem. You said no authentication necessary, so it’s just a quick stop. You really didn’t have to give me a paid day off in exchange for this, Kat.”

“You’re doing us a favor on short notice, and you replied to my plea for help while you were very clearly busy with a certain lovely redhead. You deserve a long weekend and I really appreciate this, Erin. Text me when it’s done, okay? And thank you.”

Kat gave her a quick hug and flashed a smile as Erin set the bag on her passenger seat and slid back into her car.

“See you on Tuesday, darling. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!” Erin called, bouncing her eyebrows up and down before she pulled out of the lot.

I choked on a laugh. “I have to say, your assistant seems to think she’s your wingman. Wingwoman? She realizes you don’t need that particular service anymore, right?”

Kat rolled her eyes as we got back into my new car. “Don’t let it go to your head. Before you showed up here with Gumby that day, she was encouraging me to get it on with a history professor named Alan. ”

“Ouch.”

“I wasn’t planning to, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Yes, so much better,” I said dryly.

We drove straight back to my apartment, even though I wasn’t entirely sure how much more Kat could take of being cooped up inside. I needed the computers to complete my work, but it was becoming stifling, this period of limbo, but I was afraid to let her out of my sight.

“Let’s do something fun tomorrow,” I suggested after we got inside.

Kat narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you reading my mind, Nicolas?”

I took her hands and squeezed. “No, but I don’t have to be psychic to see how you’re feeling. I know this has been a long few weeks for you. What should we do? Garage sale hunting? Go for a hike? Swim naked in the pond at the park?”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you. Go on, work your magic. Erin should be done at Perkins-Hallihan soon.” She dropped onto the couch and closed her eyes. “I’ll be right here for the foreseeable future.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead before returning to my office. With the actual painting also departing for Europe, the tracking number switch would be fairly simple—by Monday evening, the Clément would be delivered safely to Uncle Philippe, while Lavigne would receive the Elvis.

No matter how hard I tried to keep myself from thinking too far beyond that, it was impossible to avoid speculating about the outcome of the swap.

Lavigne would be furious. I wasn’t entirely sure Willoughby would be able to smooth things over, even if he returned the buyer’s money.

For a few minutes, the possible scenarios played out in my mind.

Would Willoughby panic and try to cover it up by offering the forgery to Lavigne?

Would he guess that Kat and I were involved in some way?

A twinge of guilt marred my concentration, but I remembered Kat’s terrified cry when that car forced us off the road. The man had put his own child’s life in danger. Willoughby didn’t deserve my concern for his safety.

Then again, if a man like Lavigne came into possession of whatever was on that SD card, a whole host of dangerous problems could be unleashed on Aidan Willoughby.

In a roundabout way, maybe I was protecting Kat’s father, after all.

Kat called to me from the other room when she received the text from Erin saying the package was officially out of her hands—or, as Erin phrased it, “The eagle has flown.” With her part in the day’s activities complete, Kat curled up on her side and closed her eyes again while I set myself up to swap the delivery locations for the two tracking numbers.

It didn’t take long to make the adjustments, but by the time I returned to the living room, Kat was sound asleep. A faint smile lifted my lips as I spread a blanket over her and sifted my fingers through the tumble of honey blonde curls haloing her face.

With the painting finally making its way back to the Beaumont family, neither Kat nor I would lose that essential link to something bigger than ourselves—connection, belonging, acceptance.

Those things might not be tangible, but the painting gave each ephemeral concept a concrete form for both of us.

We’d be safe.

Everything I’d ever wanted was finally within reach. Next order of business? Keeping it there.

W e spent Saturday meandering through suburban yard sales, enjoying fresh cookies and apple turnovers from a purple food truck parked along Main Street, and holding hands while we watched the terrifying flock of Canada geese at the pond in Spruce Hill’s Town Park as the evening sky burst into a spectacular sunset.

It was blessedly uneventful, aside from another email from Kat’s father about the painting.

Though Kat snorted in disgust that the man was still trying to pass a forgery off on me while making millions from the sale of the actual painting, I replied politely and an appointment was set for the following day at the Willoughby estate.

“I’m coming with you,” Kat said immediately .

I had to grin at the stubborn set of her chin. “I wouldn’t put my neck on the line by suggesting otherwise.”

When I fell silent, Kat cocked her head and asked, “What else is worrying you?”

“I still want you to be careful. There’s no reason for him to link either of us to the auction, not when he thinks I believe he’s turning over the real thing to me, but after the delivery, all hell will break loose.

I don’t know what might happen once Lavigne gets that package.

” I reached over and wiped a smear of chocolate from her lower lip.

“I don’t want you taking any risks this week. ”

She nipped my thumb before I pulled away. “Same goes for you, mister. God, I can’t wait until this is all over.”

I slid my arm around her waist and Kat leaned into me. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting scarlet ripples across the water. When a breeze left goosebumps along Kat’s skin, I tugged her to her feet.

“It’s getting chilly. Let’s head home,” I said gently.

Quiet descended over us during the drive back to my apartment, the kind of quiet that made me wonder if Kat felt subdued or if her mind was simply racing too fast for conversation to keep up.

Though neither of us had broached the subject, I was sure she, too, had at least considered the possibility of retaliation against her father once Lavigne received the package.

Even if she fully believed what we’d done was justified, would she feel the same if it got her father killed? Would she ever forgive me if that was how this played out? Would she forgive herself?

Losing the painting would be tragic, but losing Kat would destroy me.

The sudden roll of nausea in my stomach made me want to pull over and convince her that we should abandon the plan.

“Kitten . . . maybe this is a bad idea. It’s not too late to change the tracking numbers back.”

“After all that work? You think we should just let him sell the painting out from under you?”

Her tone was gentle, curious rather than accusing, but I took it as a good sign. She wasn’t one to hide it when she was well and truly pissed.

“Lavigne isn’t going to take kindly to being duped. We’re throwing a pebble into the lake and once it hits the water, we’ll lose control of the ripples. Your father is an asshole, but I don’t want to get him killed.”

“Killed,” she repeated, eyes widening. “That’s what you’re afraid will happen?”

“Lavigne is known for his ruthlessness. I think we have to consider it as a possibility.”

“I would think Lavigne’s first step would be to demand his money back, not murder the man who has his payment stashed away in some offshore account.

My father won’t be happy, but it’s not like he can’t afford to give it back.

Besides, if my dad knew there was something that could be used against him hidden in the painting, he never would’ve sold it.

He wouldn’t want to hand it to some criminal mastermind. ”

Relief swept through me that her logic matched my train of thought the night before. “You’re right. I just feel like I’m in over my head here. This isn’t how I expected any of this to play out. I might make a passable kidnapper,” I joked, “but I’m not cut out for international intrigues.”

Kat snorted at that. “This ballooned into something a lot bigger than we expected. I won’t say we could’ve avoided it if you’d let me break into the house, but . . .”

I shot her a look. “Very funny.”

“Look, you said the packages won’t be delivered until Monday afternoon. Let’s sleep on it, deal with my father, and if you’re still worried after that, we can talk about switching the numbers back tomorrow. But I don’t want you to lose that painting for my sake, Nico. Not after all this.”

“I don’t want to lose it either, but if it comes down to you or the painting, I know what I’d choose.”

Her expression softened. “What my father did to you is inexcusable, but that painting is yours, and ultimately, it has to be your call. I’m sure Lavigne will be pissed if another swap delays the delivery, but we could still get it done in time to change it, right?”

“Right. Good thinking.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”

“What would I do without you?” I asked, lacing my fingers with hers as I stopped at a traffic light .

“Probably live in a miserable bachelor pad devoid of all personality—oh, wait,” she teased.

I gave a mock growl and nipped at her knuckles, soaking in the sound of her laughter dancing around me.

No matter what the circumstances, she always managed to calm me, to offer reassurance with just a quirk of her lips or a look in her eyes.

I might regret involving her in all of this, but I’d never regret finally having her back in my life.

Plenty of time, I assured myself.

There was still plenty of time to catch that pebble before it hit the water, and plenty of time to love her with everything I had.