Page 118 of Marked By Moonlight

Still, I kept my guard up, fully expecting Gordon to try to off me in a tragic “accident.” So far, he hadn’t. No shove out the window, no poisoned drink, no stab in the back…yet.

He was sure to try at some point, though. That, I was sure of. Anything to get me out of the picture so Mina could end up with a more suitable partner.

I thought of Clement, that ass of a wolf shifter. I hated the cop, but talk about poetic justice — if I got offed, Mina could end up with him, and wouldn’t Gordon just love having a nosy police officer in the family?

I had to chuckle at the idea.

Everyone exhaled when he exited, letting the door slam behind him.

Then Celeste’s heels clicked over the floor, and we all tensed again.

“Well, isn’t that nice,” she cooed dangerously. “New contracts for everyone.”

Except me,her tone said, as if she’d ever worked by the letter of the law.

No one said a word, and no one moved.

“Well, don’t just sit there,” she snipped. “Get to work. As Gordon said…I’ll be watching.”

* * *

We had hours before the eight-p.m. handover, but time flew. We were that busy making arrangements and reconnoitering the location Jensen had named — a Docklands warehouse — according to the schedule Gordon had outlined.

“Convenient that he’ll be out of the country by the time the trade is made, isn’t it?” Roux observed as we climbed the stairs to Anastasia’s apartment.

I didn’t comment. I didn’t need to.

Then again, Gordon’s absence made it easy for us to adjust his arrangements, such as who accompanied Mina to Anastasia’s. Henrik and I had come along with Roux, while Bene remained in the vicinity of Jensen’s warehouse.

Boxing up the painting went more or less to plan, especially since the plan anticipated delays in getting Anastasia to part with her masterpiece.

And boy, did she delay, touching and weeping over it. She’d donned black clothing for the occasion and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief — a white one with the red teddy bear logo of the 1980 Moscow Olympics.

“Just wait for the cash to come through,” Bene whispered. “She’ll be dancing through the house in a cha-cha.”

She and Mina locked us out of the study for some kind of private service, and when they finally opened the doors, the place looked and smelled like an Orthodox church. Anastasia had even moved a couple of icons into the room and burned incense for the occasion.

There was one bright side to all this. No Celeste. She was back in the hotel, ostensibly coordinating things. Which couldn’thave amounted to much since we kept communication with her to a minimum.

Mina patted Anastasia’s hand as Roux and I slid the painting into its crate.

Henrik murmured solemnly. “Our time on earth is limited. But art is eternal.”

Pretty rich, coming from a vampire, but Anastasia didn’t need to know that.

“You will always be a critical part of this painting’s story,” Mina assured Anastasia.

“Immortal, in a way,” Henrik threw in, somehow keeping the irony out of his voice. And, hell. Maybe he meant it. He was that hard to read.

Anastasia brightened. Having already kissed the painting (leaving no lipstick smudges, to Mina’s relief), Anastasia kissed the crate and finally allowed us to carry it outside. She followed us every step of the way, hugged and kissed Mina on the sidewalk, and finally disappeared inside. When I glanced back up, she was gazing down from the study window. No cha-cha. In fact, she looked more like a widow than ever.

Mina sighed from beside me. “I’ll have to help her find something to put in its place.” She forced a rueful smile. “Or get Bogdan to.”

I rubbed a thumb over her cheek, wiping away Anastasia’s lipstick. “You are too good, you know that?”

She frowned. “Not so sure.”

“For once, the dragon is right,” Henrik said quietly, patting the pocket he’d slipped his contract into. “You are too good.”