Page 19 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ATTIKUS

Instead of driving home, I pulled into the Mount Museum garage, parked, got out, and walked through the main entrance.

The popular Japanese Silk Painting Exhibit had ended yesterday, so the museum wasn’t as crowded.

This quiet time between events provided the staff with an opportunity to catch up on administrative tasks.

I had a few projects to review and documents to approve. I could get everything done today and clear my slate for the next few days. Arranging for a fake marriage required more work than I had expected.

My lawyer could complete the legal documents once I gave him the terms and conditions.

But the other details like the living situation, wedding photos, and how to deliver this information to the media had to come from me.

The fewer people who knew about the truth of our marriage, the better.

Most of all, how would I share this information with the boys?

They weren’t like my mother or sister. They’d know something was up.

I had a meeting with them this weekend to review the video game demo and the status of The Trogyn investigation. Perhaps I could give them some details, but not everything. I could discuss this with Vanessa so our stories matched up.

The simpler we made this marriage, the easier it would be to end it.

We only needed professional photos to disperse to the media.

My plan for the marriage and honeymoon shifted in my head.

Perhaps we could escape to one of my vacation homes and get married there?

God knew my body had been desperate for a vacation.

I could bring my laptop to get some work done.

That’s not a vacation.

Yeah, but it was a fake honeymoon. She would probably do something on her own, so I might as well make the best use of my time.

I had to investigate my wife’s history. How had she killed a man? What was the circumstance? Though I didn’t know her well enough yet, I knew she wasn’t a killer. What had happened to her on that day—that moment?

From my experience, when someone was pushed into a corner, survival mode kicked in, and the person could turn into a monster in an instant.

He could kill at that moment. I’d been there, so I understood what it felt like.

The day those fuckers swarmed me, I wanted to kill them, but my leg and my wrist were broken.

If I’d had the energy, I would have killed them.

The second time I felt helpless was when I saw my house burned to cinders on the news.

The desire for vengeance clawed through my heart.

Where the fuck was Ashton?

I walked down the arched hallway toward my office.

“Are you okay?”

A voice yanked me out of my reverie, and I turned around to see Agnes, the sixty-five-year-old maintenance manager of the museum. She had sharp brown eyes and wore the museum’s gray uniform. Her brown hair was tied back into a short ponytail.

“Hi.” I walked over. “Sorry I didn’t see you.”

She offered a warm smile—one that had gotten me through difficult times.

Agnes was another friend of my mom’s. They met through a Lunch Lady Club that exchanged clothes, food, and other necessities.

Lunch moms made little money, so they shared what they could.

Agnes worked at a different school, but I remembered meeting her a few times while grocery shopping with my mom.

When Agnes applied for the museum job, I hired her immediately. Agnes wasn’t married and lived by herself. She should have retired, but she claimed to love working at the museum so much that she wasn’t ready to leave. She knew the museum's layout by heart.

“Everything okay?” She considered me. “Got a minute? You look like you need some tea and conversation.”

“Aren’t you heading out?” I gestured to her shoulder bag.

“Yes, but I haven’t seen you lately, and I’m worried about you.”

“Nothing to worry about.” I smiled. “Sure, let’s chat.”

We walked to the museum café and got tea and cookies. We sat at a table overlooking the new indoor garden. The bamboo, trees, and plants came from Forrest’s farms.

I sipped my green tea, which was supplied by Forrest’s herbal company. “I know I don’t say this often, but thank you for making sure the museum is always looking top-notch.”

Her brown eyes beamed as she glanced around. “Thank you for offering me the job. This is a fantastic museum. The best one.” She bit into her cookie.

“Mount Museum is small compared to the other museums in the country.”

“It’s not about size, Attikus. It’s about what you offer and what you stand for.

I’ve visited a lot of museums and have met several of their employees.

” She bit into her cookie, chewed, and swallowed.

“The owners aren’t as involved as you. You take pride in this museum.

It’s your passion. It’s not just a business that makes money. ”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”

“Your parents would’ve been so proud of you.” She placed a hand over mine.

“I’m very lucky to be surrounded by genuine people—you and Joseph.” Concern for him surfaced. “I need to follow up with Detective Farmer about his case.”

“He’s been gone for over a month without a trace.” Anxiety stretched her face. “I wasn’t working that day. I had a doctor’s appointment. I wish I’d been around. Maybe I would’ve seen something.”

“We’ll find him. Just let the staff know we won’t stop looking for him.”

Like Agnes, Joseph lived alone and was a dedicated employee.

“It’s bizarre how he just vanished,” she said. “He didn’t mention going on vacation or anything.”

“We checked his apartment. His luggage is still at home. I’ll look at the recording again. Maybe I missed something.”

“You need to take care of yourself too.” Agnes sat back and crossed her arms. “What’s this thing about you getting engaged? Why didn’t you tell me? I heard from Gigi.”

Fuck .

“Sorry.” I raked a hand through my hair. “It’s been a whirlwind, and I forgot to tell you.”

“I can see that. Your mom called me the other day, wondering if I knew anything. She wanted details.” She uncrossed her arms and lifted her cup of tea. “When will I get to meet Nessa?”

“Soon.”

“I met her during her art exhibit here. She’s articulate, friendly, and very attractive.” Agnes sipped her tea. “But be careful. Those qualities are often masks for people who want something from you, Attikus. You’re a wealthy and powerful man.”

I appreciated her protectiveness more than she knew. My mom’s friends had become motherly figures, ensuring I didn’t take the wrong path.

If only Agnes knew what was between Vanessa and me.

“Do I look like a man who could be swindled?”

“Usually, no.” She smirked. “But when an attractive and talented woman is in the mix, things can get blurry. Don’t want you going blind.”

I finished my tea. “Well, it’s a wonderful thing I have you and Mom Gigi to make sure I won’t go blind.”

“Smart answer.” She smiled. “I updated the lock to your safe room.”

Agnes and Joseph were the only two people who entered that room. She had access to ensure it stayed clean. He had access to record all my precious treasures and ensure the place was dust-free.

“Thank you.”

After a few more minutes, Agnes left. I walked down to the lower level to The Gathering, a safe room that held all my precious belongings and where I conducted my extensive research on Ashton C. Lindor.

I punched in the code, pressed my palm against the screen, and aligned my eye with the scanner to verify my identity. The sensor lights illuminated as I stepped onto the marble floor.

The safe room was made of poured concrete, concrete blocks, high-density steel, ballistic fiberglass, and Kevlar.

It had a bulletproof door. The top-notch safe room had all the extra amenities in case of a dangerous storm.

I was prepared for an apocalypse. Cameras inside the room linked to a recording I could access anywhere in the world.

When I had it built, I needed a place to store my valuable items while I searched for my enemy.

Now, there was a separate suite for me to sleep, eat, and bathe in when I didn’t want to drive home.

I didn’t realize it would take me this long to find the fucker.

Who was helping him hide? I wouldn’t rest until I found him. This search had consumed me for so long that I didn’t know what else to do with my life.

Until Vanessa.

She was the distraction I didn’t know I needed.

Walking into the office, I sat down and turned on my computer. I glanced up, and my eyes landed on the illustration that had started everything—the beginning and ending all in one.

I got out of the chair and ambled over, standing in front of The Cozy Family Restaurant ad that had won me a scholarship and cash.

This pen and ink artwork had taken weeks to become a final version. I’d enjoyed every moment of it. It was a magical experience to get lost in the creative process. Right now, working on Level Seven was the only thing that got me close to that magical feeling.

My wrist ached, and the muscles in my leg throbbed.

“Stop.” I scolded my body for responding to the memory of the fateful day.

I read somewhere that the body’s cells could remember trauma. I believed it. The body produced certain chemicals as a response to fear, anger, and joy. The emotions and pain I’d endured that day were a colossal energy that had infiltrated into my cellular memory.

This was why I couldn’t heal from it.

I walked over to my wall of paintings, which ranged in value from a few hundred to millions of dollars. But I didn’t measure their worth based on those numbers. They were all gained at various stages of my life.

I ran a finger down the water lily painting from Nessa Lambert. I bought the 11” x 17” painting years ago. It was a raw painting with no varnish, resin, or other protective coatings. The painting had no title either.

I was drawn to the bleeding water lily because I could feel its pain. Exceptional art could reach into you and rearrange your bodily systems, touching you in ways nothing else could. That painting was the first artwork to do that to me.

Vanessa was the first to help me fee l again. In a way, I felt obligated to help her in return.

Get to work.

I didn’t come here to admire art.

I returned to my desk and searched for Emmanuel Valencia. Then I made some calls to assist in the search.Who wasEmmanuel? Vanessa mentioned he wasn’t like this during their brief relationship. But I knew how people could deceive to achieve a goal. This happened in business all the time.

The fear on her face had dulled her brightness as though a splash of black paint smeared across her vivid red.

After an hour of research, I discovered where he lived, hung out, and worked. I also knew where his younger sister worked. I browsed his social media accounts and noticed his different personalities. There were no images of him and Vanessa.

I also checked Vanessa’s social media posts. She only posted about her artwork. I saved a picture of her and me at the gallery opening. I wasn’t a social media guy, but I created an account on Real Rumors and DailyThoughts and followed her.

Why? I didn’t know.

I returned to Emmanuel’s account and continued browsing.

My heart leaped when I spotted a familiar face.

Dr. Nico Messina was part of The Trogyn.

That was my assumption during my investigation into the crime organization.

He came from power and wealth and had attended several parties at underground clubs.

I pulled up Dr. Messina’s file. His High School GPA shouldn’t have allowed him to attend Harvard Medical.

His parents probably paid someone for him to attend.

He probably paid someone to do all the work for him.

Instincts told me to investigate any malpractice lawsuits. There were too many for me to read.

How did he still have a job at Brigham and Women’s Hospital? Why hadn’t these lawsuits been on the news?

My fingers itched. I compiled a few lawsuits, wrote a summary, sent it to Elena, and copied Orion. Musepaper, Elena’s online newspaper, was known for delivering the truth.

My team sent me a file on Emmanuel’s school records. At least his GPA proved he qualified to attend Northeastern University. What was the doctor’s relationship with Emmanuel?

I printed out a picture of him and Emmanuel and tucked it into my back pocket.

I glanced at the clock. Emmanuel should head home from his office job in an hour. I had questions to ask him.

From the files my team sent me about Emmanuel and his sister, I could tell they were close.

But he didn’t have any pictures of her on his social media account.

Either they had a falling out, or Emmanuel wasn’t the monster he appeared to be.

A quick visit to Elegant Cosmetics to snap a photo of his sister would make an interesting conversation with him.

As I drove to visit Thea, I stopped at a set of red lights.

A black sports car pulled up next to me, and I recognized a face I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Milton Kalkounis was probably on the phone with someone.

He had been part of Ashton’s crowd back in high school.

Though he wasn’t part of the group who beat me that day, he had created a shitty atmosphere for me and others in high school.

A thrill skated down my spine. He would know where to find Ashton. When the lights turned, I took a detour and followed him. Elegant Cosmetics could wait.