Page 49 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

VANESSA

Attikus left this morning for a business meeting in California. Then he was flying to New York for another meeting at the end of the week. He’d been gone for an hour, and I already missed him.

The more I got to know this brilliant man, the more I fell in love with him. Level Seven was ninety-five percent complete, and I was thrilled to help him with the details. He could now cross that off his priority list.

Despite that, I still sensed his stress.

I knew he was trying to protect me by not sharing all his concerns.

I overheard his conversation with Orion the other day.

Something about apprehending a Trogyn member, but then Attikus walked into his office and closed the door.

I couldn’t sit around and let him do all the work.

Before he left, he told me not to worry about my mom’s freedom.

Attikus discovered that the prosecutor and judge were linked to The Trogyn.

His lawyer was currently preparing documents to submit to the court for a new trial.

Hope sparked in me. Perhaps I didn’t need to extract my mother from prison at all. Maybe she’d be released soon.

Creativity had burst in me the last few days, and I couldn’t stop painting or outlining the ideas for a terrarium corner. I finished three paintings and even varnished them.

I didn’t have to go to the gallery until later today, so I walked into Attikus’s office and looked at the research boards he’d created. He didn’t know I’d been using these boards for my research. I couldn’t sit around while my man put himself in danger trying to help me.

I stepped over to the board that displayed my issues, looking at Emmanuel’s pictures and all the people he had been associated with.

Becca was the redheaded woman I’d seen with Enzo at the bakery that day.

Both were deceased Trogyn members. Milton Kalkounis was Emmanuel’s trainer—another Trogyn member.

Not deceased. A Post-it note stated that he was also Jean-Claude Dumas.

“Huh?” I said to no one. The trainer had two identities? Why?

My heart raced as I recognized the man who was there the day I was attacked in the alleyway—Brody Harris. The man with the scar on his lip and the flying pig tattoo on his neck. Attikus had probably identified him from the blurry video.

Brody was the cousin of Dillon Harris, the man I’d killed. They were part of Harris Pharmaceuticals, which owned several drug and health insurance companies.

As I surveyed the board, studying more pictures, my eyes landed on the trainer, Milton Kalkounis. He was also on Attikus’s board. I saw he was friends with the group who had bullied Attikus. Milton was the link between our cases.

I wanted to ask Attikus so many questions, but if I did, he’d know I was looking into it.

I looked at the picture of the severed finger of his high school principal. Perhaps it had been sent to Attikus that day and not me. Whoever had done it knew he would attend the gallery opening.

My phone rang, and it was Willow.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“I know you’re not due in yet, but three art collectors are here. They’d like to speak to you. Shall I ask them to come back later?”

“No. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Getting ready now.”

Business at the gallery had increased more than I expected. With my terrarium collection coming soon, I should hire a second or even a third associate. I had to review my finances to see what I could afford. But right now, things looked positive.

When I arrived, five people browsed the gallery. I walked to the back room and brought out three new abstract paintings I’d finished two days ago. I had an urge to show them today.

Two of the new pieces sold while I spoke to the art collectors. After attending to those customers, a man approached me. I stopped breathing, and my heart thundered in fear. Gathering all my strength, I remained calm and pretended not to recognize him.

“Hello. How can I help you?” I forced a smile as I greeted Brody Harris.

Was God trying to tell me something earlier today when I recognized his face on the research board? He looked older and had gained more muscle since the alleyway incident. The scar on the lip and the flying pig tattoo on his neck were still visible.

“How much is that painting right there?” He pointed to the third abstract painting I’d just brought in.

I didn’t want to sell it to him. I didn’t want him to have anything that belonged to me. So I threw out a price that was way more than what the art was worth.

“Five hundred thousand dollars.”

His mouth dropped open. “But I heard the other two customers buy something similar for a fraction of the price.”

“Well, this painting has a deeper meaning. And there’s more texture to it. The colors are similar to Van Gogh’s The Starry Night .”

“What is that painting called?”

“The Starry Truth,” I said, realizing the irony of it.

This man who put my mom in prison was now trying to buy my art. Did he recognize me? Probably not. I didn’t look like that college student anymore.

He stared at the painting for a moment. “I’ll take it.”

I blinked. What should I do now? I didn’t want to sell the artwork to him, but I couldn’t decline his offer either.

What if he created trouble by saying I was prejudiced against him for whatever reason?

That would create bad press for my gallery.

Plus, he was associated with bad people. They could create more trouble for me.

An idea popped into my head. The shock of seeing him had hindered my ability to think clearly.

“Wonderful. Fill out this form for me.” I offered him a tablet with the document to collect his information. “I’ll package the painting for you and provide the Certificate of Authenticity.”

He nodded and busied himself with the tablet.

Instead of taking the painting to the counter and packaging it, I took it into the office. My heart rate soared as I pulled out the drawer that held the innovative device Vivian had given me. A company specializing in high-tech gadgets had made it.

No one could see the tiny metal device, which was the size of a pinhead. My nerves skyrocketed as I insertedit into a spot on the painting. I used a metallic paint marker to cover up the device, making it look like one of the stars in the painting.

I put the painting into a customized box, then slipped it into a gift bag. When I walked out, I grabbed the Certificate of Authenticity and placed it in the bag.

After he signed the documents, I asked, “Would you like to pay an installment or the full amount?”

“I can pay it in full today.”

“Wire transfer or credit card?”

He gave me his Black American Express credit card with the name Harris Pharmaceuticals LLC on it. When the amount was authorized, he signed it. I didn’t ask if he worked for the company or anything.

As he left, his phone rang, and he picked up the call. “Yo. I’ll be at the banquet tonight. I’m all set with my gift.”

Who was he giving the painting to?

For the next hour, nobody entered the gallery.

The rush was over, which gave me time to calm my nerves.

I let Willow take an early lunch while I replayed the event.

I had to tell Attikus when he returned. If I shared this with him now, he’d probably cancel his meetings and rush back. I didn’t want him to do that.

With my heart pounding, I logged into the website that tracked the device.

A blinking red dot moved slowly on the map, signifying that Brody was a couple of blocks from here.

I couldn’t believe I had done that. But intuition told me he could offer more clues for Attikus and me.

I set Brody aside to review my financial situation. With the income I received today, I could afford to hire two more associates if I continued selling paintings at this rate. I wrote up the job description and the requirements for the sales positions, then posted them on several job sites.

My business was growing fast, and I couldn’t be happier.

I checked my email and saw a reply from the glass artist, asking me to stop by her studio for a chat.

My terrarium idea was coming to fruition quicker than I’d anticipated.

I should visit local garden shops to see if they could offer me what I needed.

Another idea bloomed in my mind. I could use the greenhouse to plant mini trees, shrubs, mushrooms, and whatever I wanted to include in my terrariums. But I’d also be supporting the local communities.

Despite everything going so well regarding my business, a lingering dread prevented me from fully celebrating. Sighing, I wished everything would be resolved soon. I missed the carefree lifestyle we had in Maui. I was tired, and I knew Attikus was too.

The front doorbell chimed, and I looked up. My day took another nosedive as I spied Miranda. She stalked in with a stern face as though she owned the place. I wasn’t in the mood to speak to her. It seemed my past was taking turns today, and she was a part I didn’t want to remember.

I couldn’t believe Attikus had dated her.

Then again, her family was wealthy, and she probably ran in his circle.

Perhaps I should give her a chance. Her post about Attikus and me had benefited us.

She seemed professional and had grown up a lot.

Maybe she’d experienced something that had changed her attitude.

Miranda stepped up to the desk and smirked. Her demeaning expression from years ago was on full display again. This was the Miranda I remembered.

“Where’s Attikus?” she demanded in a rude tone.

“Working,” I said.“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, he’s not at the museum. Where is he?”

Agitation pumped off her body. What had happened to her?

She glanced aroundthe gallery, muttering something to herself before whipping her gaze back at me. “I need him to pay child support.”

What?

I gaped at her. “Attikus doesn’t have any children.” Not that he’d told me. And his mother and sister would’ve mentioned it.

Miranda stepped closer to the counter. Her pupils were dilated, but her irises were dull. When she turned, I saw a rash on the side of her neck.

“He has a boy with me. I never told him, but now I need him to pay up.”

“Where’s the kid?” I asked.

Something was wrong with Miranda. She reached into her purse, pulled out her phone, and showed me a picture of a five-year-old child. “This is Brandon. He’s Attikus’s son.”

He had Attikus’s dark hair, but I didn’t believe her. What was she trying to do after all these years? Was she trying to make me angry? If so, this was an outrageous way to do it.

“Do you have proof that the kid is his?”

“A paternity test result was sent to Attikus’s email. I need him to reply. If he doesn’t, my lawyer will reach out to him.”

Attikus didn’t need an extra problem on his plate.

I stared at her, trying my best to stay calm. “Why are you doing this now?”

“Because Brandon needs to know who his father is. Attikus needs to take care of his son and the mother of his child.”

“So you want money because you’re incompetent?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch.”

I was familiar with this Miranda. “Are you on drugs?”

“No,” she said too quickly.

“Attikus isn’t here. He’s away on business. I don’t know when he’ll return.” I picked up my phone. “Do you mind if I take a snapshot of your son?”

“Sure. Isn’t he handsome? Just like his father. I already sent Attikus a copy. He hasn’t replied to my texts.”

She held up the phone, and I took a picture of him. I didn’t want to give her my phone number. She also showed me a video of her son playing at the park. He was going down the slide as she commented on the phone.

When Miranda stalked out of the gallery, I collapsed on the chair, unsure of what to think. Had Attikus fathered a child and not known it? That could be a possibility. He would’ve told me if he had a son, right?