Page 15 of Wicked Games
“And get your man back,” Percy added. Winning Ryder’s trust, respect, and love was a pipe dream I couldn’t allow myself to believe.
“We want in,” Dev said, leaning forward and extending his hand. “I’m stuck here for at least another month.”
“Me too,” Percy said. “I convinced Banks someone had to stay behind and look after Deverish. We might as well use whatever time we have to brainstorm and start nailing arseholes to the wall.”
“Let’s do it,” I said, bumping Dev’s fist then Percy’s.
THE DAY BEFORETHANKSGIVING,I sat at a table in my favorite coffee shop shredding a blueberry muffin instead of eating it. Theclosurewith Lucien hadn’t left me in a better place; it made me feel like a miserable monster I didn’t recognize. I didn’t hit people. I didn’t take my anger into the bedroom and use sex as a weapon. I hated the man I’d become, and I felt lost and afraid I would never recover the person I used to be before I met Lucien Clarke. My professional life was caught up in a cyclone of fuckery that wanted to rip, tear, and destroy everything in its path. The fanyi vessel was still missing, and I was still at the top of the suspect list, even though my alibis, both during the gala and after, were validated by Rhys, the sexy waiter, Iris, and Trent. Nothing my mother said could sway Daniel Perez from putting me on leave, but she did ensure I still received my salary during my suspension.
From the smoldering ashes of my life came one bright spot: my mother. She was trying her damnedest to undo years of indifference and return to the loving mother Iris and I once knew. I don’t know if it was the heist or Iris moving out that caused the abrupt changes, but we were grateful, if not a little concerned the pendulum was swinging too far in the other direction. Indifferent to suffocating was a huge adjustment for us to make.
I glanced up from destroying my muffin when the bell over the door chimed. I stiffened when I saw Ollie walk in. I hadn’t seen him around since the night of the gala when I apologized for my behavior. Our eyes met, and he looked as if he wanted to talk to me but wasn’t sure he should. After a brief hesitation, Ollie walked over to my table.
“Ryder, are you okay? You look…”
“Like hell?” I suggested, feeling my mouth tipping up at the corner. “It’s because I feel like hell. I’ve felt this way ever since the night of the gala.” It was the biggest understatement I’d ever made. My world was a dumpster fire with me trying to put it out by pissing on it. I ran both hands through my hair, not caring how it looked afterward.
Ollie pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting for me to invite him. “Did they fire you?” he asked hesitantly.
“Put on paid leave until they can be sure I wasn’t the one who helped Lucien Clarke steal the wine vessel.” I looked at Ollie with earnest, pleading eyes. “It wasn’t me, Ollie. I don’t know why I care what you think, but I’m telling the truth.”
“I believe you, Ryder.” And I could tell he did, even though I’d given him no reason to believe him. “Do you have a past with Lucien?”
“You could say that again,” I sneered. For reasons unknown to me, I opened up and told Ollie about Paris. He listened quietly and without judgment, which I appreciated more than I could express. “Art is my life. What will I do if I lose my job?”
“Fight for your job, Ryder. Don’t roll over and play dead.” He tipped his head to the side for a second like he had something he wanted to ask but wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “Was he the one you got into the car with after you left the police station?”
My eyes widened in alarm because I hadn’t seen Ollie when I searched the sidewalk before I got in Lucien’s car. I thought about denying it, but instead, I said, “It was him.”
“What did he want?”
“To convince me he was innocent,” I replied. It wasn’t exactly what Lucien had said, but then again, I didn’t give him a chance to talk.
“Which time?” Ollie asked. “Priceless artifacts were stolen both times he appeared in your life.” I groaned. “Wait. Did this happen more than twice?”
I nodded. Knowing it would kill what little respect Ollie might have for me, I told him the rest of the sordid story. Surprisingly, instead of condemning my stupidity, he looked confounded.
“I don’t mean to sound cruel, but if the museum knew you were working at both museums at the time the items were stolen, why did they risk hiring you? Wouldn’t you be too big of a risk? I’m sure an art conservator is an important job, but aren’t there ones with less…baggage?”
I was about to remind him I was hired as a director when the truth of his words hit me. I sat up straighter and felt more alert than I had in weeks. “Ollie! I think you’re onto something. Why the hell would they hire me?” My mother didn’t flex enough muscle for them to overlook my history. “Unless…”
“They wanted a scapegoat.”
“There’s no other explanation,” I said. “Regardless of what Lucien says, he must be involved with someone on the museum board. How else could he have gained access to the event?”
“You need to talk to Agents Kiphart and Marshall.”
“I already have,” I said. “I’m not convinced they care.”
“They care about the truth, Ryder. You just have to make them see you’re not guilty. Offer to take a polygraph. Wait,” Ollie said abruptly. “Surely, there’s an insurance adjuster assigned to investigate the theft.” I nodded. I’d already met with Pierre Simpriani twice. I’d offered to take a polygraph for him too, but neither the feds nor the insurance adjuster seemed eager to accept my offer. “There’s the person you need to get on your side and make them hear you.”
I got to my feet so fast I nearly knocked my chair over. “Thanks, Ollie. You’ve helped me sort things in my brain and stop moping. Congratulations, by the way.”
“For what?” I asked.
“I heard your Roebling Bridge drawing sold for five thousand dollars. It’s the largest amount any piece of art has sold for since the museum started the event. It really is a stunning piece.”
“Thank you.”