Cat Got Your Tongue? (17 page)

“And you’re an ass, detective.”

He sent Cole a brief nod before stepping out into the hallway.

Alex shut the door with a sigh and leaned against it, her hands behind her back.

“Why do you antagonize him so?” Cole asked with a grin. Her relief at the detective’s departure was obvious.

She pushed herself away from the door. “He brings out the worst in me.”

“I don’t think he finds his visits with you all sunshine and roses either.”

“He’s okay, I guess. I’m just uncomfortable around cops in general. Must be something I inherited from my mother.”

“Where is she?” Cole asked, realizing she’d never told him.

Uneasiness clouded her expression. “Aren’t you going to the office today?”

“Deflection won’t work on me, Alex.”

“It was a simple question.”

“I called in sick.”

She walked to where he sat in the corner of the room. “Billionaires actually do that?”

“We do.”

“Who writes your sick notes?”

“Billionaires don’t need sick notes.”

“Cool.” She smiled and slid onto his lap, placing one leg on either side of his, and nibbled his chin. “Won’t they know it’s a sham though?”

Her kisses sent a message straight between his legs and he hardened in response. “What’s a sham?”

“The fact that you aren’t sick, but holed up here with me? It is your hotel and by now, every bootlicker working here knows you have a gorgeous woman ensnared in your suite. They don’t have to be smart to figure out someone’s playing hooky.”

Cole chuckled, tilted her chin, and settled his mouth on hers. The kiss was sweet and gentle but held all the elements of the heat that sparked between them. Cole groaned when she ran her hands down his torso to the bulge in his pants.

Another attempt at deflection, no doubt. But he saw right through her. Clearly, she didn’t want to discuss her mother. “Alex, I’m onto you, you know.”

“I’d rather have you in me.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. I know what you’re doing.” He slid his hands under her blouse and worked on the clasp of her bra.

“Trying to lure you into my panties again?”

He grinned and covered her breast with his hand as the clasp of her bra fell free. With his other hand, he unbuttoned her blouse. “Honey, I’ve been trying to get into your panties all day.”

Alex threw her head back and laughed, the feminine sound reverberating across the room. “So how about we get the show on the road?”

He lost patience with her buttons and yanked at the material, popping the last three buttons with ease. He leaned forward to kiss her and pushed the bra and blouse off her shoulders. Her breasts were perky, her nipples erect, and he slid his hands over each breast, her skin smooth and flawless. Oh, God.

“You’re going to have to buy me some new clothes when you’re done with me,” she breathed as his mouth caught her nipple.

“I’ll buy you an entire closet full, and I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.”

Friday, midnight

Alex slipped into the dark cinema unnoticed and took a seat in the back row. As it was midnight, the huge room was almost empty, except for three couples seated further down watching the end of the movie. Alex glanced at the tearful scene on the screen ahead of her and frowned.

Great. Eddie had chosen a damn chick flick. And he’d probably done it on purpose to mock her.

She rolled her eyes as she saw a woman several rows ahead of her wiping her eyes with a tissue.

With a quiet shuffle, Eddie slithered into the row of seats and edged toward her. He wore a large shirt and smelt of cigars.

“Is this a joke?” Alex grumbled, nodding to the screen.

He smiled and slid into the seat beside her. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

“They’re crying, Eddie.”

“It has a sad ending.”

Alex pulled a face. “It’s a movie.”

“Not everyone’s as heartless as you.”

“Ouch.”

He grew more serious. “Word on the street is you’ve shacked up with the billionaire.”

“You know he’s my latest shield.”

“You always sleep with your shields?”

“No.”

“Then why this one?”

“The sex is great,” she said in a deadpan tone and shot him an impatient look.

“Where is he?”

“Asleep.” And hopefully unaware she’d snuck out at midnight to meet with Eddie. “What have you got for me?”

“There are a couple of disgruntled people that aren’t happy you’re with the billionaire.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“You’re in the way.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. I heard you’re causing a couple of headaches, but I couldn’t find out why. You been up to shit lately?”

“Just doing my job, Eddie. They’re messing with me and I don’t like it.” Alex’s defensive wall prickled. “What about the paintings? What did you find out?”

He went quiet.

“What have you heard?”

“Shit, Alex, if you ever, ever, tell anyone you heard this from me I’ll personally slit your throat.”

“Just tell me what you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know the details so don’t push for them,” he said, straightening in his seat. “Word on the street is that there’s an order for several paintings worth a fuck load of money.”

“Who’s the buyer?”

“Don’t know.”

“How many paintings?”

“Don’t know.”

Alex dragged in an impatient breath. “Where are the paintings?”

“Don’t know.”

“Eddie! What the hell do you know?”

“All I know is that the name ‘the Taylor Museum’ is being thrown around. A lot.”

Alex slipped to the edge of her seat and gaped at him. “As in the Gabriella Taylor Museum?”

The Taylor Museum, situated in California, was known for once having housed an extravagant art collection. It was even better known for having been hit with the biggest art heist in history. Fifteen years later, no arrests had been made and the artwork remained missing.

“Yes.”

“Shit. Are they planning another hit?”

“Doubt it. They took some of the most valuable paintings in the first heist. The museum never replaced the empty spots on the walls with new paintings.”

When the owner, Gabriella Taylor, had died, her will had stipulated that the museum remain unchanged and untouched, no new paintings added and none repositioned.

“But why the sudden renewed interest?”

“I don’t know.”

Alex’s agitation grew at the lack of answers and she blew out a breath.

“So far we have two hot paintings and one dead body. Not to mention the attempts on Cole. How does that fit into the Taylor Museum?”

“Maybe they’re not related.”

“It’s too coincidental that all this is going down at the same time.” Alex tapped her fingers on her knees, restless with coiled energy. “There’s also the buyer for the paintings you’ve mentioned—”

“Paintings worth mega bucks,” he added.

“Just how much money are we talking?”

“Around two hundred million.”

“US dollars?” When he nodded, her jaw fell open. “Shit, Eddie. You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid when talking about money.”

He glanced around, shifting in his seat, and Alex sensed his restlessness. Despite the fact that he respected her and even tolerated her out of an even bigger respect to her mother, he was still on edge about meeting her. He wouldn’t want word to get out that he was having midnight social chats in dark cinemas with her. They’d eat him alive.

Alex leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The paintings pulled at the museum have been valued at around two hundred million. That’s not a co-incidence, is it?”

“The paintings were never found and it’s been fifteen years now.”

“I know, but come on, Eddie, you know something’s going down, and I bet you the keys to my Manhattan apartment that it’s all somehow related.”

He nodded. “Yes, but I don’t know what and because of my loyalty to you and your mother, the guys are keeping me out of the loop with this one.”

“What’s my mother got to do with all this?”

“Her name has popped up on more than one occasion in the same conversation about the heist.”

“You think she was involved?”

“You don’t want to know that answer, Alex. If you did, you would’ve asked her many years ago.”

He was right. Knowing the details of her mother’s crimes forced her to reconcile their two worlds and put her at risk with the likes of Sullivan and his pals. She decided not to press Eddie, knowing instinctively he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Honor among thieves and all that crap.

The movie ended and the three couples got to their feet. Alex tilted her head into Eddie’s neck and he slipped his arm around her in understanding. When the three couples walked up the stairs and passed them, all they saw was a fourth couple sitting alone at the back of the cinema, holding each other, their faces hidden in their embrace.

Once they’d passed, Alex broke away, surprised at how tuned her instincts were to living in hiding, living as a thief would. “We better get going before the cleaning crew come in.”

“Watch your back, Alex, and watch your shield. Someone has it in for him and something doesn’t smell right.”

A shiver ran down her spine. “Will you keep fishing for more information?”

“I’ll try.”

“I’m heading down to California tomorrow with Cole. I think I’ll check out the museum while he’s in his meeting.”

Eddie arched a brow. “You’re barking up a dangerous tree by doing that.”

“What choice do I have? I need to figure out what’s going on before someone else dies, and I need to figure out how my mother fits in all of this. If I have to bark up several damn trees to do it, I will.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Eddie scoffed and pinned her with heated stare. “Alex, despite all your good intentions, you have the same bad-assed chops like your mother, but look where that got her.”

Alex stood, refusing to think about it. “Keep me posted, okay?”

“Alex,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “You never heard any of this from me.”

“Heard what?”

Their gaze held for a few seconds before Alex broke away and disappeared into the darkness.

Saturday morning

California

Alex studied the front of the Gabriella Taylor Museum with growing excitement.

She was curious to see what the museum held, anxious for answers, and hoped for clues that would shed some light on what had happened in New York during the last week.

In comparison to other museums, the Taylor Museum was small, but elegant and exquisite. It was a double story sixteenth century Venetian-style palace consisting of several galleries designed around a central courtyard that offered the museum a tranquil ambience.

Armed with a map and a brochure, she went inside and looked around in awe.

When Gabriella Taylor had designed the museum over a hundred years ago, she’d housed her private art collection in such a way that others could appreciate her art in an unthreatening and inspiring atmosphere.

The gardens were immaculate and bragged a variety of flowers, shrubs, and plants. Several Roman statues added a mysterious feel to the area.

The museum housed over two thousand different pieces of priceless artwork. Sculptures, paintings, tapestries, and decorative arts by renowned and recognized artists from around the world decked the walls and filled each room.

Alex could almost imagine Gabriella Taylor meticulous in her decision as to where each piece went.

The fact that the museum had remained unchanged since her death—besides the stolen paintings—added to the museum’s uniqueness.

Alex found her way to the East Room and frowned at the several empty frames that adorned the walls. They were all testaments to the missing artwork and had remained there almost as though they were waiting, ready to house the paintings again if they were ever rightfully returned to the museum.

Of the ten paintings stolen from the museum, the most valuable had been a Matisse and a Picasso painting.

The paintings had simply vanished. It had taken the thieves less than an hour to steal the ten paintings and no one had seen them since. Despite a generous reward offered by the museum, the paintings remained missing.

Alex looked around the room, wondering what her mother knew about the missing art and why the museum’s name had reared its head in the art underworld again. Were they planning a second heist?

She’d read that the thieves had been amateurs—ruthless with gathering their loot, tearing priceless paintings from their frames and not caring how they were handled. She’d also read that several other paintings were abandoned because they’d struggled to free them from their frames.

Could it be that they’d returned to complete their hit list? After fifteen years?

None of it made any sense.

Releasing a frustrated sigh, she turned and explored the other rooms, impressed to find the most priceless of artworks from well-known artists like Matisse, Titian, Michelangelo, Degas, Rembrandt, and Manet. Gabriella Taylor had had a true eye for beautiful work and Alex suspected that each piece of art held a story of its own as to how and when they’d been acquired.

Fascinated, Alex spent two hours walking around until hunger and frustration began working on the little patience she had left. She still had no idea why the museum was receiving so much underground attention.

Half an hour later, armed with several brochures from the museum, she slipped out of the front door and summoned a cab passing by. Her instincts bristled as she opened the car door and paused to glance around.

Across the street, a short man wearing a hat and sunglasses stood staring at her.

It should’ve frightened her, but it didn’t. Heart racing, she pinned him with an all-knowing stare and climbed into the cab.

She was onto something.

Hell, yeah.

****

Cole walked into the hotel suite in high spirits. Whether it was because of the deal he’d just closed or the fact that he had a beautiful woman seated cross-legged on his enormous bed remained unclear.

He hung in the doorway, unable to resist the silly grin. She’d changed into a blouse and jeans and had her nose buried in a thick catalogue.