Lilith frowned. “That’s certainly strange.”
“It is. I mean, who the hell is manufacturing these replicas, and where the hell is the real one? How are we going tofindthis thing when there’s copies everywhere?” He hated how helpless and discouraged he sounded. “There’s a billion replicas. Hell,youhave one!”
Lilith hefted the replica in question in her free hand, the fake flamingo diamond in the center of its chest showering her with shards of pink light. “It won’t be easy, that’s for sure.” She shook her head as she peered at the little bird. With a heavy sigh, she put the bird down somewhere outside the frame and looked at Cole. “We know Marcus stole the original. Find him, you’ll find the Iberian Puffin.”
“Right. But like… how?” Cole raked a hand through his hair and exhaled hard. “He’s covering his tracks like he suddenly got smart. I’d suspect he made a Faustian bargain, but he’d ask for artistic talent, not criminal smarts.”
“Wouldn’t that mean admitting he lacks artistic talent to begin with?”
Cole pursed his lips. “Point taken.”
“Nevertheless, he does seem to be several steps ahead of everyone this time.” She sat back, her ancient chair squeaking with the movement. “He’s got a plan, and he’s covering his tracks at every turn.”
“Ugh.” Cole groaned. “I miss when he was stupid.”
Lilith chuckled softly. “Don’t we all, darling. Don’t we all.” She sobered again. “Let me put out some feelers. See ifanyone has heard heads or tails from him, or if there are any suspiciously large deals going on in our world. Where are the two of—you’re in Montreal, yes?”
“For now. I suspect we shouldn’t stay here.” He made a face. “Especially not when we’ve made the news.”
“Smart. I would suggest you find someplace to lay low. And as much as I’m sure neither of you will be thrilled—stay together.”
Cole eyed her. “Why? Because you enjoy watching me suffer?”
“That, but also because when I do get a lead, it will be far easier to get you two moving from the same place.”
He hated that she was right. “Fine. We’ll figure something out. Just… let us know if you hear anything, all right?”
“I will. Talk to you soon, Cole.”
They ended the call, and he closed his eyes and swore in a few languages. He wasn’t even sure what pissed him off the most—that they still hadn’t found the stupid Puffin, that Marcus was in the wind like an actual professional, or that Lilith’s plan required him to stay close to Will.
He decided he could be pissed off about all of it, because it was all bullshit. Not just a bullshit sandwich—an oversized bullshit meal that was free if someone ate it in the designated time, sides and all. Wasn’t there someplace in Texas where you could eat like a four-pound steak in an hour and get it free? And why was he suddenly thinking about steak? And Texas?
Well, that was easy enough.
The former, because he was hungry.
The latter, because?—
“So what did Art Yoda have to say?” Will asked in that annoyingly attract—annoyingdrawl.
Irritation zipped along Cole’s nerve endings as he turned to the man he couldn’t get rid of, who’d just walked into the suite’s living area. “Well, she didn’t have anything encouraging to say.”
“Oh, what a shock.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. Will heaved himself onto the couch without an ounce of dignity, and Cole refused to notice—or, well, acknowledge—the way his jeans clung to his narrow hips when he sat like that. Or the way they emphasized his package and?—
Cole cleared his throat, jerking his gaze away from Will. “She’s going to do some digging. See if she can get a bead on Marcus and figure out where the fuck he is.”
“Okay. And we’re supposed to… what? Sit here with our thumbs up our asses?”
“Well, not here.”
Will’s eyebrow shot up. “That’s not a no to the thumbs up our?—”
“Fuck off,” Cole said, but it came out as a laugh, which seemed to surprise Will as much as it did him. Muffling a cough, Cole sat up. “She, uh… She said we need to lay low somewhere. Ideally…” He hesitated. “Ideally together.”
The other eyebrow went up. “Is that right?”
Cole nodded, and he filled Will in on everything.
