The failed job. The cops lurking unsubtly among partygoers like clearance rack henchmen in a zero-budget action movie. The hour-long drive with Mother ranting at him in the car. God, she’d been furious. Not only had her night been interrupted by her uncouth son, he’d rudely dragged her out when she’d been on the verge of getting Burt Hathaway and Nikodimos Dimopoulos on her side about cubism. As if the pinnacle of righteousness in art was gaining the support of a crypto billionaire and a techno heir whose knowledge of paint started and ended with what could be huffed.
By the time Cole had dropped her off, he’d had a category three headache that could only be cured by a sausage and mushroom pizza from Sal’s.
Now he had his pizza, but the headache had swelled to a category five because said pizza had arrived in the hands of Will Yarmouth. Because of course it fucking had.
Chewing angrily on a bite of pizza, Cole glared hard at the pacing, ranting assclown.
I should’ve left his stupid ass there to get arrested.
“—all knew that thing would be on display,” Will was saying, oblivious to Cole’s attempts to Force choke him. “They were all there for the same piece we were, so?—”
“What the fuck makes you think we were there for the same piece?” Cole groused. “There had to be over a hundred pieces in there that could draw someone like us into that party.”
Will halted and turned a caustic look on Cole. “Oh yeah? So how were you going to get the Rembrandt out of the building? Shove it down the front of your pants?”
“Seems like your MO more than mine,” Cole said with a shrug. “Or do you hide things up your ass when you’re not using it as a clown car for dicks?”
His stupid, slutty rival stared at him for a few seconds, jaw working as he probably tried to come up with a retort. Then he just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Anyway. We both know you were there for the Puffin too, so can we just move on? Because something’s not right about this whole shitshow, and maybe we should figure it out before we get killed or tossed in prison.”
Cole kind of wanted to keep fucking with him just because he was annoyed, but Will did make an uncharacteristically good point. With an irritated sigh, he put down the pizza slice. “Fine. So let’s start with you—how didyouget on the Puffin’s scent?”
Will bristled like he wanted to say something snarky. His lips tightened and his nose twitched, and Cole had to fight back a laugh.
Give me your best shot, Willy boy. I had to put up with Mother today—I can do this all night.
Crossing his arms, Will said, “Marcus told me about it.”
“Oh, you two are still talking? How sweet.”
Will huffed sharply and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Who toldyouabout it?”
Cole shifted in his chair. “Marcus.”
They locked eyes. Will narrowed his. Cole lifted his chin a little. The unspoken dare was louder than Mother’s voice had been at the party, likely carrying to all the other apartments in the building (not that any of them were occupied).
Will tightened his arms across his chest and gritted out, “Okay, so… Marcus tipped us both off. Do you think he told anyone else who was there?”
Cole chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m pretty sure he’d saw off a limb before he spoke to Desiree Montgomery. The others…” He rocked his head back and forth. “Maybe?”
“What’s his deal with Desiree?”
“She got into one of the prestigious art schools that rejected him.” Cole chuckled. “And she never let him forget it.”
Will sucked in air. “Okay, yeah. He definitely wouldn’t be chummy with her.”
Marcus could be duplicitous and manipulative, and he’d shamelessly use anyone who could help him get what he wanted. He didn’t handle humiliation well, though, and Desiree had thoroughly humiliated him during their art school days. Worse, when he’d started making and selling counterfeit art, she’d been the one to not only identify the counterfeits, but loudly and publicly point out whatterriblecounterfeits they were.
That was a slight that wouldn’t be forgiven.
So no, Desiree hadn’t been there tonight because Marcus had tipped her off.
Then again…
Cole drummed his fingers beside the pizza box. “He’s never forgiven me for dumping him.”
“That’s…” Will hesitated. “That’s notentirelytrue.”
Cole cocked a brow and growled, “Go on.”
