I brought the subject back to him. I wasn’t much for praise and recognition. “You mentioned finding lost art? What does that mean?”
He nodded. “Yes. Bee and I don’t steal art to sell it and make money like we’re bad guys. People and organizations hire us off the books to stealbackart that’s already been stolen, or lost. Technically, I guess you could say it’s entirely legal, except withBlue. That was a personal project, one I now understand as it led me to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,thief.”
He chuckled, sweeping a hand over his jaw. “So—” he began, looking me in the eye, “—Does this mean you’re coming home?”
I loved the sound of that. I grinned.“May-be.”
He looked more relaxed, but still a little nervous, as though I might yet reject him.
I leaned forward, creating a conspiratorial atmosphere. I let him hang there in painful silence for a moment. “As long as Beepromisesto get me a cool thief outfit, and I mean utility belt and everything. If she can do that, then yes,” I paused and leaned back again, “I’ll come home.”
He set his drink down, rising from his seat and kneeling before me. He took my face in his hands, pulling me forward. “I promise you, I will get you the best utility belt you’ve ever seen.”
I giggled, people looking in our direction. It was possible that they thought he was proposing; that’s what it looked like.
He searched my eyes before leaning in to kiss me. I let him. It wasn’t a shy kiss, but a deep one, his tongue parting my lips to dance with mine. It grew feverish, my body slackening into him.
Someone in the crowd sighed. I blushed.
He pulled back before I wanted him to. Maybe he assumed the public display was making me nervous. It wasn’t. He offered me his hand and pulled me up with him. I almost couldn’t stand, my legs felt like noodles. He slung an arm around me to offer support.
Bill’s leash was hooked over the chair, and he gathered it up for me. The three of us left; my body allowing me to feel the moment, and not overthink it. This was exactly how I wanted to rebuild the new version of myself. Nash and Betty were my foundation, and from that, only good could arise.
CHAPTER 38
Nash
Sybil straddled me as we sat in bed, naked and researching. I had a crisp printout in hand, my finger pointing to a fire escape. The warehouse was near the water and owned by a baseless shell company. It was our suspected location ofThe Rat Manand the art.
Finding him had been time-consuming, taking several weeks and using another of Bee’s questionable contacts to do so. She swore to me she had no romantic ties to this one. Apparently, she was a woman living in her grandmother’s basement, addicted to video games, Cheetos, and Dragon Con.
The contact used her hacking skills to trace several IP addresses we linked to past messages fromThe Rat Man. Everything pointed to this one location. If our suspicions were correct, he’d still be there, wanting Bee to find him on purpose. He’d made it a challenge, but not so much of a challenge as to be impossible.
It irked me that this man got into our home, and not just the one time. Last weekend, I heard Bee yelling in frustration a floor above. She stomped down the stairs in her pink pajamas, fuming that he’d left another poorly made calling card on her pillow—while she wasasleep.
Protective big-brother sirens were blaring. I was eager to get the art back and my hand around his throat. Bee insisted he was playing games, and we didn’t need to file a restraining order. I wasn’t so sure, but where I didn’t know the first thing about this guy, I’d have no name to give the police anyhow.
I installed cameras all over her floor and the house, determined to monitor things. This had famously backfired, however, as she received another note this morning thanking us for making it easy for him to keep an eye on her. She’d made several holes in the wall at the news, giving every camera the finger before I dismantled them.
Who was this asshole?
I bought a few extra guns and a couple of tasers for the girls this afternoon, just to be safe. The girls squealed with joy, thrilled to have their own cool spy gadgets and weapons—and yes, they both ended up with a holster.
Cool utility belt, check.
He was playing a cat-and-mouse game with Bee. It was especially irritating that she seemed to like it, her truth showing under her air of frustration. I suspected Sybil’s art had become a helpless bystander in some twisted lovers’ squabble.
Bee was not herself, thrown entirely off her game. The normally self-assured woman I knew was angry and agitated. He was getting under her skin in a way no other man had before.She was short, moody, wistfully watching her Hallmark movies and crying with Sybil. She never got this emotional about love.
Whatever the game, I just wanted Sybil to feel safe. She assured me she did, but still. I couldn’t have arandoentering our house with this level of ease.
The beautiful and broken antique skylight in the stairwell angered me. He’d been here and gone without a sound lately, so why so destructive before? I know it was for the performance, but the work needed to fix the damage to my hundred-year-old skylight made it a costly one.
The weeks after the auction were vibrant. Sybil and I moved as one, a seamless dance of shared glances and unspoken understanding. Laughter echoed in the air everywhere we went, a melody woven between us by fate.
I placed my hands on Sybil’s hips. A sigh passed my lips at the feel of her against me. She had the building schematics in her hands, squinting hard at some minute detail.
