Sybil cleared a few things from the bench and sat down, facing me.“Scotland was a dream. Much like this, really. It was quiet and secluded, with hardly anyone around. Life moved at a much slower pace, which I really needed.” She tucked her hands between her knees, gazing dreamily at the lights above.“Perhaps we should come out here to the forest and create our own little spot. We can be neighbors. Get away from New York now and then.”
I added soap to the water and swished it around, making bubbles.“Yes! Sybil, that’s a brilliant idea. It would be wonderful to have you out here with me!”
Her gaze grew sharp.“Ah. See... you really do love it here. If you didn’t, I don’t think you’d say that. You sound ready to stay.”
Her observation was accurate. I kindawantedto stay. The thought of her building a place here excited me more than returning to that huge, empty New York townhouse alone. Still, I missed New York. It would be nice to have the option of going back from time to time for a visit, or to shop around.
My fingers popped some of the larger bubbles on the surface.“I miss New York, though. I mean, I love it here a lot, but I don’t want to give up the city entirely. I hate having to avoid something just because some jerk is after me.”
She giggled.“Of course you don’t want to give it up! You wouldn’t be Betty if you let people tell you what to do, and you wouldn’t be Betty without New York.”
I nodded.“Exactly. I just don’t know how to get us out of this mess.”
Sybil sighed.“Well, I had this one rather crazy idea.”
I tilted my head, questioning her with a look as she picked at her sleeve.“What idea is that?” I asked.
Her blue eyes met mine.“I kind of… miss painting,” she confided, almost in a whisper.“I mean, you’re here because of the Rembrandt, right?”
I nodded, wondering where she was going with this.
“Well, I have a skill calledpainting,” she winked.“And you’re in a bind with some expensive, rare art. So, there must be a way we can strike a deal with his family, right? Perhaps I could paint something and they’d accept it as retribution, like a trade?”
My eyebrows shot up.“You’d do that? But… your art is worth more than the Rembrandt. That doesn’t seem fair.”
She shrugged, a thoughtful but surprised expression crossing her face.“I’m actually getting chills hearing you say that. To think my art is more valuable than a Rembrandt is insane.”
I leaned forward to emphasize my point.“But it is, Sybil! Don’t sell yourself short.”
She rolled her eyes, as she always did when receiving a compliment.“Well, whatever, but it costs me nothing to paint you something. It almost feels like cheating. But that’s beside the point. The real goal here is to buy back your freedom, and Gray’s too.”
I mulled it over.“I suppose we’d need to know Gray’s thoughts on the matter. If it’s even workable. I doubt he’s eager to negotiate with the man who murdered his family, and he’s certainly not willing to trust him again.”
Her eyes widened in horror.“His uncle murdered Gray’s family?”
I frowned, realizing this was news to her.“I only just found out the full extent of it myself,” I said.“It’s a terrible story. His uncle is a wicked man.”
Her mouth, which had been hanging open, snapped shut, and she grumbled. It was a funny sound coming from sweet little Sybil, like a kitten trying to be fierce.“That bastard should fall into a sewer hole and die.”
I huffed.“One can only hope.”
“Well, screw that, I’m not painting anything for him,” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.“I’d rather sell the painting and hire a hitman.”
I raised an eyebrow.“Not a bad idea, little Miss John Wick.”
She glowered.“But maybe we shouldn’t turn to murder?”
I had to agree. Besides, that wasn’t Gray’s wish either—despite what his uncle had done to him and his family, he didn’t want to commit the same atrocities in retribution, at least not directly.“Yeah, stealing is one thing, but murder is just… gross. We’re smarter than that. Homicide is for people who can’t think their way out of a tight spot.”
Sybil nodded, her hands settling in her lap as she idly scratched at the black polish on her nails.“Even so, there has to be something; we just need to think.” She shook her head as if to change the topic.“But enough of that for now, tell me about Gray. What happened?”
I slouched and chuckled.“Girl, so many things.”
“You seem to enjoy what he’s offering,” she said, her eyebrows waggling in a knowing way.
A laugh bubbled up.“Only just recently.”
“What happened before now? Lady, what could possibly stop you from jumping his bones? He is a certified man-cannon, and you’ve been pining after him for months,” she pressed.
