Full Color (ORCA #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

QUIN

Throughout dinner, I’d tried to catch Dimitri’s eyes, but he kept them downcast, and when the first server issued the reminder that Dimitri was supposed to behave like furniture, it had taken every ounce of willpower I had not to circle the table and pull him up out of his seat and into my arms. But that wouldn’t have gone over well. So I’d watched him while the man seated next to me tried to engage me in conversation. I’d participated as little as possible, choosing to study Dimitri instead. He was beautiful, his face the perfect combination of soft curves and sharp lines that drew the eye to take in the whole picture. He ate carefully, almost like he didn’t want to, and I found myself wondering if that was because he didn’t like the food or didn’t want to give Dasselaar the satisfaction of enjoying it. I was almost jealous of his spoon and fork as his mouth wrapped around them, and while the movement of his full lips was completely innocent, my mind wandered into fantasies of how those lips would feel against my skin, which made my pants uncomfortably tight.

But there was more to Dimitri than his physical beauty, and as I watched I saw his strength. I noticed the way his jaw clenched and his fingers tightened around his cutlery every time one of the servers delivered a thinly veiled threat on Dasselaar’s behalf, and since I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, it was impossible to miss the resigned slump of his shoulders when the fleeting moment of anger passed. I could sense Dimitri wasn’t used to being under someone’s thumb and that he hated it, but he didn’t feel like he had a choice other than to do whatever Dasselaar said.

I was desperate to give him a choice, to show him an option that had nothing to do with Stefan Dasselaar, but to make that happen, I had to know why he continued to stay. I needed to talk to him, but every time I opened my mouth to speak to him, another server issued another warning, and I bit back the words. The last thing I wanted was to get Dimitri in trouble or to tip my hand that I was paying close attention to him. I didn’t need another reason to rouse Dasselaar’s suspicions about my presence in Amsterdam, but by the end of the five-course meal, I couldn’t take any more of Dimitri’s silence.

So I’d lingered, hoping to get a chance to exchange a few words with the man who’d stolen my heart with a single glance, the man who fate had decided was mine.

Until Dasselaar kicked me out.

Instead of crossing the grand foyer of Dasselaar’s imposing home and heading into the salon, I tucked myself into the shadows, waiting for Dimitri and Dasselaar to emerge from the dining room.

Dasselaar entered the foyer first, Dimitri, flanked by two heavily muscled bodyguards, following.

“You will be ready early tomorrow morning. You will be expected to wait in the auction room until the preview begins and then you will show my guests that each painting I am offering is authentic. You will not speak to anyone. Do I make myself clear?”

For a split second, I saw rage flash in Dimitri’s bright green eyes, but he banked it quickly. He nodded.

“Janssen, take Dimitri back to his room, then you are dismissed for the evening.”

The bodyguard standing on Dimitri’s right, the one with the large scar marring his face who had watched Dimitri all through dinner, nodded. “Yes, Mr. Dasselaar.” He grabbed Dimitri’s arm as Dasselaar turned away from them and crossed the foyer to the salon.

I waited in my hiding spot until Janssen, Dimitri, and the other bodyguard reached the first landing and continued up the stairs instead of following the gallery to where Dasselaar’s guests had been given rooms. After I’d arrived, I’d spent time wandering the floor where my room was located, and I’d found a second set of stairs that led up and down. Pretending I was returning to my room, I ducked down the second-floor hall and hustled to the rear staircase, climbing the steps as quickly as I could.

It was darker at this end of the hall, and the hidden staircase was lit only by ambient light coming in through the windows from lamps outside. When I reached the third floor, I stayed hidden at the top of the staircase and watched as one of the guards shoved Dimitri into a room at the far end of the hall. The bodyguard pulled the door closed, and I saw the glint of light on shiny metal as he locked the door from the outside, leaving Dimitri trapped inside.

In a rush, things suddenly made sense.

I’d wondered before why Dimitri let Dasselaar treat him the way he had at the gallery, but now I understood. Dimitri wasn’t a colleague or an employee he was attempting to control. Dasselaar was keeping him under lock and key, and I needed to know why.

Making a mental note of which room was Dimitri’s, I snuck back down the back stairs and into the room I’d been given for the weekend. In addition to the camera currently pinned to my lapel and the comm device still in my bag, Felix had given me a handheld device used to sweep for listening devices. I’d used it around the room when I arrived and hadn’t found anything, but out of an abundance of caution, I pulled it from my bag again and scanned the room. The device stayed silent, and I tucked it away and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, tapping Cal’s contact as I lifted the phone to my ear.

Cal picked up on the second ring. “Quin. Is everything okay?”

“Dasselaar is holding Dimitri prisoner.”

“Wait. What?”

“He’s got him locked in a room.”

“Fuck.” Cal was quiet for a second, and I heard Jack in the background asking what was wrong, but my twin ignored him. “Poor kid. I swear we had no idea. Jack and I thought maybe he was blackmailing him or something. Do you think you can find out why Dasselaar has him locked up?”

“Dasselaar won’t let him talk to anyone, but I have an idea.”

My skills with a lockpick set were a little rusty, but I had to hope it was like riding a bike and the second I started trying to get into Dimitri’s room the skills would snap back into place.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Coming from Cal, the king of doing stupid things, that made me laugh.

“How about I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do?”

“Quin…”

“Cal…”

“You’re not going to listen to me are you?” Cal sounded exasperated, and for a second I felt a little vindicated that he was finally getting the tiniest taste of what it was like to deal with him.

“Would you hold back if it was Jack?”

“You know I wouldn’t. Just be careful, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

“I will. Can I talk to Felix for a second?”

“Uh, sure.”

There was rustling on the other end of the line, then Felix’s voice. “What can I do for you, Quin?”

“Are you able to loop the feeds on Dasselaar’s cameras?”

He scoffed. “Is Batman Bruce Wayne?”

Felix was a little bit of a comic book nerd, and I didn’t always understand all his references, but given his tone, I figured my question had been a dumb one. “Um, okay. I’m going to do some digging tonight. Do you think you can loop the feed for an hour or so?”

“Obviously.”

“Perfect. I need to wait for things to die down here a little, so I’ll text you when I’m ready to go.”

“Sounds good. Cal bought me a case of these really awesome Dutch energy drinks, so I’ll be up.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hey, Quin?”

“Yeah?”

“Wear the comm. I’ll watch the feeds for you. And I agree with Cal. Be careful. ”

“I will. I’ll text you.” I disconnected the call before anyone else could issue another warning.

A glance at my watch told me I’d been gone from the party for too long. Slipping into the en suite bathroom, I freshened up a little bit, then went down the main staircase and into the salon. Everyone had a drink, and our host and several other men were out on the veranda enjoying a cigar.

Trying to make it look like I had been there the whole time, I made my way to the bar where a number of offerings had been laid out, including a bottle of green chartreuse that immediately reminded me of Dimitri’s eyes. I ran my fingers over the bottle, turning it so it caught the light as I imagined Dimitri’s eyes doing the same. I was tempted to tip a measure into my glass, but opted for a rare French cognac instead.

I moved from group to group, noticing that regardless of who I was speaking to, Dasselaar’s gaze continuously found me. If I hadn’t already assumed he’d invited me to his estate as a way to keep an eye on me, I would have guessed it now. I lingered in the room until the other guests began retiring to their rooms. When only the gentlemen still smoking on the veranda remained, I set my empty glass on the bar and started toward the door.

Dasselaar’s voice stopped me in my tracks. “Mr. Hunter?”

Taking a breath, I turned around. “Thank you for your hospitality this evening.”

He nodded. “I hope you are making the connections you were seeking.”

“I am. Thank you again for the invitation.”

“Of course.” His tone was genial, but his face told me he wasn’t convinced my motives were legitimate. Considering I was about to go upstairs and pull out my lockpick set while I waited for the house to quiet down, he had reason to be cautious.

“If you’ll excuse me. I’m quite tired. I believe jet lag is finally catching up with me.”

“Of course. I won’t keep you any longer.”

But I felt his eyes on me until I was out of the room.

My room overlooked the veranda below, which meant I had a front-row seat as several of Dasselaar’s guests drank his alcohol and smoked his cigars into the small hours of the morning. Finally, the last of the men retired to his room, the house going quiet as he closed his door.

Grabbing my phone, I tapped out a quick text to Felix, letting him know it was time to kill the cameras. He sent back a thumbs-up emoji a few minutes later, signaling I was good to go. I flipped open the little leather box holding the ring and popped the tiny earpiece out, setting it into place in my ear.

“Hey, there.” Felix’s voice echoed in my ear.

“Hey. Everything ready to go?”

“Yep.” I’ll keep watch and let you know if I see anything on the real feeds.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I waited for another five minutes, then slowly opened the door to my room. I’d changed into a black shirt and black athletic pants that could pass for pajamas if I got caught wandering around. In the dark, Felix’s camera wasn’t useful for helping to map out the interior of the estate, so I’d removed it from my lapel and set it in the box to charge. I slid my phone into one pocket and my small lockpick set into the other, then I stepped out into the hall. The house was dark and silent as I crept along the plush carpet toward the rear staircase. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I wasn’t sure if that was because I was sneaking around in the dark without knowing if Dasselaar had guards patrolling the house at night or if I was just excited about the idea of seeing Dimitri again. I wanted to run up the stairs and straight to his door, but I held myself back, forcing myself to take it one step at a time and listening before I made a move.

On the third floor, I counted the doors until I found the only one locked from the outside. Kneeling in front of it, I pulled out my lockpick set and got to work. As I’d hoped, the second I had the pick in the lock, my hands moved without thought, feeling for tension on the pins like I had a million times before. The silence made it easier to visualize the inside of the lock, and in minutes, the pins gave, and the door unlocked.

I paused, barely breathing, listening intently for any indication that someone had heard me. When I heard nothing, I slowly turned the knob.