Chapter 19
They split up, Desiree with Cheyenne and Vanessa with Will and Cole.
Jansen left as soon as he possibly could, citing that he had to return the vans to where they needed to be and “wonder how this is my life, eh? How is this my life? Burning buildings, men with guns, I ask you! I steal art, I’m not a damn Navy SEAL! ”
It was a sentiment Will could get behind.
If he were talking to Cole right now, he’d be swearing him to secrecy about “never, ever, on your life telling Baby Boy what happened tonight, because he’d kill me and then he’d kill you.
” Yesterday—hell, even earlier today—it had seemed inevitable that Cole and Davey would meet at some point.
They were both important to Will, after all. And then…
“You came back.”
He’d said it with such artless surprise, too; said it like he could hardly bring himself to believe that Will wasn’t just another mouth-breathing, stupid son of a bitch who’d happily throw away someone else’s life if it meant keeping his own feet out of the fire.
Like Will hadn’t planned out every damn second of that encounter as best he could, rolling with the literal punches and doing what he had to so their team knew to come after them.
And then—ha, then!—he’d come back for Cole, picked him up and carried him down the damn stairs, and the man had the gall to be shocked by it.
Well, fuck him. Fuck him, fuck this, fuck—
“I didn’t figure you for the type to pout so theatrically.”
Will rolled his eyes before glancing back at Vanessa, who joined him on the covered porch of the little duplex in Hoboken she owned under a pseudonym. “I’m not pouting,” he snapped.
“Moping, then.”
“I’m not—”
“Will.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “Please. I know a mope when I see one.” She reached out and patted his shoulder. “Cole’s going to be all right, you know. I’m almost positive it’s just a sprain. He’s icing and taking ibuprofen, and he’ll feel better in no time.”
“Good for him,” Will snarked.
Vanessa nodded. “Ah. That’s what I thought.”
The hell she thought anything. Then again… “What?”
“That he managed to do something to upset you.” She shook her head.
“You wear your heart on your sleeve, it’s one of the things that makes you fun to work with, but Cole is an expert at masking his emotions.
The thing is, he always masks them the same way—with blankness.
The fact that I can tell that he’s unhappy right now says a lot about his state of mind, and he wouldn’t be unhappy like that if he were the injured party.
” She cast her eyes toward the street for a moment.
“Some of us are much better at taking damage than handling the repercussions of dealing it to those we care for.”
Care for. Right.
“It’s just a business arrangement, Nessie.”
“And now you’re insulting my intelligence, wonderful. This—” She indicated the side of her own neck. “Isn’t screaming ‘business arrangement’ to me, Will.”
Oh, right. The hickeys. “He thought I was going to leave him behind,” Will said finally. “He was genuinely surprised I went back for him. Like I would ever leave someone like that, even if it was someone I didn’t like as well as I like Cole.”
Vanessa shrugged. “You can’t tell me you’re surprised by that reaction.”
Uh, yeah, he could and he was.
“After all,” she went on, “Cole is a dying breed in the art crime world—a lone wolf. Almost every job he’s ever pulled off that we know about, he’s done by himself.
Sure, he might hire out for a single, very specific aspect of the heist, but never anything involved in the actual execution.
He’s got just the unique skillset and background to make this sort of independence possible, which makes him very underqualified to know what it means to work well with others. ”
Will shifted on his feet as he took in what Vanessa was saying. She… fine, she had a point. “Lot of insight for a woman who says she doesn’t like him.”
“Oh, I definitely don’t like him,” Vanessa replied.
“God, are you kidding me? He’s more straightlaced than my corset collection, he’s got abysmally conservative taste in clothes, and he really ought to put his mother in her place more often.
That woman is impossible to listen to without a drink in hand.
But I’ve always understood him.” She nodded toward the door.
“And right now he’s probably one part embarrassed, one part ashamed, and one part dumb horny bastard.
If you have any mercy in your heart, you’ll go put him out of his misery. ”
The worst part was, Will got it. He didn’t need to have Vanessa explain Cole’s emotional hangups to him; he knew the man was wholly repressed when it came to relying on anyone other than himself.
He’d just hoped, after the whirlwind of this past week, that he’d made himself into the exception.
The fact that he hadn’t… that wasn’t on Cole.
That was Will’s assumption coming back to bite him.
If you find yourself in a hole, stop diggin’.
“Good choice,” Vanessa said as he pushed off the front rail of the porch and turned toward the door. “After you kiss and make up, please let him know that you better have the next step figured out before morning, because I’ve got a spa appointment at ten that I absolutely refuse to miss. Capiche?”
Will tipped an imaginary hat to her. “Capiche, boss.”
“Please. Like anyone is the boss of you.”
That was the crux of it all, Will reflected as he headed inside.
None of them were inclined to take orders.
Even the best teams had fractures, weaknesses in camaraderie and skillset that made coordinating jobs a challenge.
Those were challenges that were often overcome, but for someone who wasn’t used to it, it must have seemed daunting.
And adding on all the people they had at the end there…
hell, it had been tough for Will. Trusting that many people to have their backs must have been almost impossible for Cole.
Will entered the living room braced for a conversation he was sure was going to be as painful as pulling teeth, but slowed down when he realized Cole was on the phone.
“I see,” he was saying. “Mm. And she thinks he’s genuine?
” There was a pause. “All right, we can work with that. No, I can make the call.” He glanced over at Will and, after a second, moved his hurt leg off the couch and onto the footrest in front of it to make space for him to sit.
Will did so and waited with as much patience as he could muster for the conversation with Desiree—because it had to be Desiree—to be over.
“I’ll let you know,” Cole finally said, then ended the call. They stared at each other long enough that it became awkward before Will took the first step.
“Does Desiree need some help with Cheyenne?”
Cole shook his head. “She could handle Cheyenne by herself with one arm tied behind her back, even if Cheyenne wasn’t dealing with a concussion right now.”
Will grimaced. “Ouch.” He’d lost track of the woman during their fiery escape, but it wasn’t surprising that she was hurt. Between the collapsing building and all the idiots running around with guns, himself included, it was amazing that no one had been hurt worse than Cole. “She gonna be okay?”
“Desiree thinks so. But Marcus is threatening to burn down the gallery next if Cheyenne doesn’t meet with him in the next twenty-four hours. I’m his first choice for contact, but he can’t get ahold of me. Obviously.”
Damn right. They’d held out against Alders’ surveillance so far. Cole wouldn’t spike that wheel if he could help it. Still, with the gallery at stake… “You better let Lilith know.”
“I tried.” Cole frowned. “She isn’t picking up any of her phones.”
Lilith had to be in her late fifties, early sixties.
It was entirely possible that she was just asleep; her days of cutting a swathe through the city’s nightlife scene were well behind her.
But… Lilith knew what was going on. She knew what was at stake.
And she was comfortable ignoring a call from Cole, one of the few people on the scene she treated as a genuine friend?
And Cheyenne, who worked for her and managed the gallery she owned, the one that housed millions of dollars’ worth of contemporary art? Something wasn’t adding up.
“Desiree wants to set up a meeting.”
“And give Cheyenne to Marcus?” That was cold, especially for Desiree.
“More like get Marcus to confess to the fact that he’s in over his head and has no idea where the Puffin is, then give him up to Alders.”
Oh. Huh. Well, that was certainly more along the lines of the poetic justice that the son of a bitch deserved, but… “Sounds complicated.”
Cole nodded. “I agree. I asked her to let me take things in another direction instead.”
“What’s that?”
“Giving Marcus to the cops.”
A reluctant smile crossed Will’s face. “They do have the original footage of the theft.”
“Yes, and coupled with Marcus’s own confession about stealing a replica,” Cole said.
“I mean, I know they’re interested. He was bold enough to make sure both the police commissioner and the chief of police were at the party with the hopes that they’d be arresting us.
That means they’ve got a bone to pick with him for setting them up to fail.
If I promise to throw in some evidence linking him to other heists over the past few years, I think they’ll be willing to charge him. ”
Will thought about it for a moment. It sounded almost too easy. “How do we keep him from offing Cheyenne?”
“We call the cops and let them take the time to make it into a sting.”
“You think they’ll bother?”
He nodded. “They will once I make it clear that I can help them close a major case and get Alders off their back.”