Framed

Chapter 20 #2

The cop threw up his hands and stalked away.

Will and Cole continued arguing for a minute or two, to the point Cole was actually starting to get irritated with Will’s insistence he’d booked with the wrong airline. Then Will glanced around.

“Okay. We’re clear.”

The shift in his demeanor startled Cole. Oh. Right. It was a diversion, not an actual argument.

He shook himself. “For now. We need to get the hell out of here, especially before someone starts checking security cameras.”

Will nodded sharply. “Downstairs?”

“Yes. There’s a taxi stand down there. We casually get in one, get out of here, and have them drop us off safely away.”

Will blinked. “Oh. Shit. That’s kind of genius.”

Cole smirked and smacked his arm. “You sound surprised.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” He reached for Cole’s waist, but hesitated. “Can you walk to the elevator on your own?”

“Uh. Slowly?”

“That’s fine. But if they see you leaning on me…”

Ooh, good point. He’d been leaning hard on Will on the way inside. And limping.

The elevator wasn’t far, fortunately. Still, this was going to suck.

“Go really slow,” he reminded Will, and they started toward the elevator. Their progress was agonizing, Cole’s knee vehemently protesting every step.

“How can you fucking lose them?” someone barked. “They weren’t exactly inconspicuous!”

Cole turned to see two cops running back this way, scanning their surroundings.

One of them was so caught up in searching for Will and Cole, he clipped Cole’s shoulder and knocked him aside.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he kept running.

Cole’s eyes watered as his knee screamed with fresh pain. Will kept hold of him, kept him from falling all the way to the floor, but there was nothing Cole could do except ride out the wave of agony.

“Come on,” Will said gently. “I know it hurts, but we gotta go.” He tugged him upright. “They’re going to figure out it’s us sooner or later.”

He didn’t bother letting go of Cole this time. They were nearly to elevators, and he seemed to intuit that Cole wasn’t going to be able to make it the rest of the way. Not now.

As soon as they were close enough, Will jabbed the call button. A moment later, the doors opened. As they stepped inside, shouts rose. The cops were angry. Arguing, by the sound of it.

Completely unaware that the men they were looking for were on their way down to the Arrivals level.

“Can you make it the rest of the way?” Will asked.

“I think so. Just… stay close.” Cole experimentally put some weight on his fucked-up knee, which did not feel good at all. “It feels like it’s going to buckle if I step wrong.”

Will nodded sharply. “I won’t let you fall.” He put his hand on the small of Cole’s back as the doors opened. “Just take it slow.”

That was the only option, and Cole carefully stepped out of the elevator. The hand on his back wouldn’t keep him upright, but it felt like it would. It was reassurance that he desperately needed in that moment. Even if he stumbled, Will wouldn’t let him fall.

And I was surprised he came back for me?

They made it to the taxi stand without incident. Cole took a ticket from the woman in the booth, and they got into line behind a few people with giant suitcases.

As cars pulled up and passengers got in, shouts echoed through the structure. Cole swallowed. They were still far away. Going in the other direction, it seemed. Still, it was unnerving. He and Will didn’t have many escape routes here. Not while Cole couldn’t run.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. An impulsive plan that was going to get them both killed. Or arrested. Or—

“Next in line!” a man barked.

Cole looked up and realized they were next in line. The man was standing beside a taxi, waving impatiently for them to hurry the hell up and get in.

They hurried the hell up and got in.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

Cole rattled off an address in Queens. The driver nodded, pulled away from the line, and…

And that was it. They’d given the cops the slip. They were home free.

As La Guardia faded behind them, Cole turned to Will and, for the first time since he’d picked him up, looked him up and down. “Are you okay?”

Will nodded. “Yeah.” His shoulders dipped a little, and he pushed out a breath as if he’d realized he was, in fact, okay. The danger was over, if only for now. Sounding almost dazed, he whispered, “Yeah, I’m good.”

And that was when the relief hit Cole. They were safe. Will was safe.

With a heavy sigh, he leaned across the console, wrapped his arms around Will, and pulled him in tight.

Closing his eyes, he stroked Will’s hair and just quietly let the sense of safety settle on his shoulders even as his knee screamed about this uncomfortable position.

Their ordeal wasn’t over—not even close—but the immediate danger had passed.

Will didn’t offer up a smartass comment or something to lighten the moment. If anything, he seemed to be holding on as tight as Cole was. Gratitude for the rescue, maybe? Or his own relief that they—both of them—were okay?

He didn’t know, and he didn’t question it. He just let the moment be.

The driver let them off outside the house matching the address Cole had given him. Once he was gone, Will helped Cole hobble two doors down to the actual house he wanted to go to.

Inside, the house was furnished and tidy.

It appeared more or less lived in—some mail on the coffee table, a few dishes in the sink—but it was clean.

Truthfully, no one had lived here since Cole had bought it five years ago.

A twice-weekly cleaning service kept it spotless, but otherwise, Cole only used it when he needed to lay low.

“I’m going to reach out to Desiree and Cheyenne.” He sank onto the couch with a groan. “Figure out our next move from there.”

Will grunted his agreement, but sounded vaguely disinterested. In fact, he was far more focused on a large painting above the mantel.

Cole suppressed a smile. There was a time when he’d have dismissed Will as too stupid to know what he was looking at. Today, he just wondered how long it would take Will to decide if what at the painting was real.

Not very long, it turned out. Cole had just finished making contact with Desiree and Cheyenne, who’d meet them this afternoon, when Will turned a puzzled expression on him.

“Is this…” He gestured at the painting. “Is this an actual Gustave Courbet?”

Cole smirked. “Maybe.”

Will’s eyebrows flew up.

“What?” Cole asked. “You think that’s the most valuable piece I own?”

“No, no.” Will shook his head. “But I’m surprised you have it up. On the wall. In…” He gestured at their surroundings.

“Why not?”

Will blinked. “Uh, because most people don’t hang million dollar paintings in their living rooms?” He paused. “Well, normal people in normal houses like this one.”

Cole chuckled, draping his arm across the back of the couch. “And if anyone comes in here to rob the place, or just sees it, they’re going to assume it’s a replica. Because obviously, no normal person would hang the original in a normal place like this one.”

Will studied him. Then understanding seemed to dawn. “Hiding it in plain sight.”

“Exactly.”

Will glanced at the painting, chuckled, and shook his head. As he crossed the room to join Cole on the couch, he said, “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”

“And yet, you are?”

Will sat down beside him and rested his hand on Cole’s thigh. “Not really, no. It’s just still kind of mind-blowing to see something like that”—he nodded at the painting—“sitting out in the open like nobody’s business.”

Cole shrugged unrepentantly, and they both laughed.

“All right. It’s been a long, long night.” Cole motioned toward the stairs. “We should get some sleep.”

Will glanced at Cole’s leg, his expression turning to one of intense concern. “We should get you some crutches. You’re going to fuck up your knee worse than you already have.”

The impulse to insist he was fine was strong, but… Cole wasn’t fine. And if he didn’t want this injury to come back to haunt him later, he needed to take care of it. Crutches at the very least. Maybe an MRI and some internal repairs.

“We can get me some crutches after we get some sleep,” he said.

“Okay. Can you get up the stairs?”

Cole pursed his lips.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Will grinned and got to his feet. Then he scooped up Cole like he didn’t weigh a thing.

Cole shouted in surprise, but by the time he was situated in Will’s arms, he was laughing. “Ooh, a big strong man. I like it.”

Will smirked. “Figured you would.” He stole a kiss, then took Cole up the stairs to the second floor. At the top, he looked right to left. “Uh…”

“Left.” Cole gestured at one of the closed doors. “The bed’s not very big, but it’ll get the job done.”

“Not very big is perfect.” Will opened the door. “Then I have an excuse to cuddle up to you until you get hot, sweaty, and annoyed.”

Cole just laughed as Will set him down on the edge of the bed.

Yeah. That sounded perfect.

Lilith’s gallery was never closed on Saturdays, especially not in the evenings. Saturday nights were when parties and openings were held, and the place was always busy.

When Will and Cole pulled up in front, though, all the lights were off.

“I’m going to go check the door.” Will put the car in park and got out without waiting for Cole to respond.

From the passenger seat, Cole watched Will walk up and try the door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. When Will returned, Cole said, “Let’s go around the back.”

They did, and Lilith’s car wasn’t in its usual parking space, either.

“This is weird, right?” Will asked. “Because it seems weird.”

“It’s weird,” Cole confirmed. “Let’s go.” He got out and tucked his new crutches under his arms. They were clumsy and uncomfortable, but at least they kept his weight off his battered knee, which was now wrapped in a black brace.

He hobbled up to the rear door. Locked, of course.

Lucky for Cole and Will, the locked doors wouldn’t keep them out.

Of course they were both adept at lock-picking, but even that wasn’t necessary today—they had Cheyenne’s key.

After they’d met up with her and Desiree this morning, Cheyenne had given them the key as well as the code for the security system.

She hadn’t come with them, though. After both of her studios had been burned and she’d nearly been killed herself, she was in “low-goddamned-profile” mode and wanted to be as far from everything as possible. Cole honestly couldn’t blame her.

Inside, everything seemed normal, if unusually quiet. Not that a high-end art gallery was ever particularly noisy outside of an opening or event, but it was eerily silent today. Empty and devoid of life. The click of Cole’s crutches seemed to echo through the cavernous facility.

They moved from the backroom into the showroom, which was also dark except for the fading daylight coming in through the front windows.

All the showroom lights were off, removing the warm, brilliant glow that usually made every painting and sculpture stand out.

In the absence of that light, they all appeared subdued and cold and even drab.

An enormous cubist painting that had seemed almost fluorescent beneath the lights was muted now, its colors less obnoxious and its contrasts less jarring.

The hair on Cole’s neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all.

“Lilith?” he called out as he walked past the darkened cubism display. “Are you here?”

No sound. No movement.

“Should we check her office?” Will asked, whispering as if someone might hear them.

Cole nodded.

The office door was… unlocked. In fact, it was ajar. No signs of forced entry, though. It was just partly open as if someone had neglected to close it all the way as they were leaving.

Cole nudged it all the way open with his crutch.

It creaked on its ancient hinges like something out of a haunted house.

When he switched on the light, he scanned the office.

Nothing had changed since the last time he was here.

Stacks of papers remained. Brown-paper-wrapped paintings still leaned against the wall.

But Lilith was gone.

And so was her Iberian Puffin paperweight.

The stack of papers was there, a small indentation in the middle where the Puffin had been sitting, but the figurine itself was gone. Cole could almost see it there like a transparent apparition, but no… it was gone.

“The paperweight,” Cole whispered. “It’s…”

Will craned his neck to look past him at the desk, and he swore. “Why would she take a paperweight with her?”

The pieces desperately wanted to click together in Cole’s mind, but he tried to keep them apart.

“You don’t think…” Will shifted, and ancient floorboard creaking beneath him. “You don’t think that was the real Iberian Puffin, do you?”

Cole closed his eyes. Slumping over his crutches, he sighed heavily. “Fuck’s sake.”

“It was…” Will dropped into one of the chairs they’d sat in the first time they’d come here together, and he stared at the vacant spot where the paperweight had been.

“It was right here? Right in front of our faces?” He looked up at Cole.

“Why would she… What’s…” He shook his head slowly. “What the hell?”

“Yeah. What the hell is right.” Cole chewed the inside of his cheek.

He’d always known Lilith was not above shady dealings, but he’d never imagine she’d lie to his face like that.

That she’d hand him the very thing he was searching for—that people wanted to kill him for—and pretend it was just a replica.

God. He’d held the real Puffin in his hands. Will had almost dropped it, and Cole suddenly wished he had, because when it didn’t shatter, they’d have known it was the real deal.

“Fuck,” he whispered, because what else could he say?

He’d been chased and shot at. He’d fucked up his knee. He’d nearly burned to death.

All in the pursuit of his longtime friend’s fucking paperweight.

Now he had no idea where Lilith was. No idea where the Puffin was.

And no fucking idea what to do next.