Chapter Twenty-Four
MINA
I craned my neck, but Marius had already disappeared into a dim alley. Roux revved down the street, racing from one pool of light to another.
I cursed both of them, but it was halfhearted.
“Will he be all right against Szabo?” I asked.
Roux tightened his hands over the steering wheel. “He should be.”
Should be? I wanted to scream.
I had a lot of faith in my dragon shifter, but he had a tendency to act impulsively. And given the state he was in, not to mention the darkness…
I peered down the next alley, catching a view of lights glittering over the Thames. The river was that close.
A sea gull’s haunting cry pierced the night, and I caught a glimpse of white overhead.
“Don’t worry,” Roux tried.
I grimaced. “I’m worrying.”
His mouth settled into a tense line. “This is how teams work — by trusting each person to do their job.”
True, but teams usually operated according to game plans, and taking off after Szabo had not factored into ours.
My hands formed fists. Damn that Szabo! He had come after me at home. He had stalked me on my first trip to London. Now he was back again. Why?
Roux pointed into the darkness ahead, past the headlights. “Focus. We have to complete this mission.”
Easier said than done, with my heart roaming the Docklands with Marius. Was he all right? Where was all this leading?
Roux pulled up in front of a tired old warehouse on the banks of the Thames — one that hadn’t yet been converted into upmarket condos or torn down to make way for modern construction, like the buildings around it.
Four men in dark suits separated from the shadows to open the doors, and Roux coasted in.
The hair on my arms stood as we slid out of the vehicle. Bene and Henrik flanked the rear doors of the van, while I followed Roux toward a bright circle of light in the center of the dark, empty warehouse. The place smelled of salt, slime, and the ocean, much like the nearby river.
Jensen closed the laptop he’d been hunched over and stood. “Good of you to be punctual.”
“Of course,” Roux said smoothly.
Standing beside Jensen was Celeste, who glanced behind me, then looked away quickly, hiding a smug look. What did that mean?
Briefcases cluttered the floor around Jensen’s feet, making me even edgier. Everything about this screamed Mafia! Cartel! Illegal!
And there I stood, right in the thick of it.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, once again reviewing my life choices. But ultimately, I knew I’d made the right decision. My friends’ freedom was worth helping Gordon finish this distasteful art deal.
Jensen motioned to the briefcases, and his men opened one after another for our inspection.
“Three million British pounds in cash, as Ms. Petrova requested.”
I stared at stack upon stack of bills. Wow. Maybe I didn’t have to feel all that sorry for Anastasia.
A svelte woman — Jensen’s personal assistant — took notes on her tablet.
Jensen checked his watch. “The remainder is scheduled to appear in that account in the Cayman Islands right…about…now.”
Celeste’s tablet pinged, and she scrolled through a message, then nodded primly. “Confirmed.”
Bene and Henrik opened the crate and slid enough of the painting out to satisfy Jensen, along with papers declaring the work genuine, signed by Gordon’s weasel of an art authenticator.
Jensen didn’t look too concerned. In fact, he barely glanced at the painting.
I felt as sick as I would be turning live horses over to a negligent new owner. Would he take good care of them? Would they be all right?
No, my gut told me.
Jensen would ensure that the canvas remained in good condition. But the art on it, and what it represented — that would be neglected.
“Good doing business with you,” he said, shaking Celeste’s hand.
She held his a little too long and smiled a little too coyly.
And just like that, it hit me. Somewhere along the line, they’d found time to sleep together, hadn’t they?
Bene rolled his eyes, signaling, Duh.
I hung my head. Of course they would. And of course, I was the last one to figure out the obvious. Celeste was a manipulative succubus, and Jensen had the two things she most coveted — power and money. Even more than Gordon.
A vague, uneasy feeling came over me, but I couldn’t quite place it.
I was too worried about Marius — and too disgusted by the expressions Jensen and Celeste flashed at each other.
Triumphant, like that was all sex amounted to.
Not a revelation or a step toward something deeper. Just a contest. A victory.
“Good doing business with you,” Celeste echoed, flashing a seductive smile.
For a few seconds, Jensen stood in her spell. But he was enough of a tech nerd to eventually lose interest and turn away.
“Well, that’s that.” He clapped with an air of finality. “Thank you, gentlemen. And you, Miss Durand.”
I ought to have stepped back like the others, but I couldn’t help myself.
“What will you do with it?” I asked.
“Map its every feature,” he said proudly.
“I hope you’ll consider loaning it out for exhibition when you’re done,” I said, giving my (probably lost) cause one last-ditch effort.
“Oh yes. I’ll consider it,” he said with little conviction.
Outside, a ship churned past. Two ships, maybe, passing each other on the dark river.
At Jensen’s signal, his men loaded the crate into a dark van and drove off. I watched them go, but he didn’t. He just started packing away his laptop.
Bene and Henrik carried the cash to our van. Then Bene slipped away to help Marius. That gave me just enough headspace to press on with my crusade.
“Loaning a work comes with many benefits,” I tried.
“Such as?” Jensen paused on the way to his limo.
I followed, sensing an opening. “Well, I’m sure any gallery would be extremely grateful to secure a loan. For example, the Tobler Arts Foundation. In Switzerland.”
I named the country with such emphasis, I practically trampled it.
Jensen looked at me sharply. “A random example?”
Not at all, because my research had turned up a number of interesting tidbits about Nils ?ren Jensen and his rapidly expanding tech empire. Rapidly expanding, that was, except in one key location.
“Just one possibility,” I bluffed. “Many foundations there are very well-connected, and they would be extremely grateful for the opportunity to exhibit such a painting. I imagine many influential people in the country would be grateful too.”
I didn’t add, Like the ones currently blocking your efforts to expand into their tightly controlled market, but I didn’t have to.
Ice-blue eyes narrowed on me, and I felt a hell of a lot like the antelope stalked by the lions in that documentary.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting.”
Celeste tugged on his sleeve. “Didn’t you mention another appointment?”
He frowned, and the svelte assistant piped up, checking her tablet. “Yes, sir. That call from Buenos Aires.”
Briefly, I wondered what a billionaire followed up an eighty-seven million dollar art deal with. Did he partner with an oil company to drill in Antarctica? Buy off the head of a major South American country — or plot to overthrow one?
He considered, then motioned toward his limo. “I’d like to hear more. Why don’t you join me? It’s only a short ride, and my captain can bring you to any location you wish afterward.”
Captain? As in a boat?
Another sea gull cawed, reminding me of our proximity to the river.
Roux shook his head curtly. “Maybe another time.”
I shook my head back at him. Any moment now, Jensen would be distracted by a phone call or a new idea for world domination. This was my chance — my only chance — to make the painting available to the public, just as my father would have wanted.
My mind warred with a dozen contradictory commitments. Marius. Getting this deal over with. My own safety.
But Bene had gone to assist Marius, and there was little I could contribute to a confrontation between a vampire, a dragon, and a lion. And when it came to my own safety…
Henrik stepped forward. “I’ll accompany her.”
I gulped, then nodded.
Celeste huffed as if to say, Lucky you. Always a man around to protect you.
It’s called friendship, I wanted to say. And friends help each other.
But she did have a point there. And, yes — my friendship with Henrik had been more than a bit strained lately, but he was finally coming through for me.
Roux looked at the van unhappily. The plan called for all of us sticking together to bring the cash to Anastasia.
His phone pinged with a message, and he brightened upon reading it.
“Bene and Marius are on their way back.”
I didn’t know what that said about Szabo’s fate, and I didn’t want to know. I was just relieved that they were safe.
“Coming?” Jensen beckoned from his limo.
I hurried over with Henrik, promising Roux I would call soon. The river was just a short drive away. Henrik and I would be free to rejoin the others in no time.
The limo driver took off. I found it strange, sitting in a space that small — well, big, even for a limo, but still — with people I didn’t relish spending time with. Henrik. Jensen. His stunning personal assistant. And Celeste.
Not exactly time to turn up the music and party.
I focused on my mission. The clock was ticking.
“As I understand it, you’ve hit certain…
hurdles in your efforts to…um…” I waffled for a minute, trying to think of a better way to say Your efforts to put local enterprises out of business and steal as much data from innocent customers as possible.
Finally, I came up with, “Your efforts to offer your services to the people of Switzerland.”
Jensen nodded, and I went on with my pitch. But the limo stopped less than a minute later. We were already at the river.
A sleek speedboat with tinted windows awaited Jensen — of course — and he headed straight up the gangplank, asking me questions. How long were paintings typically loaned for and on what terms? Had I been speaking broadly, or was I actually in touch with high-level players in Switzerland?