CHAPTER 36
Nash
Sybil’s face held a mix of emotions—shock being the prominent one, followed closely by confusion, possibly defeat. We hit the ground floor and stopped. I didn’t have time to tell her, and that angered me.
Bee stepped between us. “Not here, Nash. Let’s just get in the car.”
She was right; we needed to get moving. The car ride would offer us the opportunity and time to explain, not to mention the time to fucking murder Bee.
I ushered Sybil forward, helping both girls into the back of the car. Sybil slid in, taking the seat opposite me as Bee took the seat across from us so she could face Sybil.
The door shut.
I could feel my patience fraying. “Bee, you need to speak, now.”
Bee sighed with a resigned look on her face.
Sybil was shrinking away from us. I’m not sure if she’d put it together yet, but I could tell she was about to.
“Bee!” I yelled.
Everyone jumped.
She started talking, “Rat Man was a contact of mine a few years back and—”
“Did you fuck him?” It was crass, but I suspected this might be the case. Bee was a notorious fuck-em and leave-em kind of girl, and it often created problems for me as her big brother. This wouldn’t be the first guy I’d had to scare off.
Bee eyed me. She looked like a frightened mouse caught in a trap. “Yeah, well, maybe, but at the time he was helping us get stuff back from the mafia, we were talking a lot; it was this whole, like, thing, you know? It was hot. He had this deep, sexy voice, mysterious man vibe—I couldn’t help it!”
I grumbled, my fists clenching at my sides.
Sybil had her knees pulled to her chest, looking out the window.
Her sweatshirt hood was up over her head, and her front completely zipped.
I’d be remiss not to think we were freaking her out, but I needed answers.
If this asshole had stolen Blue, too, we’d be fucked.
“What else, Bee?” I was clenching my jaw so tight it came out in hissed words.
“He’s ex-mafia, hence why he has that stupid name, The Rat Man.
He used his inside knowledge of the organization to help us steal back a few pieces, hit the mafia where it hurt.
” She shrugged as though this weren’t a big deal.
She knew better than to get romantically involved with the people we worked with, especially in secret.
“He has his own vendettas, and occasionally our goals aligned.”
“And then what?” I pushed.
“It was a fling, okay?!”
I was shaking with anger. “No. Not okay, Bee.”
“I didn’t think he’d be so butt-hurt about it. He didn’t seem like the stalker type; it’s been a year!” Bee rolled her eyes. “Like, dude, get over it.” She crossed her arms.
“So you dumped him, but he still wants you,” I guessed.
She shrugged, and I swear if she shrugged one more time, I was going to strangle her.
“Dammit, Bee. So this is personal.”
“I didn’t think he’d actually do anything. I mean, I just thought he was being snarky lately—teasing. He disappeared for like… eleven months and just showed up again.”
“You’ve been talking to him recently, and he said he was going to do this?” My eyebrows shot toward the roof of the car. “And you didn’t think to mention it?”
Bee looked ready to cry. “He may have sent me a few threats over the web chat.” She patted her eyelashes with the backs of her knuckles.
“He must have caught wind of what I was working on trying to find PERL, but I just thought he was trying to get my attention. I didn’t reply or anything. I wasn’t leading him on.”
“Our family’s biggest night,” I began, then gestured to Sybil. “Her biggest night? You let this happen. You allowed him to steal her art.”
When I glanced toward Sybil again, she was facing us. Her hood hid her eyes, and I couldn’t judge her reaction to hearing this. If she was still figuring it out, she knew the truth now.
“How was I to know he’d do this? I thought I—I trusted him.” She was crying now.
“You obviously don’t understand him at all.” I sat back hard against the leather seat, crossing my arms in front of me. “Is he dangerous? At the very least, I need to know that. I have to know if you, we, are safe.”
“He’s not dangerous, I mean, not to us. He’s never killed anyone; he doesn’t want to. That’s the whole reason he left the mafia to begin with. I know that at least.”
I grunted. “He’s killed no one, she says.” It came out as a grumble.
Sybil threw her seatbelt off and sat forward. Her hands shot between Bee and me in mediation. “What the hell is going on here?” She asked more firmly than I expected. I still couldn’t gauge her mood under the hood, but her voice was firm.
“I’m sorry, Sybil,” I placated, but we’d arrived at the townhouse.
Once again, time wasn’t on my side. I gave her an apologetic look before exiting the car and making a B-Line for the front door, leaving the girls to climb out behind me.
The front door was locked, just as I’d left it—no evidence of entry. I took out my keys and unlocked the door, letting it fly open until it once again embedded in the preexisting hole in the wall.
I could hear both girls stalking behind me. Bill barked and danced in the front entry. He darted from me to the stairs and back, urging me to follow him.
I leapt up the stairs two at a time on his heels, ignoring the burn in my chest. Reaching the top, glass covered the floor, the overhead skylight broken. Bill stepped on the glass, flinging it everywhere. Luckily, his feet were still bandaged from the fire.
The soles of my shoes crunched, following the trail of glittering glass leading into my room and toward the back secret staircase. I scanned the space for any other clues or disturbances, but this appeared to be it.
I spun up the spiral stairs and into my office. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for; I already knew what I’d find. The gallery doors were wide open, the lock cut off and tossed on the floor. Sawdust swirled as I stepped past and into the empty room.
Blue was gone.
Hands on my head, I approached the nail where the painting once hung, finding another card stabbed into it. I ripped it off and examined it.
“See you soon, Bee,” it said.
My head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as sweat dripped from my brow. I wanted to vomit.
The girls entered the room behind me. Bee marched up to me, taking the card from my shaking hand and reading it. Sybil’s hood was down, she looked solemn, quiet, hands in her sleeves as she took in the unfamiliar space.
In two strides, I was before her, reaching for her hands.
She allowed me to take them, but didn’t reciprocate my hold.
My chest tightened even more, and I worried I might have a heart attack.
“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you. It was all an accident that started out as a game.
” I felt desperate, unable to decide where to start.
I led her from the gallery to one of my leather chairs, urging her to sit. She did, but stayed at the edge of the seat, as though readying herself to run. Bill took his place beside her on the floor, dutifully staying by her side and looking at me with betrayal.
I ran a shaking hand through my hair, wondering how to say it, what she’d think, and if I’d lose her because of this.
“Just say it, Nash,” she whispered. She knew, but wanted to hear it.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, placing my hands on her knees as I knelt before her to look her in the eye.
“It started as a game,” I began. “I learned about PERL over the years, and the mystery of it got the better of me. Bee and I do this thing together—we solve art mysteries, find lost things. PERL got under my skin. You—got under my skin.” My voice hitched, feeling like I might cry.
“I thought that if I stole one PERL piece—the one at the museum in Whitney—I’d flush out the artist. I wanted to know who you were. ”
Her brows furrowed. “For what reason, Nash? To out me?” she accused, holding herself steady.
I shook my head. “No, that was never my plan. It was selfish. I just wanted to know who was responsible. I wouldn’t ruin an artist’s entire identity like that, not in my business.”
She continued to eye me, saying nothing more.
I went on, letting a bereft laugh escape my lips.
“And then I ran into you. That night, that very night… I had Blue in my bag and then you were there, with Bill, tangled around me. I mean, who would have thought?” Tears were threatening again.
“And Bill,” I paused and wiped my hand down my face and goatee, “that little smarty-pants knew it, too. He wouldn’t stop trying to sniff my gym bag. ”
I saw a smirk touch the corner of her lip before it dropped away, her eyes in her lap.
“When I saw you, it felt like you’d walked right up and stabbed me in the gut that night.
You were so beautiful, ethereal, and mysterious.
The painting in my bag lost its appeal in the blink of an eye.
For whatever reason, nothing else mattered but figuring out who you were.
” I blinked, giving up my fight with the tears. “That’s when I found my true purpose.”
With her hands in her sleeves, she focused on her fingers, picking at the edges of the hoodie.
“And then, Bee and I went to your show, and there you were. I’d found you again. I knew where you lived, thanks to Bill, and the universe just kept throwing me chances, one after the other. The fire happened, and I took that chance, too. It all seemed so perfectly imperfect.”
There was a long pause while I let her digest all this. I sat back on my heels, letting my hands fall from her knees. I shouldn’t be crowding her like this.
Bee was leaning against the wall in my periphery, staying quiet.
“So when did you figure out I was PERL?” she asked after a few minutes, letting me stew.
“The fire report,” I said. “And the fire Marshall. He was prepared to dress you down about fire safety and flammable materials.” I chuckled and looked to Bee.
“We both saw the report, and knew we had to protect you. I promise. At no point did we wish to put your identity in danger. By then we’d both fallen in love with you.
We would have, and still will do anything to keep you safe. ”
She looked up, gaze finding mine, wide and open. She glanced toward Bee, and Bee gave her a soft smile.
“I’m sorry for how this all came out.” I brought her attention back to me, my hands back on her knees to stress my point. “But I’m not sorry for what I did. I will never regret stealing that piece from the museum, because that piece was a part of you. I love that somehow a part of me knew that.”
Sybil appeared so calm, it almost scared me.
I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, or how she felt.
After being so close to her, it almost hurt, as though she’d erected a wall between us.
I couldn’t fault her for being cautious, not after being let down so many times, but I was desperate to crash through the wall and hold her against me.
She fell silent, and we all drifted off into our own worlds. After a few minutes, she sighed softly and turned to me. Reaching out, she placed her hands on mine.
“I need some time.” She removed my hands from her knees.
I stood with her, but stepped back. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. She looked to Bee, then back to me before walking toward the office door and down the stairs with Bill.
My knees threatened to give out, Bee rushing in to hold me up before they did. I realized then what the feeling in my chest was. It was a panic attack, so acute and painful it mimicked a broken heart.
I couldn’t handle letting her go. My mind felt crazed and uncertain unlike ever before. I tried to drag in breath after breath, but it hurt. I fell to my knees, wincing as Bee tried to comfort me. The hard part was knowing there was nothing I could do to stop her. I had to give her space.