Chapter 31 #2
“When did he disappear?” ... “Okay, last night. From his home? Yes? Any sign of injury, blood? No. Good.” Then she listened intently for a while before saying, “Wait, Gray’s about to come in. I’ll let you explain it to him.”
I heard the front door burst open, letting in light from outside. Gray and Bill rushed toward us. Bill licked my hand again, and Gray placed a hand on my cheek, tilting my head up to look at him.
“Betty,” he gasped, finding me unresponsive. “What happened?” His features were devoid of color but filled with fear.
Nash lifted me by the arms and guided me to the nearby bed.
Sybil thrust the phone into Gray’s hand. “Matteo took their dad, left you a ransom note.”
Nash erupted with questions, leaving my side. I could hear Gray shushing them, then yelling for everyone to shut up while he tried to talk with Ethan.
Tears ran from my eyes. My dad. I knew it. I knew this would happen.
Why didn’t we go back to New York sooner? What were we thinking? Of course Matteo would retaliate this way; why did anyone think otherwise?
I was hyperventilating, both hot and cold at the same time, sweat coating my skin with shivers wracking my body.
I couldn’t lose another parent. I couldn’t.
Gray hung up the phone, only to dial a new number. “I’m calling David,” he barked.
I’m not sure how long he was on the phone, but when he returned to my side, I felt numb. The ache in my chest was now a gaping black hole of nothing. My dad was gone. I’ll never see him again. Matteo was a monster; he would kill him.
Dad was probably already…
I couldn’t think it.
“David wants to talk to you,” Gray whispered, pulling me out of my dark thoughts.
I tilted my head up to find him standing beside the bed, phone outstretched. Confused and alarmed, I wondered why his uncle wanted to speak with me. I took the phone, my hand trembling as I raised it to my ear.
“Hello?” My voice was small and weak.
“Betty? It’s David.” His voice was deep and commanding, yet remorseful. “Darling girl, I promise I’ll get your father back, okay, honey? I will. It’s important that you hear it straight from me. I will make this happen.”
The sincerity in his voice made me feel comforted somehow, as if we were already family. The cadence lulled me into believing him. I suppose dangerous men were like that, their deep timbre and confident air pulling you into a trap.
I nodded, managing a choked “Okay” through my sobs.
“Give me back to Grayson, honey. Don’t worry, we’ve got this. Just trust Gray, and we’ll see you soon.”
I did as he instructed, returning the phone to Gray.
Nash paced behind him in the tight space between the back wall and my side of the bed.
Sybil leaned against the wall across from us, arms folded over her chest, looking ready to vomit.
Gray moved away from the bed again, nodding as he listened to his uncle’s further instructions.
I sniffled a few times and pushed myself up against the headboard. The initial panic was subsiding, replaced with anger. “That motherfucker,” I muttered.
Nash stopped pacing, hands on his hips, his eyes blazing with fury. He looked like a boiling stew pot, primed to explode.
When Gray hung up and came back to my side, he addressed everyone as he said, “Alright, he has a plan, and the team’s all set.”
“Just like that?” Nash asked, sounding unsure.
Gray remained fixated on the quilt, and his expression gave me pause. “What is it, Gray?” I snarled the question, knowing there was more he wasn’t telling us.
He sighed, his gaze slippery. “He wants something in return.”
With a huff, Nash spat out, “Of course he does.”
Gray ignored him and continued. “If we do this, then we get a fresh start. I can leave, and no one will ever follow me or you again. He said that he needs a gesture of good faith to convince the organization at large to leave us alone.”
“What do we have to do?” I growled, tears still streaming like a leaky faucet.
He finally met my gaze, his a churning blue ocean. “He wants the Rembrandt back.”
My jaw dropped.
Nash scoffed and turned away from us, mumbling a terse, “Fuck this.”
Gray continued, “He mentioned it holds sentimental value for him and the organization, and that it’s considered company property.
Apparently, it was their very first heist. He and my dad, back when they were young and in Canada, took it as a prank, and that prank eventually launched the family crime business in New York, overthrowing the Don that was there before. ”
I blinked rapidly, trying to process the emotional whiplash.
“But the Rembrandt? How are we supposed to get it back, Gray? It’s in one of the most secure museums in New York, and that piece is under heavy surveillance given its history and recovery.
We’re talking about the MET Museum. Nobody just steals from the MET, Gray, and if they do, God help them. ”
Nash turned back to us, nodding in agreement. “It’s impossible.”
Gray looked confident, if not cocky. “Come on, guys.” He held his hands up, gesturing to each of us but excluding Sybil. “The three of us are world-class thieves. I think we can figure it out.”
“Four!” Sybil chimed in, pushing off the wall to stomp up to Gray. She looked fierce and determined; her face angry like I’d never seen before. “The four of us.”
Gray chuckled and looked her up and down. “You?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and popped a hip with sass. “I’m PERL, asshole. So you can go fuck right off,” she bit out. “I know how to be sneaky, mister.”
Gray’s brows rose. “PERL, the million-dollar artist?”
“She is,” I chimed in. I hadn’t yet shared that information with him, not wanting to make things awkward for Gray or Sybil, considering he’d stolen her art last year right out from under us.
“You’re PERL?” he pointed a finger. “This tiny thing? You’re the person behind all that?”
Sybil nodded, growling like a kitten.
Gray laughed once in astonishment. “I retract my statement then.” He looked genuinely impressed. “Evading public scrutiny for a decade as a highly sought-after mystery artist is quite a feat.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, what are we saying?” I interrupted their little popularity contest. “Are we really going to steal it, like in The Thomas Crown Affair? Walk right in and out with a painting I risked my life to recover in the first place?” I looked from one to the other.
Nash adopted a wide stance. “It doesn’t sound like we have much of a choice, Bee. Gray’s right, we need to do this, and if we have to do it like Thomas Crown, then we will.”
I huffed. Why on earth did he almost seem excited? “This is insane,” I said.
“This is Dad,” Nash challenged in return, easily trumping my complaint.
I hated he was right. I’d do anything if it meant getting Dad back.
My scrutinizing gaze landed back on Gray. “How sure are you that David can and will do this?” I grumbled.
Gray slid onto the bed beside me, his shoulder nudging mine. He took my hand in his, enveloping it. “Remember when I was saved from Matteo’s gunshot because someone jumped in front of me?”
I searched his face, a question forming.
“That was David,” he said. “He just told me.”
I reached across and grabbed his arm with my free hand. “What?”
Gray was nodding, his shock mirroring my own.
“He was apparently undercover, part of the rival mafia group that was trying to oppose Matteo’s rise to power.
David was trying to stop him, but Matteo was unstoppable that night.
David saved me only by taking that bullet.
I guess he’s spent years regretting how that night went down, wishing he’d acted sooner to save the family.
He blames himself. When the cops arrived, Matteo fled the scene, thinking David another dead henchman and leaving him behind.
Matteo never knew David had crossed him. ”
A hand covered my mouth, tears once again pooling. It was beauty amidst the chaos.
Gray swiped a thumb across my cheek, catching the tears. “David tried to warn Luca too, begged him to stay away from Matteo, to leave New York and forget it all. I guess Luca wouldn’t listen, saying he’d handle Matteo himself. Luca spent years trying, but we all know how that ended.”
I squeezed more tightly onto Gray’s arm and hand.
“So, yes. We can trust David. He’ll get your father back, no matter what. David is our best option. He might still be a criminal, but he has a conscience, and I can accept that he needs something in return to appease the organization.”
“Me too,” Nash added, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Nash’s sudden faith in Gray shocked me.
I sniffled and dipped my head. “Okay.”
Nash left my side to comfort Sybil, and Grey pulled me into a long hug. It felt good.
We spent the rest of the day packing our supplies and gear, getting ready to leave by chopper the next morning. But when morning came, Sybil and I found our beds empty and the chopper gone.
They’d left us.
The secretive conversations between Gray and Nash suddenly made sense. Sybil and I stared at each other in shock, bubbling over with anger.
They’d always planned to abandon us, hadn’t they?