22. Like old times – Seven
22
LIKE OLD TIMES
SEVEN
T he downstairs room at Céline’s never changes.
Old recliner chairs with a chess table between them. A bar along the far wall. The artwork we gave her decorating the walls. All of it drenched in subdued amber light. And not a window in sight.
How many nights did we spend hiding out in this very room before Atticus could figure out a way to get us out of this city without being seen?
I chuckle to myself. Too many. But Céline never minded. She fed us good wine and even better food while we waited it out.
Her children passed in a freak accident as teenagers, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, we knew Céline liked having people to care for and fuss over. It helped that she was a wizard with a pair of scissors and made the best crepes this side of the Seine.
Swirling the fine French wine in my glass, I eye Elijah over the chessboard. He’s contemplating his next move, but I’ve already decided mine, and there’s no way he can win this match.
“It’s useless,” he says, sitting back in his recliner with a huff. “No matter what I do, you win.”
“How about we play something else?”
His dark brows draw. There’s only a chessboard here, but I have a different sort of game in mind.
“Like what?”
“A game where we can both win.”
“I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
I grin and pull my phone from my pocket, flicking to the browser window I’ve been saving since we first came up with the idea of taking Ro to Paris.
“It’s on display,” I tell him, my blood already buzzing as I slide the phone to him across the table.
His jaw tenses and for a second, he doesn’t pick it up.
Pick it up.
Come on, man. Pick it up.
After another second’s hesitation, he lifts the phone and taps the screen to brighten it, the flat line of his mouth softening as he sees the prize.
It’s a Van Gogh. Three Figures near a Canal with Windmill . Eli’s been wanting to get his hands on it for as long as I’ve known him, but it’s never been on display and the collector who owns it keeps it locked up tight enough that it was never worth our time to try to get it. Especially since it isn’t worth half of what our usual targets are.
This piece would be more of a passion job. An easy two-man job.
Eli’s gears turn as he looks at the gallery invite I went to great pains to set up.
“We can’t,” he says finally, and hands me back the phone.
“Why the hell not? This might be the only chance to get it.”
His expression sours. “Not with Aurora here.”
As if that’s any inconvenience. If anything, she’d help our cover, and he damn well knows it.
We won’t get caught. We never do.
It’s an excuse. And a shitty one.
“If you’re still not ready then just say that,” I blurt before I can stop myself, and instantly regret it from the hurt that crosses his face.
We haven’t done a proper job since he came back. We’ve focused all our energy on toppling the empire of our enemy. That, he could do. But he was still completely unwilling to do something for himself. For us.
Just because he can’t replicate the art anymore doesn’t mean we need to stop collecting it.
Fuck, I miss it.
I miss us.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” I press.
“It’s too risky. We know he’s looking for us. Besides, Atticus wouldn’t like it.”
I fall back in my chair and lift my gaze to the brocade ceiling with a heavy sigh. “Atty isn’t here, Eli. We are.”
Silence.
When I drop my eyes back to him, a pang of guilt lances my gut.
“You know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure it’ll be on display again someday.”
“But probably not at La Tante Sophistiquée . There’s almost no security there.”
There he is.
“You have a point,” I whisper, embodying the devil on his shoulder that I’ve always been.
“ If we did this…”
“Yes?”
“If there’s any risk or security has changed since the last time we were there—we leave it.”
“Since when do you back down from a challenge?”
“Sev,” he warns seriously.
“Fine. Fine. Yes. Agreed.”
He nods. “And it has to be up to her. If she doesn’t want to go, we don’t go. This trip is for her. Not for us.”
I want to ask why it can’t be both, but I won’t argue with him anymore. Truth be fucking told, I’m just glad he agreed.
I knew something had changed. I could sense it from that first night she came to stay with us. A shift in him. A thirst for life I thought he lost when he lost his ability to paint.
No. Not lost— taken .
Suppressing the rage that always surfaces when I think about what he’s been through, I nod my agreement. “Deal.”
We spend the next thirty minutes going over the plan in case Ro is cool with a detour into the art district, pulling out the go bag Atticus started keeping here a couple years back to see all our gear still inside and intact.
It really feels like old times as I pass Elijah his small tool kit, slide a blade into my boot, and secure a Beretta to my waistband while tucking a Glock into my jacket pocket.
I’ll need to pick up something a little more…refined to wear in the shopping district while we’re there, but other than that, we should have everything we need.
Fuck. I really missed this.
The beaded curtain down the hall rattles and shifts, signaling the return of the women, and I kick the go bag beneath the table and pull my shirt down to cover my other blade, which I’ve had holstered since we left home.
Céline steps through first. Her short auburn hair bobs as she bounces on her heels with a rare smile on her lips as she clears her throat for our attention.
“May I present Miss Aurora Bellerose,” she says in her familiar French accent, giving each of us a knowing look. “For your viewing pleasure.”
Ro awkwardly steps into the space and pushes a lock of dark hair behind her ear.
Not a fan of the spotlight? Too bad…she fucking glows in it.
Eli is on his feet first, straightening his blazer jacket. “Wow.”
She’s cut a couple inches off so her hair now falls just past her shoulders with blunt cut ends. The dark brown she’s chosen complements her skin so much better than any shade of blonde ever could. But it’s not just the hair that’s screaming goddess.
Céline has had her change into a sexy little ivory silk dress with a modest slit in the thigh. She’s even given her sparkling earrings to wear and a pair of strappy heels to go with it. The perfect outfit for an outing at an upper-class art exhibit in an old pied-à-terre , just as I requested.
All eyes will be on her , and not on us .
“Do you like it?” she asks Eli, fiddling with her hair with worry in her eyes that shouldn’t be there. “Céline said I could keep the dress. Is it too much for shopping?”
“Not at all,” Eli replies. “The dress is beautiful. You are beautiful.”
She’s unable to hold his stare, her eyes dropping to the carpet.
My turn.
“You did great, Céline,” I say as I push from my chair and stalk over to them. “As always.”
“You sure you boys don’t have time for me to give you a little trim? Look at this mess.”
Céline ruffles my dark hair with a tut.
“Next time,” I tell her, stooping to give her a peck on the cheek. “I promise.”
“ Soon ,” Céline demands, already starting to leave the room. “You can pay on your way out.”
I roll an impossibly soft lock of Ro’s dark hair between my fingers, drawing her gaze up.
Fuck, I love it when she blushes.
My cock thickens, and I grit my teeth. I don’t notice the small near growl of a sound that leaves my chest until her lips part in surprise and her eyes narrow in a fuck-me stare that I will absolutely make good on.
It was fast and frantic before. Unplanned. Next time, I want to take it slow.
Taking her hand, I give her a twirl, taking her by surprise so much that she laughs and nearly stumbles in the heels, but I’ve got her.
“Stunning,” I declare.
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
“Thanks. Hey, do you think maybe we could call Atticus again? I just want to check that Ellie’s still okay.”
She’s already had us call him once and text twice since her phone died, but she can bother Atty as many times as she needs to. I hold my phone out.
“Wait, it’s probably late there now.”
“Early,” Elijah corrects. “Very early. But don’t let that stop you.”
“Maybe just text him again? Please?”
I do. Demanding a photo of a very happy dog at his earliest convenience before saying, “Done,” and watching her visibly untense.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, and love how she fits the space there perfectly. “Hey, would you mind making a quick stop at an art exhibit after we’re through shopping? There’s an artist on display that Eli’s been wanting to lay eyes on for a while.”
“It’s your day,” Eli answers before she can, coming to stand next to me and shove his hands in his pockets. “If you’re not into it, I can go another time.”
“No, I’d love to go, actually.”
I can’t stop smiling.
“I’ve never been to an art show, and, I mean, we’re in Paris, so…isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”
“You heard the lady,” I say, squeezing her and starting to lead her out. “It’s go time, bro.”