7. Enemies turned Allies
Chapter seven
Enemies turned Allies
E melia
I sank down against the cold vault wall, adrenaline seeping away and leaving exasperated frustration in its wake.
Rattling the magnetic cuffs that bound Lucas and I elicited only bruises and a smug look from my unwanted companion.
“We appear to have adequate time to further our acquaintance thanks to your impulsiveness,” Lucas commented, casually retrieving a tablet from his jacket.
“My impulsiveness? You’re the one who locked us in here! Anyway, don’t get comfortable,” I shot back. “We’ll be discovered come morning.” I nodded at the device. “Although I am curious what secrets you’re so desperate to protect on that thing.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I doubt decryption algorithms would hold your interest, my dear. But the code originated on that artwork you’ve become so obsessed with.”
He activated the tablet, displaying pages of cryptographic symbols and encrypted text related to geographic locations. I drew closer in spite of myself.
Lucas expanded imaging of the ‘Eternal Lovers’ painting, highlighting almost imperceptible patterns woven into the brushstrokes.
“You can see how latitude and longitude is embedded in the threads,” he explained, pride in his voice. My reluctance eroded further—if these held clues, I was curious to know where they’d lead. I hadn’t noticed these when I studied the painting.
Lucas proved surprisingly receptive to my barrage of questions about encryption methods and art imagery analysis.
Hours passed with both of us debating connections between coded diaries of Napoleon sympathizers and revolution-era portrait symbology.
Frustration morphed to grudging respect for Lucas’ intellectual flexibility and immersive knowledge of art history and cryptography... fields ironically useful to both law enforcement and master thieves alike.
I glanced at his handsome features. "So... does the dauntless thief have skills beyond breaking and entering?" I asked, partly to disrupt the tense silence. "Ever consider a career that doesn't involve police pursuit?"
Lucas chuckled. "I must confess, teaching art history at university always been appealing. Shaping keen young minds and all that."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to envision my nemesis lecturing starry-eyed students.
"You almost sound wistful. What stopped you from pursuing that path?"
Lucas grew thoughtful. "Life intervened. We all compromise dreams sometimes to survive reality..." For an instant his cocky facade cracked, and my empathy stirred despite myself. I could relate with his words.
"Well, Professor Lucas Thorne does have an academic ring to it," I offered, making an offer to lighten the mood.
Lucas grinned. "I shall have to settle for you as my only pupil then. Now, observe this Roman numerals sequence along the filigree edge..."
We delved back into deciphering the portrait imagery.
As dawn approached, an easiness settled between us.
Lucas finally laid the tablet aside. “So let me send back your question. If you weren’t the genius cryptographer you are today, what would you have become instead?”
I paused, uncommon shyness creeping up into my cheeks. I hesitated before voicing something so vulnerable out loud.
I was good at my job and held my own with confidence, but I wasn’t used to socializing with people on a personal level.
What the heck. I might have never seen Lucas again once the police arrested him in the morning.
Surprisingly though, the thought left me empty. Empty in the way one felt when their best friend or a close lover was going away for a long time.
I shifted uncomfortably. I’d be the last person to admit my feelings for Lucas were moving beyond the obsessive need to see him jailed for his crimes.
"You know... I always harbored ambitions of singing jazz professionally. Crazy as it seems."
Lucas perked up. "Truly? Well then, let's assess the competition Ella Fitzgerald would have faced."
I blushed fiercely. "Oh no no, I'm not singing for you!"
"Come now, after spending all these hours together? You and I aren’t strangers any longer… Come on, I promise to be sublimely sensitive." The teasing glint was back in his eyes, but strangely playful now rather than mocking.
I fidgeted with uncertainty. Then, meeting his bemused expression, we both unexpectedly burst out laughing, with our voices echoing off the cold vault walls.
Wiping my eyes as the giggles subsided, I added, "I only perform solo inside showers, sorry. And even then, waterproof headphones are advised."
Lucas stared at me for a long, long moment. His eyes turned dark and he reached out a hand and swiped my hair behind an ear.
To my surprise, I let him. It was a gentle, intimate touch, but with Lucas it somehow felt right.
Then his expression changed and the usual roguish grin was back in place. He clutched his stomach, giving an exaggerated bow. "I hardly think so, but far be it from me to threaten such a pivotal creative space!"
Lucas grabbed the tablet and expanded another image. Leaning closer, recognition shot through me - behind the lace collar was a fragment of the mysterious encrypted file icon from my father's last case files!
Was the link I had endlessly sought literally painted into this canvas?
I clasped Lucas' wrist wordlessly. He met my intense expression, questions in his eyes. "I wasn’t sure if this painting was connected to my father in any way, but finding this now changes everything," I whispered. "And could help me find out why my father was killed."
Just then, muffled voices carried from the anteroom outside. Lucas reflexively snatched up the tablet and placed it in his jacket.
“You’re right, dear Emelia. There is some kind of connection in all of this. Unfortunately, we will have to leave this discourse until further notice. That, I’m afraid, was my cue.”
“What do you me-” my question was cut off when I saw Lucas examining a watch-like device on his other wrist, with a satisfied smirk growing on his face.
Then a metallic snap echoed faintly, followed by gears churning. With a rumbling grind, the impenetrable vault door slowly swung open, early dawn light piercing the gloom.
I shot to my feet. "What did you do? How... You knew how to open it all along and left us in here all night?" I stared, bewildered as Lucas placed a coin-like metal on the cuffs that had bound us together all night and, like the proverbial Samson’s wrist bonds, it snapped loose from our wrists, falling to the floor with a clatter.
Once again, to my chagrin, he strode casually toward freedom, that cocky grin taunting me over his shoulder.
"Look, we just spent the night together. How else would I spend time with you? Certainly not with you chasing after me every chance you get. And as I said—technology bends to my hand easily enough." He withdrew a metallic sphere from the watch, tossing it idly.
"This overrides any primitive tumblers. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
Not a chance, buster! I bolted after Lucas into mahogany-paneled halls, clutching tight onto my wrist tracker.
I was one up on him too, and had slipped a tracker into his pocket while we talked.
Three aching flights up, I burst into the crisp morning air, pausing to get my bearings.
Frantically checking to my right and left, I saw no sign of Lucas. Where had he disappeared to? Suddenly, the device pinged, locking Lucas’ movements several streets east.
Gotcha . I sprinted down marble steps, taking shortcuts through lush Manhattan parks.
Darting across intersections, early risers leaped out of my way, a couple with startled curses.
But the steady beep urged me on. There—a flash of black jacket rounding the museum rotunda.
Pouring on speed, I crashed through sculpture galleries in hot pursuit.
Lucas glanced over his shoulder as I barreled up the spiral Bauhaus entryway after him.
"We have to stop working on our relationship like this!" his mocking tone echoed.
"Then turn yourself in, Lucas Thorne, and you may get less than 25 years!"
"Not this time, sweetheart. Besides, if I were behind bars, you’d miss me too much." Reaching the rooftop sculpture garden, he effortlessly hurdled the railing down two stories into a dumpster truck below.
With gritted teeth I followed his exact path, tucking into an awkward combat roll atop rotten bananas and God knows what else.
To hell with dry cleaning bills today! Scrambling upright awkwardly as coffee grounds stuck to one heel, I reprimed the tracker.
As long as I still had proximity, this cat burglar's winning streak ended today!
Weaving between early morning food carts and bemused street performers setting up shop, I followed the faint beeps toward Times Square.
Sweat blurred my vision. Don’t lose him now!
Just ahead, Lucas juked left sharply through menswear displays into the main lobby of a male fashion store.
Knocking plaid scarves and sending mannequins flying wildly, I grabbed the trailing edge of his dark jacket just as Lucas slashed through a side service exit into blinding sunlight once more.
Lucas tugged at his jacket until my clasp slipped off. Damn.
We broke into a vaulting sprint down 7th Ave’s deafening traffic.
"Why run... if you’ve done... nothing illegal," I panted, ribs burning from exertion and adrenaline overload.
Lucas checked his speed barely to match my stride. Damn his athleticism!
"Never exercise without good company!" He winked infuriatingly then leaned sideways without warning or breaking speed.
I lost sight of him and circled another block, trying to reacquire the tracking signal.
Ahead stretched a narrow service alley I could shortcut through toward the central trace echo.
Skirting rancid trash bins, my breath caught as three brutish figures blocked the far exit.
Their faces obscured by hoods, intricate snake tattoos marked the men unmistakably as members of some type of gang.
I stopped short in my tracks. Had Lucas led me into a trap? But how could he have known I’d chase after him?
Fear clenched my chest—were they ‘guns for hire’? Why would anyone want to hurt me?
I spun to double back only to glimpse two more thugs blocking my retreat path. I was trapped and severely outmatched.
Muscles and bald heads fanned toward me, cracking their knuckles.
I had no choice than to try and outrun them. Adrenaline honed my reactions, and I pivoted then sprinted full speed up a dumpster and fire escape ladder before they had the chance to react.
Reaching for the roof, I flung aside ventilation ducting and debris, desperately trying to slow their pursuit.
My mind raced—could I barricade a roof access long enough to call for help?
I never got the chance to try. A meaty hand grabbed my ankle and I crashed chin-first onto gravel roofing.
Dazed, I still clawed forward before multiple hands seized me roughly and pushed me over the edge of the roof.
I landed with a thud and, groaning, I rolled to my side.
Several faces glared down at me. One of them grabbed me, and a knife glinted wickedly as I fought wildly against the grip of tattooed muscle.
A sadistic voice hissed close. "The schematics you have won’t save you or the art thief now."
I almost sighed out loud with relief. Lucas. Lucas had nothing to do with it.
Still, that revelation did not stop the horror that chilled my heart when I heard their murderous objective. I thrashed violently to no effect as death loomed.
Suddenly, one assailant dropped without a sound. I blinked as blood trickled into one eye from my split brow.
Behind my assailants stood Lucas, face thunderous as he launched a spinning aerial kick that fell another goon before any of them could understand what was happening.
The element of surprise lasted seconds but Lucas was precise and relentless.
If I hadn’t been so damned exhausted from chasing him all over New York, I would have cheered.
He battered their defenses with fluid combinations even I hadn’t seen in the ring despite years of training.
With grunts, two more gangsters fell under Lucas’ well-placed blows while he shielded my prone form.
But hits landed also—he took punishment stoically while protecting me.
Finding an opening, Lucas grappled the leader brutally against a generator, metal panels buckling. "Who sent you?" he spat, forearm against the tattooed throat.
I staggered to my feet, clutching a pipe for balance.
But suddenly, sirens echoed up the alley sides. Lucas released his foe with a harsh shove. "We're done. No contract is worth innocent loss. Tell whoever sent you that this is my last warning.”
He took my hand firmly, holding me up as we stumbled down the alley, battered but alive, into the milling crowds.
Lucas hailed a cab and as we drove past tall buildings that obscured the sky, I clung to him only half conscious. Too exhausted to fight the growing darkness, I felt my senses slowly begin to give way to sweet oblivion.
As my body weight leaned into Lucas’ firm arms, all I could think about was that no one had ever defended me or stood up for me before.
“Luc-”
“Shh, Em. Let me get you out of here. You’ll be alright.”
I gave what I hoped could pass for a nod. But I had to finish what I’d wanted to say.
“Lucas, don’t leave me. Please.” I managed and then everything became dark before I could hear his response.
What felt like a moment later, I slowly stirred awake, a throbbing ache permeating my body.
I blinked several times before my vision cleared. Looking up at the familiar ceiling, I realized I was in my own bed and somehow, dressed in white silken pajamas.
Bandages covered the deeper cuts on my arms and shoulders. How had I gotten home?
Then my full memory returned. Lucas. I sat bolt upright, and the room swung like a Ferris wheel at high speed. Then everything once more turned black.
The next time I stirred awake, Lucas was cleaning my face. I groaned, not finding words. My mouth felt like the desert after months without rain.
Then he was gently lifting me so I sat upright. He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned me so my face rested against his chest.
"Time to eat, Em... Take a sip, just one for strength." Lucas’ soft encouragement seeped through the cottony fog enveloping my awareness.
With effort, I pried open heavy lids to discover a steaming mug tipping against my cracked lips.
The lush broth coated my parched mouth, and I reflexively swallowed before the exertion became overwhelming. I sank into his chest.
“There you go, precious one, this will help you regain your strength," he soothed, smoothing tangled hair away from my forehead.
Through the thick weariness, the tension that had held my body rigid gradually eased under Lucas’ caring touch.
I croaked, trying to find a response. I wasn’t used to being cared for, touched with so much tenderness. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel, to say.
Once more, he pushed my head upright and pressed the smooth ceramic edge gently between my lips, and the warm liquid roused my senses from their drifting state. “Just a little more for me, sweetheart...”
After a couple more efforts to swallow proved too much, I managed to turn my head away and bury it into his chest.
Even in my weakened state, the strong musk that I had already learned to recognize as Lucas’ signature scent filled my senses, making me sigh and snuggle further into his body.
Lucas set the empty dish aside and stretched us both out so we were lying on the bed, facing each other.
His arms tenderly pulled my fragile form to his chest.
“I’m here, Em. Rest now and I promise you everything’ll be alright.”
Already sinking into sleep, I let Lucas’ gentle tone soothe me and I let out another relieved sigh. I let an arm weave its way around his chest.
For now, his presence kept the darker, spectral thoughts at bay as dreamless rest reached for me, his fingertips slowly stroking against my spine.
I managed to clasp his other hand before oblivion took over. Deep in the recesses of slumber, I felt something like a soft, tender feather rest lightly on my forehead.
A sweet feeling shot through me and spread across my body. It was a familial sensation I hadn’t felt since my father and I were together.
With a contented sigh, I snuggled deeper into his warmth and allowed sleep to take over. I felt safe.
I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but when I opened my eyes, everything was still and clear. A lot of the weakness had passed.
I swung my feet gingerly onto the plush carpet, glad that the room wasn’t spinning anymore.
Glancing at the mirror, I grimaced at the black and blue face that stared back at me.
The tangy scent of fresh coffee and sizzling eggs produced a rumble in my stomach as I shuffled stiffly toward the kitchen.
There, humming tunelessly in front of the stove with messy hair and a white T-shirt over his signature black slacks, stood Lucas flipping an omelet. He glanced up with that roguish smile that was fast becoming a part of my everyday life.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, sunshine. Another few minutes and breakfast is served.”
I sank onto a stool, memories flooding back now.
The alley ambush, my unlikely rescue, those chilling snake emblems... So many questions swirled, but physical needs took temporary precedence.
We ate ravenously, my guard lowering along with cup after cup of caffeine that entered my system.
As Lucas cleared our dishes, I picked up the gold-hilted knife resting ominously on the coffee table and studied it.
I’d taken it from one of the assailants when Lucas had knocked him off of me.
“I know the adder emblem on the handle. I’ve seen it before when I was searching for answers to my father’s death. They’re somehow linked to a syndicate my father crossed decades back. If they’re the ones who came after me yesterday...” I met his gaze. “It proves his car crash wasn’t an accident. He was murdered, and these same people don’t want me to find out why.”
Lucas studied me intently. Outside, the sounds of the city seemed muted, while inside my apartment it felt like a storm was gathering on the horizon.
“Then the game is more complex than either of us realized,” he said finally. “But this time, I won’t be standing idly by.”
His protective tone stirred new sensations within me. I glanced up at him. Our eyes met and held, and I knew Lucas meant every word he’d spoken.
My sworn adversary was slowly now turning into the only dependable ally I had.
But the question now wasn’t his loyalty, but what endgame had we stumbled into here together?