Page 69 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

Chapter 23

Simon arrived in Los Angeles mid-afternoon. Dalton had insisted on tagging along. That was fine by Simon. He wanted to keep Dalton close so there would be no delay in dealing with him when the time came.

Phillip had taken an earlier flight and was waiting for them at the curb outside baggage claim when they exited the terminal.

Without a word, Phillip took their bags and placed them in the trunk of the town car.

Dalton had started to get into the back with Simon, but Simon blocked his way. “You’re in front.”

“Why?”

“I have business to conduct that is of no concern to you.”

Dalton’s expression turned suspicious. “How do I know that?”

“Because I just told you.”

“We’re partners now, remember?”

“We are not partners in all of my business dealings. And in the part that we are, my decisions will be made without your input. Now, get in the front.”

Dalton grumbled but did as he was told, and soon the town car joined the mass of vehicles making the slow trek out of LAX.

Simon raised the privacy barrier and called his brother. “Well?”

“All done.”

“You got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Any issues?”

“Um, not really.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

“Nothing big. We got the painting. Everything’s fine.”

“What happened?”

“The fire we used as a distraction flared up again after we left. It’s no big deal. The fire department put it out before it could damage any homes.”

“I told you not to cause a scene.” It had been an impossible task, given the nature of what they had been doing, but drawing more attention to the theft was not something Simon wanted.

“It’s fine. The only casualties are a few trees.”

“That’s not the point! I need you to do what I tell you, no matter what.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We thought we’d put it out. I should have double-checked. Won’t happen again.”

Benji had always been a thorn in Simon’s side. They were fifteen years apart and shared the same father. Simon would havebroken off all contact with him years ago if it weren’t for the fact that Benji was willing to do whatever Simon asked of him. Having someone like that in his pocket had been very handy.

“Where are you now?” Simon asked.

“A motel in the Valley. North Hollywood, I think.”

“Text me the address. I’ll come to you.”

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