Page 76 of The Knight

He’d wasted so much precious time fighting what he felt for Freya, trying to keep his heart locked down. Now she was gone and it might be too late. He’d give anything to hold her again. He wouldn’t let it be too late. “Hi, can I speak with Einar Gunnerson?”

“One moment, sir.”The receptionist’s modulated voice made him want to scream.

The phone rang out. Fucking endlessly.

Abe killed the line with a frustrated swipe. “Einar’s not in his hotel room.”

Fox grimaced. “Gone?”

“I’ll dig deeper. There might be something we missed in his background.” Kat stepped away with her phone pressed to her ear.

Abe dragged his hand through his wet hair.Think.Numbing cold sank into his bones—if he didn’t find Freya, it would never leave. “Freya mentioned Einar was going to an art exhibition tonight.”

“Location?” Fox’s eyes were slivers of granite.

“Unknown.” The paintings in Einar’s office suite.Rembrandt. “But I might know who.”

Abe keyed a few phrases into his phone, fingers moving fast. A moment later, his screen lit up.

Gotcha.

41

Abe slidbehind the wheel of the sleek Jaguar and gripped the leather steering wheel.

Leo leaned in through the window. “Zak’s putting a trace on Einar’s phone, but until then, Fox is sticking with you to make sure you don’t get yourself killed—or do something else ridiculously stupid that’ll tick me off.”

Filling every inch of the passenger seat, Fox popped the clip on his weapon, then grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep him in one piece. It’s virtually my day job at this point.”

Abe shoved the car in gear and peeled away from the Dorchester.

The headlights sliced through the downpour, until the illuminated façade of the National Gallery of Art came into view, blazing with light. Towering and majestic, the building rose out of the night like some ancient fortress, its grand columns and pale statues casting long shadows against the dark sidewalk.

Fox leaned forward, peering through the window as the Jaguar rolled to a stop. He let out a low whistle. “National Gallery, huh? This guy, Einar—he strikes you as a Rembrandt fan?”

Abe fired Fox a look. “Calculated guess. There was a Rembrandt print in the office.” Anything was better than sitting and waiting for Zak to track the bastard down.

Fox gave a wry smile, pushing open his door. “Nothing says ‘elite operation’ like some educated speculation.” He hopped out of the car.

Abe followed suit. The rain had softened to a mist that clung to the air, shimmering in the streetlights. Adjusting his suit jacket, he crossed the road with Fox, the art gallery before him harboring the one person who threatened to destroy everything that mattered to him. A kaleidoscope of light spilled onto the rain-slicked sidewalk, refracting off puddles and casting halos around the elegant figures emerging from the gallery. Women shimmering in sequined cocktail dresses tottered past.

Abe hurried through the glass doors to a blast of warmth and noise. The atrium pulsed with life and color. Pounding bass reverberated through his chest, thunderous rock music pouring from massive speakers that flanked the entrance. Vibration thumped up through his boots and hit his teeth.

Einar was here. He was sure of it.

He wiped rain from his face, scanning the crowd. His disheveled appearance drew no attention—just another guest caught in the weather.

“Upstairs?” Fox adjusted his sodden tux as they faced a sign. ‘Rembrandt Exhibition—Upper Gallery’ in flowing script.

“Follow me.” Abe took the stairs three at a time. His breath came in controlled bursts as adrenaline scoured his veins.

At the top, an ornate floor plan was framed on the wall. Abe scanned it. The exhibition split into two wings, a maze of interconnected rooms forming a looping pathway through the gallery.

A server appeared beside him, holding a silver tray of golden champagne flutes. “Drink, sir?”

“No, thanks.” Abe forced a tight smile and brushed past her. “Fox,” he murmured, “I’m heading for the east wing. You take the west. We’ll meet in the northernmost room.”

Fox nodded, slipping into the crowd with a nod and disappearing smoothly into the throng.

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