Page 39 of Silence and Surrender

“Like always using the same security firms. The same transport companies. The same documentation experts.” His smile was wolfish. “I may have ‘borrowed’ quite a few paintings from them back in the day. Despite their…other assets, they occasionally move legitimate pieces.”

I took a sip of wine, wishing it was something stronger. “We need to know everything. Their setup, their protocols, their weak spots.”

“Planning something dramatic, are we?” But his eyes were serious despite his light tone. “This isn’t like stealing paintings, Colton. These people, they don’t just protect their investments. They eliminate problems.”

“They already eliminated Isabella’s father,” I said quietly. “Now they’re watching her, too.”

Something shifted in Steele’s expression. “How is she? Really?”

“Strong. Brilliant. Fascinating. Determined to finish what her father started.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice.

His features clouded with memory. “Antoine used to talk about her all the time—his brilliant daughter at Oxford.” He paused. “And the two of you?”

I met his knowing look steadily. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows what to look for.” He smiled slightly. “Cooper mentioned you’ve been...different lately. More focused. More driven.” He paused, then added quietly, “More like when you were younger, before….”

“Before Catherine? Everything’s different now.” I set down my glass, fighting the urge to pace. “They’re going to come for her eventually. Like they did with Antoine.”

“Yes.” No attempt to soften the truth. “But this time she has you. Has us. I admired Antoine; I’ll do what I can to help you protect his daughter.” He pulled out his phone, typing briefly. “I’m sending you blueprints of three private auction houses. Security layouts, camera positions, patrol patterns. The kind of details that used to make my former career possible.”

“I thought you destroyed all that when you went legit.”

His smile turned wicked. “Let’s say I kept some insurance. Just in case.”

“And the collectors themselves?”

“I have dossiers on the major players. The ones who never miss certain types of auctions.” His focus remained on me. “But Colton, if we do this, if we help you get proof of what they’re really moving...there’s no going back. No legal solutions. No clean endings. You won’t win this battle in court.”

“I know.” I thought of Isabella bent over her father’s notebooks, piecing together the horror with her brilliance. Of how she’d felt in my arms last night, soft and strong and worth any risk. “But they crossed that line when they killed Antoine. When they started watching her.”

Steele was quiet for a moment, studying me over his wine glass. “You really care for her, don’t you?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt. I was finally ready to admit it.

“Then let’s make sure these bastards never hurt anyone else’s daughter.” He pulled out more files—hand-drawn maps, security codes, the accumulated knowledge of years spent acquiring things that didn’t belong to him. “The next private auction is in three weeks. Very exclusive guest list. Very special merchandise.”

My hands clenched at his careful phrasing. “Location?”

“Secret basement and wine cellar in the Mayfair Hotel. Old money, old secrets.” He spread out architectural plans in the backroom of the gallery. “The kind of place that’s seen a lot of things change hands over the centuries.”

“Security?”

“Heavy. Professional. Ex-military mostly.” His finger traced entry points with the ease of someone who’d once used this knowledge for less…noble purposes. “But they have patterns. Habits. The same ones I used to exploit when liberating rather expensive paintings.”

I studied the plans, memorizing details. “We’ll need a way in. Documentation that’ll stand up to scrutiny.”

“Already working on it.” He produced another file with invitation lists, buyer profiles, the kind of information that wasn’t supposed to exist. “But Colton...this isn’t just about getting in. You need to fit in. You can’t blow your cover. It’s about making sure you all get out alive.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His jaw tightened. “Because Antoine thought he could handle this, too. Thought having proof would be enough.”

“That was different.” I met his gaze steadily. “He was alone. We’re not.”

Steele was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “No, you’re not.” He pulled out his phone again. “I’m calling in some favors. People who owe me from the old days. The kind of people who know how to make problems disappear.”

“Like you used to?”

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