Page 71 of Canvas of Lies
WespentSaturdaymeanderingthrough suburban yard sales, enjoying fresh cookies and apple turnovers from a purple food truck parked along Main Street, and holding hands while we watched the terrifying flock of Canada geese at the pond in Spruce Hill’s Town Park as the evening sky burst into a spectacular sunset.
It was blessedly uneventful, aside from another email from Kat’s father about the painting. Though Kat snorted in disgust that the man was still trying to pass a forgery off on me while making millions from the sale of the actual painting, I replied politely and an appointment was set for the following day at the Willoughby estate.
“I’m coming with you,” Kat said immediately.
I had to grin at the stubborn set of her chin. “I wouldn’t put my neck on the line by suggesting otherwise.”
When I fell silent, Kat cocked her head and asked, “What else is worrying you?”
“I still want you to be careful. There’s no reason for him to link either of us to the auction, not when he thinks I believe he’s turning over the real thing to me, but after the delivery, all hell will break loose. I don’t know what might happen once Lavigne gets that package.” I reached over and wiped a smear of chocolate from her lower lip. “I don’t want you taking any risks this week.”
She nipped my thumb before I pulled away. “Same goes for you, mister. God, I can’t wait until this is all over.”
I slid my arm around her waist and Kat leaned into me. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting scarlet ripples across the water. When a breeze left goosebumps along Kat’s skin, I tugged her to her feet.
“It’s getting chilly. Let’s head home,” I said gently.
Quiet descended over us during the drive back to my apartment, the kind of quiet that made me wonder if Kat felt subdued or if her mind was simply racing too fast for conversation to keep up. Though neither of us had broached the subject, I was sure she, too, had at least considered the possibility of retaliation against her father once Lavigne received the package.
Even if she fully believed what we’d done was justified, would she feel the same if it got her father killed? Would she everforgive me if that was how this played out? Would she forgive herself?
Losing the painting would be tragic, but losing Kat would destroy me.
The sudden roll of nausea in my stomach made me want to pull over and convince her that we should abandon the plan.
“Kitten . . . maybe this is a bad idea. It’s not too late to change the tracking numbers back.”
“After all that work? You think we should just let him sell the painting out from under you?”
Her tone was gentle, curious rather than accusing, but I took it as a good sign. She wasn’t one to hide it when she was well and truly pissed.
“Lavigne isn’t going to take kindly to being duped. We’re throwing a pebble into the lake and once it hits the water, we’ll lose control of the ripples. Your father is an asshole, but I don’t want to get him killed.”
“Killed,” she repeated, eyes widening. “That’s what you’re afraid will happen?”
“Lavigne is known for his ruthlessness. I think we have to consider it as a possibility.”
“I would think Lavigne’s first step would be to demand his money back, not murder the man who has his payment stashed away in some offshore account. My father won’t be happy, but it’s not like he can’t afford to give it back. Besides, if my dad knew there was something that could be used against himhidden in the painting, he never would’ve sold it. He wouldn’t want to hand it to some criminal mastermind.”
Relief swept through me that her logic matched my train of thought the night before. “You’re right. I just feel like I’m in over my head here. This isn’t how I expected any of this to play out. I might make a passable kidnapper,” I joked, “but I’m not cut out for international intrigues.”
Kat snorted at that. “This ballooned into something a lot bigger than we expected. I won’t say we could’ve avoided it if you’d let me break into the house, but . . .”
I shot her a look. “Very funny.”
“Look, you said the packages won’t be delivered until Monday afternoon. Let’s sleep on it, deal with my father, and if you’re still worried after that, we can talk about switching the numbers back tomorrow. But I don’t want you to lose that painting for my sake, Nico. Not after all this.”
“I don’t want to lose it either, but if it comes down to you or the painting, I know what I’d choose.”
Her expression softened. “What my father did to you is inexcusable, but that painting is yours, and ultimately, it has to be your call. I’m sure Lavigne will be pissed if another swap delays the delivery, but we could still get it done in time to change it, right?”
“Right. Good thinking.”
“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”
“What would I do without you?” I asked, lacing my fingers with hers as I stopped at a traffic light.
“Probably live in a miserable bachelor pad devoid of all personality—oh, wait,” she teased.
