Page 52 of Broken Rules
“What do you mean?”
“I told you, my client wouldn’t be the only interested party.”
She strained to see through the distant tinted glass. “Well, maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe they’re here to enjoy the beach and attractions. People come up here in droves from the big cities.”
The car doors opened, and three men clad in tailored suits stepped onto the sandy sidewalk. They were broadly built with black sunglasses and grim expressions.
“Do you think they have speedos on under those suits or sand buckets in the trunk?” he asked quietly.
She backed away from the sight of the dangerous looking men. “I would rather not see what’s in their trunk. Who are they?”
“Thugs from a small operation out of New Jersey.”
“Do you really think they’re here for the painting?”
“No, they’re here for the millions of dollars they will be able to get for the painting.”
Her heart started to race. She yanked on his hand. “Come on. Don’t let them see you.”
“Savannah.”
She looked up. His gaze held hers with firm persuasion. “No one knows who I am, what I look like, my name. You don’t have to worry.” He took her hand and crossed the street. Her heart started to pound harder as they drew closer to the well-dressed criminals. Damien didn’t falter. He walked right by the men. They were so close that Savannah could smell their cologne.
When they reached the end of the block, Damien led her down the stone stairs onto the beach.
He squeezed her hand as he walked with her toward the waves. “I’m nothing, Savannah, less than a shadow or a fleeting wave cresting upon the shore.”
She wove her arm through his. “Maybe to the rest of the world—but to me you’re real.” Her gaze was suddenly drawn over his shoulder to a man walking the stretch of sandy beach, waving a metal detector back and forth. The man’s thin buttoned-down shirt and polyester pants were a dead giveaway. She shuddered as she took in the sight of Skeevy Stevie’s pants rolled up above his bony knees. His pasty white calves gleamed in the sun.
“Someone you know,” Damien asked following the direction of her gaze.
She grimaced. “He’s a new regular. It’s just weird to see him not clutching a whisky and soda in his fist.” She turned away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get distracted. The guy rubs me the wrong way. Anyway, I hate the idea of you being in danger.”
He shifted his gaze and stared out to sea. In a low voice, he said, “I’m not the one who’s in danger.” He turned to face her. “Your boss is. Listen, I’m going to have to make a play for the painting...tonight.”
She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. “No, please don’t. I was all for you taking it yesterday but that was before the cementing crew showed up.”
“Listen, Savannah, if I steal the painting tonight, Joe will discover it’s missing and call the police. The story will go public tomorrow, and those guys will know they’re too late. Then they’ll head back to Jersey.”
She swallowed hard. Her head was spinning. “I think I need to sit down.”
He led her back to the boardwalk to a large monument of a woman carved from granite, her steadfast gaze watching the waves. The statue commemorated the men and women lost at sea during the second world war. She sat down on the bench and tilted her head back, inviting the cool rush of wind barreling off the waves.
Damien sat beside her and took her hand in his. “Listen, I know you’re scared, but everything is going to be all right.”
“You promise?” she asked weakly.
He nodded. “I promise.” Then he stood up. “Let’s head back. I have to get ready for tonight.”
She took a deep breath and stood up. “Let me come with you. I can help.”
He started to shake his head.
“Please,” she said, trying to quell the tremor of nerves rattling her voice. “I have to work in a few hours. Let me just stay with you until then.”
Driving her Jeep, she followed him out to his loft in the derelict mill. There, she sat on the floor and watched his deliberate moves. The lightness in his countenance, to which she had grown accustomed, was gone. There was a deftness to each of his movements and a hard set to his jaw. Watching him open the sleek, black case, she fisted her hands to keep from gasping at the sight of his gun and an assortment of high-tech gadgets.
She shivered as the harsh reality of who Damien really was settled over her.
