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"Alex and I have an understanding and it's one I would trade in a fucking heartbeat." He looked Sinclair in the eyes. "Marriage to someone like Charlie doesn't seem so bad."

Sinclair felt ashamed for his lack of understanding. Dougal had never been anything but kind to him. He felt like the arsehole he was. "It's not her I'm upset with. It's Alex." He picked up a bottle of expensive whiskey off the desk and poured them each a glass. A gift from the colonel no doubt. "Give me the details for tomorrow."

"There's a reception being held for the sponsors and patrons of the Scottish National Gallery, in celebration of the successful festival season. You and Charlie have tickets under alias names."

"That gets us in," he said skeptically, crossing his arms.

"Aye. The print is located upstairs in the Impressionist rooms. It was brought out on display for the festival and donor reception and is scheduled to be returned to the print room in two days. Your job is to retrieve it.

"Easier said than done." His lips pressed into a fine line.

"I'll be tracking you and Charlie, and I'll disable the security cameras as needed, running an old feed through the system so the guards won't notice. It will be as if you aren't there. Just don't let anyone take pictures of you. The rest is up to you."

"What time does it start?"

"The reception is at five. Ideally, you should be in and out in thirty minutes. The rest of the galleries will still be open to the public, only the National Gallery will be closed. There will be plenty of foot traffic in order to blend in and security staff will be spread thin."

"I guess this means I'm out of retirement." He felt a tightness in his chest. It had been years since he had pulled something of this magnitude off. He questioned if he still had it in him. That wasn't the only thing bothering him. It wasn't himself he was worried about, Charlotte's life was at stake too. "I would rather go in solo. Let's leave her out of this."

Dougal shook his head. "You'll need back-up. Alex wants her there."

"Alex is only looking for something to hold over her," he said bitterly. "Something he can control her with."

"No. She knows the art world, she understands it." He looked at Sinclair hesitantly. "Also, if Sokolov did follow you to the Tower, there is the chance one of his men is still tracking both of you. It's possible he could be there. She can identify him."

"Bloody fucking hell." He ran his hand through his hair. "We are supposed to be protecting her, not putting her in harm's way."

"You were right. The Watch isn't a democracy. She needs to be there. I'm sorry, Sin," Dougal said. "Gabriel and Carmichael will be on the premises, watching from the gift shop and van."

Sin's eyes narrowed. "There were only five of us who knew about the sting operation the other night. Alex, Gabriel, Phinneas, you and me. Someone tipped off Sokolov."

The area where Dougal's brows should have been if he had any, furrowed. "What exactly are you trying to say? Are you accusing me of foul play?"

"No," he shook his head, unable to meet Dougal's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"I'll let that one go, because I know you're stressed," Dougal said, petting William. "Your master is a fucking prick."

William looked at Sin and bared his teeth. Apparently, no one liked him at the moment.

"Do you know where Phin is?"

"No one knows where he is. He checked in after the operation went south and that's the last any of us have heard."

"Will you let me know if he contacts you?" Sinclair asked, standing up.

Dougie nodded. Sinclair was at the door when Dougal stopped him. "You can choose to make this work. Your marriage."

He froze, his heart rate picking up until he could feel the beat of it in his ears. "I don't think so," he said.

"You made a vow. Make sure you honor it."

He shut the door behind himself and hurried down the stairwell and to his car. He was getting in when a police car with its lights on pulled up behind him. Two officers got out and approached.

"Sinclair Stuart," the larger one said, flashing his badge. "Detective Inspector Donald Thomson." He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "I'm detaining you for the suspected kidnapping and disappearance of Charlotte Hanover."

Fuck. He looked around. There was no use running, so he put his hands behind his back, feeling the cold metal of the cuffs cut into his skin.

"Read him his rights, Constable," the officer said, putting a hand on top of Sin's head as he guided him into the backseat of the cop car.

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