In the morning, there wasn’t any time for either of them to think too closely about what had been said the night before. That was probably a good thing.

Stacia was apparently much better and had been busy finding another showing for Charlie to attend—back in New Orleans, this time at NOMA, for their annual end of summer ball. There was a catch, though: Tomas was also looking to replace one of their keynote speakers.

“It’s tonight, Charlie. I’ve already got you and Jake on a commercial flight.” Lucjan’s plane hadn’t been scheduled to be at the runway until almost nine that night. “It leaves out of Chicago at noon.”

Jake stared at her. Charlie’s phone lay between them on the bed, Stacia’s voice on speaker. Jake had answered it half asleep. In a panic, she’d grabbed it out of his hand and told Stacia they were about to eat breakfast. Which hadn’t been a lie, they were going to eat breakfast. Eventually.

“Can you make it?” Stacia demanded.

“Can we?” she whispered.

Jake smiled. “A better question is, do you want to?”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes. I do.”

“Then of course we can.”

“Write a speech on the way,” Stacia snapped. “Something short and pithy. Don’t let my fucking brother distract you, either.”

“I’m not going to distract her.”

A snort. “Like I don’t know you’re lying in bed together right this second.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. Charlie blushed.

Another snort from the cell. “I knew the minute I heard you two missed the pre-opening party. Honestly it’s about fucking time. Just hurry up and get your arses down here.” Stacia hung up.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Charlie whispered. “She knew already?”

“Probably,” Jake muttered. “She’s pretty smart, you know. Runs in the family.” A slow grin stole over his face.

“What?”

“This means she can run interference whenever I want to get you alone.”

Feeling wicked, Charlie flashed him a grin of her own. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They got ready faster than she would have believed possible. Apparently, Jake was an expert at making a quick getaway. They were on the road within thirty minutes. At first, she was terrified, but the more they talked about it, the more her fear subsided.

She snagged a couple of notebooks that cost a small fortune at an airport kiosk and got busy scribbling notes. Jake asked her a couple times what her theme was going to be, but she wouldn’t tell him. He’d find out soon enough.

---

When they landed, Jake had to pull Charlie off the plane and force her to eat. Two hours later, she was still dashing off words here and there, checking her notes for the hundredth time. Finally, he dragged her away and pushed her toward the shower.

“Get ready.”

“Oh my god,” she shrieked, looking down at her yoga pants and tank. “What am I going to wear?”

“You honestly think my sister didn’t think of that? I called her three hours ago and told her you were in some kind of a writing frenzy and couldn’t be bothered to breathe, let alone shop.”

“I have a dress?”

“You have a dress,” he assured her. “It was delivered thirty minutes ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t hear the door.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know. It’s a good thing you don’t normally write. At least when you paint, watching is entertaining.”

She grinned at him as she peeled off the yoga pants and tossed them over one shoulder. “If you want to be entertained, you could watch me shower.”

He groaned. “There wouldn’t be any watching involved, darl, at least not after the first thirty seconds. And I can’t. I’ve got to pick up Stacia from the airport.”

Pouting, Charlie ran into the shower. “Suit yourself, Jake Harris,” she called out cheerily. “I’ll just be here, slippery and wet and warm.”

For fuck’s sake. One week and she’d turned into some kind of vixen goddess. He’d created a monster. Grinning, he stepped out into the hallway.

Before the door closed behind him, he was slammed face-first into the opposite wall so hard his nose cracked.

Tasting blood, Jake threw his attacker off, only to feel another one slide behind him, then the hard press of an arm cutting off his air. He struggled, but at the prick of a knife against his ear, he went still.

“Hello, asshole,” Timor breathed. “Give me an excuse. Please.”

He opened his mouth to warn Charlie, but something hit the side of his head, and in a burst of pain everything went black.

---

When Jake woke up, his vision was hazy and his head ached. He tried to orient himself. The shapes looked similar to the layout of his and Charlie’s room, but it had to be a different hotel. Still in the Quarter, though. Not too far away. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Especially when he saw who sat across from him.

“You.”

Timor grinned, his teeth a shiny yellowish-white in the relative gloom. Jake’s gaze swept past him, checking the rest of the room. Just him, Timor and Archie. Thank god.

And as if Jake were a bug he was thinking of eating, the man tilted his head, his tongue flicking over this tongue. “Yeah, she’s not here.” Then he grinned. “Yet.”

“Who?”

“Oh, come now.” The voice didn’t come from Timor, but a phone faceup on the table next to him. “You know exactly who.”

Darnell? This wasn’t the voice Jake remembered, though. Then he realized why. The timbre was distorted, running through some kind of voice changer. The fucker had really turned paranoid in his old age. Jake wondered if he and Stacia had something to do with that and couldn’t help the smile that twisted his lips.

“No need to play dumb,” the oddly menacing voice continued. “That pretty artist your sister has taken under her wing so sweetly. The one you just left in the shower.”

Head cocked, listening to his boss’s words, Timor smirked, his hands shaping an hourglass in midair.

Jake’s jaw tightened until he could hear his teeth grinding. “What of her?” he addressed the phone. And what the hell was going on here?

“Ms. Gracen is very talented. With things other than her paintbrush, I take it.”

He couldn’t breathe. His fists clenched. But he knew what he had to do. “She has nothing to do with you. Neither do I. Not anymore. I’m done.”

Timor snorted. There was a crackle from the phone, then silence.

“Is that so?” Despite the distortion, the soft words made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. For some reason, Darnell sounded furious. “My, my, this is a surprise. Walking away from revenge for love, are we?” His tone was icy. “She’s attractive enough, I suppose. Little fat for my taste. Not like your mother. Natalie was so elegant, so beautiful. Even after having twins, she was quite lovely. A shame what happened to her.” The speaker crackled again as the man barked out a hoarse laugh. “But as you’re willing to let bygones be bygones, I have a proposition for you.”

He wanted to rip the man’s tongue out for saying his mother’s name and burn it in front of him. Wanted to cut him deep and watch his slimy innards spill onto the floor. “I said I would walk away, you bastard, I never said I’d work for you.” He got to his feet, but Archie moved in behind him and Jake felt the touch of cold steel on the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I were you. Especially since we both know what’s at stake. Or rather who.”

With a curse, he sat back down.

“I’m curious. What does your sister think about this new leaf you’ve turned over?”

His stomach heaved even as he forced a laugh. “None of your business.”

“I take it she doesn’t share your newfound pacifism. Hmmm. That’s fine. I have plans for her, too.”

Jake fought his rage, snorting. “Lucjan will tear your heart out with his teeth if you get near Stacia.”

“Kowalewski has been a problem, but then it’s a dangerous world we live in. You remember that, don’t you, Jake? Even men like your brother-in-law can’t always protect the people they love. Or themselves.”

He stared at the phone, his skin prickling. But he’d had enough. “I get it. You’re a nasty, nasty fuck, nothing I didn’t already know. So why don’t you stop wanking off and tell me what it is that you want?”

“I want to play a game, of course. The way you and your dad used to.”

He frowned. He’d learned a lot about Darnell over the years, but it suddenly occurred to him—how much had the man they’d been hunting learned about him and Stacia?

John Harris’s idea of father-son bonding time had never run to taking in a game of footy. Instead, his father had insisted on practicing the basics of larceny over and over again. From pickpocketing—something Jake had been an expert at well before his old man had come back into his life—to a simple snatch and grab. John hadn’t been impressed when Jake had sneered at his games. A broken nose and a bloody lip later, Jake had learned to play along, no matter how much he hated it.

Darnell chuckled. “I know your father was fond of the basics. He may not have had much ‘imagination,’ but he knew his shit. Like you, I’m ready for a new life. I’m tired of dancing around Interpol and these damn US Marshals. Fucking hell, one warrant and the arseholes just won’t quit. But I want something big first and you’re going to help me get it.”

“You want me to pull a job for you?”

Darnell chuckled. “Not just any job, the biggest job ever. You’ll be famous, boy. One way or the other.”

Timor grinned.

As the goon explained what Darnell wanted, the blood drained from Jake’s face. He’d never get away with it. He’d be arrested. They’d lock him up, throw away the key and laugh their arses off at him forever.

Why would Darnell want to do something so colossally stupid?

“In case you need some incentive, I think we should tune into your painter’s speech.”

He froze as Timor placed a tablet in front of him. Tapped it once. There was Charlie, front and center. Dressed in sunshine yellow, she drew every eye in the room. That attention she hated so much inevitable. She was looking over the crowd, that crinkle between her eyebrows right above her glasses. Searching for him.

His heart twisted. “Don’t you fucking hurt her.”

“Of course not. We’re partners now, after all. Aren’t we, Jake?” The voice from the telephone grated on his nerves. Jake wanted to grab the phone and hurl it, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from Charlie’s face. He was starting to sweat. The angle of the camera on the phone, or whatever it was filming the scene at Tomas’s gallery, went wide, panning around the audience as Charlie took to the podium. She was pale, her eyes slightly glassy and Jake cursed himself for not being there for her, for adding to the stress she had to be feeling.

Then she squared her shoulders

“Art,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, “is a lot of things to a lot of people. Beauty, hope, truth, fantasy. An excuse to host a ridiculously expensive fundraiser.” She grinned at Tomas, and he bowed. The audience chuckled. “But for me,” she continued, “art has always been about faith. Not in the religious sense. Though,” she hesitated, blinking, those blue eyes soft, “in a way, I guess you could say it saved my soul. This world is hard. Sometimes it’s so hard we can’t quite bear it.”

Her voice caught. Jake held his breath, watching her, forgetting where he was and who he was with. Only seeing her and feeling her grip on his heart tighten with every word.

Charlie smiled at the now quiet crowd. “But I believe that art can ease that burden, whether it’s music or theatre or oil on canvas. Art shows us we’re not alone. That other people see the joy and the madness, that they experience the pain and the wonder, that life is both terrible and good, and that try as we might, we can’t hide from it. And we shouldn’t. Because it’s worth it.” She winked at Tomas. “Even at five hundred dollars a plate.”

The crowd laughed again, but more than one pair of eyes was shining as Charlie stepped back from the mic. Timor tapped the tablet again. Once more, the camera panned around the room. One by one, Jake watched three men in the crowd lift their hands and point at Charlie. Casual, harmless gestures. But Jake went cold. The point Darnell was making was all too clear.

“What a lovely speech,” Darnell’s distorted voice mocked him. “I’m so glad I didn’t need to interrupt it to make my point. And I have made it, haven’t I?” he said softly.

“Yes.” His jaw was so tight it ached, but he got out the words. “I’m in.”

“I knew you were smarter than you look. We’ll be in touch. You should go congratulate your girlfriend on her speech. She really did a fine job.”