Kane
The plate belongs to a dead man.Gregor Standish.A man that Mount had offered me a contract on, and I said no because I don’t shit where I eat.
No self-respecting hit man takes jobs in a town where he has a home if he can avoid it. Have I been unable to avoid it on occasion? Yes. Like the time Mount needed to wipe out an entire cartel contingent. That was for justice, at least in my eyes.
You don’t go after a man’s woman.
So, why the fuck is a guy driving a dead man’s car coming after me?
Unless he’s not.
I keep digging into Standish to find out who would want to avenge his death, but all I find is a string of ex-wives who took him to the cleaners.
Before I can keep digging, I get a text from Ransom.
He’s arranging another shipment.It’s time to end this.
Damn right,it is.
All of this.
I’ve got a new lease on life, and I’m ready to get to living it without anything hanging over our heads.
30
Temperance
Standing in the middle of Noble Art, even amidst the chaos of setup, is surreal.
Setup for my showing that is happeningin two days.
I’ve taken Kane’s words to heart and haven’t let my worries over Rafe’s situation detract from my excitement about what is a dream come true for me. I can still stress about Rafe and the man he’s hunting down, and yet enjoy this too.
Like right now, I push it all away and let giddiness sizzle through me like a kid who’s just spotted a massive pile of presents under the Christmas tree.
But this is better than Christmas on every level, even though it’s slightly terrifying. Like facing a firing squad and hoping the guns shoot confetti instead of bullets.
Valentina’s employees bustle around the room, setting up pedestals formysculptures. I’m supposed to be helping, but all I can do is stand here dumbfounded, bubble wrapping clutched in my fists as I watch them treat my work like it’s precious art.
Which they think it is.
Insanity.
This is the life I couldn’t even have dreamed of.This is the life I wouldn’t be living if not for Kane pushing me to go after it. Tears prick the back of my eyes, which seems to be a regular occurrence lately, and I blink them back.
“Pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Valentina returns from the back room and hands me a bottle of water.
I accept it and twist off the top, taking a sip for no other reason than it’s something to do to distract me from the urge to blubber like a baby over the reality of what I’m seeing.
“I remember the first time I saw an entire wall covered with my paintings, and my name was actually beneath them. It’s not something you ever forget.”
I stare at the wall ahead of me and the canvases that I know are Valentina’s. “You must have been so proud,” I say, glancing from the nudes to her face.
“I wanted to throw up, run out of the gallery, and never come back.”
“No way. You?” I decide not to mention the fact that I feel like I might need to escape to the restroom and puke in the next five minutes.
She nods. “Absolutely. If you think it’s easy to dig something out of the very depths of your soul and then display it in public to be judged by your friends, family, peers, and complete strangers ... you’re insane. This isn’t for the faint of heart.”