Framed Shadows: Shadows Landing #6 Read online

  “Couples’ trip?” Cade asked the group as he slung his arm around his wife.

  “Great idea,” Marshall said with a grin. “Let’s see how he does with our wives. They’re even more protective of Tinsley.”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “Tinsley is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

  “No, she’s not,” Cy said.

  “She’s too sweet,” Cade added.

  “Way too nice,” Miles said.

  “I’m surprised she isn’t constantly being taken advantage of,” Marshall said to his brothers.

  Then they all turned to glare at Paxton.

  “I’m not taking advantage of her,” Paxton swore.

  “If you saw him naked, you’d know who was taking advantage of whom,” Bridget said and then gave Annie a high five. Tinsley groaned and covered her face in embarrassment. However, Cade and Ahmed looked at Paxton with such a glare that Paxton was afraid they’d reach through the camera and kill him.

  “Anyway,” Connor said, getting everyone’s attention back to the case. “Tinsley, I’m going to have the art transferred to you and Paxton after we log it into evidence. I want you to identify it and Paxton can trace it along with the other art. “

  “It looks like we’re headed to Shadows Landing. We can take it with us,” Cy said.

  “You tried to take my wife, you tried to take my dog, and you tried to take my friends’ niece,” Ahmed said into the camera. “And now I know your name. It’s never good when I know your name.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “He didn’t try to take me. He was doing a naked photoshoot with those sweet old ladies who make apple pie.”

  The men snickered.

  “Hey, I’m getting a pie every month for a year for that photo,” Paxton defended, and suddenly the snickering stopped.

  “Are you talking about Miss Ruby and Miss Winnie’s apple pies? Twelve of them?” Miles asked.

  “That’s right,” Paxton told them.

  “Heck, I’d get naked for that,” Cade said.

  “Absolutely,” his brothers agreed.

  “Okay, so maybe I won’t kill you . . . yet,” Ahmed said slowly before he ended the video call.

  “Well, today has already been interesting,” Paxton said, setting down his phone.

  “And we haven’t had the church barbeque run yet.” Tinsley pushed him back onto the bed. “It’s almost over, isn’t it?” she asked as she climbed on top of him.

  Paxton rested his hands on her hips and looked up at her. “They’ve taken down the Myriad and recovered the artwork. All that is missing is Curtis Engle. As soon as the bust is done on whoever shows up tomorrow to get their paintings, you’re done. You’re out so I can breathe again.”

  “Hmm,” Tinsley said, shifting her hips against his. “I think we should celebrate. I wonder—”

  “Wonder what?” Paxton asked.

  “If I can make you scream,” Tinsley said before bending down and capturing his lips with hers.

  25

  Tinsley sat at the end of the pew as the donations were counted in the Lowcountry Smokehouse and Pink Pig donations jars. Reverend Winston gave a stirring talk on loving your neighbor, but even he knew by this point in the service it was all about the barbeque.

  The choir sang and Reverend Winston grabbed a candlestick from the altar. He approached Tinsley with a smile on his face as the congregation grew restless. “I heard you have a big day tomorrow. Take this for your office desk, just in case.”

  Tinsley smiled and took the candlestick that had been part of the church since its founding. “Thank you, Reverend Winston.”

  “Why did he give you a candlestick?” Paxton asked as Reverend Winston went back up to the altar.

  “Because it has a dagger hidden in it.”

  Paxton snorted. “What do you know about using a dagger?”

  “Just hope you never find out,” Tinsley replied calmly.

  The volunteers compared counts as Reverend Winston blessed the congregation. The card was handed over to him and everyone stood, ready to make the mad dash to lunch.

  “Peace be with y’all and today’s Sunday Special is at the Pink—” Reverend Winston probably finished his sentence, but Tinsley was already off at a dead run.

  Tinsley leaped over Miss Winnie and bolted around Terry Clemmons only to have his son, Quad, catch up to her.

  “It’s cute when my babysitter thinks she can outrun me,” he shot over his shoulder as he sprinted past her.

  Tinsley pumped her arms and stretched out her legs. She might be short, but she was quick. The church was a blur as she ran past the property and approached her gallery. All that stood between her and victory was Quad, her art gallery, and the historical society.

  Behind her, she heard the rumble of Mr. Gann and Mr. Knoll’s electric scooters. Both elderly men had been competitors on the dirt track racing circuit and had modified their electric scooters with large motors to compete in the weekly dash to lunch. If they weren’t ramming into each other, cursing at each other, and adding more and more modifications to their scooters, they weren’t really living.

  Tinsley smiled at herself when Quad looked over his shoulder at the old men racing down Main Street and stumbled. She could overtake Quad at the historical society.

  Tinsley pushed herself hard only to be yanked to the side so hard it felt as if her arm was dislocated. She gave a yelp of surprise that had Quad looking back again.

  “You’re a hard woman to get in touch with. You’re in deep trouble and I’m your only way out of it.”

  Tinsley looked up at the man holding her tightly. He wrenched her arm behind her and slapped on handcuffs faster than she could scream. But scream she did.

  “Hey, man. Take your damn hands off my babysitter.” Quad towered over them, looking ready to knock the man in the suit out.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge. “FBI. Get lost, kid. Or do you want to be arrested, too?”

  “Screw you. You can’t take my babysitter. Tinsley has never done anything wrong a day in her life.”

  Tinsley fought against the handcuffs, but the man just wrenched her arm to the point she was afraid it was going to snap.

  “She’s stolen a hundred million dollars worth of art. She’s under arrest and you will be too if you don’t back off.” The man claiming to be FBI pulled a gun and Quad backed off.

  “What? Who are you? Let go of me!” Tinsley renewed her fight as the man dragged her toward a car.

  “It’s okay, Tinsley,” Quad said gently as the man shoved her into a running car that certainly looked like an FBI vehicle. “Sheriff!” Quad yelled. “He’s taking Tinsley!”

  “Let go of her!” Mr. Gann yelled as he grabbed his cane like he was going to joust the agent.

  “Trevino!” Tinsley heard Paxton yell, but it was too late. Mark Trevino sped away from the curb with Tinsley locked in the back of his FBI vehicle. Tinsley glanced behind her to see Mr. Gann and Mr. Knoll gaining on them in their motorized scooters. No longer were they competing against each other, but they were working together to try to save her. Tears sprang to her eyes as Paxton’s worried face faded until all she could see was the distant image of the two old men racing after her.

  “You’re not arresting me, are you?” Tinsley asked, gathering her wits.

  “Sure I am. You are in possession of stolen property and you’ll be arrested unless you hand it over.”

  Tinsley took in the FBI agent most likely responsible for shooting Paxton and working with Curtis Engle. He was around five foot nine, lean, and had coloring that spoke of Mediterranean heritage. His dark brown hair was slicked back and he wore a ring on his pinky.

  “The paintings are in my gallery,” Tinsley lied, trying to get him to turn around.

  “No, they aren’t. I searched your gallery, broke into your vault, and also searched your home. You’re a very talented artist, Miss Faulkner. I bet the prices of your art will skyrocket once you’re dead,” Mark said a
s if he hadn’t just threatened her life.

  Tinsley was quiet for a moment as she watched them head toward Charleston. She knew the whole town would be in hot pursuit by now. Paxton would be leading the charge. Granger, Kord, Ridge, and Ryker would be right behind him. She almost felt sorry for Mark if Harper got to him first.

  All of this meant she needed to buy time. The best way to buy time was to be quiet except for the little sniffles and tears she deployed, observe everything, and then make her move. All her life, people had underestimated her at every turn. This man would be no different. He hadn’t even checked her for weapons. Tina was on her thigh under her dress. It was a fitted tank top that went down into a flowing maxi skirt. The dagger was hidden in the candlestick in her purse, now strapped to her by the handcuffs. All she needed to do was sit quietly, look fearful, and then talk them into taking off the handcuffs. She didn’t need her family, friends, or even Paxton to rescue her. Tinsley was perfectly capable of rescuing herself and she was sick and tired of being scared. Tired of being overlooked. Tired of being taken advantage of because she was the nice one. No, she was going to take Mark Trevino down and Curtis Engle with him because she’d bet anything that was where Mark was taking her.

  Paxton’s mind was in chaos. He wanted to race after her on foot and did until Granger’s police SUV skidded to a stop next to him. “Get in,” Granger yelled. “Who was that?” Granger asked as he sped off in the direction Mark had driven.

  “FBI Agent Mark Trevino,” Paxton said, his mind going in a million directions at once as he worked to get himself under control.

  “Dammit,” Granger cursed.

  “Exactly. He’s taking her to Curtis. I know it. I failed her.” Paxton wasn’t the only one who had failed her. Quad was so upset he was in tears. Ryker was so livid he couldn’t even talk. He simply shot off a text and took off on his own. Harper broke a potted plant in anger. Ridge smashed the other potted plant and now Paxton looked in the side mirror to find multiple cars following them.

  “What’s that?” Granger muttered as he leaned forward in his seat.

  Paxton looked out the window and saw two dots on the horizon. “It’s the old guys in the scooters,” he said with wonder. They’d made it miles but were now sitting by the side of the road up ahead.

  Granger picked up the police radio and called in for someone to pick up both the men and their scooters as he slowed down and stopped next to them. Like a train, so did the line of cars behind them.

  Paxton rolled down the window. “Thanks for trying to save her. Granger has someone coming to pick y’all up.”

  “We’d do anything for Tinsley,” Mr. Gann told them.

  “We were able to follow long enough to see which direction they were going once they got out of town. They took her onto Interstate 26 toward Charleston,” Mr. Knoll told them.

  “Where would they take her?” Granger asked Paxton.

  “It has to be the Myriad headquarters in Charleston. I have an idea. Thank you,” Paxton called out to the men as Granger took off the way Mark had gone. Paxton called into the office and waited for the secretary to answer. “It’s Kendry. Put me through to Agent Whitlock immediately.”

  “Can you trust this Whitlock guy?” Granger asked.

  “We’ll find out,” Paxton said as he tried to remember to breathe. He put the phone on speaker and waiting to be connected.

  “This is Whitlock.”

  “It’s Kendry. Mark Trevino of the FBI Atlanta gang unit just kidnapped my girlfriend from Shadows Landing. He’s dirty and working with Curtis Engle.”

  “Shit,” Whitlock cursed. “What the hell is going on? Does this have something to do with your case and why your apartment was tagged?”

  “I’ll fill you in, but I need to know where they’d take her in Charleston. They got on I-26 heading that way,” Paxton told him.

  “Myriad headquarters is in North Charleston,” Whitlock answered immediately before giving the address.

  “On it,” Granger said as he radioed in the address so Kord, and probably everyone else behind them, would know where they were going within seconds.

  “Give the summary,” Whitlock ordered. It was a leap of faith as Paxton told Whitlock everything. Peter trusted him and that would have to be enough.

  “I wish you’d have told me this sooner,” Whitlock told him as Paxton heard the unmistakable sound of him running through the office yelling at his team.

  “There was already one FBI agent under Curtis’s pay. I didn’t know who I could trust. I’m sorry, Whitlock.”

  “I didn’t say that I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. My team will meet you at the old chemical warehouse. It’s abandoned, in the industrial district, and about three miles from the Myriad headquarters . Do you know the one?”

  “This is Sheriff Granger Fox,” Granger answered for Paxton. “I know the plant, but I know a better, more secure place to meet. Tinsley Faulkner’s cousin is Ryker Faulkner. Let’s meet at his shipping company. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Ryker Faulkner? Damn, this just got worse,” Whitlock cursed again before hanging up.

  Paxton sent off a flurry of texts. First to the entire Faulkner family, then to Peter, and finally to Cy Davies.

  We’re already on our way.

  It was hard. Paxton wanted to run straight to the headquarters in the house that they knew was a Myriad hangout and find Tinsley. Even in his anger, in his grief, and in his guilt he knew that was the wrong move. Curtis would shoot her before they even breached the property. He had to be smart about this, which is why he’d texted Cy.

  “Breathe, Paxton. We’ll get her back,” Granger told him, but Paxton wouldn’t breathe easily again until he made sure that Tinsley was safe or he’d died trying.

  26

  Tinsley watched the North Charleston landscape as they drove down the main road that traversed North Charleston. North Charleston’s crime rate was the highest for the area. It was a mix of hard-working people and people like Curtis Engle who came in with their drugs and guns, flashing money around. In turn, it kept some of the neighborhoods literally in the line of fire.

  Tinsley knew they planned to kill her. Mark hadn’t hidden his identity. He hadn’t blindfolded her either. She was going to die the second she was no longer of value to them. She had to find a way to appear to cooperate in order to get free and then take her chances with escaping.

  Thanks to her family, Curtis’s Atlanta empire was crumbling. He’d lost his drugs, his guns, and half of his stolen paintings. She was his only chance of surviving. If he lost all of the paintings, it wouldn’t only be the FBI and police after him. It would also be the Argentinian mafia who had hired him to fence the art. Tinsley knew Mark was also hanging by a thread, but something told her Curtis might be her shot at escaping. She just had to walk the balance of being cooperative yet still indispensable.

  Mark turned left before they reached I-526. They crossed over Bloom Drive and headed for the marsh that lined the Ashley River. She didn’t ask Mark where they were going as the landscape turned from residential to industrial. Mark finally slowed as he turned onto a gravel drive leading to a metal box of a building up on stilts that jutted out over the marsh.

  Mark honked and the metal sheeting serving as a garage door was pushed open. Mark drove under the building and the sheeting was lowered back down. Two armed men approached as Mark got out of the car.

  “Grab her,” Mark ordered one of the men.

  Tinsley shrunk back into the seat and tried to scamper to the other side of the car, but it was no use. The door was opened and she was roughly grabbed and dragged out. Her arms hurt where he’d yanked her out of the backseat and also from where her purse dangled from the handcuffs, causing them to dig into her skin. No matter how scared she was, she had to focus.

  Tinsley needed to stay calm so that she could read the room and take in every chance for escape. It was easy to get the tears to roll down her cheeks. She didn’t need t
o fake the fear she was feeling. She just had to control it so it wouldn’t overtake her.

  “Please,” she begged the man pulling her up the stairs behind Mark. “I haven’t done anything wrong. What do you want with me?”

  The man ignored her as he roughly hauled her up the stairs. He shoved her through the door and into a giant open area. It looked as if the place had been a biker bar at one point. It was decorated with motorcycle accessories and there was a square bar in the center of the room with at least forty mismatched stools around it. Most of them were occupied by men, including a guy who was behind the bar handing out mugs of beer. Old square tables filled the room. Some had been knocked over and some were filled with more men. Dartboards with unfinished games hung along a wall, unlit neon signs covered some of the windows.

  A big-screen television played in the far corner. Chairs had been lined up as men watched a baseball game. She counted at least fifty men in the building. As Tinsley looked around, one of the men stood up. At about six foot three, he was much taller than Mark. There was a giant tattoo of a snake that started with its opened mouth on his neck and coiled down the length of his arm.

  “This must be my art dealer,” he said as her captor let go of her arm and headed back downstairs to his post. Mark shoved her into a chair off the side of the table and went to stand by the man who appeared to be Curtis Engle.

  Tinsley let the fear show on her face. Tears tracked down her cheeks as she looked up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. Who are you and what do you want with me?”

  Curtis grabbed a chair, dragged it close to her, straddled it, and crossed his arms on the chair’s back. He looked at her as if he could read her inner thoughts. “We have a mutual friend, Miss Faulkner. What’s his real name?” Curtis looked to Mark.

  “Paxton Kendry,” Mark answered. “FBI Agent Paxton Kendry.”

  Tinsley wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know any FBI agents by that name. I know one named Peter. He dates one of my friends, but the only Paxton I know is my art handler. He helps me transport art, hang it, and fixes stuff in my gallery. But his last name is Johnson.”