Framed Shadows: Shadows Landing #6 Page 4
Paxton heard the sound of the man in the stairwell take off for the garage and Paxton gave chase. The wooden stairs in the enclosed stairwell echoed as he ran down them, gun at the ready.
He burst into the garage in time to see the van speed out of the driveway. The man wasn’t going to hang around hoping his buddy had killed Paxton and not the other way around. He was out of there, and Paxton heard the distant ringing of a cell phone from the top of the stairs. The getaway driver was getting whatever they’d already stolen free from the house and would then find out if his partner was alive.
Paxton raced down the long driveway to his car. The van slid to a stop down the road. Paxton heard the tires squeal against the hot asphalt. Then he heard a series of gunshots and the sound of the van peeling out.
Paxton reached the end of the driveway with sweat from the humid morning rolling down his face only to find his car shot to pieces. Both tires were flat and he looked up to see the van turning the corner and driving out of sight.
“Damn!” Paxton cursed as he pulled out his phone and called it into Peter.
Tinsley looked in the mirror and dabbed on concealer to cover the dark puffy bags under her eyes. She hadn’t slept at all last night. Every time she closed her eyes, and even when they weren’t closed, she thought of Paxton.
She’d been so excited to meet him that first time. Then let down because he’d been kind of a jerk. Not in the mean way, but in the arrogant way. It was like he enjoyed pushing her buttons, so she’d written him off as an annoyance she’d have to deal with since he was friends and coworkers with Peter Castle.
If you want to touch me, you’re more than welcome to.
Over the hours of tossing and turning, Tinsley had realized something about herself. She’d always been the sweet one. Harper teased her about it, but her family always turned to her when they needed a kind word or help.
Tinsley stepped into the strappy, bright green sundress with just a tiny splatter of paint at the hem. Tinsley knew her life had changed because of what she’d learned about herself last night. She’d learned she wasn’t just sweet. Not with the thoughts she had about Paxton last night.
There wasn’t a single sweet thought to be had about him. No, there had been the urgent tearing of clothes, battling tongues, and demanding hands as Paxton seemed to push her harder and higher than she’d ever gone before. Sweet Tinsley was also very passionate Tinsley and there was no denying it.
Tinsley wasn’t new to relationships. She’d been to college and had a few steady boyfriends in the past. She wasn’t terribly experienced with sex, but she wasn’t a novice either. That’s why it surprised her when her dreams had been so . . . charged.
Before Harper married Dare, the two of them would talk about the men in their lives. Harper was a take-charge, no-embarrassment type woman. Tinsley had been envious of her sexual confidence. Harper had once asked her, “You paint with so many colors and so many emotions, how can you be so vanilla?”
Tinsley would bet if Harper had seen her dreams last night, Harper would faint with shock. Just thinking about the way they’d squeezed every bit of pleasure from each other in her dream left some of Tinsley’s concealer running.
Tinsley fanned herself off and blamed it on the summer’s heat and humidity as she left home for the gallery. There was one thing she couldn’t wait to do—paint. She’d get all her feelings out on the canvas and then she’d stop thinking of Paxton Kendry.
Late that morning, Tinsley heard the soft chime go off in the front room of her gallery and set down her paintbrush. She looked at the canvas covered with bold colors. She could feel the energy leaping off the canvas.
“Hello?” a voice called from the front room.
“I’ll be right there,” Tinsley called back as she pulled the smock from her dress and rushed from the room.
She smiled as she walked into the front of the gallery to find a man looking at the art. His arms were clasped behind him. He was in slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing muscled arms.
“Can I help you with anything or answer any questions?” Tinsley asked from behind the man’s back. He turned slowly and Tinsley blinked. She recognized him, but why? He was in his twenties with a pleasant smile, but then she saw it. The bottom of a snake tattoo on his upper arm was peeking out from the rolled-up sleeve and then the nagging memory became clear. He had come into Ellery’s gallery the day Ellery went into labor.
“I sure hope so. I travel a lot for work and have always driven by here so I decided to stop and check out your gallery. It’s beautiful,” he said as he stood tall and smiled kindly at her. Normally it would put Tinsley at ease, but he was acting completely different from the last time she saw him and that sent off some warning bells.
“Thank you. I’m Tinsley Faulkner. I’m the owner.” Tinsley held out her hand and he gently clasped her hand and shook it. The gentle clasp was completely unexpected from someone so muscled.
“Maurice. Maurice Smith.”
“Nice to meet you. Are you looking for anything in particular?” Tinsley asked, getting ready to show him around the gallery. It was clear he didn’t remember her, so she wasn’t going to make him feel awkward about mentioning the last time they saw each other.
“Actually, I’m looking to sell some pieces. My grandmother is very ill and requires a full-time nurse. I’m unable to do it myself since I travel for work. However, my grandmother has an extensive art collection and has given me power of attorney to sell some of it to pay for her care.”
Red flags, warning bells, and the sound of her instinct screaming “Stop!” went off all at once. What is the painting he’s selling? The thought went through her mind right before she was going to tell him, “Thanks, but no thanks,” to selling whatever it was. Then, suddenly Paxton popped into her mind and she knew what she was going to do.
“May I see the painting? I can tell you if it’s something I could sell and what kind of price to expect from it.” Tinsley stepped forward prepared to see the Hamburg he’d shown Ellery. Instead, he held out his phone and she looked down at a Castille. Not just any Castille either. It was one Ellery had sold from her gallery for a hundred thousand dollars a year ago.
“It’s a Castille,” Maurice said.
“Yes, I’m familiar with the artist.” Tinsley tried to keep calm as she looked up at Maurice. “It’s stunning. Do you have the provenance papers for it?”
She was expecting the interview to end now, but Maurice reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. Tinsley opened it up and looked for Ellery’s signature, but it wasn’t there. The papers were forged. The scary part was that they were forged very well. If it wasn’t that she personally knew the provenance of this painting, she’d never have known it was stolen.
“Can you sell it?” Maurice asked.
Tinsley stared at the papers, trying to decide her next course. Timid Tinsley would say sorry. She couldn’t. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or maybe it was because she wanted to be seen as more than nice, safe, predictable Tinsley, so she nodded her head.
“Yes, I can sell it. I’d be honored to.”
“Do you think you can sell it fast? We need to buy a hospital bed and the nurse said she’d only wait a couple of weeks for us to decide if we can hire her.” Tinsley glanced up at Maurice. He looked so sincere that it angered her.
“I think so. I have a large base of private buyers who have me keeping an eye out for special pieces. We can sign the paperwork if you wish to move forward.”
“Paperwork?” Maurice asked as if he weren’t prepared for that.
“Yes,” Tinsley smiled pleasantly at him. “It authorizes me to sell it on your grandmother’s behalf and keeps the provenance nice and clean. It also lays out a timeline, such as I have ninety days to sell it, and it also states what you’re willing to sell the painting for as well as what my commission is. No gallery can sell artwork without it. Thanks, lawyers,” Tinsley laughed.
“Then follow me to the desk back here and I’ll get everything in order.” Tinsley walked to the sales desk and fought her desire to call Granger, the town’s sheriff, or to text Paxton to get over here right away. Instead, she’d hand them their case with the thief literally signing on the dotted line.
“My commission is twenty-five percent of the sale price,” Tinsley said as she reached into the folder to pull out a listing agreement. “If you could fill in all the contact information, I’ll copy the provenance for you. I’ll also need your power of attorney.”
“I keep the provenance, right?” he asked as he took a seat.
“I keep the original to pass along to the buyer, but you’ll keep the copy.”
Maurice nodded as he picked up a pen. “I haven’t done this before. I’m not familiar with how it works.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh and Tinsley would have thought charming if she didn’t know he was scamming her.
“I’m here to help. Fill that out and grab the painting while I try to figure out a sale price.”
Maurice nodded as he went to work on the form. Tinsley took the paperwork and went into the office. She sent a text to Granger but didn’t hear back so she sent one to Kord, Granger’s deputy. Still nothing and now the bell had chimed twice, meaning Maurice was back with the painting.
“I have the painting,” she heard Maurice call out.
Tinsley rushed from the office with the copies made. “Oh, it’s just stunning. Castille is so bold that it just moves you.”
“What do you think you can sell it for?”
Tinsley knew what it would go for. One hundred thousand or more. “Well, it depends. Do you want me to hold it for the best price or the fastest price?”
“Fastest,” Maurice answered instantly.
“Castille goes from sixty thousand to four hundred thousand. This one would go for a hundred thousand, give or take twenty thousand, at top price.”
“And for the fast price?” Maurice asked.
“Seventy or so.”
“So, on the contract I’ll authorize a sale from sixty thousand up?” Maurice asked as Tinsley took the painting from him and set it on an empty easel.
“I think you can get more than sixty, but if you want to put that as your bottom price, I will do everything I can to stay away from it. After all, the more I sell it for the more you make, plus the more I make.” Tinsley thought he’d appreciate that and his broad smile showed he did.
“Deal. My grandma could really use the money so if you can sell it fast, that would be best.”
“Bless her heart. I’ll pray for her. If you need any more paintings sold, please let me know. I have a big database of private buyers who would love the first shot at paintings like this.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Tinsley.” Maurice shook her hand and left the gallery with a little pep to his step. Tinsley watched him go and felt a surge of satisfaction that she was going to take him down. Even though he was very polite, the fastest way you could get on Tinsley’s bad side was to steal art. She locked the front door after him and pulled out her cell phone.
“Tinsley, I can’t talk right now. I’m at a crime scene,” Paxton said the second he answered the phone.
“Does this crime involve a stolen Castille?” Tinsley asked with a smile on her face. She knew by his silence she’d surprised him and that was just plain fun.
“How do you know that?” Paxton asked slowly. She heard the background noise fade as he walked someplace more private.
“Because I’m looking at it.”
“I’m coming.”
The line went dead and Tinsley’s giggles evaporated into lust-filled clouds that stormed through her body. Paxton didn’t know that what he’d just said had been featured prominently in her dreams last night. Or did he?
5
How the hell did Tinsley Faulkner have the Castille painting stolen from the Havish house he was still standing in? The Havish family had been called and given a tour of the house over videoconference. They confirmed that some jewelry and a Castille painting were missing. When Paxton stopped the Myriad member, he’d saved a million-dollar painting by Soulages from being stolen.
Paxton gunned the FBI SUV he’d taken from Peter out of Sullivan’s Island. It wasn’t only to get to Tinsley quickly because of his case. Last night Paxton had dreamt of nothing but her. What freaked him out was the fact they weren’t lust-filled dreams. Well, some parts of them were, but the majority of his dreams had them in a relationship. He dreamed of them snuggled up on the couch, of him watching her paint, of him being . . . romantic. Then came the lust-filled part of the dream right before he woke up.
Honestly, he didn’t know what to make of it. Then he’d heard Tinsley’s gleeful voice saying she had the painting he was looking for, and he knew the man who stole it had probably been with her. Now his body and mind demanded he get to her immediately.
So he drove as fast as he could and only when he saw her through the gallery windows was he able to calm down. Paxton’s breath caught in his throat when Tinsley’s eyes locked on his through the windows and she smiled. He wanted her all for himself. He wanted to be the only one she smiled at in that way.
Now was not the time for his demanding side to come out. No, he wouldn’t do that to Tinsley. First, she was just too sweet to be with someone like him. She’d probably run screaming from the room if he told her a quarter of the things he wanted to do with her. Second, even if he could be abrasive at times, he wasn’t an asshole. He would never purposely hurt a woman. He wasn’t going to be in Charleston much longer, if he had his way, and the last thing he wanted to do was lead Tinsley on about a possible relationship then hurt her when he transferred back to Atlanta. Too bad his libido wasn’t listening to his brain.
Paxton headed into the gallery to find Tinsley practically bouncing from foot to foot. He wanted to groan with frustration because she was so freaking beautiful. She was practically glowing with excitement.
“What did the man look like who came in here?” Paxton demanded. Fear that he was still nearby or that it could be someone who had recognized him from his undercover work made the question come out harsher than he intended.
“About this tall,” Tinsley said, holding up her hand to indicate his height, which was a good six inches taller than the man at the Havish house. “Clean cut. His hair was black and tightly trimmed to frame his face. No facial hair. Business casual dress. Oh, and he drove a luxury sedan, but I didn’t get the plate number.”
Definitely not the same man from earlier in the day. The painting must have been handed off to this man and the jewelry to another. Both would then be sold immediately to increase the chance of getting money before a police report could be filed.
“Here it is.” Tinsley moved aside as she pointed to the Castille painting behind her.
“Tell me everything,” Paxton demanded as they stood in front of the painting.
Tinsley told him about Maurice, the sick grandmother, and the fact she’d seen him pull this act before with a Hamburg in Charleston. “Did Ellery sell the Hamburg?”
Tinsley shook her head. “He didn’t have any papers and Ellery went into labor. I don’t know what happened to it.”
Paxton turned his phone around. “Was it this one?”
“Yeah, how did—it’s stolen, right?” Tinsley was bouncing again from foot to foot as she put the pieces together.
“Yeah, it hasn’t been seen since March. Now, please tell me you got a phone number or something for this guy.”
Tinsley reached down onto her desk and handed him a bunch of papers. “I got all of his information. Though I don’t know if any of it’s legit. I have copies of the fake power of attorney for this sick grandmother, but more importantly, I got the original faked provenance. And the best part? I set myself up as his art dealer for the stolen goods. I’m the inside woman!�
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Paxton’s head shot up from where he was reviewing the documents. “No.”
“Yes! It’s perfect. Maybe I can recover all of the stolen art.”
Paxton felt nerves fire warning signals all through his body. “This isn’t a game, Tinsley. I just came from a shootout with the man who is probably working with this Maurice guy. Just because it’s stolen art and not drugs doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. You’ve done a great job, but now it’s time for you to sit at home and let me do my thing.”
He saw her hands go to her hips as she stopped bouncing from foot to foot. “Excuse me? Did you just tell me to go home and twiddle my thumbs while the men take care of this?”
“Did you miss the part where I just had a shootout and had to kill someone? Plus, if you were at my home, the last thing you’d be doing is twiddling your thumbs.” Crap, he was losing it. She flushed red and Paxton had to take a breath because that came out way too suggestive. “It’s dangerous, Tinsley. I want to protect you. That’s all.”
“That’s not all you want.”
Paxton groaned and Tinsley sputtered.
“That’s not what I meant!” Tinsley’s hands were back on her hips and her face was cherry-red, but she wasn’t backing down. “I meant you don’t think I’m strong enough to pull this off. Well, screw you. I am. I’m not sweet little Tinsley. Well, I am, but I’m so much more than that. I had Maurice Smith eating out of the palm of my hand because everyone thinks of me as you do.”
“I hope not. I don’t know if I could beat them all up,” Paxton muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. Go on, Tinsley. Tell me, how do I think of you? Be descriptive,” Paxton challenged.
“That I’m not strong enough, that I’m not smart enough, that I’m not tough enough, and that I’m not brave enough. Well, I am. I am set up perfectly for this sting and I’m going to do it. If you don’t let me, I bet Peter will.”