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“Sí, that dress is horrifying, right?” Damián agrees.

“I was talking about the Rembrandt, my loving but uncultured friend.”

“Please…” Damián scoffs. “The level of my culture would blind you, Captain Hook-and-Load.”

Law pulls out two hundred-dollar bills, and both Logan and I shake our heads, trying to warn him about the colossal mistake he’s about to make, but either he doesn’t understand our warning, or he just doesn’t give a shit.

“That painting is approximately 350 years old, oil on linen canvas, featuring the chiaroscuro technique Rembrandt adored. Also, self-portraits from this period are like treasures for museums, so it can easily reach thirty million at auction. Which is exactly why traffic-cone lady over there is taking so long to check every single detail that could affect its value.” Damián winks at Law. “Thank you.” He does a little curtsy and snatches the bills.

“How on earth did all of that just come out of you?” Law asks, staring in disbelief.

“That’s what you get for doubting me, culero.”

“You knew he would do something like that?” Law stares at us as if we betrayed him, and Logan shrugs.

“It’s not our fault you forgot he took eleven art courses to pass as an art dealer in the Elijah West case.”

“That was like a year ago…”

“¿Y eso qué?”

“Do you have any idea the amount of information I have to hold in my head? After a year, all that useless rubbish is wiped out. Straight in the bin.”

“So if you don’t see me for a year, will you forget me, hermano?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck you,” Damián gasps, and Law bursts out laughing.

I look at the time for the millionth time and turn to Damián. “Mister Curator, do you have any idea how long this will take?”

“It usually takes fifteen minutes to an hour, but seeing how that lady talks and talks, it will probably take another half hour.”

“Shit…” I mutter, and Logan pats my back.

“Take a break. I’ll cover you.”

“I’m okay.”

“Knox, take a break now.”

“Just let me—” I begin to say, but Logan glares at me, and I swear he looks scarier than Medusa. “—let me… leave through that door.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. And Knox…?” he calls, and I turn back toward him. “If I see you back here before half an hour is up, I’ll ask Tae to use his detomidine darts.”

“Those are for horses, Logan.”

“I know.” Logan grins, and Damián laughs, probably thinking the exact same thing I am.

Tae would love to do that.

I leave the gallery, step out into the back garden, and head toward the balcony that overlooks the cliff.

I might hate ninety-nine percent of the people here, but this place is breathtaking, and so damn peaceful.

I lean against the balcony rail and take a deep breath.

“Well, hello there, big guy.”