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I couldn’t help it; her saying that gave me a picture in my head of the next step, and that made me serious. Because it was a real buzzkill. Ugly, dangerous, and totally necessary. It was the Riley Wrinkle, the one thing nobody else would ever dream up. Because it was stupid, wicked, lethal, and impossible. Which made it irresistible to me once I thought of it. “Yeah, it is big,” I told Monique. “E-fucking-normous.”
“And you’re not going to tell me what it is?”
I stared hard at Monique. It was Riley’s Third Law: Nobody gets told anything until they need to know it. But I couldn’t help thinking that just maybe, if I told her—well, shit. I’d seen a whole lot less loosen up a woman’s defenses and turn absolutely not into oh, hell, why not. More than that, she was as close to a partner as I had ever had. Like I said, I almost trusted her.
But this was probably the biggest, most complicated plan I’d ever come up with. And no matter what anybody tells you, rules are not meant to be broken. Not when they’re Riley’s Laws of Survival.
So I just shook my head. “Nope, not gonna happen,” I said. I didn’t realize I was mocking her until after I said it. Monique did; she looked a little pissed.
“Are you ever going to tell me?” she said. Very cranky, too.
“Yeah, sure I will,” I said. “When it’s time.”
“‘When it’s time,’” she said, and now she was mocking me. “Well, fuck, that’s just fine. And what the fuck does that mean?”
“When I know it’s working,” I said. I tipped my head at the paintings. “When these two masterpieces do their job.”
“Which involves somebody discovering that they’re forgeries,” Monique said.
“Several somebodies,” I said. “And the more, the better.”
“Which means they will probably get thrown in an evidence locker by a couple of ham-handed cops, where they will gather dust and get all banged up and torn and eventually thrown away.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t thought of it that way. But she was right, and it really was too bad. They were wonderful paintings. I would’ve hung them both up in my living room, even if I had to build a bigger living room. But that’s the way it goes. “Yeah, probably,” I said. “I mean, if everything falls just right . . . ?”
Monique got out of her chair and looked at the two paintings, like she was feeling a little bit of maternal affection for them. “I worked my ass off painting them.”
I leaned around and glanced at her butt. “Nope, still there,” I said.
Monique sighed. “You have a truly twisted mind, Riley.”
“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” I said. “I just hope it’s twisted enough.” I looked at the paintings, too, and I was feeling it again. The kind of excitement that whips through your veins and lifts you up to a new place. This was going to work. I bounced again. “This is it, Monique. This is the big one.”
She didn’t say anything. I looked over at her. She was staring at me, her head tipped to one side. “Maybe it is,” she said softly. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“I’ve never been like this,” I said. “Goddamn it, if this works—”
“‘If’?” she said. “You’ve never said ‘if’ before, either. Only ‘when.’”
I took a big, deep breath and thought about what had to happen. About how many different pieces had to fall just exactly right . . . “If,” I said at last. “This is a very big if.”
Monique stared at me, looking amazed. “What the fuck . . . ?” she said. “Riley Wolfe uncertain?” I just shrugged. But Monique licked her lips and took a half step closer. “Tell me,” she said in a kind of husky whisper. That and licking her lips had me ready to howl at the moon.
“Monique,” I said. My mouth was really dry and that was all I could manage.
“Tell me what it is,” Monique said. She moved a tiny bit closer. “What’s the target, what’s your plan—tell me, Riley . . .”
I almost told her. I mean, she had me hypnotized. I don’t know if she knew what she was doing to me, but she was sure as shit doing it. Almost . . . “No,” I got out. My voice sounded like I’d been gargling sand. “I can’t.”
She licked her lips again and stood there watching me for another few seconds. And just when I couldn’t take any more without grabbing her and flinging her down, with me on top—
Monique shrugged and stepped away from me. “All right,” she said. “I guess I can wait.”
She turned away. I swallowed, which was harder than it was supposed to be. I want
ed to say something to make her turn back and face me again. But I didn’t. I had to work tonight—and there was Riley’s First Law in the way: The job comes first.
“You can keep that sheet,” she said. She nudged with her toe the sheet she’d used to veil the paintings. “To wrap up my beautiful babies.”
