AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just in case any of them thought about double-crossing him. “I want that disk,” the boss said.
“If it exists,” Landry added, and Freddy D. gave him a warning look before turning again to T and Worm. “What do we know about this artist where Simon said he hid the disk?”
The thugs exchanged confused looks.
“The painting he had on him was signed W. St. Clair,” Worm said. “Simon said her name was Willow.”
“Or something like that,” T said. “He wasn’t talking too clearly.”
Freddy D. groaned. “What about the artist? Is it possible she’s his contact?”
“You hear sirens?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “If the feds had the disk we’d all be facedown and handcuffed.”
“Zeke’s right,” Landry said. “So what does this painting look like? You did get that, right?”
Worm looked like he was itching to punch Landry’s ticket. “It’s a painting of a sailboat. It had a red and white sail and the boat was blue. The boat is at full sail and there is a blond woman at the wheel. Her hair’s blowing back and she’s kind of hanging off to the side like she’s having a great time.”
Landry stared at Worm, amazed they’d gotten that much information out of Simon about the painting but weren’t sure about the artist’s name. He wanted to believe that Simon had made up every word of it. But Landry had seen T in action and knew that few men could withstand that form of torture. Even Simon.
“I’ll find the painting,” Landry said.
“I also think it would be wise to find out what the woman knows about Simon,” Freddy D. said. “Either way, she’s a loose end.” Freddy D. was looking straight at him. “You have a way with the ladies, Landry. Take care of her.”
* * *
WILLA ST. CLAIR GLANCED around the gallery at all her paintings hanging on the walls and could no longer suppress her excitement. She still couldn’t believe it. All the hard work, the long hours painting then framing, had finally paid off.
Just when she thought that her life couldn’t get any better than this, she saw the handsome dark-haired man standing by the door.
He’d cau
ght her eye several times earlier, lifting his wineglass and giving her a nod. She’d felt herself warm, complimented by his attention.
Now he smiled and she saw that the crowd had thinned. Clearly he was waiting for her. Her heart beat a little faster.
Several of the stragglers came over to congratulate her. Like her first two openings, this one had been an incredible success. She still couldn’t believe it. Almost all of the paintings had small red dots on them, indicating they were sold.
Her dream had come true. She tried to calm her runaway heart, took a deep breath and turned to look toward the door.
He was gone.
Her disappointment pierced the helium high she’d been riding on just moments before. She’d taken too long. He’d gotten tired of waiting.
She couldn’t help feeling regret. He’d made a point of getting her attention during the show. But each time she hadn’t been able to get away to talk to him. She’d hoped he would find a way to talk to her before the evening was over.
“Great show, sweetie,” the gallery owner, Evan Charles, said, coming over to give her an air kiss beside each cheek. “Everyone was just raving about your use of color. You’re a hit.”
She thanked Evan and promised to let him know when she had enough paintings ready for another show. Taking her wrap from the closet by the door, she stepped out into the Florida night air, closed her eyes and breathed it all in as he locked up behind her.
You’re not in South Dakota anymore.
She smiled to herself. She would never tire of breathing sea air. She could hear the cry of the gulls and the lull of the surf not a block away. She loved Florida. And Florida, it seemed, loved her.
“Beautiful night,” said a male voice as warm and silky as the night air. “Beautiful woman.”
She opened her eyes and turned already smiling, knowing it was him. He had waited for her.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I was hoping all evening to get a chance to meet you. You were much too popular. And I was much too shy.” He grinned and extended his hand. “Landry Jones.”
