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He and Kairo had accompanied him and Stephen to the storage facility in the name of wanting to see what the fuss was about. Ehren suspected that Charlie also wanted to make sure there were no additional problems. The bastard who’d ordered Stephen’s execution had been Sahin himself, and no one seemed to be taking notice of their involvement, but he was grateful for Charlie’s overprotectiveness.
“It would be so cool if there was like a lost Rembrandt the world didn’t know about in the collection. Or a da Vinci,” Kairo daydreamed.
“I think my uncle would have been more interested in a da Vinci journal. That would have been priceless to him,” Ehren said, grinning at the man.
Kairo nodded. “Definitely. I think I’d lose my shit if he had that.”
“Are you sure you guys don’t want to come to Greece with us? You’ve earned the break,” Ehren prodded yet again. While he was happily anticipating some time relaxing with Stephen, he also found that he really enjoyed hanging out with Charlie and the rest of his team. They were a strange, eclectic bunch full of mischief and crazy antics. He’d even learned to relax around the too-quiet West. But then, how could you not like the guy who’d saved your boyfriend’s life?
Charlie lifted an eyebrow and looked over Ehren’s head at Stephen. “Are you sure?”
Stephen made a sound that was like a sigh and a laugh. “Yeah, we’re sure. It would be nice to see you guys without worrying about someone getting shot.”
“Well—”
Whatever Charlie was about to say was cut off by the clomp of heavy heels across the polished marble floor. They all turned to see a woman approaching in a long black pencil skirt and a colorful blouse. Her black hair was twisted up on her head, and there was a somewhat confused expression on her face. It made sense, though, as the four of them didn’t appear to be the typical art-collecting crowd she usually dealt with.
“Mr. Galanis?”
“That would be me,” he replied in Turkish. He took a step forward and extended his hand. “Yusuf Badem was my uncle.”
She visibly relaxed and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Miray Cetin. We are all very sorry to hear of the loss of your uncle. He was a big supporter of our facility over the years and spent many hours helping to improve our preservation techniques.” She shook his hand briefly and released it.
“I am hoping you can help me. My uncle named me as the heir of his estate, but there was no mention of any art collection in his will. I did find this key among his possessions, but—”
Miray gave a little wave of her hand. “Your uncle made separate provisions with us years ago, naming you as his heir. The request was that we wait ten years after his death before contacting you, unless you came to us first.” Her easy smile slipped and she folded her slender hands together in front of her. “It’s our understanding that he encountered some threats in regard to his art collection, and he didn’t want you to be in danger. He hoped that in ten years, certain individuals would forget about it.”
“If his collection is as impressive as it’s rumored to be, I doubt anyone would be forgetting it,” Charlie grumbled.
Miray’s questioning gaze jumped to the large man, her eyes widening. Ehren made some quick introductions for his friends, stumbling only over Stephen. It wasn’t going to be safe to introduce him as a boyfriend until they were in Greece, and that first introduction was going to be to his parents.
He couldn’t help grinning at that thought. His mother was going to be over the moon. Not only had he landed a very sexy boyfriend, but he’d snagged a doctor. She was going to be thrilled. No more worrying over finding him a nice boy.
“Would you like to see your uncle’s collection?” Miray inquired, looking as if she was nearly bouncing with excitement.
His heart skipped a beat. “Very much, please.”
They followed her through the large building that was mostly composed of long hallways and locked doors. Beside each door was a tiny gold plaque that contained an eight-digit number. At the end of another long hall, they took an elevator that required a security card to a sub-basement. There, Miray finally stopped in front of a pair of double doors. There was no plaque this time but a panel with a place for two keys.
“You will need your key,” she said as she lifted a gold key on a chain from around her neck.
“Holy shit,” Kairo muttered. “Is this art or the fucking nuclear launch codes for the US?”
“You’ll see,” Miray replied with a secretive smile, proving she was comfortable with English.
At her direction, they both inserted their keys into the panel and turned them to the right at the same time. There was a soft click followed by a deeper sound of what had to be a much bigger lock moving.
