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“Truth,” he read.
“Yes,” she said, turning around to face him while searching his face. “And my tag. Liam, I don’t know if you’ve heard about the street artist Veritas—”
“Of course I have,a stór,” he said, taking her hands and gripping them with a powerful brand of strength. “I love his work. Or should I say hers?”
Okay, even though she trusted him, her belly still trembled at how huge a moment this was for her. “Yeah, it’s funny. Everyone thinks Veritas is a man. Even that first street artist who took credit for my first mural believes it. He said so in an article once. I couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize my voice.”
“Clearly he was an idiot as much as he was a thief.”
“Right? But no one can believe a woman would be able to make it as a street artist. That’s why I know my parents haven’t realized it either, although I’d love to see their faces at reveal time. The line is that it’s too much work to haul paint. We women are too weak. We’re not safe on the streets. Bullshit. But it’s been good cover, although sometimes the gender dissing pisses me off.”
His heart was beating faster, and she imagined it was because of her touch. “Eejits, as we say in Ireland.”
“Yeah,eejits.” But not him. Of course he wasn’t. She could never fall for an eejit, and he was supposed to be her soulmate.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,Veritas.” He held out his hand and shook hers crisply when she took it. “Thanks for sharing your identity with me. It’s good and safe, I can assure you.”
She touched his chest, knowing his heart carried the truth of those words. “I know. That’s why I told you. There’s probably more I need to tell you.”
“We have plenty of time,a stór.”
As they walked away from the first mural she’d collaborated on in nearly fifteen years, she found she was ready to trust him completely.
He’d just become her partner in crime, after all.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Linc stared up at the masterpiece on the south side of the arts center.
Malcolm’s evil cartoon face was the kind of stuff that gave children nightmares, and Mary’s terrifying depiction as the witch from “Hansel and Gretel” would put those same kids in therapy for sure.
But it was the image of Taylor standing tall in Joan of Arc armor that caught him by the throat. She looked so tiny amidst the huge monster-like characters and black tides, but Linc knew that was the point. It was one hell of a depiction, holding everyone around him spellbound.
His Bets stood next to Donal and Ghislaine, who had their hands on each other with their mouths open. Even Wilt’s brows were knitted as he tilted his head up to the spectacle. Linc knew he’d gaped like a trout, but truly, he wondered how in the hell the internationally famous street artist Veritas had ended up in bumfuck Ireland painting ontheirwall—not that he wasn’t grateful for the support.
“I knew Carrick wouldn’t joke about something like this, but I still didn’t completely believe it when he woke us,” Bets managed to say.
“That Irish luck y’all talk up has kissed us hard,” Linc responded. “We somehow managed to come to the attention of Veritas. My Ellie’s going to squeal with joy.”
“I’m squealing on the inside now that the shock has passed,” Ghislaine said, shooting photos with her phone as Donal stalked the building’s length, still gazing up at it in awe as the sunrise broke out around them in peach, rose, and blue.
“To think Veritas came all the way to our small town after Taylor’s incident with Malcolm and pulled this off,” Donal said, thrusting his hand at the mural. “How did he know about Mary and the rose?”
Yeah, that made Linc’s gut twitch a little. It was also puzzling why Liam wasn’t depicted in the mural. “The rose competition stuff would have been in the papers.”
“Our local paper!” Bets exclaimed. She started pacing, something she did when she couldn’t contain her energy.
“Maybe Veritas is Irish,” Linc mused, caressing his unshaven jaw. “No one knows who he is, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”
Wilt appeared beside him, all business again. “Someone turned off the cameras and the security lights last night at 10:07 p.m.”
Linc’s gut clenched a little more.
“What?” Bets cried out. “How is that possible?”
His woman was getting all stirred up, and they hadn’t even had breakfast. “Veritas had inside help, it seems, sugar. I doubt it’s the first time he’s reached out to someone local for assistance.”
“But he’sanonymous,” Bets continued.
