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I won’t let that happen to Hellie, I just have to figure out how to protect her first.
Including from myself.
Frost and Gallo are already waiting when we arrive, their people sitting near the walls again. Frost stands, shakes my hand, and stares at Hellie for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“This is our artist,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you, Heloise Accardi.”
“Hellie,” she says. “Nice to meet you too.”
I don’t release her hand, and this time, she doesn’t act like she wants to pull away.
Gallo’s next. He doesn’t introduce himself to Hellie at all, only grunts in her direction like she’s a dog from the street. “You really brought the bitch, huh?” He shakes his head. “Pretty bitch. It’s a shame what we have to do to her.”
“Easy there,” Frost says, patting Gallo on the shoulder. “Based on the way Erick’s looking at you, I’m not sure you’ll get away with insulting that girl anymore.”
I realize I’m on the verge of snarling and quickly school my face. “Gentlemen, my driver will be up with the painting shortly. Why don’t we have a seat and discuss business?”
I put Hellie in a chair next to mine. Ren remains standing, vigilant for any trouble. Gallo starts the meeting by complaining about Hellie like she isn’t around, talking about how she should be dead and buried already, and how it’s an embarrassment that she’s still breathing. Frost cuts in, claims it’s for the best, and besides, she can always be killed later on.
As the two casino bosses discuss public and horrifying ways to brutalize Hellie, she shifts closer to me and slips her hand into mine again.
I go very still. We hold hands under the table, and even though her face is locked into a neutral, pale mask, I can feel her trembling.
This is what I’ve been hiding her from. These men don’t care about her, not at all—they’d gladly rip out her intestines if it meant showing Vegas that they’re still strong.
Wolfie arrives before it gets too bad. He carries the painting to the front of the room and sets it up on an easel the casino supplied for this occasion. With a flourish, Wolfie removes the covering, and reveals the work to everyone in the room.
There’s total silence. The two bosses stare. Gallo’s face twists with confusion, while Frost strokes his chin.
“What the fuck is this?” Gallo asks.
“This is a Vermeer.” I gesture and Ren walks to the computer at the front of the room. He types, clicks, and pulls up an image of the painting, projected onto the wall beside our fake.
The men stare. I sit back, smiling to myself, astonished all over again at the quality.
“I have to admit, that’s incredible,” Frost says, his voice very soft.
“So what, it’s a good fucking copy.” Gallo sounds pissed, which is no surprise. He didn’t want this from the beginning. “Who gives a damn?”
“It’s an incredible copy.” Frost walks to Hellie’s forgery and studies it closely. “The brushstrokes look fantastic.” He looks at her, shaking his head. “You really did this in a few days?”
Nobody speaks. Everyone stares at Hellie. I nudge her and she clears her throat.
“Yes,” she says. “I can do better if you give me more time.”
“Better?” Frost seems delighted. “This is perfect already.”
“No.” Hellie’s voice is small but strong. I’m amazed she’s speaking out of turn, but also pleased. “There are issues. The materials are all wrong. Some of the details aren’t right. I had to rush some things to get finished in time. If you give me more time and the proper paints, I can make it pass for the real thing.”
“Even if an expert studied it?” Frost’s eyes narrow. He steps toward her, head tilted.
“Yes,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.
“This is foolish.” Gallo bangs his hands on the table. “The painting is good. Fine, so what? It’ll always go like this. She’ll demand more and more, a never-ending supply of excuses. We can’t trust her. We might as well end her right now.”
“No, I’m interested.” Frost returns to his seat, leaning back. “I spoke with some friends recently. I may have a few contacts.”
Gallo groans. “You have got to be kidding me.”
