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His muscles grew taut. “What did he do?” If he screwed this up ... drew more attention to them ... he’d take Enrique out himself. “I doubt your thug was discreet in killing her.” Cyrus would have been. He could have handled it.
“He got rid of her. That’s all that matters.”
“If they find her body, it’ll only draw more attention to the case.”
“And killing Julia won’t?”
He inhaled, fury raking through him. He loathed being watched. “She won’t tie back to us. I made sure of it. She’s a nobody. The only place that investigation will land is a dead end. I doubt you can say the same of Enrique.” They would just have to wait and see, but the girl was someone. People knew her, and clearly knew she tied to the gallery. This was bad.
“It’ll be fine.”
They’d see. Now to the matter at hand. “Call your thug off.”
“No. I have every right to keep an eye on my investment.”
“There’ll be no investment unless you call him off.” He flicked the ashes on the porch. The stupid place could burn down for all he cared. They could have stayed someplace decent, but his partner insisted no one would find them here. He was tired of listening to people—his partner, his sister ... “I mean it. Call him off or I walk.”
“You walk and you’re dead.” Her voice went cold—that cruel frigidness he’d dealt with all his life.
“Your threats don’t scare me. I can take Enrique.” In the blink of aneye.
Silence.
“You know I’m right.” His voice deepened as his boldness grew. He wasn’t the little kid she’d bullied for years. He was no longer under her thumb, even if she didn’t realize it yet. This was his show, and he’d run it any way he pleased.
“There are plenty of others I can send,” she said.
He smiled.
She was grasping at straws.
“It’s your choice,” he said. “I can get the job done or I can spend time taking out whoever you send after me.”
“That’s big talk for little Cyrus.”
He gripped his cell harder still, his fingers numbing. The rain shifted, coming in the porch sideways. “I’m not a kid anymore. Don’t test me.”
Silence.
He smiled. He had her—at least on this round, but it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if she ordered Enrique to take him out after it was over. That’s why he had plan B. She’d never see it coming.
ELEVEN
TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER,Christian waved as his brother pulled into the lot in his black Chevy Equinox, followed by his sister in her red Miata convertible. He shook his head every time he saw her drive on or off their ranch in the vehicle. It looked like a windup car, but she loved it.
“Your family, I take it?” Andi asked.
He’d offered for her to rest inside the station while he got the SUV from Deckard, but like him, she was antsy to get to Gaiman’s Albuquerque gallery, so she joined him outside. At least by now, he hoped they’d have the gallery to themselves. Surely local police were gone. But given the cultural objects, they weren’t just talking local law enforcement. The cultural artifacts meant the Bureau’s art theft team would be involved. He groaned inwardly, praying it wouldn’t be Agent Hopkins who showed. But he still was based in Cali, last Christian heard. Just the idea of the Bureau’s art theft team set his nerves on edge—the fear he’d be unmasked.
And Andi ... They’d just met, but somehow the thought of it happening in front of her dropped his stomach.
Deckard climbed out of the SUV, sunglasses on. It was sunny for the moment, but glancing at the sheets of rain coming from the south, they’d soon be driving in a deluge.
“Hey, man,” his brother said, pulling off his sunglasses and stickingthem atop his tousled blond hair. He took two steps forward, then his gaze shifted to Andi, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Andi said.
Christian’s gaze bounced between them. Both of their jaws clamped, their faces flushed red. He frowned. “Do you two know each other?”
