Page 44 of Lords of Misrule
“Just like this…” I grin, staring at the two of them beside me. I’m luckier than I could have ever imagined when I see it reflected back at me like this. That these two men consider me theirs. That we trust each other enough to do all the things we’ve done in the last week. I just hope when they find out the truth—that I belong to them both for good—it’s in kind. I have hope where Finn is concerned, but Rowan still makes my heart nervous.
Twenty-Four
Rowan
“So now that we’ve given most of the paintings away to your anonymous courier friend, what do we do with the one we have left? How do we get it sold?” I glare at Charlotte impatiently, and she gives me a pointed look. We’ve been at this for an hour now.
“It’s a process. I need the money just as much as you do, Rowan.”
“I’ve got guys I need to pay at the start of the month. They’ll be looking for paychecks to make the games go our way, and if I can’t deliver, they won’t either. Then they’re likely to start talking about the situation to people we haven’t paid off, and then I’ll have a fucking mess on my hands. We’ll all go down. You realize that, right?”
“I’m well aware. If you remember I’m on a timeline to save my brother.””
“Get off her back, Rowan. She’s the one who got us this far in the first place.” Hudson intervenes on her behalf, giving me a look that I don’t fucking care for. Like I’m disappointing him somehow instead of the other way around.
“She’s the one who got in the way of us getting the paintings in the first place.” I look at her and then turn on him. “Because you didn’t do your research.”
“Okay. This isn’t even remotely fucking productive,” Finn interrupts our staring match, and Charlotte gives him a soft look that makes me want to toss a fucking table.
“Yes. Less arguing and more problem-solving. Let’s just spitball ideas.” Charlotte looks at me sympathetically, a new thing she tries to do to calm my temper. One that almost works until I remember she’s the one pushing me to the edge with secrets.
“Tell your secret courier to hurry the fuck up. I would if I could, but since you won’t let me know their name…” I throw my hands up.
“I told you what the deal was if we chose to go this route. I’ve always made good on my promises and never given you any reason to doubt me.”
“The courier on the other hand, I neither know nor trust, and I just gave them everything of value in my possession and all the evidence they’ll need to put all of us in jail.”
“I trust them. I vouch for them. Do you trust me or not?” Charlotte’s well and truly riled now. I can tell by the brightness of her green eyes. The way she holds mine with an unflinching challenge.
“I don’t trust anyone. But I believe you.”
“Then believe me when I say they’ll get the paintings sold. But it’ll take time. It’s better this way—a sudden influx of cash that you have to launder and account for? You don’t want that.”
“I don’t want a lot of things I have to put up with.” I kick my feet back on the table and lean against the back of the chair. Finn gives me a subtle look that warns me I’m treading dangerously, but I don’t know that I give a flying fuck.
This right here, this entire situation, is our lives on the line. I’m responsible for all of us. For being the wise one. The one who puts us on the right track and keeps us there, especially when we do things like this. The weight of it all is sitting heavily on my fucking shoulders, making me pissed as all fucking hell, and I can’t seem to stop directing my anger at them—at her. Because if this goes wrong, or even if it goes right, I have every reason to think she’s going to bolt afterward. A thing that’ll crush Finn and judging by the way Hudson’s been acting lately, him too. I’ll be left to pick up the pieces, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to when the time comes. And that’s all assuming things go well.
When I focus back on the conversation, Hudson’s talking.
“They’re friends of my grandparents. He’s a collector of medieval art. Used to go to every auction under the sun it seemed because my grandparents would go with him, and when I was younger—and my parents were summering or skiing or whatever the fuck they did all the time—I’d be with my grandparents, and I’d have to go.”
“So there’s a chance he might want it—might be interested in buying it.”
“A chance… but how do we even get him to meet or look at it? I can’t just call him up and say, ‘Hey, want to buy this painting?’ That would be fucking weird and out of the blue.”
“Could your grandparents warm up the conversation for you? You talk to them about it… walk them around to their friend who collects. Ask some questions out of curiosity.” Finn shrugs.
“Yeah. What if you pretend like you have questions about it and are looking for someone to help answer them?” Charlotte looks hopeful suddenly.
“That could work… Maybe. I mean it’s a start. But without being out there… I don’t know how we show him it or bring up the conversation subtly. It’s an awkward long-distance call.”
“Can you go out there?” I ask.
“Technically? Yeah. My relationship with my grandparents is still good. They’d probably be happy to see me, and we have the break right now. But with hockey, I don’t know how I get away.”
“An injury,” I suggest.
“You gonna lose your goalie right now? You remember I’m kind of pivotal to you losing and winning games, right?” Hudson gives me a look.
