Page 33 of Abra's Acquisition
“We’ll keep quiet,” a soft voice comes from upstairs. I look upstairs to see Lake and Zip assisting the four women down the stairs. The woman at the front of the group glares at our prisoners before focusing her attention on Hex. “We don’t know who you are, and we don’t care. All we want is to get the fuck out of here and go home. As long as you can promise us that these fuckers won’t be kidnapping women again.”
Hex flashes an evil grin. “Oh, I can guarantee you much more than that. They’re going somewhere where all they’ll be able to do is scream.”
“I like the sound of that,” she says.
Levi and Jack arrive soon after. Lake and Levi take the women to the hospital while Jack helps us load up our prisoners. We will take them to The Farm, where we have a shed designed for torturing our enemies. We're going to have a lot of fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: REY
I make sure to double-check the locks on all the doors and windows, even though we hadn’t unlocked any of them, before joining Cicer in his car. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t super excited about the trip, and not only because we might make some headway on finding the original owner of The Widow in Black. No, the primary source of my excitement was sitting in the work of art that was Cicero’s Jaguar. As a history buff who adores art, I feel like I’m in heaven.
“Where are we going?” I ask. “Your house?”
“Back to the clubhouse. I believe the manifest I’m looking for is there. If not, we may have to go to my home. That’s where I keep all my research material. I’m sure I read about the painting in a ship’s manifest. I’ve collected copies of almost every ship manifest that crossed over from Europe during the 1700s through the end of the 1800s.”
I gape at him. “You’ve got to be kidding! That’s thousands of manifests.”
“Tens of thousands,” Cicero agrees. “I can’t remember how many I have. I’ve scanned them all into a database, but I still like reading through the copies. They’ve been a fascination of mine since I was a kid. I loved reading about all the things people brought with them when they moved from Europe to here. Manybrought nothing, and many brought almost everything they owned. I especially love reading about those who fled the French Revolution. For so long, this country was a haven to those seeking sanctuary. Now we’re a country headed for a second civil war. A war that may resemble the French Revolution. Instead of being a country offering help to those who need it, we’ve become the country many are fleeing to avoid persecution. I can’t help but see the similarities and wonder what treasures will leave these shores and end up elsewhere.”
That’s a sobering thought. Tensions are running high in this country, but it seems like every decade or so, ideologies clash. Our country has survived clashing priorities for almost 250 years. I have confidence that we’ll survive the current turmoil. Perhaps 'confidence' is too strong a word. Hope. I have hope that we’ll survive. I shake myself to clear my thoughts of things I can’t control so I can focus on things I can. When Cicero pulls to a stop at a light behind several other vehicles, I glance over to spot a pawn shop on the corner up ahead.
“Wait, we need to stop there,” I tell Cicero, pointing at the pawn shop.
He glances over and frowns. “You want to go to a pawn shop? Why? I don’t think Abra would want us to pawn the painting.”
“No, that’s not what I– wait, what? You brought the painting?” I ask, momentarily distracted.
“Well, yeah. If I’m right, we’re going to need it. Now, why do you want to go to a pawn shop?”
I want to push Cicero on why he felt the need to take the painting away from the secure warehouse, but I also have a strong urge to visit the pawn shop. Damn. “Look, drop me off at the pawn shop and I can get an Uber to the clubhouse.”
Cicero gapes at me. “Are you crazy? Abra would kill me if I left you somewhere. Do you want him to kill me?”
“He won’t…” I start, but then realize Cicero is right. I glance at the pawn shop and nod. “Okay, let’s go to the clubhouse. The pawn shop can wait.”
Cicero drums his fingers on the steering wheel before heaving a great sigh. “How long will this take?”
“I don’t know, not long,” I say, even though I know I’m lying. What I have planned will require some time and assistance from Cicero.
Cicero shakes his head, but he pulls over and parks in front of the store. “Do you need me to go in?”
“Yeah, I need you to distract the guy working the counter so that I can sneak into his office.”
Cicero’s mouth drops open as he stares at me. “What the fuck! I can’t do that. We’ll get caught! Are you crazy?”
“Look, that’s the pawn shop where a young man sold his family’s greatest treasure so he could pay for the surgery to save his wife’s life. If I can get into the records, then I can find his name and we can return the jewelry to him.”
Cicero glances at me, then at the pawnshop, then back at me before rubbing his hand over his face. “Have you ever been in a pawn shop?”
I frown at his question. What does that have to do with anything? “No, why?”
“First, there is nothing I could say or do to distract that guy long enough for you to sneak into the back. Why? Because pawn shop owners often deal with criminals. He won’t be distracted. Besides, he probably has cameras everywhere, and he’ll be able to see the feed and will notice movement if you manage to get past him. What you need is someone who can break in without getting caught. A professional.”
“Like Abra,” I say, resigned.
“Like Abra,” he agrees. “Look, it isn’t that I don’t think you have the right idea. We do need to see those records. I think Abra will agree with you as well. But we need a plan to get them.”
I watch the man inside the pawn shop as he helps a customer. Even though he’s focused on the customer, I can see his eyes constantly roaming the store and flicking to something on the wall. Cicero is correct; this guy is too observant. I’d never make it past him. I sigh in defeat and am about to tell Cicero to continue driving to the clubhouse when the customer turns and walks toward us. I suck in a breath when I realize I recognize him. Fuck! “That’s Dontel! You need to get us out of here,” I say, scrunching down in the seat and praying that Dontel doesn’t see me. My prayers go unanswered when I hear a roar of anger just before he pounds on the window.
