Page 75 of Smoke Screen
A dangerous level.
At least for her.
She sat back again, closing her eyes because looking at him wasn’t helping. Looking at him made her want things she wouldn’t get with Phin.
For her, a fun night consisted of watching movies in PJs at home with cartons of takeout. A living room picnic. Somehow, she didn’t see Mr. Slick enjoying that life.
She inhaled again, let the clean, earthy scent of the car flood her mind. Breathe. That’s all she had to do for the next little while.
Just breathe.
Sensing no movement,Maddy pried her eyelids up, met blinding sunlight and immediately shut her eyes again.
Where was she?
She took a deep breath to jump-start her foggy brain, braced herself for the assault, and opened her eyes again. In front of her was a tree-lined street with bursts of green leaves offering patches of shade.
Phin had parked at the curb in front of a towering brick home.
She’d done more than nap. She’d gone comatose.
She looked over at him just as he shut down the engine. “We’re here?”
“We are.”
“And who is it you’re going to see?”
“Rory Emlynson. He’s a financial planner. Handles a ton of politicians and CEOs. Major wealth management.”
“And you think he knows where the jewels are?”
“He’s also a collector. Art, cars, anything that makes him look rich. His office is filled with random stuff he’s acquired. Rumor has it his latest acquisition is a scepter belonging to George V.”
Maddy gawked. Did he just say George V? No wonder they were here. If the man enjoyed collecting sacred British regalia, he might have knowledge of the queen’s jewels.
Of the major recent auctions she’d seen, none contained a scepter from George V. “Was it a black-market purchase?”
Phin shrugged.Shrugged.As if it wasn’t horrifying that a priceless collectible from the British monarchy floated through the black market.
The art world was ripe with backdoor deals and any acquisitions manager or gallery owner knew it. Still, it made her boil.
She peered out her window at the stately mansion big enough for a dozen people. Clearly, the man had money to burn. Or simply wanted to look like he did. Neither would surprise her. So many in the art world were broke, living beyond their means just so they could keep their social status.
“So,” she said, gaze still on the house, “you’re thinking maybe he’s heard something about the jewels being available?”
“For a guy like him, this heist is catnip. He’s made a side job of using his contacts to broker deals.”
She swung back to Phin. “He’s the middleman.”
“Yes. He never touches the stuff. All he’s doing is connecting people. As if that justifies dealing in stolen masterpieces. It’s ridiculous.”
“And he’s never been caught?”
“He’s discreet enough that law enforcement leaves him alone. He’s on Ash’s radar.” Phin gestured to the house. “I’m not sure he’s home, but he’s been ducking my calls for two days. You stay here. Windows up. With all that press, I’m sure he’s seen you on the news.”
Remembering her Good Girl Maddy promise, she raised her right hand. “I won’t budge. Good luck.”
Phin walkedto the front door, his pace casual, unrushed. Just a guy visiting his buddy. A good thing too, because the humidity was enough that sweat already beaded on his upper lip. He gave it a swipe just as he reached the door. No point looking like a slob.
