Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I tried not to think of how familiar his voice was, how just the night before he’d murmured his Hungarian endearments into the back of my neck as pressed me into the sheets of the bed, holding my hands high above my head and resting his weight on me.
My stomach churned, anxiety reaching a fevered pitch. “Elek, dammit,” I ground out. If begging didn’t work, maybe threats would. “If I get caught, I’m sending them after you. I’ll make a deal, immunity for the real art thief.”
He had the fucking audacity to laugh. “No you won’t. Because you forget about the forgeries.”
Fuck. He was right.
My brain spun in a million different directions. Part of me wanted to replay every moment of the previous three years with Elek, dissecting whether or not he’d been lying to me this whole time. If any of it had been real. Could I have really been that naive and stupid?
Another part of me was desperately struggling to figure a way to get out of here. Some argument I could make, some object I could trade. Anything to make Elek come back for me.
And then there was a third part that was always curled up in the corner of my brain worrying about what my family would think and what I would ever say to them if word got out their beloved son, grandson, brother was the infamous art thief nicknamed Le Chaton—the man currently being hunted by Interpol, the FBI, and French National Police.
I couldn’t let any of that happen. I needed to get out of here. “Elek—” But I didn’t know what to say.
Was any of it real? Did you ever love me?
That’s what I wanted to ask. But the answer was pretty obvious given my current situation. However he may or may not have felt about me in the past, I meant nothing to him now. My eyelids slid shut, a burning at the back of my throat. His betrayal cut so sharply it was like a knife had been driven through my chest.
“You didn’t have to do this, Elek.” My voice cracked. “Whatever you wanted, I would have given it to you.”
There was a pause, and I strained to hear his reply under the cacophony of sirens and alarms. “I know, macska.” He let out a laugh. “Now you sound like my wife.”
“Wh-what?”
Nothing.
My mind exploded with questions. “What do you mean wife? What are you talking about?”
He couldn’t have a wife, I told myself. There was no way he could keep a secret that big from me. But then again, he’d just tied me to a radiator and left me to get busted by the cops, so it wasn’t like he was the most trustworthy man in the world.
But a wife? We lived together for fuck’s sake. How would that even be possible? Except then I remembered how much he traveled delivering the pieces we stole. And how adamant he was that he do it alone. I’d always assumed he wanted to keep his art underworld contacts to himself and I was happy to let him. Now I wondered if he could have been using those trips as a cover to sneak home to a second family.
“Dammit, Elek! Why are you doing this?” I cried through the comms unit again.
I waited for him to explain but was greeted with only static. He was either out of range or had decided he no longer had any interest in talking to me. I’d been dismissed.
That’s when it really sunk in. He’d actually left me behind. He wasn’t coming back.
I was on my own.
The sound of approaching sirens was like a shot of adrenaline to my heart. The police would be here any minute. My pulse kicked into overdrive, sweat beading along my forehead.
“Think, King, think,” I hissed at myself, pushing Elek’s taunt of having a wife from my mind. It was clear there was no escaping the zip ties which meant the police were definitely going to find me at the scene of the crime. From their point of view, there were only two possibilities to explain my presence: I was the criminal, or I was an innocent bystander.
My choice was pretty obvious. I did a quick mental check for any evidence they might find on me. The only actual incriminating items on my person were the earpiece and latex gloves I wore. Since the gloves were the same ones we’d used to load canapés onto the trays for the reception, I stripped them off and shoved them in a pants pocket, hoping I could explain them away easily enough. Thankfully, Elek had bound me to the radiator face-first which meant I could use my hands if I contorted myself against the restraints enough. The unforgiving plastic hurt like hell and cut into my skin as I fought to reach my pocket, but it was worth it to get rid of evidence.