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)
It was stupid, but I wanted proof I’d been the one to fuck with his precious wish list.
My revenge plan had been twofold. First, prevent Elek from getting his hands on any more items on his wish list. Second, find and replace every forgery I’d ever used on a job with the original work, even if that meant stealing the original from whomever he’d sold it to, essentially erasing any evidence that could be used to tie me to past jobs. That way when I decided to walk away, I could get away clean.
I’d tackled the forgeries first, leaving only one still unaccounted for.
Since Elek had the one remaining forgery, I hadn’t dared try to recover it. It was one thing to steal from a museum, and quite another to steal from an art thief. The former used predictable, reasonable methods of security. The latter was wily as fuck.
It was better just to leave it be and get out of the game while I was ahead. Or so I kept telling myself, even though I had the original already tucked away and ready to take my forgery’s place if I ever had the chance. It was a Delacroix self-portrait that had been nearly impossible to sneak out of the Louvre’s archives. Of all places to have to infiltrate. I’d hated doing it, but if by some chance I ever got the chance to replace my forgery with it, I didn’t want Elek to ever know I’d been there and done it. The last thing I needed was an angry Hungarian ex gunning for me.
The end of my revenge spree couldn’t have come at a better time. I needed a break. Hopefully a visit home would help ground me a little and I could reset my priorities. It was time to put this upsetting chapter of my life in the past once and for all. Get out of the heist business while I still could.
I’d done almost all I could to keep Elek from what he wanted. I’d broken into every museum and residence containing items on his wish list and informed them how to beef up their security so even I wouldn’t be able to break through it. And if I couldn’t find a way past a building’s security system, there was no way Elek ever could. He just wasn’t good enough.
If I decided to tackle the final item… well, it was complicated. The Holy Crown of Hungary was surrounded by live guards around the clock. So I kept trying to tell myself to let it go.
The question now was… what came next? What would my life be about if I wasn’t planning and executing an art theft? At this point, I had obscene amounts of money stashed away, mostly rewarded to me with gratitude for returning priceless pieces to their rightful owners but also from fencing lesser works that had value but little meaning to anyone. I wasn’t proud of it, but I also didn’t lose sleep at night from robbing assholes who thought they could proudly display a stolen Van Gogh or Holocaust diamonds and no one would ever know or care.
Hell, one of the jobs I’d done the year before had included a book of Picasso sketches that had been displayed in the dogs’ bedroom at the home of a lesser royal in Bahrain. Returning the sketchbook to the Picasso Museum in Paris had been extremely satisfying, and I hadn’t minded grabbing a diamond-studded collar and leash set at the scene of the crime as a tip for my good deed.
But I couldn’t expect to stay undetected forever, so I needed to quit while I was ahead. Otherwise Agent Falcon with the FBI would be thrilled to string me up by my balls one day and pin me for everything I’d ever stolen. Maybe that was why I’d let myself be seen on camera walking out of the Berlin museum. Now I would be squarely on Falcon’s radar. There’d be no way to travel undetected which would make future jobs more difficult. It was like crossing a bridge toward my new life and burning it down behind me so I wouldn’t be tempted to go back.
The flights from Berlin to Dallas took all day, but when I landed and saw my sister MJ waiting for me in the arrivals area, I almost wept with relief.
“You look like shit,” she said in her usual hold-nothing-back manner.
“I feel worse,” I admitted, hugging her for a longer time than normal.
She squeezed me for a long beat before saying the words I’d been thinking the entire flight.
“Nothing a little Wilde lovin’ can’t fix. Let’s get you home.”
Home. God I needed that.
Once we got in the car, MJ turned to me. “Spill it.”
She always knew when I was keeping something from her. I let out a breath and ran my hand through my hair, employing my usual tactic of distracting the conversation away from me. “Tell me about Neckie. How’s she doing since the baby?”