Celt. (Den of Mercenaries Book 2) (11 page)

He crossed his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“I was contracted to make a reproduction of this painting—the
L’amant Flétrie
.”

“Aye, I’ve heard of it.” More than she knew.

“I’m not sure what all the secrecy is about, but I had to sign the NDA before I could start. The man who hired me said they wanted to have it, just in case someone tried to steal the original.”

Someone very much like him, Kyrnon thought as she explained. It was smart, he had to admit, especially given the amount of detail and the level of skill used.

“I made a slight change to the canvas though,” she continued. “I added my signature at bottom so just in case …”

She wouldn’t be held liable should it ever be sold as the original.

Smart.

“He’s putting it up for auction in a few days.”

Which would explain the invitations she had, and the fact that she had been allowed to attend in the first place. The nondisclosure agreement was enough to ensure that she wouldn’t talk to anyone about it, and if Gabriel moved it within the next few days, it would be gone with no one the wiser.

But, it also gave him time.

Now, he at least knew where the painting would be, and because of the replica she’d made, he would be able to take it without anyone realizing it was gone, at least for a time. That was the easy part though, it was trying to move it while with Amber that would be the hard part.

Not only would he have to find enough time to slip away, he would also have to make sure he kept track of her because once it was time to leave, they had to get out.

But despite the obstacles he would face, Kyrnon smiled and said, “Should be fun.”

A
fter an hour
and a half of getting ready, Amber was finally dressed, her clutch and heels in hand as she headed downstairs where Kyrnon was waiting. Despite the short timing, he was attending with her. If anything, he seemed more interested in going than she’d expected.

And waiting for her at the entrance to her building was Kyrnon, in all his tall, bearded glory.

He didn’t look nearly as rugged as he usually did. He was all cleaned up, and had even went as far as trimming his beard. She had to blink twice to make sure he was the same person. His vest and trousers were navy, a crisp white shirt beneath with a solid black tie that was held in place by a silver clip. For the first time since she met him, his hair was also styled, gelled back into place. The navy suit even managed to make the auburn tones of his beard stand out more.

There was just something about a man in a three-piece suit.

“I have to say,” Amber said as she looked him over. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He smiled, touching a hand to his chest right over his heart as his gaze swept over her. “You take my breath away.”

She gave a little spin, showing him the open back. “Do you like?”

“I like it enough,” he said with a kiss to both her cheeks. “But I’ll better on my floor later.”

“If you’re lucky.”

With a gruff laugh, he urged her to the car he’d been standing in front of. And it was … well it was amazing.

Amber might not have known just how much money he possessed, but the sight of his car was just another reminder that he had to have a lot of it. A Ferrari, she believed it was, from the logo near the door, but it didn’t look like any one she had ever seen before.

“You said acquisitions, right?” she asked as he helped her into the passenger seat, the leather incredibly soft beneath her. “I didn’t know that paid so well.”

He was gone a moment as he came around the front of the car, then was in the seat next to her and pressed the start button for the car. Laying a hand on her thigh, the heat of his palm almost a little too hot, he pulled off.

“Aye, I did, and it does.” With his sunglasses in place, she couldn’t accurately read his expression. “Besides, the work I acquire is worth a hell of a lot more than what I get paid for it. People are willing to pay any price when it means something to them.”

“Really?” She didn’t doubt that, but she was curious about what he did.

He nodded, weaving effortlessly through traffic. “I was once tasked with tracking down this wee statue from the 18th century, ghastly little shite really, but the owner was willing to pay three-quarters of a million for me to return it to him.”

“Wow.” That number kind of boggled her mind, but then again, hadn’t she been paid twenty-thousand just to paint a replica? “It must have been worth a fortune.”

“It was, but I ken it had more sentimental value than anything,” Kyrnon said glancing over at her.

“Do
you
have anything you would pay that much for?” she asked, shifting so she was facing him.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he pulled his glasses off, dropping them in the cupholder. “A cabin.”

She was intrigued. “A cabin? Where?”

“Near the Irish sea. Just grass and rocks and water.”

His voice had changed, dropping an octave. This meant more to him than just the money he would spend, it was something else.

“You miss Ireland,” she guessed, “and your family.”

“Both. It’s been a while since I’ve been back.” His smile turned rueful. “I’ll take you out there, see how you like the water then. Cold enough to freeze a man’s bullocks.”

“I would love that.”

“And you?”

She thought on her answer a moment before saying. “Silver Car Crash.”

“By?”

“Andy Warhol.”

Kyrnon nodded. “Fair enough. He does good work.”

Amber loved his work, and that painting was definitely her favorite. “So yeah, if I had endless amounts of money, I would buy one of his works.” She sighed. “But sadly, I’m not that rich, and even if I were, there’s not many of his works left that aren’t in galleries or lost.”

“I’ll look for it.”

Amber’s brows drew together. “What, the Warhol painting?”

“Aye.”

“It was sold in a private auction a few years ago. No one even knows the name of the buyer.”

Kyrnon shrugged like that didn’t matter at all. “I’ll find it.” This time he sounded more sure.

The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence. Thirty minutes later, they had finally arrived.

The Tuscan-inspired estate they pulled into was extravagant. Unlike the concrete jungle of the city, the mansion felt more like it belonged in the hills of Italy as opposed to its current neighborhood.

As they rolled up to the gate, a man wearing a dark suit with a wire in his ear held his hand up, stepped around to Kyrnon’s window. Letting it down, he presented their invitations. It only took a moment for him to check it before he was nodding and signaling for someone to open the gate.

Rolling up the cobblestone driveway, Kyrnon pulled around toward the front doors where a podium and carpet was set up, a valet attendant standing behind it.

Placing the car in park, Kyrnon grabbed his suit jacket from the backseat, and was out and circling around until he could get the door open for her. After slipping on her heels, she accepted his hand, carefully climbing out.

As the attendant came over, Kyrnon passed him the keys. “Take good care of her. Make sure she’s in good hands, eh?”

“Yes sir,” he rushed to say. “We take them around the house for safe keeping.”

Patting the man’s shoulder, Kyrnon sent him on his way and they started toward the doors, but he lagged a bit, watching the path the man took.

If she had his car, she’d probably do the same.

“This is amazing,” she whispered once she had a foot in the door, trying to take everything in, though it was nearly impossible.

Between the varying textures, enough priceless art and fixtures to keep her eyes occupied forever, there was so much, yet it didn’t take away from the rest of the decor.

“Still not better than my cabin,” he whispered back.

“Of course not, but you have to admit, it’s pretty nice.”

Kyrnon grumbled his agreement as they followed behind a couple as they headed into another room.

Rows of chairs were set up in arcs, designed for optimal viewing of the stage up ahead. Gabriel Monte was standing at the front of the room, head bowed as he had a quiet conversation with a woman in a red dress.

Kyrnon, too, seemed to be focused on the man, his gaze unwavering, making her wonder if he knew the man, but she didn’t get the chance to ask about it before they were in their seats and the auction was starting.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Gabriel said as he stepped behind the podium, pulling on a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. “I would like to thank you all for attending. Please note that all bids are due in full at the completion of this auction. First up, we have a beautiful hand-carved statue from the Chechen Republic.”

With each item that was brought out, men in white gloves handled them preciously, giving the audience the opportunity to gaze upon them. As the bidding wars started, Amber was just thrilled to see it all happening.

Only once had she gone to an auction, and that was back when she was still living in California, and her father had brought her along after two minutes of pleading. Though her father hadn’t bought anything at the time, she still cherished the memory.

“Graciously provided by one of our generous benefactors is the
L’amant Flétrie
, a priceless work of art. We’ll start the bidding at one-million dollars.”

Amber’s brows shot up as she heard the price. Unlike the rest of the art works that were being sold all evening, this one had the highest starting asking price. Kyrnon looked to her when she sat up a little straighter, but his expression was unreadable.

Back and forth, people put in their bids, and very soon, the price was so high that she wasn’t surprised Gabriel had been able to pay her twenty-thousand for one replica. The painting was worth millions.

Finally, a man seated at the front of the room with a phone to his ear put in the winning bid: Twenty-seven million.

As the handlers came forward to remove the painting, it was Kyrnon now that was sitting up a little straighter.

“And next we have
Nocturnal
by Adelaide Moreau.”

Amber gasped softly as the painting was brought out, Gabriel’s words going right over her head as she stared at the painting that inspired the tattoo she had.

The painting was huge at eleven-by-fourteen feet, and needed three people just to bring it out. It was simple really, the moon’s cycle depicted in excruciating detail, balancing lights and shadows, making it look more like a photograph as opposed to a painting. Amber had fallen in love with it from the second she saw it a few years ago. Back then, it had been on loan to the Madison Institute.

Now here it was, up for auction.

It almost felt like destiny.

“The bidding will start at one-hundred thousand dollars.”

At that price, destiny could wait.

Kyrnon’s fingers danced down her spine, drawing her gaze to him. “This,” he said with a soft tap on her back, “for that?”

Of course he would get it right off. “One of my favorites.”

He nodded. “D’you want it?”

“What?”

“Yes,” Gabriel announced, pointing to a man sitting not too far from them. “I have one-hundred. Do I hear one-twenty-five?”

“If you want it, let’s get it,” Kyrnon said, even as he raised his paddle, just enough to get Gabriel’s attention.

“Kyrnon, you don’t have to buy it,” she rushed to say, even as his bid was noted.

“Why not? If you want it, it’s yours.”

“But—”

“Three-fifty? Do I hear four?” Gabriel looked back to Kyrnon expectantly.

Kyrnon nodded again, uncaring to the fact that the price was nearly double the asking price. He was too busy focusing on the man across the room that was continuously trying to outbid him.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to—”

“Now what kind of man would I be if I didn’t keep you happy?” That question was enough to shut her up. “Six-hundred-thousand,” Kyrnon suddenly announced with a wave of his paddle.

The suit he was going up against glanced back at them and whatever he saw made him smile mockingly as he said, “One million.”

Kyrnon didn’t even blink. “Two.”

Two. Two
million
dollars.

She was starting to realize that maybe Kyrnon was a bit crazy, but she liked it.

“
Sold
,” Gabriel said with a brilliant smile as he slammed the gavel down.

It was the highest bid—outside of
L’amant Flétrie
—so far, and from the way the soft murmurs started up, it was an impressive one. She was still reeling that he even
had
that much money to spend on a painting, let alone that he was doing it for
her
.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said in her ear as he stood, kissing her cheek as he did.

As he disappeared back out the door and down the hallway where others had gone after successfully winning their bid, she could only sit there with a smile, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

“
A
nd how would
you like to make your payment, sir?”

Kyrnon was rethinking his earlier worry that Amber might complicate the job—in fact, she made it easier. His buying her a painting not only made her happy, it gave him an excuse to venture back toward where they were storing the art.

Two birds, one stone.

Rattling off the series of numbers for one of his accounts in the Cayman Islands, his gaze drifted over the office he stood in, then back out the door toward the other side of the hall where workers were carefully moving in and out of the room.

The question now was how was he going to get into the room and back out without getting caught?

He needed a distraction.

Once his transaction was finished with Emanuel, Kyrnon asked, “Where can I find the facilities?”

“Down the hall and on your left.”

Back down the hall, he slipped into the restroom, grabbing one of the hand towels next to the sink, he stuffed it into one of the toilets and flushed, stepping back as the water rose and spilled onto the floor.

Just as quickly, he exited, finding one of the attendants walking by. While all of them wore suits, a badge was clipped to their waists, differentiating them from the rest of the guests.