“Do you know him?” the other guy asks. He’s wearing a similar outfit but without the eye patch. “He’s just this big mystery. Came out of nowhere I hear.”
“Yeah, I know him.” I smile, feeling all devious inside. Time to bring home the bacon, baby. This is Colin’s ticket out of the garage and my little chance at a wisp of revenge for the kidnapping. “He’s ex special-ops. Big time assassin.” I nod several times, my serious eyebrows going strong.
“Whaaaat?” The pirate patch guy hunkers down and whispers. “Are you serious? Oh my god, that is so sexy.” He looks at his friend and then over their combined shoulders to Colin and his group of admirers. “Look at him. The minute I laid eyes on him, I knew he was dangerous.”
“You mean eye,” says the second guy, sounding bored. “The minute you laid an eye on him, not eyes.”
One-eye slaps his friend. “Don’t be cruel. I have a disability.”
“You poked yourself in the eye with an eyelash curler. I’d hardly call that a disability.” He looks away and mumbles, “Although I might not argue about the disabled part…”
The pirate leans in towards me. “Has he killed a lot of people?”
“Just a couple of somali pirates, a dictator, and a few serial killers. He got out of the service and pulled a Dexter. It’s the painting that finally got him away from all that violence. Now he volunteers at the local no-kill shelter.” I don’t know where any of this is coming from, but I’m not fighting it. Here, in this gallery, I am in a dream world where anything goes. Anything at all. I am unstoppable.
I leave the pirate and his friend to contemplate that bit of awesome and move on to the next few paintings. Two girls are looking at one and smiling. They’re checking Colin out over their shoulders too as they sip champagne.
“Too much,” says one, as I walk up.
“I know,” I agree, giving them a knowing look. “I can’t believe he was in the Olympics too. I mean, so much talent in so many areas.”
“The Olympics? Really?” asks one. “What was his event?”
I freeze, my brain scrambling to pick a sport. “Water polo.”
They frown at me. “Water polo? Is that even an Olympic sport?”
“Of course it is. Don’t be silly.” I go for the big distractor. “And you should see him in that bathing suit.” I wave my hand under my face. “Seriously. I mean, get out the fan, ladies, know what I mean?”
They both look over at him, no doubt imagining him in a Speedo, and then we’re all fanning ourselves.
“You are so lucky,” one of them says to me.
“Who, me? Nah, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s totally free and available.” I gesture in his direction. “Tortured artist. Have at him.”
Oh, revenge has never tasted so sweet. Twenty minutes later when Teagan walks into the gallery with Rebel in tow, I have almost completed my mission. The group standing around Colin could almost be termed a mob at this point.
“What in the holy hell on wheels …?” Teagan is looking around the room, her face a mask of confusion.
Rebel is staring at the wall and then his brother, his face going red.
I walk over quickly to douse the flames. “Before you freak out on him and whatever, I just want you to know that he’s very sensitive about his art and I’m pretty sure this is the first time he’s let anyone in the public see it, so you should be aware of that.” I look at Rebel, giving him my serious eyebrow look. “I mean it. Do not make a scene in here.”
Teagan gives me a funny look.
“What?”
“Well … that might be unavoidable,” she says.
Rebel’s jaw twitches.
“Why?” I look from one to the other. They both look guilty.
“What did you do?” I ask, my voice wary.
Teagan looks towards the door.
My heart stops beating for a few seconds and then rushes to catch up. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to Mick.”
“He might have followed us,” Teagan says, her head pulling into her shoulders like a damn turtle chicken.
I smack her on the arm. “I told you not to say anything to him!”
The door flies open and Mick is there in the entrance. He’s ready for a fight and everyone in the room can see it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MICK WALKS IN, HIS EASY glide unmistakable for the warning it carries. He’s on a mission. He looks right at me and freezes for a few seconds, his jaw muscle twitching and his expression going cold. It makes me want to disappear. Where is Jersey’s damn magic cape or spell or whatever it is that makes him invisible when I need it, anyway?