“He’s not gay,” Alaric said mildly. “I’m good at spotting that sort of thing.”
Because it takes one to know one? Once again, I felt a pang of sadness. The good guys were always unavailable, one way or another.
“That’s, uh, I guess that’s good news. But she’s still going to struggle for money.”
“Don’t forget Red After Dark’s through there in the bedroom, and there’s a fifty-thousand-dollar reward. Without wanting to sound callous, Irvine isn’t going to need Dominique anymore. In fact, it makes me twitchy to think of a painting that valuable hanging on the wall in this house.”
“Nobody knows it’s here but us.”
“Correction: nobody but us and the bad guys. It’s served its purpose now—I wouldn’t put it past them to take it back.”
“You think we should move it?”
“For now, I’ll put it somewhere more discreet than Irvine’s bedroom wall, but I think the sooner it’s back in the Becker Museum, the better for everyone. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Never mind. What do you want on your toast?”
“Anything but Marmite.”
“You’re safe—not so many people eat that over here.”
How long did bread take to toast? One minute? Two? Whatever, it didn’t matter. I was asleep in thirty seconds.
CHAPTER 30 - ALARIC
A MONTH AGO, Alaric would have left Red After Dark on the bedroom wall. Enigmatic Dominique—the perfect lure. If the thieves took the bait, Sirius and Blackwood could reel them in.
But that was then, and this was now. Alaric wouldn’t put Beth or Harriet in harm’s way, not even for Emerald herself. Perhaps Black was right—that was painful to admit—and Alaric needed to stop living in the past? They’d retrieved one painting, and as soon as he worked out how to return it without tarnishing Irvine Carnes’s name, Harriet would get fifty thousand dollars of reward money. If she needed more, he had some savings he could lend her. Nice though it was to have a cushion of cash to fall back on, he didn’t need a fortune to be happy.
The toast was cold now. Dominique was hidden. Alaric scooped Beth up in his arms and carried her to the guest bedroom. Tempting though it was to lie down beside her and close his eyes, he made himself back out into the hallway. He’d be fine on the couch.
But damn, he loved that woman. The only problem was, how did he tell her?
“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
Alaric turned to see Beth in the living room doorway, wearing a bathrobe with her damp blonde hair hanging past her shoulders. Usually she tied it back. He’d just finished speaking to the sheriff from Devane’s hometown about the young redhead who’d led them to Piper Simms. The man had promised to look into the situation. Discreetly. Her father was a well-known asshole, and the sheriff felt it was only a matter of time before he violated his parole.
“Not a problem.”
He could get used to seeing Beth like that every morning. A little tug on the end of that belt…
“Do you want coffee? I’m just going to make some, and then I need to feed the horses again.”
“With hay? I already did that.”
“But how did you know…?”
“I used to help Emmy with her horse occasionally. Breakfast and dinner in a bucket, hay four times a day or he kicks the door. Did I get it right?”
Beth nodded. “You and Emmy are close, huh?”
“We’ve known each other for a long time.”
The TV on the wall caught Beth’s attention. Not surprising—Alaric had been watching the news for the last half hour, and apart from the rumours of Carnes’s ill health, it had been remarkably entertaining.
“Is that…?”
“David Biggs? Yes.” The Republican candidate.
“Who’s that chasing him?”
“His wife.”
From what the reporters had pieced together, it appeared the pair had gone out for dinner on Saturday night, to some Italian place in Frankfort. The restaurant had been promoting a special offer—write a review and get ten percent off the bill. Mrs. Biggs liked to save pennies, it seemed, because she’d hopped online to earn her discount, only to read the review above hers first. Glowing, five stars, and the reviewer had even included a photo of her and her friends enjoying their meal. And in the background of that photo was David Biggs, and the woman he was enjoying a cosy meal with was… Well, that was still under discussion, but she definitely wasn’t Mrs. Biggs. The argument had been something to behold. Cell phone footage from several angles showed Mrs. Biggs throwing dessert at her husband, then whacking him over the head with her purse.
And it didn’t end there. When the cops arrived, a drunk Biggs had waved a gun at them before cussing out half a dozen officers and getting arrested.
Not bad for a man who’d run on a platform of family values and respect for law enforcement. The irony was strong with that one. All they needed was a genuine O’Shaughnessy scandal before polling day and they’d have the full trifecta.
“My gosh,” Beth said.
“We’ve played our part now. Forget the election. It’s time to focus on the future.”
“Is there any word on Irvine? Did you speak to Harriet?”
“I spoke to Stéphane. Irvine’s on life support, and Harriet’s going to spend as much time as she can with him while they run some final tests. I volunteered your services to help out for a few days. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course. You don’t mind?”
“We’ve agreed it’s sensible for me to return the painting in the near future, and I can do that alone.”
“You won’t get arrested, will you?”
“Definitely not.” Beth still looked worried, so Alaric reached for her hand. “Trust me?”
“I trust you.”
Alaric couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Despite everything they’d achieved—taking out Devane, bringing down Ridley, solving Piper’s murder, and finding Red After Dark—Beth’s words and the concern behind them were the highlight of his month.
