The Spy (King’s Security #3)

Chapter 24

24

FIONA

My voice was hoarse. When Harrison and Goodwin first left me in here, I’d shouted through the door, hoping to get their attention or at least force someone to listen to me. Perhaps yelling hadn’t been the best way to go about it because now my throat hurt and the few people I’d seen had given me some serious side-eye.

Now I heard the lock unsnick and a uniformed officer poked their face in and then stepped aside to allow Ariadne to enter.

“Thank God you’re here,” I exclaimed. “Do you know if Zeke is okay? No one will tell me anything.”

She smiled tightly. “The good news is that he’s fine. King’s Security caught up to them and were able to apprehend your ex and the gallery manager. Zeke is a little bruised, but he’s more worried about you than himself.” Her smile turned wry. “He created quite a scene out there, demanding you be set free. They had to have him removed from the building. ”

I hardly heard the second half of what she said, too relieved by the first half. “Thank you.” A knot inside me loosened, and it felt like I could finally breathe again. “How badly is he hurt?”

“Just a black eye and a swollen cheekbone,” she said. “I think he was pistol-whipped.”

I winced, but considering I’d been fearing the worst, I was only too happy to kiss his bruises better later. As long as he was alive, and his usual cocky self, everything else would be all right.

“Did they arrest Bergen and Patience?” I asked.

She sat opposite me at the table. “The detectives on the case are questioning Patience at the moment.” She pursed her lips, looking hesitant.

“What is it?” I asked.

She sighed, pulled a pen from her blazer pocket, and spun it between her fingers. “The police are reluctant to press charges against them because even though they were allegedly found in possession of a Monet, they were apprehended by King’s Security, so the police don’t have any proof of what went down. The chain of custody is a mess. There are witnesses who will swear that Patience and Bergen had the painting, and Zeke is prepared to testify that they kidnapped him—the recording of the call Patience made to the police should help with that since you can hear him in the background—but it’s going to take a while for them to sort through everything and figure out a way forward.”

I blanched. “Excuse me?”

On some level, I understood. The police hadn’t seen Bergen with the Monet personally, but how much evidence did they really need?

Ariadne’s expression was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Fiona. It might be a while before you’re officially cleared. ”

“But surely they can connect the abandoned shop back to Bergen, and that’s where the police sighted the forgery.”

She nodded in acknowledgment. “Hopefully, but as I said, it might take a while, and your presence there muddies the waters.”

“What about the existence of the second forgery?” I asked. “Surely that makes them suspicious.”

“They’ll look into it. They just might not be as fast as you’d like.” She grimaced. “They have to do everything by the book, and they can’t move as quickly as private companies can. There isn’t much we can do to change that.”

My shoulders slumped. I might not like it, but she was right.

“There is one other thing that might help you,” she said tentatively.

I cocked my head. “What?”

“Zeke recorded your conversation in the abandoned shop using the device on his watch. The police have the watch and the recording. King’s Security made a copy before they handed it over, and I’ve listened to it.” She hesitated, then added, “It’s pretty damning.”

I straightened. “They have a recording?” I tried to remember exactly what had been said. I had a feeling that Patience had basically given a full confession. “Doesn’t that solve everything?”

Ariadne huffed. “I wish. Unfortunately for you, audio recordings in Illinois require permission from both parties or they’re unlawful. Taking that into account, and the fact that voice identification hasn’t been run yet, they’re not officially recognizing the recording as evidence.”

What the hell? Zeke had dropped gift-wrapped evidence of my innocence onto their laps but they’d decided to ignore it?

“Hopefully, even if it isn’t officially recognized, they’ll still take it into account during their decision-making.” Ariadne sounded more optimistic than I felt.

“Is there anything we can do at the moment?” I asked.

“You just need to sit tight and not say anything without me present.” She placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s just the way it is. I’ll see if there’s any way I can get you out of here faster, but they’re allowed to hold you for forty-eight hours.”

Yeah, I knew that. Ariadne and I had had this same conversation four years ago. Back then, I’d been younger and confused. At least now I knew what I was up against.

“Thank you, Ari.”

“I’ve got your back, girl.” She stood and brushed her suit down. “Take care of yourself, and don’t speak a word.”

“I won’t.”

She gave me a hug and left. The lock clicked into place once again. I wondered whether an officer was standing by the door in case I tried to make a run for it. I imagined myself shoulder-charging the door, then sprinting for the exit, only to be mowed down by a burly cop. No, thanks.

I paced the length of the room, wishing I knew the time, but they’d taken my phone and my watch off me, and there was no clock on the wall. Hours seemed to crawl by. I had no idea how long it had really been, but at some point, an officer brought me a sandwich. They returned a while later and walked me to the bathroom. I ate again—perhaps lunch—growing increasingly desperate to hear what was going on.

Then the worst happened. The officer cuffed me and escorted me to the holding cells.

“You’ll be in here overnight,” she said, waiting for the guard to open the cell door.

I stared straight ahead, feeling like I might cry. I didn’t belong here. Although, to be fair, the girl in the corner didn’t look like she did either. She wasn’t more than a teenager, wearing a short skirt and too much makeup. Her eyes were frighteningly vacant. A big, olive-skinned woman eyed me like I was fresh meat, and I gulped. She could snap me like a twig if she wanted.

“In you go,” the officer said, giving me a little push.

I stepped inside the cell, terror brewing in my gut. A Black lady sat against the wall, watching me curiously. She looked the most composed of my new companions, so I edged toward her, putting more distance between myself and the others.

Please get me out of here.

ZEKE

It was almost midnight by the time the police decided to release Fiona. If not for my pushing, they’d probably have left her in their holding cells until the morning, but I remembered how much she’d said she hated her time in the cells four years ago, and I was determined that she wouldn’t spend a second longer in them than necessary.

The police’s crime scene team had pulled together enough evidence to charge Bergen and Patience with the theft. Video evidence showed Bergen spending far more time at the storefront than Fiona had, and both his and Patience’s fingerprints were on the painting. They’d been so confident they wouldn’t be caught that they hadn’t bothered to wear gloves.

Amateurs.

The police had also found a collection of close-up photographs of Daisies hidden in a file on Bergen’s laptop. Apparently, when he and Patience had discovered it would be coming to the Windy City Gallery, he’d flown to Paris to view it in the Louvre and had taken photographs and notes to recreate it as closely as possible. There were a bunch of other threads that had come together, but suffice it to say, the police had finally realized that Fiona had nothing to do with the theft.

I waited for Detective Harrison to join me near the entrance to the holding cells. She and Goodwin were doing overtime so they could get the painting back to its very wealthy owner as soon as possible. She scowled at me as she approached, her nose crinkled like she’d smelled something bad. Perhaps her boss had chewed her out for the mess she and Goodwin had made of this case. If she’d listened to Fiona and at least looked into Bergen to begin with, maybe everything would have been worked out much sooner.

“Come on,” she said gruffly.

I followed her past the guard, who handed her a key, and into the cells. I immediately spotted Fiona sitting beside a slim Black woman, her knees pulled up to her chest and her eyes bloodshot. She looked exhausted, and she’d probably been too anxious to get any sleep. She turned toward us slowly, then blinked, as if coming back to herself. She stood on shaky legs and came over, reaching for me between the bars.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “I was so scared when you let them take you.” She scanned my face, her gaze darkening as it lingered on the bruising on the side of my cheek.

“I’m fine, and you are too,” I told her. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“Really?” Relief soaked her tone. She turned to Harrison. “I’m leaving? ”

Harrison opened the door and ushered Fiona through, then shut it again rapidly. I hauled her into my arms. She relaxed into my embrace, letting the tension drain out of her body. Her mouth found mine and we kissed, slow and thorough. One of the women in the cell catcalled.

“Cut it out,” Harrison said.

Fiona drew back, her eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t ever do that again.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Use yourself as a distraction,” she said. “You mean too much to me to risk like that. Your safety is just as important as mine.”

I wisely kept my mouth shut, even though I disagreed. I’d give everything to keep her safe, and I’d never have a moment’s regret for doing so.

“Okay, lover boy, get a move on,” Harrison urged.

Fiona’s nostrils flared, and she looked like she wanted to hit someone—preferably Detective Harrison—but she stalked out of the room. I matched her stride for stride, and footsteps behind us indicated that Harrison was keeping pace too. When we reached the elevator, Fiona turned to face Harrison.

“Can I leave?” she asked.

Harrison nodded. “No charges are being filed against you. You’re free to go, although we may want to speak with you more as a witness.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “Give me at least twenty-four hours to recover, and don’t bother asking me to come in without my lawyer.”

Harrison rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.

“And?” I prompted the detective.

Harrison glared at me, and then turned to Fiona. “The department apologizes for any distress you may have experienced as a result of our investigation both now and in the past.”

“Thank you,” Fiona said.

While it was obvious Harrison hadn’t wanted to say it, she had, and apparently Fiona was going to take that as a win. Considering she’d lost her job four years ago, she’d be within her rights to sue, but Harrison hadn’t been the detective involved with that case, and honestly, I thought everything had worked out for the best. Well, everything except the fact that Fiona had stopped making art. She had a gift, and it was sad to know she’d cast it aside because of a cheating asshole who’d never deserved her in the first place.

Harrison handed Fiona her phone and her purse, then I took Fiona’s hand and we left the building together. As we stepped outside, she stopped walking and pulled me closer. She gazed up at me with dark, soulful eyes, and the edges of her mouth lifted.

“Thank you for getting me out of there,” she said. “And…” She nibbled on her lower lip. “I’m not sure exactly what’s happening between us, or where we go from here, but I want you to know that I love you.” She released a puff of breath. “It’s completely crazy, but I do. I love you, Ezekiel Watts.”

I gathered her in my arms and breathed her in, squeezing my eyes shut against the waves of emotion crashing through me. I’d known I was falling for Fiona, but it wasn’t until she was out of my reach that I realized I’d already fallen for her. Caput . I was done.

“I love you too,” I murmured against her hair.

“Yeah?” She pulled back and dabbed at her damp eyes.

“Yeah.” I smiled and kissed her. “I’m crazy about every sassy, strong, unbreakable piece of you.”

Her expression softened. “What about the broken bits? ”

“Oh, Fi.” I cupped her face. “Don’t you know? They’re my favorite.”

She blinked rapidly. “You asshole. Now I’m going to cry.”

Grinning, I kissed her. Once. Twice. Again. Peppering her beautiful face until she laughed and pushed at my chest.

“Where to now?” I asked. “Want me to take you home?”

“I’d really like that.” She hesitated, then added, “Will you stay with me?”

“Always.”