

Merrick the Art Thief

By Michelle Woody

Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2018 Michelle Woody

ISBN 9781634866934

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author's imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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Merrick the Art Thief

By Michelle Woody

# Chapter 1

Merrick Davidson studied the Simon Xanderclied painting _Anguish_ hanging on the museum wall. It was supposed to lead to treasure, but he wasn't sure how. All he could see was a bald man's face distorted in pain, with what appeared to be a sliver of moonlight in the right corner of the dark painting.

Beside Merrick, Wyatt Silvan let out a deep breath. Wyatt's blue eyes danced over the painting, but he seemed to be miles away. No doubt Wyatt's thoughts were with his dad. Loren Silvan had disappeared after contacting them two days ago saying he was in danger. The secret to finding the treasure was hidden in the Xanderclied paintings, Loren had said, but how did this grim image lead to anything but depression?

Merrick ran a hand over his short, dark hair. In his years of working with Wyatt, they'd managed some impossible feats, but solving this riddle might test them. "Your dad was specific about it being these?"

"Yes." Wyatt's voice was deep, his tone soft.

"But no clue what the secret is?"

"No." Wyatt's gaze met his. "Just some talk of a secret family treasure and that he was in danger."

"Wish we had more to go on."

They had already stolen _Heartbreak_ and Loren had owned _Sorrow_. Tonight, _Anguish_ would join their collection. Hopefully, the secret would begin to reveal itself. Their jobs didn't usually bother Merrick, but nothing felt good about this one.

"My dad spent five years searching for a sunken ship. Maybe he found a pirate treasure?"

"That sounds nice." At twenty-five, Merrick had never expected this to be his way of life. While their job might not have been a legal one, they were good at it; and now that talent could save Loren's life. The Silvans were like family to Merrick and their safety meant everything, but if there really was a treasure? Well, his life could perhaps change in fantastic ways.

Behind them, the gallery was alive with the opening of J.D. Cunningham's show. Merrick slid his hands into the pockets of his black trousers as he scanned the crowd. Security would be focused on that high-dollar collection. Who would miss a gloomy image of a bald man's agony?

A tall, dark-haired man walked into view with his gaze on the crowd around J.D. Even from a distance, Merrick could see the young man's blue eyes. His heartbeat quickened, even though it was probably just wishful thinking on his part that Wyatt's son, Grant, was there.

After all, why would he be?

"Have you talked to Grant lately?"

"His mom did." Wyatt glanced at the four corners of the ceiling. "He was going to stay with a friend who's a cop, so he should be safe."

"Was he coming to town?"

"Grant? No, why?"

"No reason, just with your dad and all, I wanted to make sure he's safe, too."

Wyatt's focus was still on the security of the room. He hadn't noticed the man who looked like Grant, nor the interest Merrick had hoped to hide. "I'm not sure what my dad's gotten mixed up in, but he always said _my_ life was going to ruin the family. Now he's the one in hiding or..."

Nothing ever seemed to bother Wyatt, no challenge he couldn't overcome. Tonight, though, he was double-checking everything. While that added to Merrick's trepidation, he couldn't blame Wyatt for his precision with this heist. "Think someone could really have kidnapped your dad?"

"I don't know." Wyatt rubbed his chin as he studied _Anguish_. "I hope he's just in hiding. There's not been a ransom request made and the cops didn't really have anything to go on."

"We'll find him."

"Stupid, ole art teacher. What was he thinking?"

Merrick scratched the dark stubble on his cheek. "If it does lead to treasure, we're going to run into trouble, too."

"I can't imagine how this leads to anything."

"Maybe when we get all the paintings together, it'll make sense."

"Let's hope." Wyatt glanced at him, then at the crowd. "There's seven total?"

"Yes."

Wyatt nodded. "Tonight's a go. I'm going to take another look around."

"All right."

When Wyatt walked away, he passed a red-haired man with a bushy beard who nodded at him, then winked at Merrick.

Merrick smiled, but turned his gaze to the crowd. Grant was the only man he was interested in—even if Grant hadn't spoken to him in over two months.

The young man came into view again. With his dark hair and thin, but strong frame, there was no mistaking him. He was the very image of Wyatt at age twenty-three. Grant _was_ there.

With a look to his left and then his right, Grant moved deeper into the mix of people.

"Wine?"

The portly man at Merrick's left offered him a glass of white wine. He was Thurman Allen, friend and benefactor, with bedroom eyes.

Merrick took the glass. "Thank you."

"He's cute."

"Yes." He had always been attracted to Grant. Besides his good looks, Grant possessed a charming sense of humor that always eased Merrick's troubles.

"I saw him first."

"What? Who?"

"The ginger staring just a moment ago who you shrugged off, who do you think?"

"No one, sorry. Yes, cute. He's all yours."

Thurman pursed his lips. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"What'd I do?"

Thurman huffed as he slid his left arm through Merrick's right and then led him to the Xanderclied painting. "I always admired Simon's work. Always full of suffering and anger, but yet a hint of light."

Merrick searched the crowd across the hall until he found Grant, who was still navigating through the small clumps of people talking or looking at the large framed paintings on the wall. How wonderful. Just moments before, he'd been thinking about how life was going to change for the better, and then there was Grant.

Seeing him sparked the memory of their first kiss. Grant had tasted of cinnamon, had held his breath as they parted. His hands had been so soft against Merrick's face.

Thurman stroked Merrick's arm. "I have a lead on another one of the paintings."

"Good." He caught Grant's gaze, and his heartbeat sped up. He was still drawn to Grant, even though he couldn't let them be together. While he wanted to save Wyatt's dad more than anything, his eye was on the promise of treasure. Maybe if he had money, he could make things right in his life and finally let Grant close.

"I bonded with these pieces." Thurman dabbed a napkin to his right eye. "Comes from growing up with a homophobic, abusive step-father."

Merrick put his hand on Thurman's arm.

"I'd look at these paintings that were physical expressions of everything I felt."

"They could save Loren's life."

"You both be careful." Thurman squeezed Merrick's arm.

"We will be."

"I want to show you something." Thurman turned his gaze toward the next gallery.

"Okay." Merrick stole another glance at the crowd, but Grant wasn't there. Hopefully, he hadn't left. Whether Grant was still upset or not, Merrick wanted to talk to him. He missed their friendship. The comfort between them had been there since the moment they'd met five years ago. Their friendship had been leading up to more from the beginning, something Merrick had wanted, but couldn't allow.

Thurman led him through an archway into a room lined with eight-by-ten-inch paintings on thin canvases without frames. They stopped before the third painting of horizontal lines in shades of dark brown and red.

"Now _this_ is one I would love to have." Thurman rested his hand on his chest. "It's spectacular."

Merrick frowned. "You want that? It looks like a kindergartener did it."

"Hush."

"I'm just saying..." Merrick shrugged. "Fine, you want it? I could pull it off the wall and stick in my jacket." He glanced up to his right at the camera watching him, a red light above the lens blinking.

"No." Thurman swatted at Merrick's hand. "This is about Simon's painting and Loren."

"You'd pay for these?"

Thurman leaned close. His breath smelled of wine. "You're an art _thief_ , not a critic."

"Probably a good thing for this artist."

Thurman gasped.

Merrick swallowed hard. " _You_ didn't paint these, did you?"

Thurman tilted his head. "If I did, you'd be taking me to dinner tonight and doing my bidding." His gaze went to the paintings. "Sadly, no, they're not mine."

"I _thought_ you painted better than this."

Thurman smiled, smoothing down the side of his short, black hair.

Merrick stole a glance to his left. Grant stood in the hallway, still scanning the room. As Merrick watched, Grant's gaze turned and then met his. He smiled, hoping that Grant wasn't still upset with him. Tonight might hold promise for them if Grant still felt something for him, because the secret keeping them apart could be irrelevant soon.

"Did you hear me?" Thurman's tone was stern.

"Yes, sorry." Merrick met Thurman's eyes. "You really want this one."

Thurman looked over Merrick's shoulder. "Oh." Thurman pulled Merrick closer. "Remember, he broke your heart."

It was really the other way around, but Merrick wasn't going to correct him. "It's fine."

"Why is he here?"

"I'm not sure. Looking for his dad, perhaps." Merrick took a sip of wine. Maybe the sweet apricot flavor could distract him from his fantasies of Grant.

Grant stepped into the gallery with a glare fixed on Merrick.

Merrick patted Thurman's hand. "Excuse me."

Thurman released Merrick's arm, returning Grant's angry look. "Don't get distracted."

"I won't."

Thurman nodded at his drink. "Want that?"

Merrick handed over his wine glass. "Enjoy."

Thurman winked at him, then sipped his wine as he headed back to Simon's exhibit.

Despite Grant's frown, he looked good. His hair was shorter than it had been, but his blue eyes were as vibrant as Merrick remembered. "This is a surprise."

"Is my dad here?" Grant's brow furrowed.

Best stick as close as possible to the truth, but Merrick hated lying... _again_. "He's here somewhere, yes."

"I need to talk to you." Grant's voice was loud, his words rushed. Sweat lined his brow and he fidgeted with the corner of his jacket.

"All right." Merrick led him to a dimly lit hallway lined with closed office doors, then faced him. "What's wrong?"

"Tell me the _truth_. The day you kissed me—"

"Grant—"

"I thought we were finally going to admit our feelings for each other."

Merrick rubbed his forehead, sighing.

"But you stopped us; said no, that shouldn't have started."

"I didn't want—"

"You had your reason, you said, of why we couldn't be together, but you wouldn't tell me."

"Look, I don't—"

"Is it because you're a thief?"

"Wh-what?" Merrick glanced at the people in the main hallway, who didn't seem to pay them any attention. With a heavy sigh, he grabbed Grant's arm, opened the office door behind them, then led Grant inside. He turned on the lights and then closed the door. "What are you talking about?"

Grant pulled his arm free. " _Now_ I understand."

The blood drained from his face. If Grant knew, who else did?

Tears lined Grant's eyes. "I was a _fool_. I thought the kisses, the talk of a future, were real."

"They _were_." Merrick put his hand over his heart that felt like it was doing flip-flops. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"But you _did._ " Grant wiped his eyes. "How long have you been lying to me?"

"I never lied about my feelings for you. I just couldn't tell you about my job."

Grant shook his head.

Merrick put his hands together at his lips as if in prayer. "Who told you?"

" _This_ is what matters to you?"

"Yes. Whoever told you is dangerous. You don't know what you've gotten into."

"No, I don't, because all I get are lies."

"Grant, please—"

"No." Grant felt around Merrick's ears, up into his hair, then unbuttoned his suit jacket. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

Grant held out Merrick's coat and then froze. His gaze locked onto the gun in the shoulder holster. He swallowed hard, then released the jacket. "Are you wired? Can my dad hear this?"

"No, he can't."

Grant shoved his hand into the pocket of Merrick's jacket. Merrick raised his hands, breathing in Grant's cologne, which reminded him of saltwater. Grant had worn it the day they'd made out.

Grant pulled Merrick's phone from the pocket. "Call him."

"Your dad?"

"I want to hear this from him. He was supposed to be here."

"He's here."

Through gritted teeth, Grant said, "Call him."

As Merrick called Wyatt on speakerphone, he met Grant's gaze. "I never wanted to hurt you."

Wyatt answered in a gruff tone. "What?"

"Grant is here," Merrick said. "He knows everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I know, Dad," Grant said. "I know why you're here tonight and what you're going to _steal_."

"Who told you—"

"It's true, don't try to deny it." A tear rolled down Grant's cheek. "I can't believe you lied to me all these years."

"We will talk about this later," Wyatt said.

Grant shot Merrick a look. "How could you do this?"

Merrick touched Grant's arm. "Let us explain."

Grant shook his head as he left the office, slamming the door behind him.

"I don't know who told him," Merrick said.

Wyatt sighed. "Follow him, make sure he gets home safe. I'll call his mother."

"All right. I'll meet you later."

Merrick ended the call, then hurried after Grant. Up ahead, Grant wiped his eyes as he left the museum. He'd hurt Grant _again,_ the one thing he'd never wanted to do. Grant had cried the day Merrick had told him they couldn't be more than friends, but tonight the tears came from anger and betrayal.

When Merrick stepped outside, near the parking lot, a blond, muscular man gripped Grant's left arm. An old, black Chevrolet van approached with its lights off and the side door open.

"Not good." Merrick ran toward Grant. "Hey!"

The blond pulled Grant toward the van, but Grant yanked his arm away.

"Scotty, forget it," the van driver yelled. "Let's go!"

Scotty shoved Grant off his feet, then leaped into the van. The door slammed as the van sped away.

Merrick knelt beside Grant. "Are you okay?"

"Don't follow them, please."

"I won't leave you, I promise."

The tires of the van squealed as it turned onto the main street, then drove away. It was too far to see if there was a license plate, but maybe Wyatt could get something from the security footage later.

Even as he helped Grant stand, Merrick kept his gaze on the parking lot. The two had run off easily enough, but he couldn't lower his guard. Something still didn't feel right.

"Stay with me." Grant's hold on Merrick's arms was tight.

"It's okay. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Wyatt ran to their side as a crowd formed. "Are you okay?"

Grant stepped back. "Leave me alone. This is all your fault." He took off into the parking lot.

"Grant." Wyatt let out a heavy sigh.

"They gave up without a fight." Merrick stepped closer to Wyatt. "Someone playing us already?"

"Maybe." Wyatt's gaze remained on Grant. "Please get him safe."

"Certainly."

"I'll have Rhonda meet you at Madeleine's."

At the doors of the museum, a bald-headed wall of a man stopped to watch. Out of place in a black leather jacket, the man held Merrick's gaze for a few breaths, then walked toward the loading dock. While the man was some distance away, the resemblance to an old friend was clear—only Vic Purcell was dead, so it couldn't be him.

"Merrick?" Wyatt's urgent tone pulled Merrick back to the moment.

"Yeah, I'll get him." He headed toward Grant, stealing one last glance at the museum. The man wasn't visible, but Merrick felt watched. Whatever was going on there, he didn't have time for games. All that mattered was getting Grant safe.

He put his arm around Grant's waist before leading him further to the right. "Let's take my car. I'll get you to someplace safe."

"What about my car?"

"We'll get it later."

He led Grant to his maroon Mazda RX-8 and then opened the passenger door for him. Thankfully, Grant got in without a fuss. Merrick closed the door, then hurried to get behind the wheel.

As he drove away from the museum, Grant stared at him for a heartbeat, then turned away. "I can't believe this is happening." His voice trembled.

"I'll keep you safe."

Grant turned his gaze out the passenger window.

They rode for a few more minutes in silence before Grant spoke. "Where are we going?"

"To our warehouse; it's got top of the line security. Your mom is going to meet us there."

"My mom? She's in on this secret, too?"

Merrick bit his bottom lip as he shifted gears. The bad feeling that had started forming earlier was taking hold deep in his gut. Tonight, he would meet Wyatt for one of their most important jobs and already things weren't going like they expected.

What else was going to go wrong?

* * * *

# Chapter 2

Madeleine's was Wyatt's art gallery downtown. In the building next door, Wyatt held seminars on ways to prevent art and cultural property loss. Little did his attendees know the extreme security of the building was more than an example for Wyatt's teachings. The marvelous system it hid in the basement had been in place long before Merrick had joined him and it still left him in awe. Wyatt knew his stuff, but he had probably never guessed he'd have to use the place as a safe house for his family.

It was after nine o'clock that night. Most of the restaurants, bars, and expensive apartments were closer to the square, so the older section of downtown was quiet. Tonight, Merrick was grateful for the lack of traffic.

He turned right off Sherman Street, into an alley. After he drove past four large, metal doors, he stopped at one with 137 painted in black along the top. From the console between him and Grant, he took a small remote and then pushed the button. The door rolled up, then he drove inside.

As the door closed behind them, Merrick scanned the area. To his right was a small office with the door standing open. Next to the office was an elevator. Beyond that was a section set up for Wyatt's presentations. A fifty-five inch flat screen was on the wall, with two rows of black chairs lined in front of it. To Merrick's left was a collection of six security monitors and a work table. Past that was a wet bar and then an area sectioned off by a grouping of a sofa and loveseat.

"We're staying _here_?" Grant shook his head.

Merrick shut off the engine. "You'll be safe here."

"Doubtful."

Grant's mom, Rhonda, stepped out of the office, her smile warming her round face. She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear as Merrick and Grant exited the car. "Honey, are you okay?" She hugged Grant.

"I want to be left alone." Grant's tone was so soft that Merrick barely heard him.

"All right." Rhonda looked at Merrick. "I'll get him set up downstairs."

Merrick nodded.

Rhonda led Grant to the brown elevator door, then pressed the down button. After they were on their way to the basement, Merrick let out a deep breath. He needed to focus.

Focus.

Like that was possible after tonight. The stress of the job later tonight wasn't anything he couldn't handle. It was Grant's mood that was distracting. Even after an attempted kidnapping, Grant seemed to be calm. It was only Merrick's lies that had upset him.

With a heavy sigh, he went to the bar and then grabbed a soda bottle from the fridge. While he opened it, he went to the panel of six security monitors that were stacked in two rows. One monitor showed the inside of Madeleine's, another showed the front door of the gallery and then one displayed the front of the building they were in. One screen showed the alley to the right, while another gave the view to the left. The last monitor showed Rhonda and Grant entering the secure space in the basement.

A big part of him wanted to go down there and comfort Grant, to make things right between them. Maybe he could take a soda to Grant as a peace offering. But then again, maybe Rhonda would have better luck at calming Grant's anger than he would.

Grant was probably safer than he'd been in a week, and yet Merrick wasn't ready to relax. With someone after Loren and an attempt to get Grant tonight, something was going on, but what?

As he took a drink, a car appeared on the monitor. It turned onto Matthews Street, which ran in front of Madeleine's and the seminar office. Energy swirled in Merrick's gut. The headlights blocked sight of the car, but it was going too slow for his comfort.

"Now what?"

A primer-colored Chevrolet Chevelle SS parked along the curb in front of Madeleine's. The headlights went off, then the bald man from the museum stepped out. He went to the front door of Madeleine's and then knocked on the glass.

Merrick zoomed the camera in. The bald man had the same beady eyes and jagged scar down his cheek as Vic. It _had_ to be him, but he'd supposedly died six years ago, so how could it be?

Vic waited a few breaths, then peered inside the dark gallery. Somehow, he seemed to know Merrick was there.

As Vic moved away from the door, Rhonda joined Merrick. "He looks familiar."

Why was Vic following him? First at the museum, now here. How had Vic even found him after all these years?

Vic got back in his car and then drove away.

"Who was that?"

"Someone from my past I thought was dead."

Rhonda folded her arms. "Not much surprises me anymore."

If Vic drove down the alley and stopped, Merrick wasn't sure he'd step out. Maybe it was just the tone of the night, but he wasn't feeling very trusting. Even though nothing showed on the monitors, he looked around the building. A threat was there—maybe not from Vic, but someone.

"They found Jerard Hamilton tonight."

"Jerard?" Merrick studied the alley's monitor. Still no movement there.

"Loren's friend?"

"Oh, yeah." He met Rhonda's gaze. "He okay?"

"In ICU, beaten pretty badly."

He shook his head. "I was hoping this wouldn't get heavy. Someone's serious about getting the treasure."

"Yeah, I don't like it."

Merrick stole a glance at the monitors. Vic hadn't returned after all.

"Thank you for saving Grant tonight."

"Of course." He glanced at the elevator, wishing Grant was there, ready to forgive him.

Rhonda touched his arm. "Give him time."

Merrick smiled. "I'd hoped if he knew the truth, it'd make things work out for us."

"I know he cares about you."

"Yeah." He wanted to believe that was true, but after tonight, he wasn't sure Grant would ever talk to him again.

"And I know you care about him."

He glanced at the view of the secured entrance into the basement. Grant was behind the door, probably pacing with anger, or maybe just hurting from their lies.

He caught Rhonda's stare and then blushed at her grin. "I need to go meet Wyatt."

"You two be extra careful tonight."

"We will. You, too." Merrick went to the driver's door of his car. "Set the alarm after me, then stay in the basement."

"We'll be fine here, don't worry about us."

Merrick nodded, but worrying seemed to be all he could do.

As Merrick drove back to his apartment by Lake Maren a few miles away, his thoughts were full of the angry tone and the tear-filled eyes Grant had when he confronted him.

I was a fool. I thought the kisses, the talk of the future, were real.

It wasn't like he'd intended to hurt Grant. He'd just forgotten he had to keep the secret about his and Wyatt's job. Grant had such an endearing smile and even the slightest touch from him raced through Merrick. A life with Grant would've been such a wonderful thing. He'd just forgotten it couldn't be.

He hit his head against the seat as he let out a growl. It'd broken his heart to push Grant away after letting him get so close, but Grant never saw that, and sure wouldn't now. It wouldn't matter if Merrick had money or not. Grant only thought of him as an art thief and a liar.

* * * *

# Chapter 3

Maybe being an art thief wasn't a good career choice, but Merrick had to admit he loved the thrill of it. As Wyatt drove them through a sleeping city at two o'clock that morning, Merrick took in the stillness of the neighborhoods and streets. This was his favorite moment; when he slowed his thoughts down. The heist itself, the escape and another job well done were all fleeting moments. Headed to the museum, his heartbeat sped up. The night before them was still unknown.

Security at the museum was simple compared to some of their jobs. Tonight's job wasn't anything they couldn't handle, and yet they'd both been quiet since leaving the parking garage in their white Ford E-250 van. Wyatt had seemed deep in thought and Merrick had let him stay there. After all, he had so many questions of his own swirling around.

"We need to focus." Wyatt's tone was almost a whisper.

"Are you telling me or yourself?"

Wyatt glanced at him, then back at the road. "I'm not sure."

Merrick opened the glove box, grabbed a black ski mask and gloves, and then closed it. He put the ski mask on, then folded it up. This had to be about getting _Anguish_ , nothing more. Loren's, and possibly Grant's, lives depended on their success. No distractions, no mistakes.

Whatever trouble the Silvan family was in, Merrick worried about Grant the most. He'd been unprepared for the shock to his world, and at a huge disadvantage. Grant was probably still pacing the floor, angry at them all, but at least for tonight he was safe. That fact would help Merrick focus on the task ahead of them, even if he did still feel horrible for hurting Grant.

"We'll have to deal with him later."

"Grant?"

"No, Vic." Wyatt cast him a dirty look. "Why'd you think I meant Grant?"

"He's a bit furious with both of us."

"I'll talk to him."

"You haven't talked to him yet?"

"He doesn't want to talk to me."

"I thought you went to see him."

"I intended to." Wyatt tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "I didn't make it."

"Oh, man—"

"What about Vic? I thought he was dead."

"Me, too, but I saw him earlier at the opening and then he followed Grant and me to Madeleine's."

Wyatt sighed. "Back from the dead and after treasure?"

"I don't know."

"Think he'll be a problem?"

Merrick slid on the gloves. "Hope not, but I'm not sure we can trust anyone right now."

"Best be ready for anything."

"Right." He was as prepared as he could be. In his backpack, he carried a tool kit, stun gun, flashlight, gun clip and knife. A holstered gun was clipped to the back of his jeans. His weapon of choice, though, was the baton strapped to his thigh. While he hoped to not have to use any of that, he would do what it took to protect Wyatt and their escape.

Wyatt turned onto a side street that led to the parking lot of the Galloway Museum, a massive tan, brick building with bronze sculptures of dancers gracing the parking lot and entrance. Grant's Ford Fusion was still parked there, alone underneath a lamp near the end of the lot. They drove past it, then around the building to the loading dock.

Wyatt lowered his ski mask. "You're sure the security system—"

"Yes." Merrick pulled his mask down. "It's going to be the same answer every time you ask."

"And sensors?"

"Yes, and cameras." Merrick sighed. "We've gone over this I don't know how many times; the system, the floor plans, the exits, the guard."

Wyatt turned off the headlights, then backed the van up to the door. "I just want to be sure I've got this."

"You've got this." With the sound of metal scraping, he shot a look at Wyatt.

"Damn it," Wyatt said under his breath as he stopped the van.

Merrick bit his bottom lip. Tonight of all nights, why did things keep going wrong? With the promise of the Silvans' safety and his own cut of the treasure, they just had to get through this. Just four more paintings to go after tonight. They could do this.

Wyatt put the van into Drive, scraping the side again before coming to a stop. "We're going to dump the van anyway."

"It's fine." He took a deep breath and held it for a few heartbeats before exhaling. Was it just the seriousness of the job tonight that was giving them grief, or was something bad about to happen? Whichever it was, they were going to have to face it.

"Something wrong?"

He met Wyatt's gaze. "No, I just never thought I'd be an art thief."

"And yet, here you are."

"Yeah." He put on the backpack, then made sure the straps were tight. "We'll save your dad and Grant."

"Thank you." Wyatt shut off the engine. "Hopefully, the badge I fixed tonight still works." Wyatt grabbed a leather pouch from the console and then tucked it into his waistband.

"Let's hope you don't have to pick any locks. We'll get caught for sure."

"Funny." Wyatt took a deep breath and then blew it out. "I'll reset the alarm once we're in, should give us about two minutes to get the painting."

"Got it."

"Let's go."

They rushed to a gray entrance door on the left of the large garage door. A small, black box was on the wall beside the door handle. Wyatt tapped the fake badge against it, a green light blinked, and then the door unlocked.

Merrick opened it, letting Wyatt step inside. "You never cease to amaze me."

Inside, they found themselves in a room lined with four suits of armor on either side. Wyatt walked past the knights to a door twenty feet away. Merrick remained near the exit with his gaze locked on the black hollows of a helmet where a knight's eyes would have been. "These are just creepy."

"Stay focused."

"What if they move?"

"Relax, this isn't that kind of job." Wyatt tapped the badge against the door sensor, then frowned as he looked at the door.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think this is armed."

"That's not good. The guard just forgot to set it?"

"Doubtful."

"Figured."

Wyatt opened the door, then stepped into the hall. Merrick pulled the baton free and then tucked it against the back of his arm. He followed Wyatt down a hallway that went thirty feet, then turned to the left. At the corner, Wyatt let Merrick go in front of him. "Be extra alert."

Merrick nodded. "I'll take care of the guard. You get the painting." Ahead of him, the dimly lit hallway was lined with large paintings of dragons. A metal sculpture of one stood in the middle of the walkway, its mouth open in a silent roar. Merrick slid his hand down its side as they crept by. Did the dragon know where the guard was...or was _it_ the security?

He glanced at the camera on the wall that was aimed down at them. The red light he'd noticed earlier wasn't on. Was the camera? He stepped into the gallery on his right and then looked at the cameras there. None of them had red lights. "I don't think the cameras are on."

"Oh no." Wyatt ran to the Xanderclied gallery. "No, no, no."

Merrick followed, stopping beside Wyatt at the entryway. He caught his breath as he looked into the gallery. The wall was bare.

Wyatt punched the air. "Damn it. Where the hell is it?"

A woman's laughter sliced through the silence of the museum.

"No." Merrick caught Wyatt's gaze. It couldn't be her. Not her.

"Jordan," Wyatt said through clenched teeth.

Behind Merrick, heavy footsteps rushed toward him. He turned as a man dressed in black charged toward him. The man threw a punch, hitting Merrick on the jaw. Merrick recovered from the hit, then slammed his shoulder into the man's chest. He shoved the man against the wall, then punched the man in the face.

"Let's go!" Up ahead, Wyatt ran down the hall.

The alarm screeched through the quiet building. They had very little time, but there was still one thing he had to do. He ran through the exhibit where Simon's painting was supposed to be, then into the room with the kindergarten paintings he hated.

"One, two, three." He pulled the third one from the wall and then ran into the hallway.

"Get the bodyguard," the man yelled.

As Merrick ran out of the gallery, an arm appeared at his neck level. He fell to the floor with a groan.

Scotty stepped over him, grabbed him by his shirt and then slammed him against the wall. "Got you."

Merrick hit him with the baton on his right side. Scotty leaned into the blow, then Merrick whacked Scotty's left arm. After he was released, he kicked the man in his belly. "I'm not the bodyguard." He grabbed the painting and then ran past the metal dragon, into the room of knights. "Bodyguard."

He shoved the back door open, then ran to their van with dark-tinted windows and the logo for the Galloway Museum on the side.

"Hurry!"

Merrick climbed in the passenger side, being thrown back into the seat as Wyatt sped away from the loading dock. He placed the small painting on the floor between his seat and the middle console, then fastened his seatbelt.

He'd been right when he felt like something bad was about to happen, only he'd underestimated just how awful it would be. Jordan Ciarra refused to lose. He'd learned that the hard way. That lesson had left him recovering at Wyatt's for three weeks with a gunshot wound, mild concussion, and a broken arm.

"We're going to run into all kinds of greed." Wyatt pulled off his ski mask, then dropped it between them.

"Why her of all people?"

Wyatt shook his head. "I suspect she's the one who told Grant."

"And tried to get him tonight." Merrick pulled up his mask. "She's toying with us."

"This changes things."

"Yeah. We're in it deep now. Hope you have some fantastic plan."

Wyatt whipped his gaze to the side mirror. "Hang on!"

The black van from earlier appeared on Wyatt's side. With a hard hit, it forced them onto the curb. Wyatt slammed on the brakes, struggling to control the van as they slid toward a utility pole.

Merrick braced himself in his seat as the van turned. They hit on Merrick's side, rocking the van before the engine died and the dash went dark.

"You okay? They came out of nowhere."

"Yeah." Merrick pressed the palm of his hand against his right temple as he looked forward. The black van was backing up. "Wy, get us out of here."

Wyatt turned the key. The engine whirred, sputtered, and then died. "Damn it!"

"Wy—"

"I know!"

The black van stopped ten feet in front of them and then the side door opened.

Merrick unfastened his seatbelt and then grabbed his gun.

Headlights illuminated the back of the black van. If that was more of Jordan's thugs, Wyatt and he didn't stand a chance.

"Come on!" Wyatt cranked the engine.

A dark Chevrolet Tahoe crashed into the back of the black van.

"Holy crap!"

"Come on." Wyatt turned the key again and again. "Start, damn it."

The engine turned over. Wyatt threw the van into gear while the Tahoe backed up and then parked in-between their van and the black one. All of the Tahoe's windows were heavily tinted, but Merrick felt someone was watching them from inside. "Do we have a friend?"

"Let's hope so."

As they sped away, Merrick kept his gaze in the side mirror. The Tahoe didn't pursue them. Only when they turned onto National Street, with no one following them, did Merrick relax into the seat. He removed his gloves and then let out a deep sigh.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He touched his cheek that still had a sting to it, then found a trace of blood on his fingertips. "Are you?"

Wyatt nodded. His eyes scanned the view ahead of them.

Merrick checked the side mirror. "Who was that?"

"No idea." Wyatt's jaw tightened. "Not sure I trust friends any more than enemies right now."

"Yeah."

"Damn it." Wyatt hit his hand against the steering wheel. "We've got to get Grant out of this, and soon."

"Just let me know what I can do."

So many other times out late with Wyatt, Merrick had thought about Grant at home, imagining him sleeping peacefully, snuggled up to a pillow, wearing only his boxer briefs while soft piano music played in the background. That quiet life had been the one Grant deserved and Merrick had dreamed of sharing that life with him.

But that life didn't include Merrick being a thief. In that world, all the secrets were intact and everyone was safe.

"Let's not go to the warehouse." Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror. "I don't think we're being followed, but just in case...let's not lead Jordan there."

"All right."

"I'll call Rhonda after we get settled."

Merrick took a deep breath and held it, wishing he could calm his nerves. Grant might be furious with him and Wyatt, but they had to get Grant to a safe place. Jordan had gotten to Grant without them suspecting a thing. If she'd hurt him, Merrick wouldn't have been able to help him. He knew first-hand how dangerous she was, and she'd exposed their secrets and then led Grant back to them—a messenger unaware of how much danger he'd been in.

Thinking about Jordan hurting Grant scared Merrick more than facing her himself. Grant would be helpless against her, nothing more than a rag doll for her to torture. Whether Grant was angry with him or not, he was going to have to let Merrick protect him. Grant meant too much to him and he couldn't bear to see him harmed. Whatever it took, Merrick would keep Grant safe.

* * * *

# Chapter 4

By the time Merrick and Wyatt had hid the van and then returned to Merrick's apartment, the morning sky glimmered in shades of gold. Merrick had just enough time to shower and then dress in jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt before he needed to head to Madeleine's for the day. With a yawn, he slid on a shoulder holster, then a jacket that hid the gun. The lack of sleep would catch up to him by the afternoon. Fortunately, he didn't expect any activity at their gallery other than a few tourists stopping in to peek at the local artist's display. They wouldn't buy anything, just look, maybe ask for directions and then not bother him anymore. That would be fine. There were other things to do today.

When he arrived at the gallery, he parked in the alley next to a tan metal door with the word Madeleine's printed in white letters on it. Ahead of him, the warehouse appeared to be locked up safe. In the basement, Rhonda might have been making breakfast, while Grant sat at the table, possibly asking her again why Wyatt and Merrick hadn't shown up. They were going to have to face Grant's anger—and maybe even Rhonda's after she'd been left alone to handle all the night's surprises with her upset son.

Grant deserved to be upset, Merrick couldn't disagree. Still, the turmoil between them felt horrible. Maybe things would be better this morning after Grant had some time to calm down?

Maybe?

From the middle console, Merrick removed a small present that fit in his hand. It was wrapped in silver paper with a blue bow. He'd bought it weeks ago for Grant, intending to apologize, but hadn't had the opportunity. Today might be his last chance, and no doubt he'd need all the help he could get.

He put the gift in the pocket of his brown leather jacket. Next, he grabbed a black portfolio from the passenger seat, then headed to the door. With a yawn, he slid a key into the doorknob, then opened the door. Inside, to his right, an eight-foot abstract painting done in bright shades of red and oranges leaned vertically against the wall. Past that was a plain, metal door that connected the gallery with their building next door. On his left was a work table with two crates that had Bruce's Apple Orchard labels on the side, but yet contained cement sculptures of turtles that he needed to place in the front window today. About six feet beyond the table was a small office. The door was closed, but light lined the bottom. They must have left the light on last night when they headed to the opening at the Galloway Museum.

But the alarm wasn't set, either.

"Odd."

They wouldn't have been careless in leaving the place unprotected the night before. With a quick glance around the room, he listened for footsteps or guns being readied, but the gallery was silent. Was someone in there with him? It was doubtful Wyatt was there, when he'd gone home to change clothes. Their assistant, Summer Holihan, wasn't due until about ten minutes after nine in her usual tardiness. Rhonda and Grant wouldn't have left the warehouse.

The way things were going, Jordan probably waited in there.

Merrick put the portfolio on the table, then drew his gun. With it aimed, he opened the office door and then stepped into a small room. Inside were only a gray metal desk and the black chair where Grant sat with his arms folded to his chest.

Merrick lowered the gun. "Don't scare me like that." While he'd expected to find Jordan and all the badness she would bring, the glare on Grant's face was more troubling. "I thought you were with your mom."

"Well, I figured _one_ of you would show up eventually."

Merrick holstered the gun. "It was a bad night."

"Did you steal the painting?"

"No."

" _Stop_ lying to me. It's all over the news."

"I'm not."

Grant shook his head.

"I know you're feeling a whole range of emotions right now—"

"You have no idea."

"Please...don't be mad."

Grant rolled his eyes.

"Do you realize how much danger you're in?"

"You mean like my grandfather possibly being kidnapped? Like how some brute tried to throw me into a van last night?"

"Your dad is excellent at what he does—"

"I wouldn't know anything about that, now would I?"

"Let us protect you."

Grant held Merrick's gaze for several breaths, then shook his head. "I should've known it was bad when you couldn't tell me what your secret was."

Merrick bit his bottom lip. "I didn't want to hurt you, but I couldn't tell you the truth. I could taint your life. If I was arrested—"

"Was what happened between us a lie?"

"No."

"How can I trust you?"

"I never lied to you about that. I just couldn't tell you about my real job, or your dad's."

"Lied."

"How many times do I need to say I'm sorry?"

"At least a few more."

"I will." Merrick held Grant's gaze.

Grant sighed, then approached him. He traced the bottom of the bruise forming on Merrick's cheek.

Merrick closed his eyes, focusing on the contact that caused his heart to race. Grant's fingers were cold, but the touch felt so familiar.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It was just a bad night."

Grant lowered his hand. "You didn't get the painting?"

"No." Amongst the blue buttons on Grant's shirt, a silver one lined up with Grant's heart. Merrick rubbed his thumb over the excessive thread that had to be Grant's doing. The button held Merrick's interest, but what would happen if he slid his hand over, across a nipple? Would Grant welcome his touch?

Grant let out a deep breath. "I can't believe this is happening."

"This?" He pressed his hand flat against Grant's chest.

"No." Grant's cheeks reddened. "I mean...yes, but..." He bit his bottom lip.

"I bought you something..." Merrick pulled the present from his pocket, then handed it to Grant. "...to apologize."

"It'll take more than this."

"I know, but I'm willing to try."

Grant took the present and then tore the paper off, revealing a small cardboard box. After he opened the top, he pulled out a small statue surrounded by bubble wrap. He tore the plastic and then lifted out Dedo, the cross-toed gargoyle.

Merrick waited to see Grant's reaction. If the sweet grin appeared like after their first kiss, maybe there was still hope for them. He wanted to see that smile...and then there it was.

Grant stroked the gargoyle's thick nose. "He's adorable."

"I know that's one of your favorites. He can watch over you when I can't."

"I'm glad you were there last night. I don't know what I would've done."

"I'll always protect you." He touched Grant's arm. "I want to make things right between us. We could try again, no secrets this time."

"No."

"Can I at least try to make this better?"

"You have no idea what I'm feeling right now."

"I know you're upset that your dad tried to shield this life from you, but he only meant to protect you, not exclude you."

"Like you did?"

"I didn't think I had a choice."

Grant shook his head.

"I'm glad you know the truth, though. It's a relief."

"A relief for who? I know you're doing illegal things. I should call the police."

Merrick bowed his head.

"You say you didn't want to lie to me, so why did you? And don't say because my dad told you to. You can handle him better than anyone."

Merrick shoved his hands in his pockets. "Because I've done some bad things that could get me into serious trouble." He shrugged. "I didn't want to bring that darkness into your life."

"But now I know."

"Yes, and I was hoping things would be better with us."

"Us?"

"I never lied about my feelings. That day at your folks was just a weak moment for me when I thought we could have a nice house and a life together. I forgot all the bad things."

"All the lies, you mean?"

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Really?" Grant turned away.

"It hurt me, too." Merrick ran a hand over his face. Grant was upset, and he deserved to be, but how could he make it better? A life with Grant had been a nice fantasy and he wasn't ready to let it go.

"My mom told me about why you were at the house for those weeks—that you'd been shot, not in a car wreck."

Merrick nodded. "Car wreck sounded less traumatic and wouldn't raise as many questions."

"More lies."

"That's what broke the spell. I couldn't let you see the wound under my shirt, and the reality of my life returned."

"How could we have had anything based on lies?"

"Things were supposed to be different. I was going to try to put this all behind me and start over." He met Grant's gaze. "It's just not working out."

Grant handed Dedo to Merrick. "You keep him. You need his help more than I do."

Merrick closed his hand around the statue and let out a deep breath. With his gaze on Dedo, he whispered, "I _am_ sorry about everything."

Three pounds against the front door echoed through the gallery. Merrick glanced at the round clock above the desk. It was 9:05. He was a few minutes late in opening the front door, but they hardly had customers and certainly not that early.

"Stay here."

Merrick went to the gallery, but froze to see the man at the door dressed in a dark suit with a buzzed haircut, polished shoes, and a long coat. The man had to be a Fed.

With his hand over his eyes as he peered into the storefront, the man's gaze locked onto Merrick.

"Oh, crap."

In his mind, Merrick ran through his escape scenarios. If he turned and ran, he wouldn't make it to the door before the agent either shot him or took him down. And if he really was in trouble, the agent before him wasn't alone.

He'd always talked about not wanting to be arrested, but it'd never been a real threat, until this moment. And worst of all, Grant was going to witness his downfall.

Merrick's heart pounded against his chest, but he didn't have a choice. The agent knew he was there and there was no escaping this. Merrick took a deep breath and tightened his hold on Dedo as he prepared to face a Federal Agent.

* * * *

# Chapter 5

Merrick turned on the lights, then entered the gallery. Four paintings lined both walls that ran the length of the room. Two eight-foot-tall angel sculptures stood in the center aisle. A small desk sat tucked in the back corner. At the front of the gallery, a sculpture of a giant chicken looked out the large glass wall at the downtown street.

As he unlocked the deadbolt, Merrick took a quick glance at the street. Only a black Tahoe was parked along the curb, so maybe he wasn't in trouble just yet. Maybe.

As he opened the door for the agent, he forced a smile. "May I help you?"

The agent stepped inside. "I'm Agent Squires with the FBI." He flashed his badge, flipped it closed and then slid it into his jacket pocket in fluid motion. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"All right."

"Opening a little late this morning?"

"Yeah." Merrick glanced at the storeroom, finding Grant standing in the doorway. Hopefully, Grant stayed back there. "I lost track of time."

"Were you aware a Simon Xanderclied painting was stolen from the Galloway Museum last night?"

"Yes, I heard that on the news this morning."

Squires held up a photograph of the painting. "Recognize this?"

Merrick nodded as he met Squires' gaze. "It's called _Anguish_. What do you want to know?"

"It was taken while other, more valuable works of art were left behind."

"Well, we don't really carry high-dollar or famous works here. We're strictly for local artists."

"You know Simon Xanderclied's work, though, even for just a local artist gallery."

"I know a lot of famous artists' works, actually: van Gogh, Michelangelo, Dali—"

"Monet," Grant said as he approached them.

"Xanderclied."

Agent Squires smirked. "Mr. Silvan."

"Yes."

"Someone in a black van tried to abduct you last night?"

Grant glanced at Merrick, then at Squires. "Yes."

"That van was also seen in the area of the museum early this morning."

Grant rubbed his face.

"You didn't report the attempted kidnapping, Mr. Silvan, why not?"

"My dad and I were going in later to give a report. I've just been hiding here until we felt it was safe."

"You were also at the museum last night during the attempted abduction?" Squires glanced at Merrick.

"Yes."

"That where you got that shiner?"

Merrick rubbed his bruised cheek.

"Lucky you were there to come to Mr. Silvan's aide." Squires nodded at Grant. "Your safety is our concern as well. No doubt this relates to your grandfather's disappearance. I can arrange for a safe house for you."

"No, that's okay." Grant folded his arms to his chest. "I'm not staying in town."

Squires furrowed his brow. His attention remained on Grant for several breaths before he pulled a photograph from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Do you know this woman? Jordan Ciarra, also goes by Jordan Chierra." He handed the picture to Merrick.

She was a beauty, with long dark hair and dark eyes. And yet, the warm smile hid a viper. Merrick could feel her snapping his wrist as if it'd just happened. "I wouldn't say we're friends, but yes, I've met her." He gave the picture back to Squires.

"Do you know where she is?"

"No."

"If you see her again, will you contact me?" Squires offered him a business card.

"Certainly." Merrick took the card as Grant stepped closer to him.

"Also, if anyone approaches you to sell any stolen works of art—"

"I'll be sure to call you."

Squires nodded and handed a card to Grant. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Davidson."

Mr. Davidson.

"Mr. Silvan." Squires glared at Merrick for a heartbeat before he left the gallery. He studied the front of the building as he went to the passenger door and then climbed in.

While Merrick couldn't see Squires through the tinted windows, he kept his gaze on the Tahoe until the agent drove away.

Grant touched Merrick's arm. "Are you okay? You're pale."

"I'm fine."

"This is worse than I know, isn't it."

Merrick met Grant's gaze. He couldn't lie to him, not about this. "Thank you for not turning me in."

"I wouldn't do that."

Merrick read Squires' card as he headed to the back. Mr. Davidson, Squires had said so casually, but his subtle threat wasn't missed.

"Mare?" Grant had his arms wrapped around himself. "I'm scared."

"It'll be okay." He wanted to hug Grant; to comfort him and to ease the pain between them. Could a hug make everything better, though? "We'll get you to your aunt, you should be safe there. We're meeting the plane later today."

"Plane?"

Merrick nodded. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

"Come with me."

"I can't. I have to finish this job."

"I'm worried about you, and I can see you're worried, too."

"Just let me get you safe, then maybe I can face this better."

Grant stepped closer. "I hate this."

"Things weren't supposed to be this way. I was trying for a second chance in life, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose everything."

Grant slid his hands around Merrick's waist.

Merrick placed Dedo on the worktable, then wrapped his arms around Grant's delicate frame. He closed his eyes as he tightened his hold. "I don't want to lose you."

Grant nestled his face in Merrick's neck.

"I _do_ care about you."

Grant pressed his lips against Merrick's skin.

Merrick's heart began to pound. He slid his hand down Grant's back. "I never lied—"

Grant kissed him. The light kiss was followed by a deeper one.

Merrick smiled, mesmerized by Grant's eyes.

"You haven't lost me." Grant touched Merrick's lips.

Merrick put his hand on Grant's neck, then kissed him. He paired his tongue with Grant's, pressing their bodies together.

"Oh!" Rhonda gasped.

Merrick stepped away from Grant to see Rhonda head back into the warehouse.

"Yes, they're in here." Rhonda smiled as she returned, followed by Wyatt.

Merrick's cheeks warmed as he met Grant's gaze. It was bad enough that Grant's mother had seen that, but at least Wyatt hadn't caught them.

Wyatt's brow was furrowed as he looked at Grant, then at Merrick. "What's going on?"

Grant tilted his head. "The FBI was just here, Dad."

Wyatt looked at Merrick. "They were?"

He handed Agent Squires' business card to Wyatt. "He asked about Jordan _and_ he knew my name without me giving it to him."

"Damn."

Grant stepped closer. "How could you keep all of this from me?"

"Who told you about us?" Wyatt said.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does."

Grant glanced at Merrick, then met Wyatt's gaze. "My whole life has been a lie."

"Grant, please, it's all complicated and I will tell you everything, but now isn't the time."

"When, then, Dad? _After_ I'm kidnapped?"

Wyatt sighed.

"You _all_ kept this from me. I feel like a fool!"

"I didn't want you to know. I only meant to protect you."

"It's not working." Grant walked away.

Wyatt nodded. "I know."

"We'll go to my sister's in Colorado," Rhonda said.

Grant shook his head. "This is about finding Grandpa, right? That's why you're doing this?"

"Yes," Wyatt said.

"Then I want to help."

"No, we're making sure you're safe, that's what matters right now."

"Of course, what _I_ want doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't." Wyatt's tone was loud. "We're getting you someplace safe and you're to stay there, understand?"

Grant let out a heavy sigh.

"He's right." Merrick handed the Dedo statue to Grant. Their fingers touched as Grant took it. The sweet smile Merrick adored slid across Grant's face. "Your safety comes first."

"Come on." Rhonda slid her arm through Grant's. "Help me with breakfast. We can talk about... _this_." She smiled at Merrick before she led Grant to the warehouse.

This discussion wasn't over, but Merrick wasn't sure which he wanted. Did he need to know Grant was safe in another state, or would it be better to have him there beside him? He'd just gotten Grant back into his life. He wasn't so sure he was ready to see him leave, despite the danger.

Merrick rubbed his face. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. So many new dangers were encroaching, and yet he just wanted to think about a life with Grant.

"I'll make sure your identity is solid." Wyatt studied Agent Squires' business card. "I won't let you be arrested."

Merrick smirked. "You make that sound easy."

"We don't need this guy snooping around."

A key slid into the lock of the back door, then it opened to reveal a blonde dressed in a yellow T-shirt and jeans. She was Summer Holihan, the art student who watched the gallery for them. Summer smiled as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You two are early."

"And you're late." Wyatt put his hands on his hips.

"Yeah, sorry," With a quick pace, she went through the doorway into the gallery.

Merrick stepped close to Wyatt. "Squires was in a black Tahoe. Probably has access to a whole yard of them. Think there's a connection to our guardian angel?"

"I wouldn't think so, but who knows."

"He asked about Grant's close call last night, as well. Knew the black van at the attempted abduction was around the museum at the time of the robbery."

Wyatt pursed his lips. "He knows we were there."

"You see why I'm worried."

"I'll work on this, you focus on keeping Grant safe."

"I will."

Wyatt nodded as he turned to leave the room.

Jordan. Agent Squires. An unknown guardian angel. Loren's disappearance. All of these were good reasons to want Grant to hide in Colorado. But then there was Grant's touch, his moan as their tongues paired, the feel of his arms holding Merrick against his awakening body. It was going to be okay between them after all. That dream future with Grant was becoming a reality and nothing could make Merrick happier.

"No." Wyatt stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Merrick.

"What?"

"You can't date Grant."

"What? Where'd that come from?"

"I'm just saying. I know you two are close and I don't want this to lead to anything."

Merrick tilted his head. "I'm not good enough for him?"

"It's not that."

"He's not good enough for me?"

Wyatt sighed. "I just wish none of this had happened. I never wanted him to know. I don't want him paying for my sins."

"I know that." He met Wyatt's gaze. "We'll get him safe and then we'll find your dad."

Wyatt nodded. "I never wanted him in _this_ world, not this."

"I know."

From the front of the gallery, Summer said, "There's a creepy guy pacing the sidewalk."

"I'll go look." Creepy guy sounded better than Wyatt's scrutiny over what he'd been doing with Grant earlier. At the doorway, Merrick turned and almost walked into Grant. "Hey."

"Hey."

Merrick touched his arm as he stepped around him. With a grin on his face, he stepped into the gallery to find Scotty standing at the front window with an assault rifle in hand. "Get down!"

He folded himself around Summer as they ducked behind a desk just before bullets shattered the front window and the sculptures in the aisle. Summer screamed as Merrick kept her wrapped in his hold until there was a break in the firing. He drew his gun and then fired four shots at Scotty, who ducked out of sight.

Merrick grabbed Summer's arm and then rushed her into the storeroom. Wyatt stood before Grant with a gun drawn. "Get out of here. I'll hold him back. Go!"

Rhonda ran across the storeroom to Wyatt's side.

"No." Grant started toward Merrick, but Rhonda grabbed his arms.

"We've gotta go." She ushered Grant to the back door.

Merrick stepped back into the shattered gallery, his gun aimed ahead. He ducked behind a statue as Scotty stepped into sight. Again, Scotty fired, sending bits of plaster down onto Merrick.

Scotty was trapping Merrick, not after a kill or he would have already.

At least, that's what he hoped.

Merrick aimed, but Scotty was closer than he expected. Scotty grabbed the gun, forced Merrick's arm down with his left while his right hook hit Merrick across the chin. He ducked the second blow, but Scotty grabbed him by his shirt and then slammed his forehead into Merrick's nose.

As Merrick stumbled back two steps, Scotty charged. He pinned Merrick against the wall with his hand around Merrick's neck. Scotty smiled as he began to squeeze.

The guy with the gun stepped closer. "Scotty, no! She said alive, remember?"

Scotty glared at him.

Merrick put his arms between Scotty's and then knocked them away. He hit Scotty across the chin and then again as Scotty stepped back.

"FBI! Everyone freeze!" Squires stepped in.

The guy fired at Squires. As the fight turned to Squires, Merrick ducked into the storeroom and then slammed the door. As he ran to the back door, he grabbed his portfolio from the table, then dashed outside. He got behind the wheel of his car and then sped away.

Only when he was several blocks away and no one was following him did he let out a deep breath and relax his grip on the steering wheel.

She said alive, remember?

She, no doubt, was Jordan and she wanted him alive. What was she up to this time?

"Alive." He chuckled. "Interesting."

* * * *

# Chapter 6

It had been almost an hour since Merrick had left Madeleine's. He'd talked to Wyatt during the drive. Although Wyatt's beloved gallery had just been destroyed, Wyatt sounded calm on the phone. He said they were all okay and waiting for him in room four. Certain he wasn't being followed, he headed to the Cardinal Motel on the north side of town.

Despite feeling safe, Merrick parked at one motel and then walked two blocks to the run-down Cardinal Motel. In his left hand, he carried the portfolio while his right was wrapped around the handle of the gun in his jacket pocket. When he knocked on the room door, he remained in view of the peep hole.

"Who is it?"

"Scorpion." Merrick let out a deep breath. "Tired scorpion."

The door unlocked and then opened. Wyatt let him inside, then shut and locked it again. Grant sat on one double bed by the door while Rhonda stood by the bathroom door. A black suitcase rested on the bed beside Grant.

Grant leaped up and then hugged him. "I was so worried."

"It's okay." Merrick felt Wyatt's glare. Although he wanted to hold Grant, he stepped back. "I've already had one fight today. I can't fend off your dad."

"I don't care." Grant sounded like he might cry. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." He looked Grant up and down. "Are you? Everyone okay?"

Grant nodded.

"We took Summer to a friend's," Rhonda said. "She's shaken, but okay."

"Good." Merrick put the portfolio on the bed behind Grant.

"You know what I said," Wyatt said as he walked past them.

"Hon, leave them alone," Rhonda said.

"Dad?"

"I don't want you dating a thief," Wyatt said to Grant.

"Why not? My dad's one."

Merrick scoffed. "Jordan's goons just busted up your gallery and you're worried about us dating?"

"We've got to get him out of this. Do you realize how dangerous this woman is?"

"Yes, I do. She almost _killed_ me a few months ago, or have you forgotten?"

Wyatt took a deep breath as he turned away.

Rhonda stepped closer. "Wy, we have bigger problems right now." She nodded at Grant. "Let this go."

"We need to get the paintings and find your dad," Merrick said. "Let's focus on that."

Wyatt paced for a few steps, then nodded as he faced Merrick. "Fine, but we get him safe first."

"Okay."

"Let's contact Thurman." Wyatt rubbed his forehead. "Find out when his plane is due and where the next painting is." He plopped down on the bed and then rested his head in his hands.

As Rhonda went to Wyatt's side, Merrick stepped close to Grant. "I'll be back."

He went into the bathroom and then pulled off his shirt. A slice across his right side was beginning to sting. The wound didn't look as bad as he expected, but it had bled some. It would heal, along with his bruised cheek. It'd just been awhile since their jobs had been so rough. Maybe he was good at fighting; maybe he was the bodyguard, but he didn't like it.

He turned on the water, letting it run for a bit before putting his hands under it and then splashing it over his face. Today bothered him. Twice now, those thugs had been after him. Did Jordan mean to take him out because she knew she could defeat him and leave Wyatt vulnerable? He hadn't fared well in their last fight, how would he do now when he faced her? And it was coming, that was for sure. She was out to get him and the paintings, and this time he had a weakness. It pained his heart to think about Grant being harmed to get to him. Maybe he should've just let Grant live life without him after all, but that thought hurt, too.

When he stood, Grant was behind him, holding a maroon T-shirt.

Merrick ran his wet hands through his hair, then dried off his face.

"That looks like it hurts." Grant's fingers tickled as they moved along the edge of the slice.

"It'll be okay."

"How'd that happen?"

"I'm not sure. Just realized it was there."

Grant put his fingers on Merrick's lips. "And this?"

Merrick glanced in the mirror. His lip was cut, but it didn't bother him. "It might hurt later. Usually takes a while for the pain to set in."

Tears filled Grant's eyes and his bottom lip quivered. "I was so scared—"

"It's okay." He hugged Grant. "This is what I do. I'll keep you safe."

Grant squeezed him.

Merrick closed his eyes and leaned his head against Grant's. His heart beat faster with their hold as his own fear about today began to sink in. If something had happened to Grant...

He kissed Grant's head and then gently broke their hug. He wiped the tears on Grant's cheeks with his thumb. "I promise we'll get you someplace safe."

"You've been hurt so much—"

Merrick put his finger on Grant's lips. "It's okay. We're here now."

Grant nodded.

"I promise things will be different soon, but I have to finish this job first."

"Just please be careful."

Movement caught Merrick's eye. Wyatt walked away from the bathroom door.

"I hate this."

"I know." Merrick kissed Grant's cheek. "We'll get through this, I promise."

Grant took a deep breath. "I brought you a clean shirt."

"Thanks." Merrick slid on the shirt, then followed Grant into the room. Wyatt peeked out the edge of the closed curtain. Rhonda sat on the bed, scrolling through something on her phone.

Wyatt met Merrick's gaze. "I got some clothes and cash. Fortunately, most of our gear was still in the car."

"That's good." He glanced at the suitcase. They were going to have to stay mobile. It'd suck—they'd done it before—but this time Rhonda and Grant were along for the ride, as well.

Grant slid his hands into his front jeans pockets as he faced his parents. "I want to know the truth, now."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick, then stood before Grant. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cultural Property Loss and Recovery Consultant job and the seminars—"

"That is all true."

Grant sneered. "You train museums how to _protect_ art, when you _steal_ art as well?"

"I find it slightly funny."

"Not hypocritical? Not like letting me grow up believing you have the noble job protecting art?"

"I do protect it. I don't want to see pieces ruined over greed. Like now, these paintings are going to save my dad's life."

Grant shook his head. "No wonder you brag about such a boring job. Good cover, Dad. No one would guess what you really do."

"If I have a hand in protecting it, I already have a hand in to steal it."

"Seriously? Do you realize what a stranger you are to me right now?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I have this life that I'm good at, but your mom and I wanted a normal life, too; one with our son, without worry or danger...normal."

Grant scoffed. "It's hard to have a normal life when everyone has a secret." Grant met Merrick's gaze. "How did you come to be part of this?"

"Me?" Merrick glanced at Wyatt. "We'd crossed paths a few times."

Wyatt nodded. "He was already trained, so I took him on as a partner."

"Already trained?" Grant tilted his head as he looked at Merrick.

"I told you I'd done some bad stuff in my past."

Grant looked at his dad. "So, you steal art, then what? Hold it for ransom?"

Wyatt smiled. "I've been stealing things since I was nine-years-old. I've made connections over the years. I can move things some thieves can't."

"Great, you're thieves-for-hire."

Wyatt took a step closer. "I'm trying to save my dad _and_ my son."

Rhonda stood. "Maybe we should keep moving."

Wyatt furrowed his brow. "We need to get him safe first."

"I'm not sure sending him to Sarah's is the best thing. I think we should stick together."

Merrick nodded. "I think so, too."

Wyatt jabbed his finger at Merrick. " _You_ don't get a vote."

Merrick glanced at Grant, who looked down. Had something changed since their moment in the bathroom just before?

Wyatt's phone rang twice. He checked the caller ID, then frowned as he answered. "Hello?"

Rhonda rubbed Grant's arm. "It'll be okay."

Wyatt caught Merrick's gaze as he put the call on speakerphone. "How'd you get this number?"

Jordan's raspy voice filled the room. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that nice art house belonged to Wyatt Silvan."

"Where's my dad?"

"Sweetie, how would I know?"

"What do you want?"

Jordan laughed. "Bet the surprised look on your faces right now is priceless, much like when _Anguish_ was gone."

"We won't let you win this," Wyatt said.

"Happy to catch you with your pants down."

"Won't happen again."

Grant fidgeted with his watch, breathing fast.

Merrick rested his hand on Grant's back.

"It won't? I think I'm up to two times, now. Merrick, dear, how's the shoulder?"

Wyatt's jaw tightened. "I want my dad back, safe and sound!"

The call ended.

Wyatt gripped the phone. "That woman!"

"Who was that?" Grant's voice seemed meek against the tension in the room.

"Jordan Ciarra." Rhonda glanced at Merrick, then at Wyatt.

"Jordan?" Grant touched Merrick's arm. "Is she the one—"

"Yes."

Grant caught his breath.

Rhonda grabbed her jacket. "We should move."

Wyatt nodded. "Where's the next painting?"

"Sullivan City." Merrick closed the suitcase.

"All right, let's load up. We can drive there." Wyatt put his hands on his hips. "We'll stay together, but everyone does what I say."

Grant chuckled. "Well, _that's_ still the dad I know."

* * * *

# Chapter 7

The drive to Sullivan City had only taken three hours, but it felt like the longest trip ever. Grant had barely spoken, which let an uncomfortable tension fill the silence. His mood troubled Merrick, but he had his own concern bogging his thoughts down. With Jordan taunting them, what troubles waited for them when they got to the next museum?

The Stedheim Gallery resembled the Capitol building in its Greek architecture. While the gallery still displayed famous and critically loved works, it was losing out to the larger museums in the city. Today, only five cars were parked in the lot. With there being less people, it would be more difficult for them to scout out what they needed without being noticed. But, everything seemed to be going wrong, so why should today be any different?

Wyatt parked near the exit of the lot, shut off the engine, then faced Grant and Rhonda in the backseat. "You two stay here." He handed the keys to Rhonda. "Be ready to go."

Rhonda huffed, but took the keys. "It'd be better to look like a family."

"No." Wyatt's tone was stern, but then it softened. "We'll go check this out. You two stay here."

Merrick slid an earpiece in, handed one to Wyatt, then to Rhonda.

Grant leaned up. "But—"

"No." Wyatt cast Grant an angry-father look. "No."

Merrick stepped out, catching Grant's gaze as he shut the door. The frown on Grant's face said a lot, but it was best Grant was out of this.

Rhonda moved to the driver's seat as Merrick headed to the museum entrance.

Wyatt was several paces ahead of him. "We'll just look."

"Copy." Merrick glanced around. No one followed them. No activity there other than four college students who sat on the grass near a bronze statue that spit water into a pond. All was well so far.

Inside, Wyatt greeted the two older women at a circular desk. Merrick went to a hallway on the left, lined with photographs of expectant mothers. He glanced at the cameras tucked in the corners, noted where the exit doors were. It was all second nature to him as he walked the hall, taking in the objects of beauty as well as how protected they were.

The hallway ended, so he headed back toward the desk. They could cross this route off.

Up ahead, Rhonda and Grant walked into the museum.

"Uh..." Merrick sped up.

"What's wrong?"

"They didn't listen."

Rhonda and Grant stood at the end of the hallway, looking around.

Merrick caught Rhonda's gaze.

"There you are." Rhonda approached him with Grant following.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like this." Rhonda leaned close. "I told him you two would look less suspicious with the _family_ around."

"Oh boy." Merrick rubbed his chin as he glanced down the hall in hopes Wyatt would be there.

Wyatt's voice came through the earpiece. "Honey, I can hear you."

"Where are you?" Rhonda started toward the desk.

"We'll look around. Bye." Merrick removed his earpiece. "Let's try the second floor."

"Are they fighting?"

"Probably."

"I've never heard them fight."

Merrick pursed his lips. "Let's just look for the painting."

They took the sprawling cream-colored marble stairs to the second floor. The landing branched out to their left and right, walls on both sides lined with framed paintings and photographs. They started down the hall to their right. Only three people moved past the works of art and didn't seem to pay Merrick and Grant any attention.

Beside him, Grant fidgeted with his watch. He wanted to hold Grant's hand, to enjoy the stroll through the museum. How nice it'd be if there was no stress or danger, only the feel of Grant's soft hand, his arm resting against Merrick's as they walked.

After they passed several paintings, Merrick grinned, bowed his head.

"What?"

He glanced at the security cameras in the corners, then at Grant. "You're distracting me."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You are."

Grant smiled.

Merrick stared into Grant's eyes for several breaths. The blue reminded him of the ocean; inviting and healing.

Grant lowered his voice. "Can my dad hear us?"

"Oh." He looked at the earpiece in his hand. "Maybe."

Grant nodded as he walked on.

Merrick fell into step beside him, forcing his attention to the art, even though he could feel Grant's looks.

Grant moved closer so their arms touched. He wrapped his pinkie around Merrick's, grinning as he turned his gaze away from Merrick.

The simple contact rushed through him. His fantasies of a life with Grant weren't coming close to how wonderful it felt to really have him at his side.

Grant stopped them. "You're blushing."

"See? Distracting."

Behind Grant, two sets of double doors led to a room where paintings in vivid colors of blues and reds flanked Xanderclied's _Despair_. He took Grant's hand. "Let's look in here."

As they stepped through the doorway, Merrick studied the rectangular room. With the recent thefts of Xanderclied works, the upgraded security around _Despair_ wasn't surprising. A wire ran from the bottom of the canvas, probably attached to a motion-activated alarm. Cameras aimed down from each corner of the room. At the two doorways, nestled into the high ceiling, were roll cages, which Merrick presumed were set to drop once the motion alarm was triggered. It was daunting, but nothing they couldn't handle. What troubled him was whatever trick Jordan had waiting for them.

Grant faced the door, sliding his arm through Merrick's. "I'm so nervous."

"Relax. Nothing is going to happen right now."

Grant caught his breath. "I've seen that guy before."

Merrick glanced at the doorway, finding it empty. "Who?"

A red-haired man with a bushy beard walked along the far side of the hall. Merrick had seen him before, too. He was the flirt from the Cunningham opening. Why was he there, today of all days? Was he a part of Jordan's game?

Merrick gripped Grant's hand as he slid his earpiece back into place. "Guys, we have a problem."

Rhonda's tone was low. "I know you don't want it to be like this, but we're _here_."

Wyatt shushed her. "What's wrong?"

Grant blew out a deep breath.

A whirring sound like a small fan started from the hallway. Merrick stepped in front of Grant.

The lights went out.

As the emergency lights came on, a black, foot-wide drone ducked under the doorway, then hovered. A blinking red light above the camera exposed it was aimed at them.

"That's not good."

Grant grabbed Merrick's arm.

"Get out of here." Merrick moved Grant toward the far door. The drone followed Grant.

"Merrick!" Grant pointed at the doorway.

A man dressed in black and wearing a white mask charged at him with his hand in a fist. Merrick blocked the man's swing with his left arm, then hit the man across the jaw. His attacker dropped to his knees.

Merrick faced Grant. "Get out of the room!"

Grant ran out, then stopped outside the next doorway.

Merrick yanked _Despair_ from the wall, sending the gates into motion. It left no time for him to escape, but all he needed were a few seconds. He slid the painting across the floor, under the gate and then into Wyatt's waiting grasp just before the gate slammed down.

"No!" Grant grabbed the bars.

The man stood. "That's my painting." A British accent charmed the man's deep voice.

"No, don't think so."

The man adjusted his mask before he tackled Merrick, slamming him against the wall. His attacker punched him in the nose, then jammed his arm under Merrick's chin. The man smiled, his perfect white teeth stark against the wisps of red beard that poked out from the mask. "You do live up to your reputation." He pressed harder against Merrick's throat. "I've been wanting to meet you for a long time."

"Sorry, I'm not available." Merrick shoved away from the wall with his leg. As the man stumbled backwards, the gates raised up. Merrick punched his attacker in the belly, then with a hit across the chin, knocked him down.

Merrick dashed under the gate, then slammed it closed. His attacker was trapped, but a gate at the end of the hall had them blocked as well. Wyatt was hunched over a panel in the wall. Rhonda waved Merrick to them.

Grant was pale, his hands shaking.

"He'll be minutes behind us," Merrick said.

"I know." Wyatt looked at the gate, then growled as he turned his attention back to the guts of the control panel.

Down the hall, the man put the drone through the cage and then placed it on the floor. The four propellers whirred and then it lifted off, headed toward them.

"I don't like this guy." Wyatt zapped two wires and then the gates moved.

They rushed to the other side and then Wyatt jammed his elbow into that control panel. The gate slammed down.

"Let's go!" Wyatt grabbed Rhonda's arm. She carried the painting as they ran.

When they ran into the lobby, the two receptionists were gone. Maybe they were just locked in a room somewhere, but Merrick didn't have time to help them. The whispered sound of the drone followed them.

Before they reached the front door, Merrick stopped. "Stay with your folks."

While Grant ran on, Merrick grabbed a portrait from the wall, spun and then whacked the drone with the canvas. With the painting pinning the drone to the floor, he stomped down until he heard the snap of plastic.

When he started to the door, his heart fell. Grant stood alone at the door. "I told you to stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you."

Police sirens were getting closer. He grabbed Grant's hand, then they ran outside. Two police cars and a black Tahoe pulled in one exit while two more Tahoes pulled in the far one.

"Crap." He led Grant back inside. "We're cut off."

"We'll get to the back." The stress in Wyatt's voice didn't help ease his worry.

They ran down the hall to the other side of the building. The gates were all up, but Merrick didn't stop. The other thief could be waiting still, but Merrick doubted he'd stuck around once the sirens approached.

He led Grant out a side exit, into an employee lot where three cars were parked. A Tahoe cruised down the side street, lights and sirens going.

"Wyatt, if you can hear me, get out of here." Merrick looked at the museum, then at the cars parked before them. Maybe he could hotwire one, but no doubt the Feds had already seen them. He could hold a gun to Grant, but they wouldn't believe Grant was innocent in this. Stealing a car was his best option. "Come on."

"Merrick?"

"It'll be okay." He went to the first car and then tugged on the door handle. It didn't give.

The Tahoe moved through the lot like a shark circling.

"Stick to the story."

Behind them, an engine roared, followed by the scrape of metal as a car jumped the curb and then stopped in-between them and the Tahoe. Vic leaned down, opening the Chevelle's passenger door. "Get in."

Merrick opened the back door for Grant. "Come on."

As they slid into the seats and then reached to close the doors, Vic floored it. With tires spinning, he took off, jumped the curb again, and then headed into traffic.

"They're following."

"Not for long." Vic accelerated, beginning to leave the Feds behind.

While Vic would get them away from the cops, Merrick wasn't so sure it'd be in one piece. He'd been on too many escape runs with Vic. He glanced at Grant. "Put your seatbelt on."

"My God, I've missed this!" Vic patted Merrick on the shoulder. "How the hell are you?"

* * * *

# Chapter 8

The car slid as they took a corner, pushing Merrick against his door. As Vic managed the turn, Merrick grabbed the seatbelt and then fastened it.

Vic scoffed. "You've gotten soft."

"I remember how you drive."

Grant leaned against Merrick's seat. "They have us on camera stealing a painting."

"Relax, we'll deal with that later. Seatbelt, please."

"There's facial recognition programs scanning everything." Grant crouched down in the seat. "They'll find us."

Vic sped deeper into the downtown, past abandoned warehouses and factories by the riverfront. They weren't being followed, but Merrick didn't relax. He took his phone from his back jean pocket, intending to call Wyatt.

"Hey, not yet." Vic put his hand over the phone. "I never thought I'd see you again, man."

Merrick rested his phone against his leg. "I know the feeling. I thought you were dead."

"I almost was." Vic's gaze went to the parking garage ahead. "Here."

Vic pulled into the empty garage, drove around the five levels to the very top, then parked facing the ramp down. "We'll be safe here. The cops don't come down here anymore."

"I'm gonna be sick." Grant flung the back door open and then got out.

"Don't puke on my car."

Merrick went to Grant, who leaned against the retaining wall, taking deep breaths.

"We're on security video—"

Merrick put his hand on Grant's back. "Yes, but I'm sure your dad will take care of it."

Grant groaned. "Is this how you and my dad operate?"

"No. We're usually more discreet. Less chance of getting shot."

"Not since the bank robbing days, huh?" Vic laughed.

Grant gulped. "Bank robbing?"

"Just...try to calm down. We're okay for the moment." Merrick scanned the horizon. No sirens laced the quiet. All seemed to be calm. Maybe they had escaped, but now he had to calm down Grant and face Vic, who hadn't really been dead after all. So where had he been?

Merrick joined Vic by the trunk. Vic raised it, fished his hand into a cooler full of ice, then pulled out a beer. He offered it to Merrick, then one to Grant.

Grant shook his head. His face was flushed, his hand on his belly.

Merrick took the beer. "Thanks for saving us."

"You owe me big time."

Vic opened the beer, then took a long drink. He studied Merrick, shaking his head. "Not who you used to be, huh?"

"No. Merrick, now."

"No doubt life with Wyatt is serving you well."

"Where have you been? The news said you were dead."

"Lucky for me. I barely got away. I thought you were dead, too, but then a few weeks ago, I saw you, well, I suspected it was you."

"I didn't see you."

"No, you were stick fighting with some guy in the ring, training at Fusion in Spring Harbor."

"Yeah."

"I recognized the fighting style. You'd dyed your hair, but it was you." Vic took a gulp.

"And now you just happened to be in Sullivan City?"

"I've been following you, watching out for you. Seems like you're in quite a mess."

"You could say that."

"Your beer's getting warm."

Merrick glanced at Grant as he opened the bottle.

Vic took another drink. "You're training again. That's good. Brian would've wanted you to keep fighting."

"I like it. It's relaxing."

"He believed you were going to be one of his best students.

"Yeah, I miss him a lot."

Vic tapped his beer bottle against Merrick's.

Merrick's phone rang. "That'll be Wyatt." He checked the caller ID, then answered Wyatt's call. "Where are you?"

"I'm clear. Where are you?"

"A parking garage on..." He raised his eyebrows at Vic.

"Seventh and Tyndale."

Merrick repeated the address to Wyatt, putting his beer on the car's fender.

"I'll be there. You okay?"

"Yeah." He met Vic's gaze. "I'm with Vic."

"Oh." Wyatt sighed. "I'll be there." The call ended.

"It'll be good to see him." Vic smiled, leaned against the car.

"What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, a bit of this, bit of that." Vic rubbed the bridge of his nose that had been broken one too many times. "You?"

"Same."

"I miss the old days, kid. We sure had some wild times."

"We did." Merrick smiled. "It's hard to believe it really happened, sometimes."

Grant took deep breaths, pacing.

"He gonna be okay?"

"Not sure." Merrick bit his bottom lip as he went to Grant. Words weren't going to ease the anxiety Grant had, but hopefully he hadn't lost his chance with Grant. He leaned against the wall, then stole a glance at the skyline of the city.

"Is it always like this?"

"No, oh no." Merrick faced him. "Well, sometimes, but no. Today went down without a plan." He ran a hand over his heart. "This is an example of why I couldn't let you into my life. I'm sorry about all of this."

Grant looked at the horizon, shaking his head, then he began to laugh.

"What?"

"It was my first law-breaking experience. I'm allowed to freak out, right?"

Merrick smiled. "Don't worry about today. The Feds already know who we are."

Grant looked at him.

"Squires didn't call me Mr. Davidson just to be polite."

Grant let out a heavy sigh.

"If they do catch us, I'm serious, stick to the story. I don't want you to end up in jail."

"I just want a normal life with you."

"I want that, too."

Grant hugged him.

"It'll be okay, I promise." Somehow, he'd make that normal life happen.

Somehow.

Grant nodded, then faced Vic. "Thank you for saving us."

Vic raised his beer bottle. "Thank you for not throwing up in my car."

Grant blushed as he caught Merrick's gaze.

"You're Wyatt Silvan's kid, right?"

"Yes."

He looked at Merrick and Grant in turn as he smiled. "This explains a lot."

Merrick smiled at Grant.

"Bet ole Wyatt's loving this."

"You know my dad?"

"Oh yeah, we ran into each other now and then."

Merrick smiled. "Back in the day, your dad was a rival more than a friend."

Vic chuckled. "I might have punched him in his pretty face a time or two."

"Rivals?" Grant's brow was furrowed.

Merrick touched Grant's arm. "I'll explain later." From the lower levels, tires cried as they maneuvered the turns. "I miss Brian and Steve. They robbed banks, but they were good men, too."

"Yeah." Vic bowed his head. "Kid, if you need my help, just call me anytime. Brian would've wanted me to watch over you."

"Thanks for the save tonight."

"Anytime." Vic stood as Wyatt's car approached.

Merrick handed Vic his beer. "Here, don't let this go to waste."

"You know I won't." Vic grinned.

"Thanks, again." Grant headed to Wyatt's car. Wyatt stood at the driver's door while Grant got in the backseat.

Vic grinned. "You just say the word and I'll be there. There's a bank in Taos I'd love to hit. The security is pathetic."

"I'll think about it." He clasped Vic's arm. "It was good to see you."

"Take care, kid."

As Merrick headed to their car, Wyatt nodded. "Vic."

"Wyatt." Vic stood tall. "You two be careful. I won't always be able to save your ass."

Wyatt chuckled. "Thanks."

Merrick met Vic's gaze for a breath, then got in the backseat.

Wyatt didn't linger, driving away as Merrick fastened his seatbelt. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Wyatt drove out of the garage, then headed out of the industrial district.

Merrick watched the buildings pass by, but his mind was in another city and day in time where gunshots echoed through the street, then Brian cried out as he fell to his knees.

With his eyes closed, Merrick rested his head against the seat as that tragic day replayed. The memory dug deep into his heart.

Grant held Merrick's hand. "What's wrong?"

He'd intended to never lie to Grant again, but he met Grant's gaze. "Nothing."

* * * *

# Chapter 9

After leaving Sullivan City, they returned to the warehouse next door to Madeleine's which was set up to be self-sufficient for a few weeks if they'd ever needed a hideout. In the basement, behind a secured door, were two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. It was that hospitable side they had sought out for the night.

In the basement rooms, Rhonda had one bed, while Grant took the other. On the main floor, Wyatt had been sitting in a desk chair before the security monitors, while Merrick had made a bed for himself on the sofa by the wet bar. Even with knowing they were safe there, he hadn't slept much. Wyatt probably hadn't slept at all.

Merrick picked up his phone from the floor and then checked the time. It was almost seven o'clock; probably time to get the day started no matter how much he wanted to sleep in. He stared at the ceiling fan for a few breaths, then put a hand over his eyes. Had Grant slept any, or like him, he'd just dozed on and off, his thoughts too full to let him rest. They hadn't talked much the night before, but Grant deserved to know the whole story about Brian. Merrick wanted to tell him—just not today.

"Good, good." Wyatt's soft voice carried through the silent building.

Wyatt was still in front of the monitors with his laptop open on the worktable. With his attention on whatever he watched, Wyatt didn't seem to notice Merrick was awake.

Poor Wyatt. He'd lost so much recently: his mom had passed away, his dad was missing, and now his business named for his mother sat in ruin with its windows boarded up. It all had to be affecting Wyatt, but if it did, he was keeping it close.

Merrick took a deep breath. These thoughts weren't helping. It was time to get to work.

After he stood, he stretched his aching body. Between the fights and the uncomfortable sofa, he really wanted a massage. It was going to be awhile before he could relax, though. They only had three paintings, with four to go—and Jordan possessed one of those. Facing Jordan probably wouldn't end well for him, but he'd do so when it was time. Who knew? Vic was back from the dead. Maybe Merrick stood a chance of defeating her?

His stomach churned. Vic _was_ back, but how? That day at the bank, cops had been everywhere. The shootout that had ensued still haunted Merrick's nightmares. The feeling of the bullet searing through his leg could still flare if he let the past return. Brian's cries of agony could still fill Merrick's ears if he opened his heart to the pain.

"The past is set." Wyatt leaned against the bar, his gaze down.

Merrick glanced at him, then at his makeshift bed. "I know."

"Sorry." Wyatt's voice was soft. "You looked troubled."

"Yeah." Merrick picked up the blanket, then made a half-assed attempt to fold it.

"What is it?"

"It's just...Vic lived, I lived, but Brian didn't." He tossed the blanket onto the sofa.

"You lived because I happened to be on Stewart Street that night."

"True." He rubbed his right temple. "I couldn't figure out why that night went so wrong, and now...turns out it didn't even go down like I'd thought."

Wyatt folded his arms. "I'm glad I was there."

Merrick chuckled. "Well, if you hadn't been, I guess you wouldn't have to worry about Grant's choice of a boyfriend."

"No, he'd be dating that jerk Richard and I'd be worrying about him being abused."

"You never did like him."

"He was a prick. You didn't like him either."

"Yeah, but I had my own reason for that."

Wyatt shifted his gaze to the elevator door. "Do you trust Vic?"

"Not sure I could ever trust Vic, but Brian did." Merrick shrugged. "He offered to help if we need him."

"I'll feel much better when I find my dad. We've got troubles we may not even know about yet."

"That's what worries me."

Wyatt nodded. "I just checked the security footage from the museum yesterday. Cameras stopped working before we even got there. Footage loops so it appears that all is well."

"That guy is good."

"He's _annoying_ , but yeah, he could've won yesterday."

"I'm sure the cops got a good look at me and Grant."

"I don't think we have to worry about that yet. We haven't met our guardian angel, but I think someone big is playing in this game."

Merrick rubbed his face. "All right. Let's get the next one."

Wyatt tapped the counter. "I'm starving? You?"

"You know it."

"I'll go get breakfast. Get everybody around. We'll eat, then it's back to work."

"Okay."

After Wyatt left, Merrick took the elevator downstairs. In the basement, he stepped into a hallway. To his left was a door with a keypad in the wall, a camera aimed at it and a motion detector on the ceiling that turned green as soon as he entered the hall. Behind the black, metal door was a generous collection of guns and gadgets that Wyatt loved so much. Also hidden away in there were the Xanderclied paintings and a few of their other stolen items.

To Merrick's right stood another door with the same security around it. Behind that door were the living quarters. The memory of his last stay there sent a shiver through him, but this time was different; better. Grant waited there.

Merrick entered his code, then opened the door. The first room he stepped into was a small kitchen, then past that was a bathroom. Its door was shut with the sound of the shower running inside. In the hallway to the left were two bedrooms. The door to Rhonda's room stood open, so she must have been in the shower. The last door was ajar, the room dark. He tapped on the door. "Grant? You awake?"

"Yeah."

Merrick pushed the door open. "Your dad went to get breakfast."

"You can turn on the light."

Merrick flipped the switch, revealing a small bedroom done in gray. Before him sat a single bed with a nightstand beside it. A TV sat atop a dresser to his left, a closet beyond that.

Grant was in bed, his chest bare and his legs covered by the sheet. His eyes squinted as he ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed so fragile, so lost.

"You sleep okay?"

"No, sit down." Grant scooted over. "Wish you could've stayed with me."

"You know your dad would've freaked out." Merrick sat beside him, then hugged him.

"Yeah." Grant rested against him, letting out a deep breath.

Merrick kissed Grant's shoulder. "We'll be leaving soon."

Grant moved back, sliding his fingers down Merrick's right arm.

Merrick kissed his forehead, then delivered a light kiss on Grant's lips. "Good morning."

Grant smiled, closing his eyes.

"Need coffee?"

"Probably." Grant opened his eyes. "I need to know something."

"Okay."

Grant took a deep breath.

"Something wrong?"

Grant started to say something, but then sighed instead.

"What is it?" Merrick traced Grant's knuckle.

"You robbed banks?" His words were fast, like he couldn't have said them if he thought about them.

"Did that keep you from sleeping?"

"It was one of the things, yes."

He hated to answer that question, but he couldn't deny it. Vic's presence in his life confirmed his past. "I did. I usually took out the guards so the other guys could get the money. I figured it'd keep them from just going in shooting and people dying."

"So that's what my dad meant by you were already trained."

"Also what I meant when I said I've done some bad things."

"You and my dad were rivals?"

"Well, occasionally we'd be trying to steal the same thing, but generally, it was pretty friendly. I thought your dad was so classy compared to the heathens I stayed with." Merrick smiled. "I saved your dad one time, then he saved me."

Grant shook his head. "I just...I can't believe this."

"I'm not proud of my past or now, but I'm trying to make the best of a very bad decision I made long ago."

"Which was?"

Merrick let out a breath. Grant's eyes were so vibrant, so lovely. It was as if they could see all of Merrick's secrets and yet everything was still going to be okay.

"You can tell me."

"I know." He ran his finger along the band of Grant's watch. "It's past, is all."

"Why'd you leave Vic and them to work with my dad?"

Merrick frowned. "Like I said, he saved my life."

"You thought Vic was dead. What happened?"

"It's past."

"I want to know."

"Maybe one day."

Grant raised Merrick's hand to a kiss.

"I never would have wanted you to see this part of my life."

"Why?"

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I don't. I can honestly say you're the most exciting boyfriend I've ever had."

Merrick grinned. "Boyfriend?"

Grant rolled his eyes, a blush on his cheeks.

"Are we okay, then?"

Grant cupped Merrick's face, then kissed him.

Merrick rested his forehead against Grant's. All he wanted was to be alone with Grant, carefree and in love, but this wasn't the time. Rescuing Loren and keeping Grant safe were all he needed to think about for now—despite how Grant's touch made his heart flutter. "We should get ready to go."

"Okay." Grant gave him a light kiss. "Promise you'll tell me the whole story."

"I will."

"Soon?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

Merrick stood.

Grant put his bare feet on the floor. He still wore his jeans. "This bed is surprisingly comfortable."

Merrick scoffed.

"You ever stay here?"

"A few times, yeah. The last time involved me wanting to die while your mom dug a bullet out of my shoulder after Jordan shot me."

"My mom?"

"Yeah." He winced. "Sorry."

"Sorry, why?" Grant stood.

"I feel like I keep revealing secrets that change your world and I don't mean to."

"It is a lot." Grant looked around the room. "I like it, though. Is that bad?"

Merrick slid his hands into his front pockets. "No, I don't think so. This has changed both our lives for the better."

"Oh, yeah?" Grant grinned.

"Yeah, I expected to spend life alone— _if_ I didn't end up in jail." He met Grant's gaze. "A life with you, though..."

Grant slid his right hand around Merrick's waist while he closed the door with his left.

Merrick met his kiss, sliding his hands over Grant's back. The kiss deepened as Merrick rested against the door. Grant slid his hand under Merrick's shirt, up to tease his left nipple.

The door knob rattled from the hallway.

They broke from the kiss, stepping away from the door. Grant grabbed a shirt from top of the dresser while Merrick opened the door.

Rhonda stood in the hall, dressed in a robe and a towel wrapped around her hair. With an ornery smile, she stepped into the room. "Did I interrupt?"

Merrick's face was on fire. "I was just...apologizing."

"I'm sure you were. Well, we'll be going soon, get ready to go."

Grant nodded. "I will."

Rhonda smiled, looking at Merrick as she closed the door behind her.

"You're adorable." Grant slid his hands around Merrick's waist.

"I'm going to lose my job."

"It'll be fine."

"You don't mind an unemployed boyfriend?"

Grant chuckled. "It's fine, I promise."

"I love your optimism."

Grant touched Merrick's lips, then kissed him.

Merrick held Grant close as their tongues paired. His desire rushed through him. His heart pounded as Grant's hands slid over his jeans. The urge to move Grant to the bed was overtaking him. What did it matter if he had a job to do or that Grant's parents were on the other side of the door?

Job. Danger. Wyatt.

Merrick broke the kiss, taking deep breaths as he stepped back. "Okay, you get dressed. I'm going to go—"

"Before you get into trouble?"

"Yes, get ready." He reached behind him for the doorknob, but couldn't find it. "I'm going to go take a cold shower or something."

Grant laughed.

Merrick opened the door, then kicked it as he left. He shook his head as he walked away.

Grant's voice filled the hallway. "Adorable."

Merrick smiled, stopping in the hall for a few breaths. He needed to focus on work and only work...not that he could. The feel of Grant lingered; his kisses, his touch. If only they could have more than stolen moments.

"Breakfast is on the table." Wyatt stepped into the bathroom, then closed the door.

Breakfast. Next painting. Saving Loren. Focus.

He went to the table where Rhonda pulled food containers from three fast food bags and then put them on the table. The smell of maple syrup and eggs wafted through the room. His stomach growled as he picked up a ham and cheese biscuit sandwich.

"I like seeing you two happy."

Merrick smiled. "Thanks. Your husband probably wouldn't be so thrilled."

"I didn't exactly marry him for his romantic tendencies." Rhonda patted Merrick's arm, her smile creating wrinkles around her eyes. "Don't worry about him."

It was good to have her approval, but she wasn't the one who'd be difficult to win over.

Grant came into the room, now dressed in a T-shirt and gray V-neck sweater, jeans and tennis shoes. "Something smells good."

"Eat up, then we'll leave."

Merrick pulled a chair out for Grant. After Grant sat down, Merrick sat beside him, handing Rhonda a napkin and then one to Grant.

Wyatt joined them, taking a sip of coffee as he took the sandwich Rhonda handed to him.

"Where are we going to next?" Grant put his foot on Merrick's.

Merrick smiled, but Grant's attention was on the inside of his sandwich.

Wyatt sat at the head of the table. "We got a tip that there's one in Ballinger, so I thought we'd go there. We'll check out my dad's house, too. See if he left any clues behind."

"Are we flying?" Merrick asked.

"We should, it'd be quicker. See if Thurman's plane is available." Wyatt pulled his phone from his shirt pocket, his brow furrowed as he studied the screen. "Odd."

"What is it?"

Wyatt held the phone up to show Merrick a picture of Thurman walking down a sidewalk.

Grant put his sandwich down. "Here we go again?"

Wyatt's phone rang.

Merrick met Wyatt's gaze. "Maybe."

Wyatt answered on speakerphone. "Hello?"

Jordan's voice was laced with her laugh. "Well, good morning, boys. Can you guess where I am?"

"What do you want?"

"Ever wonder what your little benefactor is up to? He is such a darling."

"Don't you dare—"

"See you soon." The call ended.

Wyatt stood. "Call Thurman, see if you can warn him."

Merrick nodded.

Wyatt opened an app, then searched for something.

"You're tracking him?" Grant said.

Seeing that Wyatt was immersed in his phone, Merrick nodded.

"Do you track my phone, too?" Grant said.

"Hush," Wyatt said.

Grant looked at him, so Merrick nodded.

"You're kidding—"

"Hush," Wyatt said, then looked at Merrick. "He's at Blanco."

* * * *

# Chapter 10

Blanco was a modern art gallery that overlooked Lake Maren. It sat near the waterfront carnival and the shopping mall, so traffic was terrible. While Wyatt navigated the back roads, Merrick tried to reach Thurman for what felt like the hundredth time. Once again, he got voicemail. His text messages had gone unanswered as well. Hopefully, Thurman was okay.

Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror. "When we get there, you two stay in the car."

Grant leaned up. "No, we should stay together."

"This could be dangerous."

"So could be waiting in the car."

Wyatt sighed.

Merrick smiled at Wyatt's easy surrender.

Wyatt shot him a glare. "Hush."

Merrick nodded, his smile remaining.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Merrick slid an earpiece into place. "If he's not in his office, we may need to split up."

Wyatt looked at Rhonda. "You two stay out of the action."

Rhonda took an earpiece. "We'll stick together. We'll watch your backs."

Wyatt nodded, looking at Grant. "If anything goes wrong, you find security or a cop. You were never a part of this and we've forced you to stay with us."

"Dad—"

"I'm serious." Wyatt parked near the front door, then they headed inside.

Merrick made sure his shirt covered the gun holster on the back of his jeans. He touched Grant's arm. "Stay close to your mom. I won't be far away."

"I can't stay with you?"

"No. We don't know what we're walking into."

Wyatt stopped at the front desk. "Is Mr. Allen in today?"

"Let me see if I can reach him." The woman picked up a cell phone.

Merrick followed Grant and Rhonda into the gallery. "There are cameras in the corners. Stay visible on them. Don't leave with anyone, understand?"

"Be careful." Grant grabbed his hand.

"You, too." He glanced at Rhonda, then left. Merrick went down the hallway to his left. With a fast pace, he headed deeper into the galleries. Thurman's office was at the end, and he'd better just be in there napping instead of in trouble.

Merrick opened the door, only to find the office was empty. "Crap."

He took his phone and then texted Thurman. _Where are you? I need to see you right now!_

Merrick went back to the main entrance. If Thurman wasn't in his office, then he could be in the storeroom.

"The front desk couldn't reach him," Wyatt said in his ear.

"He's not in his office. I'm headed downstairs."

"Rhonda and Grant are in the Egypt room."

"All right." Merrick looked over his shoulder, then ducked into a door labeled Employees Only.

The storeroom was expansive with two garage doors to the loading docks that were closed. Thurman's giggle echoed through the room. Merrick hurried in that direction, past metal bookshelves lined with crates and small statues of pharaohs. Around the corner of the shelves, he found Thurman, dressed in a tailored dark suit, talking with a younger man. His laugh was a bit too loud as he stood close to the man who wore an Uptown Delivery uniform.

"Thurman."

Thurman smiled as Merrick approached him. "Mare, dear, when you said right away, I pictured you with less clothes."

"So you _did_ get my texts."

"I've been busy."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Allen." The young man smiled, then walked away.

"You're in danger. Jordan made a threat against you."

"And you came to save me?" Thurman clasped his hands. "I love you more every day."

"I'm serious." He took Thurman's arm and then led him to the door. "We need to go. Call your plane." He released Thurman's arm as he checked the hallway.

Thurman fell into step with him in the hall. "Do I have time to pack?"

"We've gotta meet up with the others."

Wyatt's voice filled his ears. "Two guys just walked in who don't look like art lovers."

"Damn." Merrick led Thurman to the Egypt room near the main entrance, only to find it was empty. He scanned the gallery. "Rhonda, where are you?"

"Two rooms down." Her tone was hushed.

Merrick touched Thurman's arm. "Stay with me."

"Of course."

They hurried through the next gallery of photos of rocky coastlines, then into a room of Greek statues. Rhonda looked down the hall, while Grant stood at a glass case in the center of the room, his head tilted.

Rhonda's shoulders dropped when she saw him. "There you are. Two guys came in, looked suspicious, so we moved in here."

"Okay, let's get out of here." He tapped Grant on the arm. "Let's go."

Grant pointed at the case. "I think there's two guys having sex on this plate in here."

"That's nice, let's go."

Thurman gasped. "Mare!"

As Merrick turned, Scotty tackled him. They crashed into the glass cabinet then to the floor.

Thurman shrieked.

Scotty hit Merrick across the chin, then raised his fist for a second blow. Before Scotty's punch landed, Merrick blocked it with his left arm while swinging his right fist. As Scotty recovered, Rhonda busted a plate over his head. Merrick braced Scotty's unconscious body before rolling him onto the floor.

After Merrick stood, Grant brushed the glass from his back. "Are you okay?"

"Let's go."

"I'm in the car," Wyatt said. "I'll meet you at the door."

Rhonda walked ahead of them several paces, checking the hallway, then waving them on. As they approached the front door, four men dressed in dark suits and long coats entered. Rhonda ducked into the gift shop.

"Nope." Merrick turned. "Go back." He ushered Thurman and Grant down the hallway.

"This way." Thurman led them into the stairway and then down.

"We're going a different way," Merrick said to Wyatt.

"We'll come around. Agents are all over the place."

"Great." Merrick sighed. "Thur, where's your car?"

"It's in the back here."

"You have the keys?"

"Yes."

"Hand them over."

Thurman pulled the keys from his jacket pocket and then gave them to Merrick.

At the outside door, Merrick pushed it open, then peeked out. There were ten cars parked close, but no one in the lot. He waved Thurman and Grant on.

Thurman's white Porsche 911 convertible sat near the walkway, its top down.

Merrick touched Grant's arm. "You'll have to squeeze in the back."

"Sure." Grant swung himself over the side with the grace of a gymnast.

Thurman slid into the passenger's seat. "Don't hurt my baby."

Merrick started the engine, then hit a button that raised the top. "Heads up." He watched until he was sure Grant was okay, then faced front again as Scotty stepped out the door.

"Damn it." Merrick threw the car into reverse, then backed out of the lot as Scotty fired at the car.

"My car!" Thurman put his hand over his heart.

Merrick backed into the street, spun the car and then shifted into Drive. He went heavy on the gas as he sped away, running the red light as he turned onto Basin Street. "Hang on!"

In the rearview mirror, a black Mercedes SLK came into view, closing in fast.

"Call your dad," Merrick said to Grant.

Grant took his phone and dialed.

"We need that plane." Merrick glanced at Thurman.

"Yes, yes." Thurman took his phone from his pocket. He swiped the phone several times, humming as he searched.

"Plane!"

"I've got it." Thurman began texting someone.

Grant held his phone in-between Merrick and Thurman.

Rhonda's urgent tone filled the car. "Where are you guys?"

Grant leaned close. "We're on Basin. Where are you?"

"Headed down Langston," Wyatt said. "Just lost the black van."

Merrick let out a deep breath. The thugs had gone after Wyatt, so that meant Jordan was in the SLK.

Ahead of them, the two lanes of traffic were stopped. Merrick took a sharp right into a neighborhood, speeding past the nice homes around the lake, but the Mercedes wasn't letting up. Somehow he needed to get them out of the city traffic and fast. "We're headed to the plane, but I'm not sure we're gonna make it."

A left turn led them out of the neighborhood. The main street before them would give them quick access to the highway, he just had to lose Jordan.

Thurman gasped as Merrick raced toward the intersection. "No, no, no..."

"Hang on." With a quick look to his left, he decided he could beat the two lanes of traffic headed toward them. He turned right without slowing, fighting to control the car's spin.

Thurman clutched his chest. "Mare, I love you, but if you wreck my car..."

Merrick checked the rearview mirror. Jordan was still on their tail. He had to lose her somehow. If he led her to the plane, then what would he do?

"Merrick?" Wyatt's tone was stressed. "Are you okay?"

Grant pulled the phone back. "Dad, a Mercedes is following us."

Merrick zigzagged through traffic. The road to the airport was about three miles ahead. He had to lose Jordan and soon.

At the next intersection, Merrick veered through a yield at the last moment and then headed right, while Jordan's car slid into the middle of traffic.

"Mare?" Wyatt said.

"We're on Sunset. If I can lose her, we'll be at the plane in about ten minutes."

The Mercedes was in the rearview mirror again.

"Damn it, she doesn't stop."

Grant pressed against the seats. "She's going to hit us."

Merrick held his breath as they approached a major intersection. The likelihood of getting through four lanes of traffic wasn't any better than Jordan wrecking them, followed by the torture she would deliver if they lived.

Merrick glanced at Thurman. "I'm going to hurt your car."

"Oh no, you're not."

"You want to live, right?"

"Mare, no—"

"There's two cars now," Grant said.

A black Lincoln Navigator appeared in the passing lane, catching up to Jordan.

"Great." Merrick clenched his jaws. He was going to have to risk the four lanes of traffic after all.

He took one last look in the mirror, just as the Navigator side-swiped Jordan, then the two vehicles came to a screeching halt.

"No way!"

Grant laughed. "Did you see that?"

On the phone, Wyatt said, "What happened?"

"Must've been our guardian angel." Merrick blew out a deep breath. He slowed down, staying with traffic. "We're headed to the airport, now."

"Go ahead and take off. We'll drive, meet you at my Dad's."

"Drive?"

"Yes." Wyatt's tone was serious. "Looking Glass."

Merrick glanced out his window, unsure how to respond. "Understood."

"See you tomorrow."

"You guys be careful," Rhonda said.

"You, too."

"Bye." Grant ended the call, then leaned on the front seats. "What was that about?"

"Nothing. We're splitting up."

"I mean Looking Glass. What's that?"

"Nothing to worry about." He glanced at Grant. "Are you okay?"

Thurman fanned himself. "A bit winded, but I'll be okay once I get some wine."

Grant chuckled, stroking Merrick's arm. "I'm okay."

Thurman's plane was at a private airport with five hangars. When they arrived, the parking lots were empty except for two cars parked by the third hangar. Merrick parked next to them, then stepped out. He scanned the area, then raised the seat to help Grant out. Once Grant was free of the tiny backseat, they stood face to face. Smiling, they held each other's gaze for a few heartbeats.

"We should get onboard." Merrick danced his fingers across Grant's hand.

Grant grinned as he stepped aside.

Merrick shut the car door, catching Thurman's stare. He met Thurman at the nose of the car where he handed the keys over. "You have an awesome car."

Thurman hummed. "Thank you for not wrecking it."

"Looks like you're part of the adventure now."

"Fantastic."

Merrick and Grant followed Thurman onboard. Inside were two sets of cream-colored leather recliners facing a table, then two solo chairs across the aisle. Past those, a sofa rested against the left side, while a cabinet stood across from it.

Grant took one of the double recliners facing the front, next to the window. "This is so cool. I've only flown once and never on anything this fancy."

Merrick sat beside him as the engines roared to life.

As Thurman sat across from him, a young woman stepped up. "Amanda, dear, please bring me wine, and keep it coming."

"Certainly, Mr. Allen. For you, sir?"

"Water, please."

"Water," Grant said.

"Certainly, sirs."

Merrick rubbed his forehead, trying to ease down from his day. It had certainly started out better than he'd hoped, but now he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Being in a fight, shot at and a car chase had left him exhausted, and then Wyatt adds to it with the Looking Glass code. Wyatt was stepping back to look at this mystery with a different perspective. He didn't trust someone close to them. Was it Thurman?

This just kept getting worse.

Amanda poured a glass of wine for Thurman, then placed a chilled water bottle in front of Grant, then Merrick.

"Thank you, dear." Thurman took a sip.

"Thank you." Merrick opened the bottle, then took a big drink. Maybe wine would've helped him relax, but the cold water seemed to provide a bit of clarity he needed.

"Uh-oh," Grant said.

"What?"

Outside, the black Navigator parked near the plane.

"Thur, we need to go," Merrick said.

"Yes." Thurman turned in his chair.

"We see it," the pilot said. The plane began to taxi.

The red-haired man with a beard stepped out from the backseat of the Navigator. Merrick stared at the man until the plane turned.

Grant held his hand. "Are we safe?"

"I think so."

Thurman finished off his glass of wine. "He _is_ cute, though."

The plane picked up speed, then angled into the sky.

With a heavy sigh, Merrick rubbed the bridge of his nose. Not only could they not trust someone close, who knew how many other threats lurked in the shadows. The red-haired man had tried to steal a painting out from under them and yet had saved them from Jordan, possibly twice now.

The plane leveled out. Soon, they'd be in Ballinger, hopefully free of this mess for a bit.

"You okay?" Grant squeezed his hand.

Merrick stared into Grant's eyes. If only they were just headed to a peaceful vacation and he didn't feel the worry that consumed him.

"Is something wrong?"

"Maybe."

With everything Merrick had been through, this job was stressing him out the most. But maybe it wasn't stress he felt. It was more like fear—fear for Grant's safety.

Grant leaned his head against Merrick's shoulder. For the moment, they were safe and he needed to be present in that. He rested his head against Grant's and closed his eyes. A quick nap wouldn't hurt anything.

* * * *

# Chapter 11

Merrick had slept as soon as he'd closed his eyes. He didn't stir until Grant woke him.

"We're getting ready to land."

"Okay." Merrick rubbed his face and tried to shake his exhaustion. They would meet up with Wyatt and Rhonda at Loren's house. Maybe there'd be a clue there that could give them the upper hand in this. That'd be a nice change.

After a smooth landing, they taxied to a hangar where a silver Mercedes G 65 waited.

"What's going on?"

Thurman smiled. "It's our ride."

"Ride?"

"We've made an unplanned stop in Carleton for tonight."

"What?"

"The Benedict Hotel has the _best_ spa and they adore me. My treat."

"We're supposed to be in Ballinger."

"We'll leave early tomorrow. Be there in thirty minutes, I promise. I couldn't just fly over Carleton and pass this up. Today's been stressful."

"Is Wyatt aware of this?"

"Yes, dear, don't get so tense. He's not going to be in Ballinger tonight, either."

Merrick looked at Grant. "Did you talk to him?"

Grant nodded. "He said he'd meet us tomorrow."

"Mare?" Thurman tilted his head. The sadness in his pout felt genuine. His brown eyes didn't hide betrayal, so why did Wyatt suspect him?

"Something wrong?" Grant slid his hand over Merrick's.

Merrick sighed. "No, it's fine."

Thurman smiled. "Let me spoil my favorite thief and pamper myself. Today was almost too much for me."

That point Merrick couldn't argue against.

"Besides, you could _obviously_ use a massage." Thurman stood. "Gentlemen, after me."

They followed Thurman to the car, where the driver waited with the back door open. As they rode to the Benedict, Thurman was giddy. "I love Carleton. This town has everything." He smiled at Merrick. "We'll be safe at the hotel. You can rest for tonight. There'll be food waiting and fantastic views."

At the hotel, Thurman pranced through the lobby like a king, with Grant and Merrick as his two princes. Grant seemed to be enjoying the splendor, but Merrick was too tired to be impressed by the ostentatious hotel.

As they stepped off the elevator, into a hallway decorated in maroons and gold, Thurman handed Merrick a key card. "I figured you two would like some privacy. My room's across the hall, if you should need me."

Merrick smiled. "Thank you."

"I ordered food and fresh clothes." Thurman touched Merrick's arm. "Anything you need, just let me know. This is my world."

Merrick nodded. "Thanks."

"Relax. We're safe, I promise."

With being separated from Wyatt and uncertain of his suspicions, Merrick wasn't sure relaxing was something he could manage tonight, but he just nodded. "See you in the morning." He moved to unlock the door to his and Grant's room, while the bellboy opened Thurman's door and then held it for him.

Merrick let Grant pass by. An aroma of French fries hit Merrick first thing.

"Wow." Grant walked into the open living room where the curtains were pulled back, showcasing the view of the mountains in the distance.

Merrick closed the door, then slid the key card into his pocket. With a smile, he took in Grant's awe. Grant didn't seem to carry any burden of the adventure they were on. His innocence eased Merrick's concern.

Merrick stepped into the living room. A doorway on his left led to the bedroom. To his right was a table tucked into a kitchen done in stainless steel. Beside the table was a cart with a large covered tray on top.

"This is fantastic." Grant grinned at him. "This is what it's like to have money, huh?"

"I suppose."

"I love it." Grant wrapped his arms around Merrick and then spun them around. "I never _dreamed_ things would go like this."

Grant's electric mood shifted Merrick's focus. For tonight, there was only this marvelous room and Grant there with him.

Grant chuckled as he stepped back. "I should let you eat. I bet you're starving."

"I am."

Grant lifted the lid over the tray. Underneath were two plates with cheeseburgers and all the fixings, and side orders of French fries. "Your favorites." Grant raised an eyebrow. "Thurman knows you well."

"That's probably a hundred-dollar hamburger, so enjoy."

Grant placed the lid on the table. "He likes you."

"No."

Grant took a fry, biting off the end. "You didn't see his glare at me in the car when I touched your arm."

"He's not the one I'm interested in."

Grant offered a fry to Merrick, which he took into his mouth.

"Why are you so tense?"

"Not sure where to start with that answer."

"Does it have to do with Looking Glass?"

Merrick bit his bottom lip. "Maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"Looking Glass? That your dad wants to look at the situation closer."

"Oh." Grant offered him another French fry.

"Let me worry about it."

"Can't we just enjoy tonight? I mean, this place is amazing."

"We can, I'm sorry. I'll stop thinking about it."

Grant's eyes got wide. He pulled his phone from his jean pocket. "I should call my folks." He walked away as he touched the screen on his phone, then put it to his ear.

Merrick turned his attention to the food. He put the lettuce and catsup on his cheeseburger, then took it as he went to the bedroom. By Grant's ecstatic tone, it sounded like Wyatt and Rhonda were safe. That was good to hear. Maybe he could relax tonight, after all.

The bedroom held a king-sized bed with a TV mounted on the wall across from it. To his right was the same spectacular mountain view. An armoire and a bathroom were to his left.

Two bundles of folded clothes rested on the foot of the bed. Each bundle held a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt, undershirt, and probably even underwear tucked in there. The one with a green shirt was labeled 'Mr. Davidson', while the blue shirt had 'Mr. Silvan' on its label.

Mr. Davidson and Mr. Silvan.

It sounded too formal for them, but he liked it. He was alone with Grant and the possibilities of that erased any exhaustion he felt.

By the time he'd toured the bedroom, he'd finished his cheeseburger. He went to the tray, grabbed a few fries, then watched Grant, who was describing the room. By Grant's giddy tone, he had to be talking to Rhonda. After another swipe of fries, Merrick searched the fridge. It was stocked with their choice of waters, sodas, or beers. He grabbed a soda, opened it, then leaned against the cabinet as he watched Grant walk the room.

How nice it would be to have a home with Grant, when eating dinner at the table every night was the norm, then maybe a movie before they headed to bed, making love before his dreams filled his night. A fantasy, maybe, but he wanted to think it had hope.

Grant's watch caught Merrick's eye. It was digital, not Grant's usual superhero one. He never used it for anything other than it seemed to be what he fumbled with when he was nervous. What would Grant do if he took it?

Merrick grinned as he raised the soda can to his lips. What _would_ Grant do?

"Okay, we'll see you tomorrow." Grant smiled. "You, too." Grant ended the call, then put his phone on the table. "They're at Northwood for tonight. We'll meet them at my grandpa's tomorrow." Grant approached him.

Merrick put the soda on the cabinet, then held Grant's hands. He raised Grant's right hand to his lips while he ran his thumb around the band of the watch on Grant's left arm. With a gentle squeeze, he began to remove it.

Grant gave him a quick kiss. "I can't get over this."

The band released easier than Merrick expected. When Grant moved back, the watch stayed in his hand. With a smile, he slid the watch into his back pocket. "You seem really happy."

"I am. I could get used to this." Grant returned to the window.

"Which part?" Merrick joined him. "The rich lifestyle or the adventure?"

"Both." Grant met his gaze. "This. Being here with you."

"Me, too."

Grant pulled the statue of Dedo from his front jean pocket. After a stroke on Dedo's nose, Grant placed it on the windowsill. "He can watch over us both."

Merrick slid his finger down Grant's chest, smiling. He took a deep breath as his heartbeat quickened. Alone with Grant, he found himself becoming bashful.

"You look like you want to say something."

What he wanted to say, he'd never said to another boyfriend. He'd never felt like this about anyone before. What he wanted to say was important and he didn't want to mess it up—and yet he couldn't form the words.

Grant placed his hands on Merrick's face and then kissed him.

Merrick pressed their bodies together as he slid his hand under Grant's shirt, then across his warm back. Their kiss continued for several breaths, then he led Grant to the bedroom. Once inside the room, he searched for a way to close the blinds. A remote was on the table by the window, so he grabbed it and then hit the button to close them.

When he turned back, Grant was shirtless and pulling down his jeans. Merrick stared as Grant stepped out of them. Grant's skin was pale, his chest smooth. While Grant appeared to be delicate, the definition of his chest muscles told a different story.

Merrick traced the line down Grant's chest, kissing his shoulder. "Wanna take a shower?"

"Sure." Grant pulled Merrick's shirt over his head, then tossed it to the pile of his clothes as they kissed.

Merrick paired his tongue with Grant's as he held Grant tight.

Grant slid his hands down Merrick's back. After a squeeze of Merrick's butt, he broke from the kiss. "What is this?"

"Oh, that."

Grant shoved his hand into Merrick's back pocket and then pulled out the watch. "It's my watch."

"Need to know the time?"

"How'd you...when?" Grant looked at his wrist, then at Merrick with his brow furrowed.

"Thief."

Grant huffed. "Be careful with this."

Merrick kissed Grant's shoulder, then landed one over his heart. He moved Grant to the bed, then braced himself over him. It was unbelievable Grant was there and they were about to be lovers after so many years as friends, but there was nothing he wanted more. He had fallen in love with Grant a long time ago, whether he'd put that label on it or not. Grant was his best friend and the man he thought about spending his life with, and here they were.

Grant dropped the watch to the floor, grabbed a fistful of Merrick's hair, and then pulled him to a kiss.

Kisses and touches started out with a wild urgency. Clothes were shed and then tossed to the floor. Despite his desire for Grant, Merrick's kisses melted into slow, deep ones. His touches became tender, caressing. The night was all about Grant: his touch, the feel of his body, his moans as they made love.

* * * *

# Chapter 12

The next morning, Merrick, Grant, and Thurman landed in Ballinger a bit after ten. They took the rental car Thurman had arranged for and then headed to a neighborhood around the college full of expansive mansions and tree-lined streets. Loren's home was a yellow, two-story Victorian in what appeared to be a quiet neighborhood. The houses were all well-kept and most had a Mercedes or a BMW sitting in the driveway.

Merrick parked beside Wyatt's Volvo in the driveway.

Grant let out a deep breath. "I wish we were just visiting my granddad, not..."

Merrick held Grant's hand. "We'll find him."

Grant nodded.

As they walked to the front door, Merrick scanned the area. There weren't any vehicles on the street, no surveillance of the house, but maybe the threat was just well-hidden.

Rhonda opened the door as they walked up the stairs. "Come in."

Grant stepped past her, then Thurman. Merrick checked the street once again before he felt sure they were safe there, then went inside. Rhonda closed and locked the door after him.

They stepped into a wide hallway, with a dining room to their left and a living area to the right. A staircase was before them, next to a hall leading back to a kitchen. Framed family photos lined the walls. Everything was neat and tidy, as had been Madeleine's way.

"Wyatt's upstairs." Rhonda nodded at Merrick, then looked at Grant. "Help me with lunch?"

"Sure."

"Food?" Thurman said. "May I steal a bite?"

"Certainly." Rhonda winked at Merrick before she led Grant and Thurman to the kitchen.

Merrick headed upstairs. Three bedroom doors stood open, but he just had to follow the tune Wyatt hummed to find him. The last door on the right opened to an office, where Wyatt sat at an executive desk with a journal open before him. Bookshelves lined every wall. In the far corner was a red wingback chair. A small table was next to it with a large hardback book resting on top.

In a wooden chair next to the desk were a stack of art appreciation textbooks. On top of those, Merrick's portfolio that had been in the trunk of Wyatt's car leaned against the back of the chair. "Good, you got that."

Wyatt leaned back and stretched his arms.

"Any clues?"

"No." Wyatt glanced around the room. "It's like he simply packed up and left. The only thing that I can find out of place is that painting over there."

The painting was of a beach house, with open doors and white curtains blowing outside. It rested against the wall under the window. A nail poked out from the now empty wall.

"There's no safe behind there, no secret compartment." Wyatt shrugged. "Not sure why it's on the floor and everything else is perfect."

"Wonder who he's hiding from?"

"Yeah." Wyatt closed the journal. "I think we'll stay here tonight. Should be safe. I imagine whoever is after my dad will _want_ us to find his whereabouts."

"And the next painting?"

"Supposedly at some artist's loft, a Dwain Adair." Wyatt pulled a note from his shirt pocket. "I've never heard of him, but apparently he thinks everyone has. Brent says he's a real jerk."

"Great."

"He's having a party tonight, though, and there'll be two extra guests."

"What about Looking Glass?"

Wyatt took a deep breath, then was slow to let it out. "It seems suspicious to me that Jordan knew to get _Anguish_ the very night we planned to. She got to Grant, told him about us."

"Yeah, that bothers me."

"She's been a step ahead of us from the beginning. She even has my phone number."

"You think it's Thurman?"

"Who else could it be?"

Merrick shook his head. "He wouldn't do that."

"Why? Because you have pretty eyes?"

Merrick smiled, hoping he wasn't blushing. "Don't start."

Wyatt chuckled.

Merrick went to the beach house painting and then picked it up. Small sand dunes lined the perimeter of the house, with the white curls of the waves in the background. A sign on the house read _Sandra's Summertime Retreat 562_.

He put the painting back on the floor. What was so special about that one? Had Loren placed it there, or the one who'd been after him?

Merrick caught Wyatt watching him. "What?"

"What?"

"You're staring." Hopefully, Wyatt wasn't wondering about how Merrick had spent his night with Grant.

"I just realized something." Wyatt rested his chin on his folded hands. "This feels like your house."

"My house?"

"Your presence, your...calmness."

Merrick frowned. "I don't see it."

"You, a family, a nice house. Seems right for you all of a sudden."

"Are you proposing?"

"No, sorry." He scooted the book in front of him to the left side of the desk. "Maybe I'm just feeling nostalgic."

Merrick put his hands in his pockets. A nice house and a family didn't seem all that bad. He and Grant could have Wyatt and Rhonda over for Sunday dinners, watch the game, discuss the good ole days.

"Do you miss them?"

"Them?"

"Your family, your parents."

Merrick took a deep breath. "Honestly? Yeah, sometimes."

Wyatt nodded.

"Here you two are." Thurman stepped into the room. "Wyatt, I dare say your dad has some style."

"That would have been my mom. My dad just litters the house with old canvases and art books."

"Ah." Thurman went to a cabinet by the front window, set out three glasses, then poured drinks from the decanter of scotch. He handed Merrick a glass, then one to Wyatt. "A toast." Thurman picked up his glass. "To the wonderful man who lives here, may he be safe."

The three raised their glasses and then took a sip.

Merrick winced as he swallowed the lighter fluid-tasting liquid. "Wow." He put his glass on the desk, coughing.

"Wimp." Thurman smiled. "You know Paris is gorgeous this time of year?"

Merrick tilted his head as he met Thurman's gaze.

"Oh, look." Thurman put his glass on the desk, then went to a bookshelf in front of him. He pulled a large, white hardback book from the top shelf.

Merrick glanced at Wyatt. "What book is this?"

Wyatt shrugged.

"It's bound to have Simon's paintings in here." Thurman flopped the heavy book onto the desk. "Maybe it'll have the complete seven and we can find out what the big mystery is."

"Let me see this." Wyatt flipped through the pages until he stopped at a full-page color photo of the Xanderclied painting, _Sorrow._ On the pages following it were the rest of the collection.

"Oh my..." Wyatt leaned in closer. "We might not need the paintings after all."

"That'd be wonderful." Could they get that lucky?

Wyatt turned the pages, studying each painting in turn. Thurman stood beside Wyatt, his face scrunched as he took in each photograph.

Wyatt sighed, shaking his head. "I don't see it."

"The hands are in different positions in each one." Thurman pointed at the hand in _Anguish,_ then in _Loneliness._ If the hands had been on a clock, they would have pointed out three o'clock and seven o'clock.

Wyatt flipped between the two. "It's the right hand in this painting, then the left hand here. That's different, also."

"A combination?" Merrick asked.

"Could be." Wyatt sighed. "Combination to a vault somewhere?"

"Ooh." Thurman clapped. "A vault full of riches."

Merrick scoffed. "You don't have enough?"

"I can't very well wish for a vault of gorgeous hunks, now can I?"

Merrick smiled.

Wyatt shook his head. "There's seven numbers though. Coordinates? A code?"

"Your dad didn't tell you anything else? No hint, nothing?" Thurman slid his finger across the photograph of _Loneliness_ as if he could track what the subject was pointing to.

Wyatt took three steps away from the desk. "My dad was always so cryptic about everything."

Thurman chuckled. "That might be where you got your charming presence from."

Merrick bowed his head, smiling.

"I saw that."

Merrick shrugged. "So, what is your dad trying to tell you?"

Thurman grabbed an eight-by-eleven-inch picture frame from the bookshelf. "Does it have to do with this?" Thurman showed it to Merrick. The headline read, _Shipwreck Discovered_.

Wyatt put his hands on his hips. "He found that ship when I was a kid. There wasn't any treasure found."

"Or so he said." Thurman put the frame on the desk. "What if he lied?"

Merrick smiled. "A father lying to his son? Imagine."

Wyatt cast him a dirty look.

Thurman stepped closer. "What if there was a treasure aboard and your dad's been hiding it all these years?"

"My dad said he was in danger, and now Jerard is fighting for his life."

"Who's Jerard?" Thurman furrowed his brow.

"My dad's business partner. He and my dad used to search for sunken ships, relics."

"Oh." Thurman looked at the article.

Wyatt caught Merrick's gaze. "Maybe they did find a treasure aboard one of the ships."

"It's possible."

"I wish I knew for sure. Damn secrets." He pointed at Merrick. "Don't say it."

Merrick smiled.

Wyatt took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "I think we still need the paintings. Maybe they glow when they're all together, I really can't say."

"Jordan has one of them." Merrick rubbed his left arm before he realized he'd done so. "How are we supposed to get that?"

"I'm working on a plan."

"I hope it's a good one."

Wyatt nodded. "I got an image off Jerard's home security. It shows her busting into his house."

"Great." Merrick stole a glance out the window. The sunny day and nice neighborhood didn't ease his dread.

"Let's get the one tonight." Wyatt gulped the rest of his scotch. "Maybe it'll start making sense."

"Let's hope."

Thurman bumped the chair next to the desk, knocking the portfolio down.

"Oh, I got this for you the other night." Merrick placed the portfolio on the desk, then unzipped the sides. He opened it, revealing the kindergarten painting he'd disliked, but yet Thurman had said he'd wanted.

Thurman stepped closer. "Oh my."

Merrick studied Thurman's face, hoping for a better reaction. Perhaps Thurman hadn't been serious when he said he wanted it and now Merrick looked like a fool.

Before Merrick could say anything, Thurman grabbed Merrick's head and then pulled him to a kiss.

Merrick moved back. "Okay."

"I knew you loved me." Thurman grinned. "You did very well, thank you."

Merrick kept his gaze on Thurman even though he could feel Wyatt's smirk.

"I'm going to go make some calls." Thurman picked up the painting. "You two keep working on this code thing. Anything you need, just say the word. My plane stands ready."

"Thank you." Wyatt put his glass on the desk.

After Thurman left, Merrick met Wyatt's gaze. "Let me have it."

"What?" Wyatt grinned.

"Just...have your fun."

"There's nothing, really."

"Everyone kisses me. It's not a big deal." His cheeks flared with heat.

"I haven't kissed you yet."

"Well, you were close to proposing just a bit ago, so I'd say we're due for a kiss."

Wyatt chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's just rest before tonight. We'll go to this party, check it out. If the painting is there, we'll go back later."

"Okay."

Wyatt sat back down at the desk. "I'm going to keep going through this stuff, see if there's any leads."

"Let me know if I can help."

Wyatt nodded.

With Wyatt's attention back in the book that contained the Xanderclied paintings, Merrick headed downstairs. He stopped at the line of family photos that hung in the entryway. Most were of Loren and Madeleine, but there were several of a young Wyatt. Across the way were more photos of Wyatt, Rhonda, and a young Grant. In the middle of those pictures was one of Merrick and Grant at Grant's college graduation. He smiled when he looked upon that one. Merrick had grown close to Wyatt and his family and to have a place on their photo wall meant a lot to him. It had also been one of Grant's happiest days, and the memory of that day was still one of Merrick's favorites.

He looked at the two walls and thought about his own family. Did his parents still have his photo hanging around, or had he been erased?

The memory of Grant's graduation was a better one, so he clung to it as he stepped into the living room. A tan suede sofa faced a dark green one with a square wooden coffee table in-between them. Ahead of Merrick was a fireplace with his favorite painting hanging above it. Done in the style of Monet, it showed a field with four Holstein cows in the foreground. In the background, a silver saucer hovered over a cow that was lifted off the ground, trapped in its beam.

Merrick sat on the sofa, then took a deep breath. It would probably be his bed while they stayed there, but he didn't mind. Although he'd only been to Loren's house a few other times, he'd known Loren and Madeleine quite well. There had been a magic to their relationship that had affected the people around them. The feeling of them was still present in the house, despite the truth they weren't there. Madeleine's death had been a blow to the entire family, and now with Loren missing, Merrick figured Wyatt was afraid he'd lost his dad, too.

Merrick rested his head against the back of the sofa. Wyatt's concerns about Jordan replayed through his mind. It did seem like she was a step ahead of them. She was good, but they'd never clashed like this before. Had the promise of treasure raised the stakes?

But then again, how did Jordan know about the treasure in the first place?

"You look lost in thought." Grant stood at the doorway.

"Yeah, sorry."

Grant sat beside him. He slid his hand over Merrick's leg. "I'd like to have a place like this one day."

Merrick nodded. "It's nice."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

Grant stared at him for several breaths. "I can't tell if you're lying or not."

"Sorry, I don't _want_ to lie to you."

"Are you?"

"No." Merrick slid his thumb across Grant's hand. "Everything's okay, I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Dad is buried in my grandpa's office, hoping to find a clue."

"Yeah."

"We'll find him, right? He's okay, isn't he?"

"I think so." He met Grant's gaze. "There's not been a ransom note, and the threat is to us, so I'd say he's in hiding somewhere, safe."

Grant closed his eyes. "I wish this was over."

"I know."

Grant rested his head on Merrick's shoulder, sliding his hand across Merrick's chest.

Merrick kissed the top of his head. "We'll stay here tonight."

Grant sat back. "I just want to be with you."

Merrick stroked his cheek, losing his cares as he stared into Grant's eyes. He put his hand on Grant's neck, then gave him a tender, slow kiss. If only they could be alone...

The floorboards creaked.

Merrick looked at the empty doorway. Had someone been there, or was it just house noise?

Grant grinned. "I figured we'd get in less trouble out here in the open than in my room."

"Not too sure about that."

"You _are_ afraid of my dad."

"He's got enough stress to deal with right now."

Grant entwined their fingers. "I'll be good."

Merrick kissed his forehead.

"So, no chance you'll sleep in my room tonight with me."

"No, that's not a possibility."

Grant scanned the room. "Here." He went to the side of the coffee table. "Help me move this."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Just help me."

Merrick grabbed the opposite side of the coffee table. They carried it into the doorway and then set it down. Then Grant went to the far end of the dark green sofa. Merrick grabbed the arm closest to him and then they pushed the sofa against the tan one.

"There." Grant brushed his hands off. "Double bed."

Merrick smiled as Grant approached him. Wyatt would still have a fit, but so what.

"My mom said you and my dad are going out tonight, working?" Grant slid his fingers through Merrick's.

"Yeah."

"I want to go, too."

Merrick shook his head. "Your dad wouldn't allow that."

"You have a say, don't you?"

"No, it doesn't work that way."

"It's not a partnership?"

"Not really, no."

Grant smiled. "Just tell him I could help, be lookout or scout or whatever."

Merrick sighed.

"I want to go."

"I understand that, but you'll have to convince him."

Grant slid his hands around Merrick's waist, then kissed him. "I want to go with _you_ , though."

Merrick sighed as he leaned his head against Grant's. "You're going to get me into trouble."

"In all the best ways."

"And I'll probably let you."

* * * *

# Chapter 13

It was almost ten o'clock that night. In the distance, lightning illuminated the sky. Headed to Dwain's party, Merrick drove Wyatt's car, with Wyatt sitting silently beside him. Wyatt was still unhappy with the fact that Grant was in the backseat, anxious to be coming along. Grant had insisted, and for some reason, Wyatt had given in, although now he seemed to be unhappy with that decision.

Dwain's loft was above an art supply store downtown. Merrick found a parking place at the end of the street, then he slid in his earpiece.

"Do I get one?" Grant leaned up between them.

"No." Wyatt looked at Grant. "You stay close to one of us, understand?"

"Yes." Grant's serious expression melted into a grin. "This is so exciting."

Wyatt shook his head as he stepped out of the car.

Merrick got out, then fell into step with Grant as they headed to the door of the shop.

"So, what do I need to look for?"

Merrick shook his head. "This isn't a training session."

"I just want to help."

Merrick stopped. "Look for anyone who seems to be watching us. Trust your gut. And if something goes wrong, stick to the story."

"I will."

"Just remember, your dad can hear me."

"I love you, Dad."

Wyatt groaned.

Dubstep music filled the night with the bass thumping through Merrick as he approached the door. In the window, a note written in black Sharpie invited people to come on upstairs.

He held the door for Wyatt, leaning close. "This may be challenging to hear each other in."

"Just keep him safe."

Merrick nodded.

Wyatt entered, followed by Grant, then the three of them headed up the narrow stairway, into an open floor space. The walls were white, with large canvases hanging under track lighting. The room was crowded, most of the people talking in groups, while several attempted to look at the paintings.

Wyatt moved into the crowd while Grant stopped at the top of the stairs and then turned to Merrick. Once he was at Grant's side, Merrick held Grant's hand.

A thin man cut through the crowd, headed to them. His blue hair was wild, like he hadn't brushed it for days. His black silk shirt hung open, exposing a pale chest underneath. He stopped close to them, his smoke-laced breath in their face. "Look at you two scrumptious things." He grabbed Grant's left hand and then raised it out to the side, dancing a step closer. "It has been awhile since I've been with two men, but tonight is all yours."

Merrick stepped between Grant and the man. "No, thanks."

The man looked Merrick up and down. "Well, if you change your mind, I'll be right over there." He pointed to his left where two women sat on a sofa. "My name is Dwain, by the way, artist extraordinaire." He took Merrick's hand and then raised it to his lips.

"These are your works, then?"

"Indeed." Dwain straightened his back, like he thought he'd hooked them after all.

"Mind if we take a look around?"

"Not at all, look, look." Dwain pointed to the canvas behind them. "Start at this end, then..." He pointed his way around the room, ending at the sofa. "Finish up your tour right over there."

Merrick nodded, taking Grant's hand. "Wait for us there, then?"

Dwain clapped his hands. "You enjoy the art, my pet."

Merrick rolled his eyes as he turned away from Dwain. "Stay close."

"Definitely." Grant wrapped his free hand around Merrick's arm as they approached the first painting.

They stopped before a canvas as tall as the room, covered in what looked like raindrops. Merrick scanned the crowd. Across the room, the Xanderclied painting, _Grieving,_ was by the window.

"Perfect." Merrick took Grant's hand, then led him to the painting. "Found it."

"I see it," Wyatt said.

Merrick stopped in front of the painting, but his gaze was on the window. It would be big enough to get the canvas through.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Dwain stood between him and Grant. "Lovely and depressing, no?"

"Definitely." Merrick looked at Dwain and then caught his breath. Over Dwain's shoulder, he spotted Jordan standing by the wall. She smiled at him.

"I'd sell it to you, you know my price." Dwain raised his eyebrows a few times, before winking at Grant.

"It's a fake," Wyatt said in Merrick's ear.

Merrick pulled Grant close. "Sorry, we've gotta go. You have an art thief in the mix, though, better watch out." He led Grant toward the stairs.

Jordan was there—for them or the painting? And how had she known they would be there?

"She's here," Merrick said into the comm.

"I saw her. I'll meet you at the door."

"Headed that way."

Grant pulled Merrick back a step. Dwain had a hold of Grant's other arm.

"The night is young." Dwain pulled Grant to him.

"Not tonight." They didn't have time for this creep, but Merrick couldn't just deck him, no matter how much he wanted to.

Dwain slid his hand across Merrick's chest, his eyes getting wide. He grinned at Grant. " _You_ are a lucky man."

Merrick grabbed Dwain's fingers and then squeezed. He moved close to Dwain's ear. "Leave us alone or I will break these in a way that you'll never paint again."

Dwain let out a nervous laugh. The small group around them stepped aside, watching. "It's fine." Dwain pulled away from Merrick, waving his hands. "All's well, keep dancing."

Merrick turned for Grant, but he wasn't there. "What?"

"What's wrong?" Wyatt sounded like he was running.

Grant wasn't close and no one was moving through the crowd. Where'd he go? "I can't find Grant."

"What?"

"He was right here." Merrick moved past Dwain, who laughed. The little prick had been in on this. He should've decked him after all, but he didn't have time now. No doubt Jordan had Grant, so where would she take him? Outside, or to someplace private with an escape?

Merrick wanted to draw his gun, but most of the people were just innocent partiers. They weren't paying him any attention. Whoever had Grant and whatever direction they'd gone were a mystery. Grant had to be there somewhere, though.

"I don't see him." Wyatt sounded upset.

"I'm headed to the back."

Merrick walked through the kitchen, then out a door that led to a studio that ran the length of the building. An aisle between work tables led to a light shining from around the far corner of the room. He drew his gun and stepped to the side of the main aisle. As he approached, he listened to the sounds. The closer he got, the sound of heavy breathing became clearer.

Merrick stepped around the corner with his gun aimed to find Jordan standing behind Grant, who was on his knees. She held a gun to the back of Grant's head.

Merrick stopped, letting his gun hang. "Don't do it."

"Drop it." Jordan nudged the gun against Grant's head.

Merrick placed the gun on the table on his left, then scooted it away.

"Good, now hands up."

Scotty stepped behind Merrick and then patted him down.

"You know Scotty, right?" Jordan smiled.

"You can have the painting, just let him go and we'll leave peacefully."

"Not the trade I'm here to make."

"Then what?'

"You for him."

"Fine. Let him go."

"My, my, didn't even hesitate." Jordan lowered the gun. "Must be true love."

"Let him go."

Jordan smiled. "Get up."

Grant stood, his eyes locked on Merrick's.

Merrick nodded. "Go to your dad. It'll be okay."

Scotty pressed a gun into the small of Merrick's back.

Jordan snickered. "I'm sure neither of you believe that." She pushed Grant away. "You can go. Get your dad and leave."

"Well, I am sorry." The British accent came from behind Merrick. The Bearded Man stood with two muscular men at each side. Four others stepped in with guns aimed. "I've interrupted."

Jordan grabbed Grant's arm. "Not at all, just a friendly meeting."

"I'm sure." Bearded Man stepped closer to Merrick. "There is someone out there looking for you two. I suggest you both hurry along."

Merrick grabbed Grant's hand and then rushed him back to the party. "Wyatt?"

"My dad's over there." Grant waved at him over the crowd.

Wyatt followed them to the door and then on outside. "What happened?"

"I'll explain later." Merrick slid behind the wheel. "Let's just get out of here." Merrick exchanged a look with Wyatt as he started the car, then sped them away. Tonight had been a trap, and they'd walked right into it. That bothered Merrick and by Wyatt's silence, he guessed Wyatt was troubled, as well. Jordan was still a step ahead of them, but how? If she didn't have Loren, why was she playing this game with them instead of following them as they solved the mystery?

As Merrick drove them back to Loren's, heavy rain pounded the car as a thunderstorm boomed through town. The stormy night matched Merrick's thoughts that were full of ominous, tumbling concerns. And when those died down, he thought about Bearded Man, their guardian angel who had helped them three times now. Who was he and why was he involved?

But then, worst of all, was the moment when all those worries eased back and his fear he'd felt when he couldn't find Grant pierced his heart. Jordan had gotten him, threatened him, could have hurt him...or worse.

Merrick let out a deep breath. The night had started out with the promise of locating another painting and a piece of the puzzle, but yet somehow it'd turned into one of the most disturbing nights of his life.

* * * *

# Chapter 14

The rain hadn't let up for several hours. The storm still ruled the night, especially in the dark, quiet house of Loren's that Merrick sat in. His gaze was out the front dining room window, but his thoughts were on the people in the house. It was past two o'clock, but he doubted anyone was sleeping. Thurman was still pissed after Wyatt had accused him of setting them up. Wyatt seemed to be angry at everyone. Rhonda was troubled because of Wyatt's mood and Grant's reaction to the night. Grant was in the other room, on the sofas he and Merrick had made into a bed earlier, but Merrick knew he wasn't sleeping by all the tossing and turning mixed with heavy sighs every so often.

Tonight had been bad, but it could've been much worse, and that seemed to bother them all.

Merrick sat on a dining room chair next to the window, with another chair turned toward him, his gun resting on the seat. While the neighborhood was quiet, with the game Jordan was playing with them, he didn't trust there wasn't more still to come that night.

He needed to keep watch, but he wanted to go to Grant and comfort him. The night had taken a bumpy turn. Maybe comforting Grant would help him find his own peace it.

From the living room, the shuffle of Grant's feet told of his approach. Grant only wore his jeans, his arms folded to his bare chest. "Tonight's not over?"

"Come sit with me."

Grant sat down on Merrick's lap, glancing at the gun.

"We're just being cautious."

Grant nodded.

Merrick stroked Grant's leg. "I know it's easier to say than do, but don't think about tonight."

Grant glanced around the room.

"We can still get you to your aunt's. You'll be safe there."

"It's not me I'm worried about."

Merrick tilted his head.

"She's after _you_." Grant's voice gave out on him. "She's threatening you."

Merrick hugged Grant. Whatever words he needed to say to make Grant feel better weren't coming to him. All he could do was kiss Grant's shoulder. When he moved back, he wiped a tear from Grant's eye. "Just let me get you safe, then she can't do another trick like that."

"I don't want to be your weakness."

"Hon, I'd do anything to keep you safe."

"That's what I mean. I know this woman scares you, that she almost killed you, and tonight you would have willingly handed yourself over to her because of me."

Merrick shook his head. "I don't want that to be a bad thing."

"It is."

"Let us get you to your aunt's. If we know you're safe, we'll be stronger."

"I'm scared to leave you." Tears filled Grant's eyes.

Merrick kissed him, holding Grant to him. When they parted, he wiped Grant's face as he smiled. "We'll get through this, I promise." He raised Grant's hand to a kiss. "This week has been chaotic and terrifying, but it's also been the best few days of my life."

Grant smiled.

"Just try to get some sleep. Everyone is fine and if anything, we learned quite a lot tonight, so that's good for us."

Grant brushed his fingers across Merrick's cheek. "Come lay down with me."

"I can't."

"Go on." Wyatt's voice startled them.

They stood, facing Wyatt.

Wyatt was in the doorway, dressed in jeans, boots and a blue flannel shirt. "I can't sleep anyway. I'll keep watch. You two go rest. It's been a rough night."

Merrick picked up the gun, then handed it to Wyatt. "Thanks. If you need me—"

"Naw, go rest."

Merrick nodded, then followed Grant to the sofas. He took off his shoes before he joined Grant on their makeshift bed.

Grant pulled the sheet over them, then rested his head on Merrick's shoulder.

When lightning struck nearby, Grant tensed. Merrick smiled as he tightened his hold on Grant. After everything scary they'd been through tonight, Grant was still afraid of storms. "It's okay."

Grant let out a deep breath. "I need to tell you something."

"Anything." After several breaths and Grant hadn't spoken, he kissed Grant's head. "You can tell me."

Grant squeezed him.

Merrick put his hand on the back of Grant's head. If only he could make Grant feel safe again...but how? "It's okay."

Grant nestled his face into Merrick's neck. Merrick rubbed Grant's back for several moments, but his mood didn't seem to lighten. "Can I tell you something?"

Grant nodded.

Merrick kept his voice soft, hoping Wyatt wasn't listening. "There was a night that you and I went out to dinner after I'd bought that old Camaro convertible, do you remember?" Merrick raised Grant's chin.

"Yes."

"We went to watch fireworks and had ice cream cones."

Grant traced a circle on Merrick's chest. "And you were so worried about them melting all over your car, yes, I remember."

Merrick chuckled. "It was ninety degrees outside. We couldn't eat them faster than they were melting."

"It was a nice night." Grant slid his hand under Merrick's shirt.

"It felt so good to have you there with me. Felt like we'd been together for a long time; that it would've been natural for me to lean over and kiss you."

Grant met his gaze. "Why didn't you?"

Merrick stroked his cheek. "I was afraid to."

"I would've let you."

"I know. There was still the truth that I would've had to share or lie even more to keep hidden, and I couldn't do either one, so...I let a fantastic night be a dud." He stared into Grant's eyes for several breaths. "But that was when I realized I really was in love with you."

Grant caught his breath.

"We'll get through this together, okay? Whether you're at your aunt's or here, we're together now and we'll be okay."

* * * *

# Chapter 15

The floorboards creaked, pulling Merrick from his dream. He opened his eyes, not sure where he was for a moment. The living and dining rooms were flooded with sunlight. It had to be getting late, even though he still felt tired. They had a lot to do today, but all that interested him was Grant sleeping beside him. He brushed his fingers across Grant's cheek. If only the day could just be about them, safe and lazy in bed.

The floorboards groaned again.

Wyatt stood in the doorway, holding a yellow coffee cup. "Breakfast is about ready, then we need to get going."

"Okay."

Wyatt walked toward the kitchen.

Merrick looked at Grant and sighed. He couldn't guess what Wyatt thought about him and Grant, but that would have to wait. They had enough trouble at the moment.

He kissed Grant's forehead. "Time to wake up."

Grant moaned as he smiled, his eyes closed as he snuggled close.

Merrick stroked Grant's back, closing his eyes. Staying there for five more minutes wouldn't hurt anything.

When they did get up, they put the sofas and coffee table back in their place. After that, they went to the kitchen, filled their plates with eggs and bacon, then joined Rhonda, Wyatt and Thurman at the table in the kitchen. Merrick sat next to Wyatt, across from Thurman. The mood seemed lighter between Thurman and Wyatt, so Wyatt must have apologized.

On the table before Wyatt were three photos of Bearded Man; one as he got out of the backseat of a Rolls Royce, the second of him walking toward a restaurant entrance with a bodyguard at his side and the third was a close up of the man's face.

"Any idea who he is?" Merrick pulled the picture of Bearded Man's face closer.

"No." Wyatt sighed.

Thurman turned a picture toward him. "But he's cute, so he gets extra points for that, as well as being a guardian angel."

Merrick smiled. "What's the plan for today, then?"

"We need to speak with Brent." Wyatt leaned back in the wooden chair.

"All right." Bearded Man intrigued Merrick. Just like with Jordan, how had the guy known where they'd be? Why did he help them?

"I still think the hands pointing in the paintings means something." Thurman slid the photo back to Wyatt.

Wyatt buried his face in his hands. "I wish my dad was here to tell us."

Merrick sighed. Wyatt could always solve any problem, and yet this morning, he seemed stumped.

"I did a lot of thinking last night." Wyatt looked at Merrick. "Only one other person besides us here knew we'd be at that loft last night."

Thurman rolled his eyes. "I'm glad I'm off the guillotine."

"Brent gave me that name. I want to know why he set us up."

Rhonda gasped. "Brent Appleton?"

"Would Brent be that weak?" Merrick glanced at Grant, who moved the eggs around with his fork.

"Jordan was already there when we got there." Wyatt tapped his fingers on the table. "We walked right into her trap."

Despite Grant's stare at his plate, Merrick doubted he was seeing it. "Last night was bad."

Thurman nodded at Merrick. "Tell him the other part."

"Tell me what?" Merrick met Wyatt's gaze, who let out a deep breath. He glanced at Thurman. "What?"

Wyatt scooted his plate back. "The next painting is at the Fitzgibbon."

"Of course it is." Merrick rubbed his forehead.

Grant put his fork down. "What's the Fitzgibbon?"

"Remember the Stedheim?" Merrick met Grant's gaze. "Fitzgibbon has even _more_ security."

Grant caught his breath.

"We've done okay there before." Wyatt wrapped his hands around his coffee mug. "We can do this."

Merrick scoffed. "We weren't going against Jordan last time."

Wyatt took a sip of coffee.

Grant sat back, rubbing his belly. "Maybe we should look for Grandpa instead of this puzzle."

Merrick nodded. That sounded like a good idea to him.

The doorbell rang.

"Must be Brent." Wyatt stood. "Come on. Need you close on this one."

Rhonda touched Merrick's hand. "You're not going to beat him up, are you?"

Wyatt's tone was soft, direct. "No, I need Mare to stop me so that _I_ don't beat Brent up."

Merrick grabbed a bite of egg, meeting Thurman's gaze. "Go find some large rolls of plastic."

"You're kidding, right?" Thurman chuckled. "Merrick?"

Merrick smiled as he left the kitchen. He stepped into the dining room, folded his arms, and waited.

Wyatt opened the door and then let Brent step inside.

The smile on Brent's mousy face seemed forced. "Okay, okay, I hear it was a fake. I had no idea." He gasped when his gaze landed on Merrick. "Hey, Merrick, you're looking good."

Wyatt slammed the door, then stood before Brent. "Did Jordan Ciarra give you that tip?"

"Jordan? Oh, God no. She's in town?"

"She held a gun to my son's head."

Brent took a step back. "Look, no, I didn't know."

"Who gave you the tip?"

Brent blew out a deep breath.

"Who was it?"

"I don't know, just some British guy who paid well."

Merrick sighed. "Red hair?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Merrick and Wyatt exchanged a look.

"I'm sorry, guys, I really am. You two are some of my best customers—"

"Some?" Wyatt tilted his head.

" _The_ best, yes, best. I'm sorry. I really didn't know. The guy said he wanted to help you find your father."

Wyatt shook his head. "You trust anonymous tips now? This guy had a name, who is he? Did you even check him out?"

Brent shrugged. "He paid really well."

Wyatt turned away, shaking his head.

Brent stepped into the living room. "Merrick, help me out here."

"You have no idea how much danger we were in last night."

With a drop of his shoulders, Brent bowed his head. "I'm sorry. I got played. It won't happen again."

"No, it won't." Wyatt stomped down the hallway.

Brent winced, then nodded at Merrick. "So, this is a nice place. Is it for sale?"

"You should probably not talk anymore."

Brent smiled. "I smell food."

"Come on."

As they approached the kitchen, he heard the scramble of feet and then a chair scoot. Inside, Rhonda stood at the stove, sipping coffee, while Grant and Thurman smiled at Merrick. Merrick shook his head at them.

Brent's face lit with a smile. "Mrs. Silvan, so good to see you again."

"Sit." Merrick held a chair next to Thurman for him.

Brent obeyed, stealing a glance at Rhonda and giving a little wave.

Thurman leaned over. "So, you say you talked to Red Beard Guy."

"Yeah." Brent ran a hand through his black hair.

"Was he nice?"

"Uh...I guess so."

Merrick stood by Rhonda at the stove, taking a piece of bacon from the small pile on a plate.

Rhonda winced. "Wyatt's mad?"

"I'd say so, yes."

"Best to leave him alone, then." She took another sip, looking at Grant.

Thurman gasped. "Hi."

Merrick looked to find Scotty in the room. "How the—"

Scotty aimed a gun at him.

Merrick grabbed Scotty's arm and aimed the gun at the ceiling as he hit him. Scotty fired the gun twice, then Merrick slammed Scotty's hand against the edge of the refrigerator, forcing him to drop the weapon.

Grant and the others scrambled as Scotty shoved Merrick against the table, then hit him across the chin. Merrick returned the blow, knocking Scotty back several steps.

Merrick clenched his fist. "I'm getting tired of you."

"Good."

Scotty charged, but Merrick dodged him, grabbed his shirt and then slammed Scotty against the wall. He twisted Scotty's arm behind his back.

Grant jabbed a black stun gun against Scotty's neck.

Merrick let go of Scotty.

Grant looked at the stun gun, smiling. "That's the first time I've used that."

"Keep it close."

Scotty turned, his snarl aimed at Grant. "You're going to pay for that."

As Scotty backed Grant toward the wall, Merrick smashed a chair over Scotty's back. Scotty went to his knees, then down to the floor.

"Let's go!" Merrick grabbed Grant's hand.

They went into the living room where Wyatt was standing over another attacker who was unconscious at his feet. Wyatt wiped his mouth, breathing hard. "Brent!"

Brent stepped into the living room, his eyes wide, shaking his head. "I don't know about them."

Wyatt grabbed Brent and then pinned him against the door jamb. "Who gave you the tip? Was it Jordan?"

Brent shook his head.

"Her goons followed you here. Did you set us up?"

"No, Wyatt, I swear! I didn't know about the goons, honestly."

"Was it Jordan?"

"Yes." Brent squeezed his eyes tight. "You know how dangerous she is. She threatened me and my girlfriend."

Wyatt shoved him away.

"She gave me the address. Told me to send you there or she'd hurt me. She said I could tell on the British guy." Brent leaned over, taking deep breaths. "She would've killed me."

Wyatt paced the floor. "My son and Merrick could've died. You could've given us a warning."

"I was scared."

Merrick put a hand on Wyatt's arm. "We should probably leave."

Wyatt nodded. "I won't let these bastards tear up my parents' house. You take them, head to the plane. Brent and I will take out the trash."

Brent gulped.

Merrick leaned close to Wyatt. "You're not going to hurt him, right?"

Wyatt glanced at Brent. "Undecided."

Merrick nodded, then looked at Grant. "We should go. Grab your stuff."

Within five minutes, Merrick, Grant, Rhonda, and Thurman were loaded in the rental car and headed toward the airport. Next stop was Middleton.

On the drive, Merrick stole a glance at Grant. While the danger was real and he worried down to his soul that Grant might get hurt, it was nice to have him there. His love for Grant was getting stronger. And while he enjoyed going through this mystery with Grant, he looked forward to the quiet life he dreamed about for them: a nice house, maybe a puppy or two. It was going to be fantastic. They were going to save Loren, find the treasure, then Merrick and Grant could live happily ever after.

All Merrick had to do first was help steal a painting from a museum known for its unbreakable security.

* * * *

# Chapter 16

It was a two hour flight to Middleton. Once they landed, they remained in the plane while Merrick and Wyatt got ready for their night. While Wyatt packed up his computer, Thurman walked the aisle, reading from his phone.

"The Fitzgibbon Museum houses a collection of masterpieces and rare, hardly ever seen works from some of the greatest artists we've ever known." Thurman looked at Merrick. "You shouldn't go. I'm sure the security is high-tech, beyond-maximum level. There's probably even curses or demons lurking in the basement."

Wyatt smiled. "It's nothing we can't handle."

"You can handle a protection spell?"

Wyatt nodded at Merrick. "He can. He's friends with some witches, the real kind."

"Really?" Grant sat up.

"Really?" Thurman touched Merrick's arm. "You _are_ resourceful, aren't you?"

Merrick glanced at Grant, smiling. He picked up his black backpack. "I try."

Grant stood as Merrick approached him.

Merrick put the backpack on the floor, then hugged Grant. "It'll be okay."

"I'm so worried."

"Don't be." Merrick met his gaze. "We've done this for years. It'll be fine."

Grant nodded. "I _want_ to believe that, but..."

Merrick smiled. "We'll be back soon."

Grant hugged him, holding him for a moment longer than Merrick expected.

"What was that for?"

"You're just sexy in all black."

Merrick looked down, smiling. "I'll wear it all the time."

Wyatt faced the group. "I'm _serious_ , everyone stay on the plane."

"Be safe." Rhonda hugged Wyatt.

Merrick followed Wyatt off the plane and then to a waiting rental car. He slid into the passenger seat, put the backpack on the floorboard, then caught Wyatt looking at him. "What now?"

"I don't know." Wyatt started the engine. "I guess I miss it just being me and you."

Merrick glanced at the plane, then bowed his head.

"Are you blushing?"

"Just drive."

Wyatt chuckled as they headed away from the plane. Their destination was a three-story stone beauty of a building. During the day, the Fitzgibbon Museum looked inviting, surrounded by people, water sculptures that danced and kids laughing as they played in the fountains. But at night, the museum was an intimidating mammoth of brick. With most of its windows dark, the place felt evil. In these moments, it felt like he and Wyatt were the only people in the world. It was a sensation he'd never gotten used to.

As they approached, they pulled down their black ski masks. Wyatt parked in the shadows along the edge of the loading dock. He pulled his laptop from the backpack and opened it. "I love these modern, high-security places." His eyes danced over the building. "Makes it even that more satisfying when I crack it."

Merrick smiled. Wyatt was definitely in his element.

Wyatt chuckled, his attention on his laptop. "Think they would have gotten a better system since the last time we were here. They didn't learn."

"One day, you'll meet one you can't hack."

"Probably." Wyatt typed a few words, then slid on his black gloves. "If that happens, we'll break out the cop uniforms, storm the front doors."

"That would work?"

"Worked at the Isabella Gardner Museum in Boston in 2015."

Merrick scoffed. "So, naturally it'll work for us."

Wyatt smiled. "Might be fun to try."

"You're amazing. Let's just get this over with."

Wyatt concentrated on the laptop while Merrick slid on his backpack and then tightened the straps. High-security just meant they'd have less time, so he had to be ready. Inside, along with the motion sensors and roll cages would be one, possibly two, guards patrolling the hallways. As intimidating as it all seemed, his heart pumped with excitement, not fear. Tonight would be challenging and Merrick shared in Wyatt's pride at beating the odds. They'd also be one step closer to saving Loren and that quiet life with Grant Merrick dreamed about.

Merrick set the timer on his watch to countdown five minutes.

"Let's go."

Wyatt slammed the laptop shut while Merrick started the timer. They ran to the metal doors in the loading dock. Wyatt opened it, held it for Merrick, and then they were in.

Wyatt turned on a small flashlight, then scanned the room with it. The loading dock held a truck-sized wooden crate in the middle and little else. "Most of the security seemed to be focused on the second floor, east corner."

"Got it."

They took the stairs to the second floor. Merrick held his breath as he opened the door. He scanned the hallway, which was dimly lit but no guard was present. With a glance to his left as he stepped out, he waved Wyatt on. They went to the right, passing large portraits that were roped off, of frumpy kings and queens. Ahead of them, _Sadness_ hung in its own roped off section. A camera looked down at it from across the way.

Wyatt took a moment to study the rope, then stepped over it.

Merrick checked his watch. "A minute thirty."

Wyatt lifted the painting off its hooks, then handed it to Merrick. "Let's go."

They ran back to the doorway they'd come through. Merrick shoved against it, but it didn't open. "What the—"

"Locked?"

Behind Wyatt, a man dressed in black and wearing a white mask charged at Wyatt.

"Look out!"

The guy hit Wyatt across the temple. As Wyatt fell to his knees, their attacker aimed a gun at Merrick. "Don't move." The British accent was unmistakable.

"No." Merrick held his hand out. "We got this first."

"Only because I allowed you to. Where do you think the guards are, by the way?" He shook the gun. "I showed you mine, now show me yours. Put the painting down, lose the gun."

Merrick gripped the painting. "Why help us and then do this?"

"You'll find I'm not a patient man, and my finger is on a hair-trigger. I can shoot you and your partner here before you even reach for your weapon. Now...slowly, show me your gun and then toss it away."

Merrick rested the painting against his leg, then showed his hands. With his right, he drew the gun from the holster on the back of his jeans, then held it up. He placed it on the floor at his feet, then stood tall. "Don't hurt him."

"Slide the painting over."

"I can't do that." Merrick took a step toward him, but stopped as the guy aimed the gun at Wyatt.

"I will do what I have to, make no qualms about that." The man waved his fingers at Merrick. "Slide the painting over, then get on your knees, hands atop your head."

Merrick met Wyatt's gaze. He didn't have a move. "Just take it easy."

"I won't kill him, but I _will_ shoot him someplace that will hurt for a very long time." The man motioned to Merrick again. "Slide it over."

Merrick put the painting on the floor, frame side down, then kicked it to the guy.

"Now, down, hands on head."

Merrick obeyed, locking gazes with the man.

"Good." The man picked up the painting. "Maybe I'll let you have a few minutes head start before I turn the alarms back on, if you're good boys." He walked backwards, aiming the gun at Wyatt, then at Merrick. "Thank you, gentlemen." He dashed into a staircase on his right.

Merrick rushed to the door, but it wouldn't open. "Damn it."

"We've gotta go." Wyatt ran to the door they'd tried earlier and then shoved against it. This time, it opened.

Merrick picked up his gun, then followed Wyatt down the stairs. Wyatt took the steps two at a time with a rush to his pace that could only be fueled by anger. Merrick hadn't had a choice, though. He could've hoped the Brit was bluffing, but what if he wasn't and Merrick was racing Wyatt to the hospital right now? Hopefully, Wyatt would understand that when he calmed down.

As they ran to the car, sirens pierced the quiet of the night.

"Damn it." Wyatt started the engine, then sped off. With a growl, he took his mask off, then threw it to the back seat.

Merrick pulled off his mask. "I couldn't stop him."

"I'm not mad at you." Wyatt tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "It's all these other people getting in the way when I'm just trying to save my dad's life."

Merrick bowed his head. His guilt wasn't going to ease up for some time, no matter what Wyatt said.

"This stupid treasure." Wyatt slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Let's just work on finding the next painting."

Merrick looked out his window as they returned to the plane in silence. It wasn't until they stepped onto the plane to find Rhonda and Grant dressed in jackets that Wyatt spoke.

"I _told_ you to stay on the plane."

"We heard the call come through the police scanner about a break-in at the museum. You honestly think we'd just sit here and worry?" She gasped. "Your head's bleeding."

Wyatt flopped his backpack onto the sofa as he headed to the back. "Let's just get ready to go." He stepped into the bathroom and then slammed the door.

"Where's the painting?" Rhonda's tone was quiet.

"We didn't get it."

"What happened?"

"Bearded Man."

Thurman perked up. "Really?"

Merrick put his backpack on the sofa, then sat down with a heavy sigh.

Grant sat in the chair across from him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just..." He shook his head.

Rhonda leaned against the sofa as she looked out the window. "Ah, guys, we have a serious problem."

Outside, two black Mercedes S500s parked near the plane.

Merrick grabbed the backpacks as Wyatt rushed down the aisle. At the bedroom doorway, Merrick felt along the seam in the carpet, then flipped up a section. Underneath, he turned a metal handle and then raised a panel. He put the backpacks inside, secured the latch, and then put the carpet back. As he stood, he met Grant's stare. "Don't ask."

Grant nodded.

The pilot stepped over to the open stairs. "I couldn't get us out of here in time if I tried."

Wyatt nodded. "Thur, go talk to them. Don't let them onboard."

"Right." Thurman cleared his throat as he stepped off the plane. "Gentlemen, what is all the fuss about?"

Wyatt turned to Rhonda. "You two stick to the story. You suspected we were up to something, but we kept everything from you."

Grant slid his watch around his wrist, biting his bottom lip.

Merrick touched his arm. There was so much he wanted to say, but where to start.

Heavy footsteps approached, then a blond, thin man wearing a dark suit stepped onboard.

"Mr. Silvan." His voice was silky, comforting. "My name is Leland. I assure you I am not a threat. I come bearing a request."

"From?"

"Bernard Chapman."

Thurman gasped. " _The_ Bernard Chapman?"

"Yes. If you will all come with me—"

"No, I'll go." Wyatt took a step. "They stay here."

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid my orders are to deliver all of you to the meeting. It's not negotiable."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick.

Two men in suits stepped onboard.

Leland tugged at his jacket sleeves. "I have my orders, Mr. Silvan."

Wyatt held Rhonda's hand.

Leland smiled. "Excellent, follow me."

* * * *

# Chapter 17

Merrick, Grant, and Thurman rode in one car, while Wyatt and Rhonda went in the other car with Leland. The drive lasted almost fifteen minutes, then they arrived at another private airport. A gray, sleek helicopter waited.

Grant blew out a deep breath. "Wonder where that's taking us?"

Thurman ran a hand over his hair. "Honey, if it's to see Bernard Chapman, it's a paradise, I assure you. He has more money than God."

"Apparently." Grant glanced at Merrick.

Merrick held Grant's hand, looking at Thurman. "Do you know this guy?"

"No." Thurman scoffed. "No one actually meets with him. Reclusive artist extreme."

"Great." Merrick squeezed Grant's hand. "Stay close."

Thurman huffed.

"You, too."

They went to the helicopter, then climbed in. Wyatt, Rhonda, and Leland sat with their backs to the pilot, while Thurman, Merrick and Grant sat facing forward. The engine started as the door was closed, then soon they lifted off and headed out of town. Within minutes, they were flying over the lake. The glow of the moon illuminated the waves.

Grant gripped Merrick's hand, facing him. "I hate the water."

"It's fine."

Thurman chuckled. "The water is so magical, mystical."

Wyatt leaned up, looking at Leland. "Where are we going exactly?"

"Mr. Chapman's yacht. We'll be there in just a few minutes."

Grant gulped. "Yacht?"

Merrick squeezed his hand. "It'll be okay."

"Um..." Grant was pale.

Soon, the lights of the yacht came into sight. While Merrick couldn't make out any details, by the lights onboard, the yacht seemed to be as long as a football field.

They landed on the top deck, then the doors were opened as the engine powered down. Leland stepped out first, then they filed out in turn. Leland led them to a staircase, down a level and then inside a door to a lounge complete with pool table and a baby grand piano. A full bar ran the length of the wall to Merrick's left, while a section of tan sofas were tucked along the area to his right. Large abstract paintings in greens and yellows lined each wall. Merrick didn't recognize them, but a small painting at the edge of the bar caught his eye.

The beach house with flowing white curtains in the painting matched the one in Loren's office that had been taken off the wall.

"That's odd." He led Grant to it. The house numbers were 246 and the sign in the yard read _Brenda's Summertime Retreat_. Everything else seemed to be the same as the one at Loren's house.

"Can you feel that?" Grant put his hand on his belly as he moaned.

"Feel what?"

"The boat rocking."

"Are you going to be sick?"

"Maybe." Grant blew out a breath.

"Want to get some fresh air?"

"No, God, no." Grant swallowed hard. "Then I can _see_ the waves."

Merrick stroked Grant's arm. "Just breathe. Stay calm. I'm still not sure what we're in for here."

Grant took a deep breath. "You should've chosen Thurman."

"What?"

"He's more geared for these adventures."

"I don't love him, though."

"He loves you." Grant glanced at Thurman, who stood before a painting, his hands folded behind his back. "Probably laughing at how I can't take this."

"Why is Thurman on your mind?"

"Cause it keeps me from thinking about the damn rocking." He closed his eyes, then they flew open. "No, that's worse."

"Let's go sit down, maybe that'll help."

They sat on the sofa next to Rhonda. She patted Grant's knee. "Are you okay, hun?"

"Fine." Grant squeezed Merrick's hand.

Wyatt paced the room, no doubt looking for cameras and a trap. Thurman went to the next painting, studying it with the same stillness he'd devoted to the first one.

Rhonda looked around the room. "I don't like this."

The door opened and then Bearded Man stepped inside.

Merrick stood. "You."

Wyatt took a step toward the man, but a bodyguard stepped up to Bearded Man's side.

Rhonda and Grant stood.

"Please, don't be alarmed." Bearded Man extended a hand to Wyatt. "Bernard Chapman, but call me Bernie."

Wyatt scoffed, ignoring the handshake. "And I'm supposed to believe you? You could have the real Mr. Chapman locked in a closet somewhere."

"This is nothing nefarious, I assure you." Bernie retracted his hand. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No."

"Believe what you will." Bernie nodded at Merrick. "Mr. Davidson." With a smile, he stood before Rhonda. "Mrs. Silvan, lovely to meet you."

Rhonda offered her hand, which Bernie raised to his lips.

"And you must be Grant Silvan." Bernie clasped Grant's hand in both of his. "Do you need something for motion sickness? You look a little green."

"I'll be fine."

"Just let me know. You all are my guests." Bernie's gaze landed on Thurman, who blushed.

Thurman extended a hand. "Thurman Allen."

"Oh, I know." Bernie raised Thurman's hand to his lips, igniting Thurman's blush. "Curator of Blanco, chairman of the Arts Council in Spring Harbor."

"My, my...yes."

"Delighted to meet you." Bernie and Thurman's gaze held.

Wyatt stepped closer. "Mr. Chapman, _if_ that's your real name, I demand to know why you brought us here."

"Yes, let's get to business." Bernie rubbed his hands together. "I do like that spirit. Drinks, anyone? No? Okay."

Merrick stepped up. "Why save us all those times if you're just out to get us?"

"Oh, no, no, I'm not out to get you. I'm here to help you."

Wyatt scoffed. "Help?"

"Tonight, you made a valiant attempt to obtain _Sadness_ from a very difficult museum to breach, I must say."

"A painting which you took from us."

"Yes, I do apologize about the headache." Bernie winced as he touched his temple.

Wyatt shook his head.

"Paintings that lead to treasure. Impressive. Shipwrecks are such lovely finds." Bernie twisted the black ring on his right hand.

"I suppose."

"Your father thought so."

"I'm not my father."

Bernie looked at Merrick and Wyatt in turn. "I found a shipwreck one time, off the coast of Sicily. A beauty in her day, a heap of rubble now, but in the safe...well..." He held his hands out, looking around the room.

"It's nice, yes. I just want to find my dad. Do you know where he is?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Bernie looked at Merrick. "I am sorry about the hit at the Stedheim, but you owe me a drone."

Wyatt stepped closer to Merrick. "Sell that ring you're wearing and buy an even better drone."

Bernie smiled. "You do know your treasure."

"Did you bring us here to brag?"

Bernie pursed his lips. "I am in possession of _Sadness_ and I wish to give it to you."

Wyatt tilted his head. "What?"

"I'll never acquire all seven paintings before Jordan Ciarra. I know I can't deal with her, and quite frankly I don't want her to win. She's a horrible person, so I'm choosing sides and this is my decision."

"You've met her then?"

Merrick smiled. "She steal something of yours?"

Bernie held Merrick's gaze. "Yes, we've met, only very briefly. She was laughing as she stole a beloved statue from my house in New York while I watched her escape. I vowed to never let her get the better of me again."

"I'm just trying to save my dad, not find treasure."

"Then your dad will owe me. I don't care who pays me. I just want my fee and reimbursement for my drone."

"Fee?"

"Twenty percent."

Wyatt scoffed.

"I have _Sadness_ and the means to help you."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick.

Merrick nodded once.

"Fine." Wyatt tensed the muscles in his jaw. "You'll get your money _after_ my dad is safe."

"Deal." Bernie looked at Merrick. "Merrick, may I call you Merrick? I have something over here for you."

Merrick followed Bernie to the bar. Bernie stepped behind it, then placed a black, hard shell case on it.

Merrick pulled it to him, unfastening two locks and then opening it. Inside, a Glock 30 was tucked into black padding. The gun was his.

"It's from the party at Dwain Adair's. I know a man can't be too careful with leaving weapons about."

"Thank you."

Bernie stepped out from the bar, going to stand before Wyatt. "I have met your father. He'd be proud of you."

"Do you know where he is?"

"I wish I did. I suspect he's gone into hiding for a very good reason."

"What's the secret treasure?"

Bernie looked at his fingers he tapped together. "Is it treasure that concerns you?"

"No. What concerns me is my dad is missing, my son was almost kidnapped, we've been shot at and chased—all for some treasure I know nothing about. I want to find my dad and get my family safe again."

Bernie nodded. "Do you know the legend of Arwen de la Fleur, Mr. Silvan?"

"My dad told me that as a bedtime story. An artist so discouraged and troubled by the world that she put her soul into a painting to wait for the day when the world would be worth living in."

"I believe Simon Xanderclied hoped to do the same."

Wyatt hung his head. "We're after possessed paintings?"

"No, not possessed. Inspired."

Wyatt let out a sigh. "What does that have to do with treasure?"

"I guess it depends on your definition of treasure, Mr. Silvan."

"Mr. Chapman, you have a lot in common with my dad."

"Your dad is a brilliant man."

"You know my dad. Do you know Simon Xanderclied?"

"What do you know of Simon?"

Wyatt shrugged. "His paintings are all dark and depressing. I grew up with them hanging in the house because my dad said they had meaning."

"Yes." Bernie looked at Merrick. "And you?"

"Me? All I care about is that they're the key to finding Loren and we have someone very dangerous after us because of those paintings. We've already lost one to her."

Bernie rubbed his chin. "Yes, her involvement in this is quite frustrating, as is the agent, Squires, I believe is his name."

"You've met him?" Wyatt made a fist with his right hand.

Merrick's heartbeat sped up. If Wyatt was testing Bernie, then they were still in trouble. Bernie had given him a gun, but that didn't mean it was loaded.

"No, but I've become aware of him. Ms. Ciarra is your biggest threat, and I will do what I can to neutralize her."

"She could have my dad."

"I suspect he's safe, or else the secret would be further compromised. Jordan is following you, not going after the treasure. She doesn't have your father."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick, then nodded ever so slightly.

Merrick wasn't so sure he was ready to trust the situation again, even if Wyatt was. It seemed like everything had some tilt to it anymore and it was getting tiring. "Has Loren contacted you?"

"No, not since before he went missing."

"Did my dad give you any hint as to where he was going?"

Bernie met Wyatt's gaze. "All I can note is how ironic this is going to all play out."

"What's that mean?"

Bernie smiled. "Only that it's amazing how powerful a secret can be, isn't it." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, I'll give you my painting. You keep me in the loop. If you need my assistance, please call on me."

"Honor amongst thieves?"

"Money can be quite persuasive."

"I just want to find my dad."

"And I will help if I can." Bernie put his hand over his heart. "You do have my honest word."

Wyatt looked at him for a brief moment, then nodded. "All right. Thank you."

Bernie pulled a business card from the breast pocket of his jacket and then handed it to Wyatt. "My number for when it's time to reach me."

Wyatt took the card.

A sly smile spread over Bernie's face. "The painting has been loaded onto the helicopter. Now, you are welcome to stay, share in a late dinner."

Grant groaned.

"Or, I'll have my men deliver you back to your plane."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick, then met Bernie's gaze. "We should go."

"Very well." Bernie and Wyatt shook hands. "I wish you luck in saving your father. I will be awaiting the good news."

Wyatt held up the card.

The bodyguard opened the door. Leland waited outside. Wyatt and Rhonda followed him.

As Merrick approached, Bernie extended his hand, which he took with a bit of reluctance. Bernie pulled him close. "I do admire your talent, my young man." Bernie released him, smiling as he looked at Grant and then back at Merrick. "I wish for a happy future for you both."

"Thank you." Merrick held Grant's hand as they went to the helicopter.

They were quiet as they flew back to the airport. Merrick replayed the night, from the museum failure to meeting Bernie Chapman. While he didn't trust Bernie, he couldn't see the trick, either.

Once they were in the car, Thurman let out a deep sigh. "Did you see his eyes? They were the prettiest brown eyes I think I've ever seen."

Merrick smiled, glancing at Grant. His color was beginning to return and he seemed calmer now they were back on land.

At the plane, they hurried onboard and then the pilot closed the door behind them. Wyatt placed the painting on the sofa while Merrick put his gun in a cabinet near the front. After it was secured, he went to Wyatt's side.

Wyatt let out a heavy sigh, then ran a hand over his face. "I don't get this at all."

"Maybe they _do_ glow when they're all together."

Thurman put _Sadness_ on the table, then slid a flathead screwdriver under the staples holding the canvas to the frame.

Grant leaned in. "What are you doing?"

"Bernie's up to something." Wyatt rubbed his chin.

Thurman folded the canvas back from the corner. "There's a number six on the frame."

Wyatt unfolded the rest along the edge. "Here it is." He picked up a tracker, a small box the size of a jump drive. "Knew it."

Merrick shook his head. "Do we dump it or let him follow us?"

Wyatt had a smirk on his face. "How much does a good drone run? I've got a present I need to deliver."

Thurman grinned. "I'll deliver it, if you like."

Wyatt slid the tracker into his front pant pocket. "Let's just try for the next one. Do we have a lead on it?"

"Yes, but it's not good," Thurman frowned. "On display on the second floor at the Concordia Museum in Halltown. Crowded place."

Wyatt nodded. "We don't have a choice. Let's go to Halltown, get a motel, and rest for tonight. We'll head to the museum tomorrow, see what it's like."

Merrick nodded.

Thurman glanced at the pilot. "Guess we're headed to Halltown."

"All right. We should be ready to take off in about five minutes."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick. "Let's get the other ones. Maybe it'll make sense then without Jordan's."

"That would be fantastic."

Merrick sat beside Grant, then fastened his seatbelt.

Grant closed his eyes, exhaling loudly.

"You okay?" Merrick stroked Grant's arm.

"Yeah." Grant nodded, but didn't look at him. "Yeah."

Merrick rested his head against the seat. Something was bothering Grant, more than just seasickness. Grant's mood added a layer of heaviness to the concerns Merrick already had.

They just needed to get the paintings and save Loren. Hopefully, they could figure out the secret of the paintings with only six...and soon.

Hopefully.

* * * *

# Chapter 18

The lightness Grant had possessed so far in the adventure was gone. On the flight and then during the ride to the motel, he was silent. His mood laced the night. Wyatt didn't even fuss when Merrick and Grant ended up sharing a motel room together.

Inside their room, Grant sat on the bed, his gaze out the window. Merrick locked the door, then put the key on the dresser. He slid his hands into his pockets as stood before Grant. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Grant shook his head.

Merrick ran a hand over his face. The meeting with Bernie had been stressful for Grant, but he seemed okay afterwards. His mood had changed on the plane.

Grant went into the bathroom and then closed the door.

What had happened on the plane to affect Grant so? Or was it because they were here to steal another painting?

Merrick sat on the bed and then rested his head in his hands. The night wasn't going to go like he'd hoped. His plan for them to take a shower and then make love wasn't even going to be spoiled by sleep instead. This was worse. Grant was upset and Merrick didn't know how to fix whatever was wrong. What did a painting matter when Grant had shut himself in the bathroom?

Tomorrow was going to be intense and Merrick wasn't going to be ready, not with this emotional night. It was tempting to go get the painting right then and get it over with. They'd be going in without a plan, but did their plans really ever work?

Grant opened the door and then faced Merrick. His gaze remained on the floor, even as Merrick stood.

"Are you okay?"

Grant shook his head.

"If I did something—"

Grant wrapped his arms around Merrick.

He rubbed Grant's back for several breaths, then stepped back. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared of Jordan."

"Oh, honey." Merrick hugged him. "Don't be."

Grant trembled.

"It'll be okay."

"No, it won't." Grant met his gaze. "I don't want you to go up against her."

"I don't plan to. If it comes to it, though, I'll do all I can to keep you safe."

Grant melted against him. "Just hold me."

After several moments, he brushed Grant's bangs aside. "Let's try to get some rest."

Grant nodded.

They undressed to their briefs, then Grant curled up to Merrick in the bed. While all Merrick could see was the top of Grant's head, he felt a few teardrops fall onto his skin. He slid his fingers through Grant's hair. "It'll be okay."

"Tell me a story." Grant's voice was soft.

"A story?"

Grant slid his left hand across Merrick's nipple. "Share an adventure with me."

"Adventure? What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

Merrick danced his fingers across Grant's back.

"Is your name really Merrick?"

"No, it's my dad's name."

"And Davidson?"

"Just an identity your dad created for me."

"My dad." Grant slid his fingertips across Merrick's belly.

"I'd rather not think about your dad right now."

"What is your real name?"

Merrick sighed. "He doesn't exist anymore."

Grant landed a light kiss on Merrick's chest. "Ever stolen anything famous?"

"Famous? Like _Poppy Flowers_?"

Grant sat up, his mouth hanging open. "You stole van Gogh's _Poppy Flowers_?"

"No."

With a light slap on Merrick's arm, Grant laughed. "Don't freak me out like that."

"I just wanted to see you smile."

Grant placed his hand over Merrick's heart. "I'm sorry about my mood."

"Don't be. You can tell me anything." He touched Grant's arm. His watch was gone.

Grant placed his head by Merrick's on the pillow. "I want to know about you."

"I don't want to talk about me."

"Why not?"

"I'm afraid you'll hate me."

"I won't." Grant met his gaze. "Just...I've known you for years and yet now I don't feel like I know you at all."

Merrick cupped Grant's face. "Nothing's changed."

"It has."

"With us?"

Grant bit his bottom lip.

"I didn't mean for it to." He rolled Grant onto his back, then propped himself on his elbow. "Talk to me."

"I'm just curious about your life, even my dad's. What have you two been through? What was the bad decision you said you'd made?"

"Okay, wow." Merrick rolled onto his back.

"Are you really twenty-five?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. I've never lied about anything except my job, I swear."

Grant put his leg between Merrick's. "How'd you get to be a bank robber?"

"We should get some sleep."

"You're worried about me finding out?"

"A bit."

Grant turned Merrick's face to his. "I love you. I won't hate you."

Merrick took a deep breath, then let it out. "Short version is I went to train to box because I was going to rescue my boyfriend at the time from his abusive father. I was fourteen. Brian owned the gym, started training me to box, to stick fight, to defend myself."

"Brian, the guy you and Vic talked about?"

"Yeah. Those guys became my family. I loved training and sparring with Brian. Fighting seemed to come naturally to me.

"So...one day, the abusive father caught me and his son in bed. He started hitting his son, hitting me, yelling at us." Merrick closed his eyes. "I snapped."

Grant stroked his chest.

"I hurt him pretty bad. I couldn't go to my parents and I didn't want to go to jail, so I went to Brian. He took me in, and after I calmed down, he told me how they robbed banks and I was welcomed to join."

"I can tell losing Brian still hurts."

"It does. He was my teacher and my friend. He was a good man, despite his habit of stealing things."

Grant smiled.

"I only intended to protect and yet I lost control. It put my life on this path and I'm trying to make the best of it."

"You never saw your family again? Told them anything?"

"No."

"But how could—"

Merrick put his finger on Grant's lips. "It's past."

Grant sighed. He slid his fingers over Merrick's chest for several breaths, then met his gaze. "You said my dad saved you?"

"Yeah." Merrick tried to block the sounds of that awful day; guns popping, the screams. "One of our bank jobs went bad, cops were everywhere. Steve and Brian weren't going without a fight. It got ugly. Your dad got me out of there, dug a bullet out of my leg, got me back on track."

"Bullet?"

"Don't ever let your dad give you stitches. That hurts worse than the injury."

"Good to know."

"Your dad amazes me." He grinned. "He can spot a fake from a mile away, talk his way out of anything. You'd be impressed." He stroked Grant's cheek. "The side you saw before of your dad, though, that was him, as well. He loves you and your mom more than anything, would do anything for you."

Grant nodded. "So all those business trips you and my dad took were really like this."

"Yes."

"Do you two just steal art?"

Merrick chuckled. "Your dad won't recruit you."

"I'm just curious."

"Not just art. Sometimes it's just someone going through a divorce who wants her jewelry back. We've gotten a few cursed items for a family out of Canton."

"Cursed?"

"Yeah. My friend, Brandon, is a witch."

Grant furrowed his brow.

Merrick smiled at him. "We should stop talking about me."

"No, no." Grant slid his hand across Merrick's chest. "I want to know everything."

"I want to know everything about you, too."

"I'm an open, boring book compared to you. I want to know about you and about my dad."

Merrick moved Grant to the bed. "You're worried about Jordan, but is that all? You seemed really upset tonight."

Grant looked at the window.

Merrick traced Grant's neck. "You can tell me."

"I just want us all to be safe."

"Me, too." He kissed the tip of Grant's nose. "Is that all?"

"Yeah." Grant ran his finger around the scar on Merrick's shoulder. "We should get some sleep, huh?"

Grant's eyes and soft touch were too mesmerizing to worry about being tired tomorrow.

Grant touched Merrick's face. "My dad's probably paced the floor all night for no reason."

"The night's not over yet."

Grant smiled. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"What?" He traced a line from Grant's nipple to a mole just under his collarbone.

"That he doesn't like us together." Grant tangled his legs with Merrick's.

Merrick shrugged.

Grant raised his chin. "He likes you."

"Yeah. He's just got a lot to deal with—not just you and me, but that you know the truth."

"I like knowing. I like working with you two. Do you know how exciting a life this is compared to desk job?"

"It can be."

"Can be?" He rolled Merrick onto his back. "Watching you fight...it's terrifying, but amazing. I've always been attracted to you, but I had no idea how...how _amazing_ you are. You and my dad...this life..." He straddled Merrick. "I wish this had happened years ago."

Merrick grinned. "Me, too."

Grant slid his fingers through Merrick's, then pinned his hands to the pillow. A quick kiss was followed by a deeper one. Merrick arched his body to Grant, moaning into the kiss.

Grant sat up. "Beach house."

"Sounds nice." He sat up and then moved to steal another kiss, but Grant shook his head.

"There's something about that painting of the beach house."

"Probably, but what?"

Grant stared at the window, his eyes moving back and forth as whatever thoughts circled in his mind. "My grandfather loves the beach. Maybe he's at the beach?"

"That sounds like a good place to hide to me." He kissed Grant's shoulder. "Somewhere with a view of the beach from the bed and then we never leave the bed."

Grant's attention remained out the window, his brow furrowed and a frown on his face.

Merrick gave Grant's left nipple a gentle bite before he took it into his mouth. The beach house mystery would have to wait.

Grant grabbed him by the hair and then took them back to the bed. Grant's kiss was hungry as he pinned Merrick's arms to the pillow.

Wild kisses became tender. Gentle touches wandered as they made love. With Grant's groans in his ears, his fingers in Merrick's hair, Merrick didn't want the night to end.

Soon, every night for them would be this fantastic.

* * * *

# Chapter 19

The gift shop at Concordia Museum was busy that afternoon. Merrick and Grant stood close together as they looked at overpriced copies of classical sculptures. In a nice fantasy, it felt like they were decorating their first place together, even though Merrick knew why he was really there. There was still an hour before Wyatt was due to meet them, and even longer before they set about their task there. But for the moment, Merrick concentrated on Grant's warm hand in his and the charming way wrinkles formed around his eyes with his smile.

Grant admired every calendar, stationery set and hardback book he came across. Every fascinating item was picked up, examined, then gently put back. His interest in the trinkets and art replicas was genuine. That was something Merrick didn't possess, but he adored witnessing it.

Grant picked up a book on watercolors which was so large he had to hold it in both hands after he opened it. "Are you worried about what my dad will say?"

"Your dad?"

"You seem rather grim despite the fact that last night and today have been wonderful."

Merrick smiled, putting his hand on Grant's back. "I have other things on my mind, too."

"Don't worry about my dad." Grant closed the book with a loud bang, then put it on the shelf.

"I don't think he'll approve."

"He will." Grant sounded innocent enough that Merrick almost believed him. "I don't think he scares you too much, anyway. You seem to handle him better than anyone I know."

"I don't know about that."

"I can't imagine you being afraid of anything." Grant brushed his fingers through a collection of pastel scarves.

"I'm afraid of things."

"Really? Like what? Clowns?"

"If they're chasing me, yes."

"Storms?"

"I love storms."

"Flying?"

"Love that, too. Hope to see the world one day."

Grant hummed as he tilted his head. "Where would you go first?"

Merrick held Grant's gaze. It would be anywhere Grant wanted to go. "I'm not sure."

Grant's eyes danced over every book. Even with all this strangeness happening, Grant still possessed an air of innocence that Merrick envied. No wonder he'd been attracted to Grant for so long. He was full of such goodness and hope and just being around him made Merrick feel better.

A nervous energy flared in his gut. Was someone watching them?

He scanned the shop. The two cashiers were busy with customers. The old lady near them was focused on the calendars she flipped through. There wasn't a security guard in the store. No one seemed to be interested in him and Grant. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling, so where—

Wyatt leaned against the banister at the top of the stairs. The scowl on his face deepened as Merrick met his gaze.

Merrick's heart dropped. "Ah, damn."

Wyatt headed downstairs. Grant moved down the aisle, still lost in reading titles. Merrick let him wander on. It'd be best to face Wyatt's wrath alone.

Wyatt grabbed Merrick's arm and then pulled him to stand by a door that read Employees Only. "We're supposed to be working."

"I am."

"Really? How long was I watching you before you realized it, huh? What if I'd been Agent Squires?"

Merrick scanned the store to find Grant was still focused on the aisle of books.

"I'm telling you to leave him out of this."

He kept his tone hushed. "I can't just go around asking the guards what their security system is. We can't draw attention to ourselves."

"Right, and you two are."

"No, _you_ are. I'm in love with Grant and I want to enjoy that for a moment."

Wyatt winced.

"Why can't you just be happy for us?"

"Because if I allow this, you'll quit and I'll lose you. And if I don't allow this, you'll be _angry_ and quit, and I'll lose you. Either way, I lose you."

" _That's_ what's wrong? You're not _losing_ me."

A saleslady stepped up to them with a smile and her eyes wide. Her name tag read Stephanie. "I know just the perfect item for you two." She picked up a small, red-glazed statue of two figures wrapped in a hug. Their features were vague; could have been a man and woman, or two men. "It's called _Coeur d'amore_ and is said to have healing powers." She handed it to Wyatt. "Keeps the one you love close to your heart."

"Us?" Wyatt gasped. "We're not—"

"It's okay." She winked at Wyatt. "It will heal."

Wyatt let out a huff. "Thanks."

Stephanie nodded, her smile getting bigger as she left them.

Grant stepped up, grinning. "Something more you want to tell me?"

Wyatt put the statue on the shelf to his left side. "Get to work." He stomped away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, let's go." He led Grant out of the gift shop, then down the hallway on their right. Quiet as they passed by the art, Merrick tried to focus on the job, not his emotions.

"Did my dad say something?"

"It's fine. Let's just get this done."

"Why does his reaction bother you so much?"

Merrick stopped, then met Grant's gaze. "He's saved my life at least twice. Think I'd be good enough to be with his son."

"He'll be okay with us."

Merrick shook his head. "His approval just means a lot to me."

"He's fine with us."

"No—"

A man in a black coat stopped and then turned away.

"Damnit." He grabbed Grant's hand and then led him deeper into the crowd. "If we're caught, I forced you to do this."

"I'm not going to say that."

"You are, or you'll be going to jail, too." Merrick glanced behind them.

Grant put his phone to his ear. "We're in trouble."

They passed another stern-faced man dressed in black and the one following them had moved closer. Merrick stopped by the fire escape, but a guard stood there. Maybe he could fight them all, but if they wanted to shoot, there were too many innocent people around, especially Grant.

He started walking again, pulling Grant with him. "The first big crowd we come to, you stay with them, understand? The fire alarm will distract everyone, you get out of here and then stay hidden. Don't go back to the hotel. One of us will find you."

"I'm not leaving you."

They turned the corner and then froze as they faced Agent Squires. The smirk Squires wore sent a wave of nausea through Merrick.

"We meet again."

Merrick stepped in front of Grant.

"You're an interesting fellow, Mr. Davidson. Bank robber. Art thief. A very valuable asset to the right person, I would say."

Merrick took deep breaths as he faced Squires.

"There's a very interesting exhibit on the second floor, isn't there?"

Jordan's voice came from behind them. "He wouldn't know." Her gaze was locked on Squires as she walked past Merrick. "He's not much of an art lover."

From the hallway, there were the sounds of grunts, then a body hitting the floor.

"Looks like I'm up to four." Jordan grinned at Merrick. "Get out of here, I'll handle him."

The fire alarm sounded and then people began to rush toward an exit. Merrick led Grant into the group, then passed Scotty. He had taken down the two agents following Merrick, but didn't move as Merrick hurried by.

"My dad says to keep going."

Merrick lost grip of Grant's hand, but he could still see him. They moved with the crowd, out the front doors and then to the right side of the building where the car should have been parked.

It wasn't there.

"What the hell?"

"They'll be here in a bit." Grant pointed ahead. "We need to go to the back lot."

They jogged down the sidewalk, toward the parking lot, then stood against the building. Merrick scanned the parking lot for which car would be the easiest to hotwire. He could hear sirens approaching, but he had to stay calm and get Grant out of this mess.

Squealing tires came from their right as a green Ford Explorer crashed through a wooden barrier, then came to a stop in front of them. Rhonda was behind the wheel, with Thurman in the passenger seat.

Merrick opened the back door, then let Grant climb in before he followed. He closed the door as Rhonda peeled out. They were thrown to the left as Rhonda jumped the curb and then headed down the main road.

Wyatt rose up from the cargo space. "Get us to the plane."

"The painting?"

"Already got it." Wyatt held up _Loneliness._ He leaned it against the tailgate, then grabbed onto the headrests as Rhonda's driving tossed them around. "That was a fantastic distraction."

Merrick let out a deep breath. This job wasn't going to be over soon enough.

"Why'd she save us?" Grant looked at Merrick, then Wyatt.

"Jordan?" Wyatt asked.

Merrick nodded. "I'm not sure why, but we're not done with her, I bet." She'd been trying to kidnap him, now she was keeping him from getting arrested. What was she up to?

Two police cars with sirens wailing pulled in behind them.

Thurman yelled into his phone. "Jerry, I need that plane ready to go now. _Now!_ "

A silver Mercedes SLK roadster joined the chase. The Mercedes turned in front of the cop cars, forcing one car to crash.

"She's after the painting." Wyatt braced as Rhonda darted through traffic.

"She's letting us do her dirty work."

Jordan turned onto a side street, the other police car following her.

Grant gripped Merrick's hand.

Less than a mile from the airport, the Mercedes returned in the distance. Rhonda sped up as they entered the airport and then headed toward the plane that waited on the tarmac. The steps were down and the attendant stood at the base, looking around anxiously.

They ran aboard, followed by the attendant who quickly raised the stairs.

As the plane moved, they each took their seats and fastened their seatbelts. Merrick kept watch out his window as the Mercedes drove onto the tarmac, headed toward the plane. "I'd feel better if we were in the air."

The plane turned and then gradually moved forward, picking up speed with each passing breath. Merrick rested his head against the seat, imagining Jordan pushing the car's engine to its limits trying to catch the plane. Only when the plane lifted and they were angled toward the sky did he breathe easier. He ran his hands over his face and let out a deep breath.

From across the aisle, Wyatt smiled at him. "That was too close."

"No doubt."

"That was amazing." Grant laughed. "You guys do this all the time?"

"No." Merrick eased into the seat.

Grant grabbed Merrick's face and then kissed him.

Merrick held Grant to him, able to feel the disgusted look Wyatt was shooting their direction, but he let the kiss race through him.

"Okay, Grant, that's enough to ask your old man to watch."

Grant sat back, grinning. "Today has been _awesome!_ "

* * * *

# Chapter 20

Grant was alive with the day's adventure, but Merrick felt differently. Today could've been the day. Instead of safely on the plane, Merrick could've been sitting in jail. And worse, Grant would've been there, too. Even if Merrick did get part of this supposed treasure, would it be enough that he could escape being wanted and have a normal life with Grant?

That seemed impossible. He'd always be looking over his shoulder and always afraid Grant would share in his fate. He couldn't do that to Grant. It didn't matter how he felt about him, he'd done the right thing months ago when he'd told Grant they couldn't be together. Grant had cried that day; this time was going to hurt so much worse.

The plane rocked to the side, then straightened out as the landing strip came into sight. Merrick closed his eyes as the plane touched down and then headed to a waiting car by the hangar. Why couldn't they just stay on the plane, in the moment where jail time wasn't a threat and Grant was excited to be a part of this?

But the plane stopped and then the pilot opened the door. Wyatt loaded the paintings while Merrick escorted Grant to the vehicle.

"You okay?" Grant touched his arm. "You've been so quiet."

"Yeah, sorry."

Grant nodded. "We'll talk later, when my dad isn't around."

"Okay."

With Grant in the backseat, Merrick got behind the steering wheel while Wyatt slid into the passenger seat. Thurman and Rhonda left in a second car, headed out on their own mission which was as unsettling as almost being arrested.

Merrick drove them to their warehouse, catching Grant's gaze in the rearview mirror every time he looked. Once they were there, they parked inside and then waited for the door to close before stepping out. Merrick and Wyatt each carried a painting while the three of them took the elevator downstairs.

In the basement, Wyatt went to the door on the right. "Stay in here while we put this away."

Grant frowned. "Why can't I go?"

"Because you shouldn't see what all is in there."

Grant sighed.

After the door closed behind Grant, Wyatt nodded at the vault door. "Let's go."

Merrick entered _62581_ , the door unlocked, then he opened it for Wyatt. Inside, a portion of the open, concrete room was sectioned off by metal frames with chain-link covering them. A gate was in the middle of the wall facing them. Merrick opened the door for Wyatt, then they stepped into a small storage room with a bare light bulb overhead. Three thin crates rested against the wall to their left. A six-foot long worktable was on their right with another crate opened on it.

" _Are_ you okay?"

"I'm fine." Merrick placed _Sadness_ on the worktable.

"I can set up a new identity for you. I won't let them get you." Wyatt propped _Loneliness_ against the wall.

What did it matter if he had a new name? His life was going to be about emptiness whether he was arrested or safe.

"I'm serious."

Wyatt wouldn't understand what troubled him. Wyatt had been married to a wonderful woman for twenty-five years and he'd still be married to her after this. Wyatt wasn't worried about Rhonda.

"Mare?"

The crates rested at an odd angle. Surely, they didn't leave them that way.

"Something wrong?"

Merrick pulled the first one toward him. The lid fell back, revealing an empty crate. "They're gone." Merrick dropped the crate to the floor, opened the second one and then the last one. All three were empty.

Jordan laughed. "That look on your faces _is_ priceless." She stepped out of the shadow in the back corner. "I knew it would be."

"Get out of here." Merrick stepped between Wyatt and Jordan.

Jordan pulled a knife, glaring at Merrick.

Wyatt grabbed _Loneliness_ and then rushed out of the cage.

Merrick stepped into the doorway as Wyatt left.

Jordan smiled. "Good, now I have the insurance I was wanting: Wyatt's little pet."

Merrick scoffed. "I'm no longer the bodyguard, huh?"

"I have an offer for you."

"Not interested."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Really?" He nodded at the knife.

"I need your help to get the last painting."

"Give us back the ones you took."

"I think not." She stepped closer. "They're payment for saving you and your boyfriend back there. Now you're going to help me get the last one."

"Never."

"You'll see." Jordan jabbed the knife at him.

Merrick dodged it, grabbed her arm, and then slammed it against a crate. Jordan dropped the knife, but popped him in the face with her free hand. He took several steps back as Jordan stood strong once again.

"You guys are so predictable." Jordan circled him. "Perhaps it's time you started working with a _real_ thief."

"You?"

Merrick blocked her right hook, but her left landed in his ribcage, followed by her right fist hitting his jaw.

She picked up the knife. "I know who's betraying you."

"Don't care."

"What's Wyatt promising you? Why do you think he wants to keep you?"

"Stop."

"He's wasting your talent, using you only for his grand scheme."

Jordan could spew her negativity, but he just needed to subdue her. It would be easy enough to trap her in there. He might not save the paintings, but Wyatt and Grant would be out of danger. All he had to do was get past her and out the gate.

"I can teach you to be what you truly are."

"Not interested." Merrick took two steps to his left. Jordan matched his moves.

Perfect.

"Trust is hard to come by these days." She twirled the knife, then tucked it against her arm. "How do you think I know so much about you?"

He took another step. _Sadness_ was within reach. He could grab it, get to the gate, and end Jordan's threat. Just another step...

She kicked her left leg at him. He grabbed it, spun her around, then shoved her against the wall.

"You're good. You could be so much more than a piddly little thief." She regained her stance.

"No, thanks."

She swung the knife, sliced him across his upper arm, then moved to her corner. "You've never killed before, have you? You'd be good at it. You're a strong fighter, smart. You almost beat me, but I won, didn't I?"

"You shot me first."

"Not anyplace fatal." She tossed the knife between her hands. "I can beat you and you know it. I'd love to teach you this power."

"Like beating up old guys? Did Jerard Hamilton put up a fight?"

"He kept saying there's no treasure. He was lying."

"You may be disappointed."

"So might you. Call me if Wyatt's lying about the treasure. I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams."

"Never."

Jordan thrust the knife at him. He caught her hand, then kicked her feet out from under her. With her flat on her back, he pinned her hand with the knife at her throat.

"I won't—"

With her left hand, she jabbed a needle into his neck.

Merrick stumbled back. "What did you do?" The room tilted.

Jordan stood. "Don't fight it, just close your eyes."

Merrick stepped through the doorway, then slammed the gate closed. "You're trapped now and I have the number of an FBI agent who'd love to see you."

She slid her fingers through the cage next to his. "You don't think I came alone, do you?"

Grant! He had to get to him.

Heat flared inside him. Her voice was too deep to be hers and the light in the room was dimming. His body felt like it was made of stone. Ahead of him, the room spun. He took five steps before he fell against the wall.

"Just close your eyes, sweetheart."

Merrick slid his hand along the wall as he struggled to maneuver the whirling room. He just needed to get to the door. Hopefully, Wyatt and Grant were okay and hadn't left yet.

With a labored breath, Merrick forced another step. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and as hot as he felt, he hoped he didn't explode. Through it all, Jordan's demonic laughter echoed through his head. "I won't help you." At least he thought he said that.

"Scotty, come and get him."

Just a few more steps to the doorway. He had to get to Wyatt, had to keep them safe.

A man's figure appeared before him.

Merrick closed his eyes as his legs failed him. As he slid down the wall, the man's hands gripped his arms. Even though he knew he needed to defend himself, all he wanted to do was sleep. His eyes wouldn't open; his arms like concrete. If he could just sleep...

* * * *

# Chapter 21

Merrick remembered he'd fought Jordan. The sound of her laughter lingered in his memory. But after that, what had happened? Why did he smell roses? It smelled like Thurman's house: an over-abundance of fragrance that gave the place a magical feel. But he'd been at the warehouse, so why did he feel silky sheets against his bare chest?

His fight with Jordan had been real, hadn't it? She'd gotten their painting; had trapped him.

Scotty, come and get him.

He _was_ in trouble.

Merrick forced his eyes open as he sat up. Prepared to fight whoever guarded him, he caught his breath as the room spun.

"Take it easy, you're safe." Grant sat on the bed by Merrick's left side.

Merrick eased back to the pillow, putting his right hand over his eyes. No doubt he was getting pale as his stomach churned. "What happened?"

"Jordan must've sedated you. You've been asleep for a few hours."

"Your dad saved me?"

"Yeah. Fought that big guy from my grandpa's house, then went in to help you." Grant squeezed his hand. "I was so scared."

Merrick took a second look at Grant. A faint bruise was on his cheek. "What's that from?"

"I tried to stop that big guy, but he clocked me." Grant rubbed the side of his face. "You're right. It does hurt worse later on."

"Oh, honey—"

"I didn't want them to hurt you."

Merrick closed his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. "Is everyone okay? We did get _Loneliness_?"

"Yes."

"The other paintings?"

"She took them."

"Damn."

Grant placed his hand on Merrick's chest.

"I need to talk to your dad." Merrick sat up, but found himself back on the bed before he could breathe.

"Take it slow."

Merrick placed his hand on top of Grant's. He kept his eyes closed as he took several deep breaths.

When he looked at Grant, Grant's eyes were tear-filled.

"Here, it's okay." Merrick welcomed Grant into his arms.

"I just want this to be over."

"I know. I'm sorry."

After Grant sat back, Merrick wiped a lone tear from Grant's cheek.

They were even further away from completing this job, but why burden Grant with that. Already in one day they'd escaped the Feds and Jordan with fights and car chases, ending with flying off into the night. Why make that all for nothing when Grant was scared...even if it was true.

"I'd better go see what's going on." With slow movements, Merrick sat up. After he planted his feet firmly on the Oriental rug, he stretched his back.

On the nightstand, _Coeur d'amore_ sat next to Dedo. Merrick ran his thumb over the head of one of the figures.

"My dad left that."

Merrick nodded. "We're at Thurman's?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"Smells like him." On his left arm, a bandage was wrapped around his bicep. He rubbed it.

"No stitches. My dad said you'd be glad to hear that."

"Yeah."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Grant winced. "I've never seen him so upset."

"It's bad."

"Let me know what you need me to do." Grant slid his fingers through Merrick's. "We're in this together."

Merrick leaned his head against Grant's and then closed his eyes. His feelings were as cloudy as his mind felt. He should push Grant away, but he didn't want to. All he wanted to do was comfort Grant and reassure him everything was all right. And if Merrick could believe that lie as well, it would really help.

Grant kissed him. "Go meet with my dad, then join me in the bedroom to the left on the second floor."

Merrick smiled. "All right."

Grant got up, then stayed close as Merrick stood. "I'll let you get dressed, but meet me soon." Grant picked up Dedo and _Coeur d'amore_ , then left the room.

On a chair in the corner, Merrick found his shoes with his folded shirt resting on top. There was a slice in the sleeve, but he put it on, then slid on his shoes. In the hallway, he turned left, then headed to the living room that reminded him of a French chateau. When Wyatt and Thurman weren't there, he went past the formal dining room which was separated from the kitchen by a swinging door.

As he approached, he heard Thurman's voice.

"Come on, Wyatt, they're kids."

Merrick stopped.

"Let them have some fun."

"I don't want my son dating Merrick."

"Why? He's a great guy."

"He's a thief."

"So are you. And if you keep this up, your son is going to follow in your footsteps."

Wyatt sighed. "I don't like it."

"Wy, you raised your son. What did you expect him to become when he grew up? Honestly."

Thurman's question was met with silence.

"Leave them alone. They're in love. You remember how that felt. No over-protective dad could stop that."

"I don't want to think about that."

"Just be happy that your son is in love and Merrick is in love, and leave it at that. You know Merrick would do anything for him. He's been good enough for you for five years."

"Six."

"It seems to me like you took Merrick in as a son in this part of your life because you wouldn't let Grant into it."

"No, I just had to get him away from those bank robbers. I knew they'd just get him killed and they about did."

"And you two have been perfect for each other."

Wyatt chuckled. "Grant doesn't need this. As it was, he was innocent. No risk of jail. But now..."

"Wy, if you were really worried about that, you would've stopped when Grant was born, but you didn't. Now, you took Merrick on as a partner for a reason. You two are great together."

"Yeah."

"And Merrick and Grant are great."

Merrick held his breath as he waited for Wyatt's response.

"Mare needs more in his life than just you."

"That doesn't have to mean my son."

Merrick bowed his head.

"Let them be happy."

After all that time, it turned out that he wasn't good enough for Grant in Wyatt's eyes. But why should he be? He _was_ a thief. Every one of his own reasons for not dating Grant was true, but that didn't make it any easier. Wyatt's approval had been important to him, and that wasn't there, and probably never would be.

Merrick went back the way he'd came, down the hallway toward the glow from an open doorway. He couldn't face Wyatt and he wasn't ready to show his bad mood to Grant, so he went past Thurman's bedroom toward the inviting radiance at the end of the hall.

* * * *

# Chapter 22

Inside the room stood a sprawling collection of canvases on easels, like ballerinas lining up at the barre. While Merrick never had any interest in being an artist, that world fascinated him: the tools, the brushes, the tubes of paint, the canvases leaning against the wall.

On two easels to his left were paintings of a dark-haired man, his face distorted in what Merrick saw as a cry of agony. Across from those paintings were three half-finished ones. One was of a field of flowers; the next one was of a woman holding birds in her hands with her own hidden wings behind her; the last was an eight-foot tall canvas with an image of Merrick standing naked as he leaned against a French door, his leg bent to hide the view of his penis. The painting was perfect, but it hurt him.

"I never meant for you to see that." Thurman stood in the doorway.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snoop."

Thurman stepped closer, his face red.

"Thur, I—"

"It's fine. I have no delusions of us."

"I'm sorry." Merrick glanced at the painting, suspecting Thurman had poured his heart into that. "I wish I was that man who would sweep you off your feet and live happily ever after with you, but I'm not."

"I know. You're in love with Wyatt's son."

Merrick looked around the studio, smiling.

"I can see why you like him. He's cute and funny. Most of all, he loves you, too. Much better than a fifty-year-old art collector who lives through paint on a canvas."

"Thur—"

"No, it's okay. Really."

"I wish I was the right one for you. I really do."

"I imagine one day I'll find someone." He touched the painting closest to him.

Merrick recognized the Xanderclied image. "That's one of yours, right?"

"It is. Fake as it can be."

"It's very good."

Thurman touched his arm. "Bless you."

Merrick smiled.

"What about you, dear? You're sad, as well."

"No."

Thurman tilted his head. "Did Wyatt do something?"

Merrick took a deep breath and let it out. "I heard what he said about me."

Thurman waved his hand. "Don't take his words to heart. He loves you. He sat by your side tonight to make sure you were breathing."

Merrick shoved his hands into his pockets. "Things just aren't good right now, and I expected everything to be great."

"You're like a son to Wyatt."

"He doesn't think too highly of me."

"Posh. He's just worried about Grant, not about you two being together."

Merrick glanced at the man's face in the painting.

"Don't break up, okay? I love you guys."

Merrick scoffed. "We're not breaking up."

"Good. And don't break up with Grant just because of what Wyatt thinks."

Merrick sighed.

"There's more to you and Grant than just your job or your past. He's aware of the dangers."

"That's the problem. There are dangers."

"I believe in romance. When someone finds his soulmate, he needs to hang onto him. The rest will work itself out. You'll see."

"Law enforcement probably wouldn't agree."

Thurman stroked Merrick's arm. "You're soul sick, Mare. You have been for a long time, you just can't see it. Why do you think my painting shows you being sad?"

Merrick shook his head. "I don't know what to do."

"You have an emptiness eating you up. You have nothing to anchor you in this life, no purpose, no _one_."

Merrick closed his eyes and sighed. "You might be right."

"I _am_ right."

"So, what do I do?"

"You seem happier with Grant, _and_ with Wyatt, than I've seen you in a long time."

Merrick shrugged.

"You can be happy. Let yourself. Grant makes you happy. Focus on that, not Wyatt or the what-ifs."

"Right."

"Wyatt will come around. He's adapting to this change, too. He's a dad who wants the best for his son and he's worried, but he also knows what it's like to fall in love."

Grant stepped into the room. "Wow, this is nice." His eyes landed on the painting of Merrick and then he caught his breath. "Oh."

"Well." Thurman rubbed his hands together. "I'll go see what Wyatt is doing. I'm sure we'll be busy for a few hours, talking and drinking and planning."

Merrick met Grant's gaze.

"Oh..." Thurman stopped at the door and then grabbed the doorknob. "The bedrooms all lock, just in case you were curious for some... _random_ reason." He grinned at them as he left.

Grant smiled. "He's cute."

"Yeah." He held Grant's hand and then started towards the door.

Grant stopped and looked at the painting. "Did you pose for that?"

"No."

"Is there a story there?"

"No."

"Think he'd sell it to me?"

"I doubt it."

Grant wrapped his arm around Merrick's. "I get the real thing."

Merrick smiled at him.

They went upstairs and then into a bedroom. Merrick stepped into the room while Grant shut the door.

"Look at that." Grant rattled the doorknob. "They _do_ lock."

"Your dad sucks at picking locks, too," Merrick shoved his hands into his pockets as Grant walked towards him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Grant slid his hands around Merrick's waist as he tilted his head. "To have been such a great liar before, you sure do suck at it now."

"I'm sorry. I just heard your dad tell Thurman how he doesn't want us to be together."

"He's my dad. He wouldn't approve of any guy for me, _or_ for you. He thinks of you like a son."

"I'd just like to be worthy of you in his eyes."

"I think you're perfect."

Merrick nodded. "Every rational bit of me says I need to put distance between us, to protect you from my evils, from jail."

"Don't—"

"No, let me say this." He rubbed his chin. "We could both be sitting in jail right now, you realize that."

"Yes, but—"

"Just...please." He took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. "You wanted to know what scares me, well, jail scares me."

"It won't come to that."

"Knowing that I caused you to be arrested kills me."

Grant shook his head.

"I _know_ I should end this, us, and get you safe. Your dad thinks so, too."

"I don't."

He touched Grant's arm.

" _This_ is why you were so quiet before? You were trying to figure out how to break up with me?"

"No, would you just let me say this?"

Grant folded his arms.

"I _should_ , yes. We were so close to being arrested at the museum and that has me freaked out. Yes, I know what I _should_ do, but it's not what I _want_ to do."

Grant wiped his eye.

"I hoped to get some money and then I could be safe and we could have a life together. Now, I'm not sure that's going to happen."

"So, what about—"

"I love you."

"—us?"

Merrick brushed his fingers across Grant's face. "You're the only man I've felt this way about and I can't just let you go."

Grant rested his head against Merrick's shoulder as he slid his hands around Merrick's waist.

"Even if I should."

"I don't want to lose you." Grant kissed Merrick's cheek. "We'll figure out the rest together."

Merrick moved his thumb across Grant's face and caught a tear.

"I love you, and I know my dad does, too."

"I don't want my past mistakes to affect you."

"Stop." Grant smiled. "It's going to be okay."

Merrick scoffed. "I don't know why you think that."

"Because my dad does. And you said yourself he's very good at what he does. He'll keep us all safe, I have no doubt." Grant lightly kissed him. "And I know he approves of us, because I grew up with him, and if he didn't want us to be together, you and I would _not_ be alone in this room right now."

Merrick smiled. Grant put his hand on Merrick's chest, then Merrick put his hand on top of it. He held Grant's gaze for a few breaths. "I'm scared."

"We'll get through this." Grant stole a kiss. "I've learned so much about you in a short amount of time, and yet you still seem to be a mystery."

"I don't mean to be." Merrick stroked Grant's face. "And I will make things safe for us somehow. A nice quiet life on the beach with you sounds really fantastic."

Grant grinned. "This has all been scary, but it's also been thrilling."

"That's what worries me."

"I'm not signing up for a life of an art thief."

"Good."

"I'm signing up for a life with you."

Merrick kissed him, then was slow to move away. Maybe they would get through this and get that life together, after all.

Grant rubbed his shoulders. "Why don't you lie down, I'll give you a massage. You look exhausted." He kneaded his fingers into the tight muscles around Merrick's neck.

The contact hurt, but the tension was beginning to ease.

Grant stopped. "I'm serious."

"Okay." He sat on the bed, kicking off his shoes while he watched Grant walk to the door. Inside, Grant was stronger than him in a lot of ways. Even if Agent Squires caught up with them, he suspected Grant would still be collected and optimistic. The beauty inside Grant comforted Merrick. He'd needed Grant in his life more than he'd let himself admit.

Grant smiled at him before he turned off the light. "Are you going to lie down?"

"Yes."

Grant returned to him, then put his hands on Merrick's shoulders.

"I do love you."

"I know." Grant kissed him. "I love you, too."

* * * *

# Chapter 23

It was just after six that next morning. Merrick had been awake since around five and had watched Grant sleep for a while, before his hunger led him to the kitchen. Now, he stood at the counter, eating from a container of leftover chicken he'd found in the refrigerator. There would be a lot to do to get ready this morning and he was sure Wyatt had it all planned out. A good amount of trepidation filled him about facing Wyatt that morning, but maybe they could just focus on the job they still had to do.

On the counter, a twelve-inch TV held his interest. A female newscaster started on a story about a bank robbery that had been foiled. A picture of the bank hovered over her shoulder as she recounted how the robbers had attempted to escape the cops.

"We want to warn you this footage contains scenes that might be difficult to watch."

The view switched to a security camera aimed at the street as two men ran, shooting behind them. A popping sound broke the silence, the kind of innocent sound that seconds later would send a searing pain through its mark.

One of the robbers fell to the ground as the second robber turned, firing at the cops. The screen cut back to the reporter and her grim tone. "One man was arrested, the other was pronounced dead at the scene."

"Don't let the past haunt you."

Merrick looked up at Wyatt. "I didn't hear you come in." He turned off the TV.

Wyatt sat at the bar. "Grant awake?"

"No. I couldn't sleep, so...I raided the fridge."

Wyatt folded his hands in front of him. His gaze remained on them as Merrick got a green coffee cup from the cabinet to his right.

"Coffee?"

"Sure."

Merrick poured him a cup, then placed it before him.

Wyatt wrapped his hands around the cup as he let out a deep sigh. "I bet Jordan tipped the cops off to the bank robbers. While those petty thieves took the fall, she was stealing _Grieving_ from a private residence on the other side of town."

"Damn." Not only were they failing at their biggest job of their career, Merrick wasn't sure they were even a team anymore.

"Thurman left a few hours ago. We're going with Plan B."

Merrick pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. "Great."

"I hate it."

"I doubt that."

Wyatt tilted his head. "My wife will never let me live this down."

"I was more concerned with the facing Jordan part."

"I think Plan B will work, though."

"Can we get Grant someplace safe first?"

Wyatt stared at him for a breath. "I hope so."

As soon as he learned Jordan was involved in this, Merrick knew he'd be facing her, but yet he still wasn't sure he was ready for that. They might have been equal in skill, but Jordan was crafty and willing to kill, putting him at a disadvantage. Maybe Wyatt would stand a better chance of saving his dad if Merrick wasn't involved in this, after all.

"She's good."

Merrick placed the container into the sink, his appetite gone. "I should've guessed she was up to something. I'm sorry. She has six paintings now."

"No one knew what she was doing. I never would've expected her to beat my alarm system and break in." Wyatt shrugged. "I got to be the hero for a change, though."

Merrick's feeling of failure deepened. He'd needed to be rescued, when he was the one who was supposed to protect Wyatt, the master thief. He was just a thug and not good enough for Wyatt's son.

"I heard her say you were going to help her get the paintings, that you were her insurance." Wyatt took a sip of coffee.

"I don't think the night went like she planned."

Wyatt nodded. "Probably why she's been after you all this time, trade you for the paintings."

Merrick hoped he hid his reaction, but he wasn't so sure he had. If Jordan expected Wyatt to trade paintings worth his dad's life for his, she'd been after the wrong hostage. "Thanks for saving me." He turned away, going to head back to the bedroom.

"You heard me and Thurman talking last night, didn't you?"

Merrick put his hand on his belly and met Wyatt's gaze.

"I thought I heard footsteps."

"I know you don't approve—"

"That's not it."

"Then what?"

Wyatt pursed his lips.

"You've been married to Rhonda forever. She's a wonderful woman and you two are perfect together. I'd like to have that, too. I want to be more than just your bodyguard."

"You are."

"I care about Grant, but I'm still going to do my job."

"And if we stop doing this, what am I supposed to do? Grow old? Play golf?"

"Maybe we could live a little bit?"

"I hate golf."

"This isn't about stopping."

"Then what? It's not about bringing Grant onboard, because I won't let him throw away his chance at a life on the right side of the law. He doesn't deserve to live like this."

Merrick took a deep breath. It was clear then. He would either lose Wyatt or Grant. There was no having the best of both worlds.

Wyatt looked out the doorway to his left. "Grant is the reason you've been acting differently since you stayed at the house, isn't he? You started training again, seemed...sad."

"I tried to keep distance between us, I did."

"Rhonda told me I should've talked to you then. She was worried." Wyatt turned the coffee cup in his hands. "I just thought you were feeling nostalgic after the attack; that it was about Brian."

"She was there the day I told Grant we couldn't see each other."

"Yeah, she told me I wouldn't understand what was wrong."

"I'm not going to find someone I care about like I do for Grant. I know this isn't perfect—"

"No, it's not."

"Things changed. I'm sorry Grant found out like he did, but he knows now, and I love him. I couldn't let him get away again."

Wyatt stood. "Let's find my dad, that's what's important right now."

Merrick let out a heavy sigh.

"Start getting ready to go. Let's be on the road within the hour."

Merrick nodded as Wyatt walked out of the room. If he lost Wyatt, he lost his career, but he didn't have a choice. If Wyatt was just worried about Grant getting into trouble, then Merrick would find a way to keep his life from ruining Grant's.

Somehow.

But now they were going with Plan B, so he didn't need to worry about the future just yet. Jordan had six paintings and wanted the one they had. With a lot of trouble still ahead and no idea where Loren was, Wyatt's approval of their relationship couldn't be his priority. He needed to get Grant safe, and then they would face Jordan.

"Sure, Plan B." Merrick headed to the staircase. "Why the hell not?"

Merrick returned to the bedroom, then closed the door. Before him, Grant was asleep, a hand on Merrick's pillow as if he'd been looking for him. He sat beside Grant and then slid his hand over Grant's back. He kissed Grant's shoulder. "Are you awake?"

Grant moaned, smiled.

"We need to get going."

Grant held Merrick's hand. "Let's stay here."

"I'd like that, but we can't."

Grant opened his eyes as he rolled onto his right side. He slid his hand over Merrick's leg. "Everything okay?"

Merrick stroked Grant's arm. "Jordan stole the final painting last night."

"Oh." Grant sat up.

"And I just had a talk with your dad."

"Yikes." Grant hugged Merrick. "You are having quite a morning."

Merrick held him. It was going to get worse, but he didn't need to upset Grant. Whisking them away from all that sounded like a better idea. "We need to get going." He kissed Grant, then smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Merrick stared into Grant's eyes.

"My dad wasn't horrible, was he?"

Merrick shrugged. "Don't expect him to be thrilled."

"He will be, you'll see."

"I wish it was that simple."

Grant kissed him.

"Better get dressed, or your dad will be in here soon."

Merrick went to the window. Behind him, Grant got up and then started dressing. Tempted to watch Grant, Merrick kept his gaze outside instead. Lightning danced across dark clouds that were moving in. In-between the driveway and a rolling field, a creek ran through Thurman's land. Along the rocky creek bed, something moved. Merrick watched, expecting to see a deer, but a man dressed in black stepped onto the grass, then crouched behind a retaining wall.

Merrick rushed to the nightstand. "We've gotta go now!" He pulled a gun from the drawer, checked the clip, then slammed it back in.

Grant pulled on his shirt.

"Get your shoes, let's go."

They rushed into the hall. "Wyatt, we have trouble!"

"What about Thurman?" Grant asked as they rushed downstairs.

"He left earlier."

They met Wyatt in the kitchen as he slid on his jacket. _Loneliness_ was on the counter. "If Thurman _did_ set us up, he won't hear the last of me."

Grant's hands shook as he struggled to get his shoes on.

Merrick grabbed a key ring from the hook by the back door. "We'll take his."

Gunshots shattered the front window. Merrick curled his body over Grant's as they ducked behind the island while kitchen tiles and glass exploded around them.

They stayed low as they moved into the garage. A Mercedes sedan and the white Porsche 911 were parked there. Merrick got behind the wheel of the Mercedes while Wyatt rushed to the passenger seat. Grant slid into the back.

"Get on the floorboard." Merrick put the car in reverse, then floored it, crashing through the garage door. He spun around and then headed down the driveway as a man fired at them from the house.

He pulled onto a two-lane road and then sped away from the house. Within minutes, a gold Ford F-150 was on their tail, the passenger shooting at them. Merrick and Wyatt ducked as the back window was shot out, then the truck rammed them. The car spun, then the truck crunched into Merrick's door, shoving the car almost twenty feet before they crashed into the bridge wall.

Then all was still.

With a groan, Merrick touched his forehead.

"You two okay?" Wyatt opened his door.

Merrick nodded.

"Yeah." Grant's voice was shaky.

Wyatt got out and then met the attack of the man who'd been driving the truck.

Merrick shook his head, trying to focus. The pain would have to wait. Wyatt was exchanging punches with the guy dressed in black. He had to help Wyatt. Trapped against the side of the bridge, he climbed through the front seat, then out Wyatt's door.

Before he could join the fight, the man grabbed Wyatt in a chokehold. Wyatt shoved back, slamming the man into the wall, but it crumbled and the two went over.

"Dad!" Grant started to run to the wall, but Merrick grabbed him.

"No, no, we have to go." He could hear more cars approaching.

Grant struggled, but Merrick stood before him.

"Listen to me, we'll get him, but we've gotta go." He led Grant to the car, grabbed the painting, and then handed it to Grant. "Let's go."

With a tight grip of Grant's hand with his left, he kept the gun ready in his right. He stole a quick glance over the side of the bridge. The creek was deep, but running fast. The fall wouldn't have killed Wyatt, but he'd probably been swept away.

Merrick led them away from the road, in the direction Wyatt would have gone. As they entered the woods, Scotty tackled Merrick from his left side. After a blow across the chin, Scotty pinned him down, choking him.

Scotty sneered. "Thought you were some awesome bodyguard for a faggot."

Grant swung a tree branch, hitting Scotty on the head, knocking him off Merrick.

Merrick was on his feet, then grabbed Scotty by his shirt and punched him. Scotty went to the ground, out cold.

"Faggot." Merrick shook his head. "I hate that."

Thunder rolled overhead.

"Where's my dad?"

Merrick swallowed hard. "I don't know."

* * * *

# Chapter 24

With the storm coming and Jordan's thugs after them, Merrick and Grant ran through a field, then climbed over a wooden rail fence that lined a cemetery in the middle of nowhere. Grass stood as tall as some of the headstones. In the left corner, a small shack with double doors in the front was going to be their safe haven. Merrick doubted he'd find much inside, but he had to get Grant someplace safe.

He opened the door, then let Grant step in. After he closed the door, he faced a zero-turn mower and a work bench. In the far corner, two reflective rain coats were draped over a blue plastic tub.

Thunder rumbled, rattling the small window behind him.

Grant looked at the roof. "We'll be safe in here?"

Merrick scoffed. "No place is safe."

"Great."

"Sorry."

Heavy rain began to fall.

Merrick moved the coats to the table, then opened the tub. Inside were tools and tree pruners. "There's nothing useful."

"Maybe they don't want anyone to steal anything."

"Funny."

"What are you thinking?"

He ran his right hand through his hair. "That I need to keep you and the painting safe, but I need to go help your dad, and I can't do both."

"I'm staying with you."

"We can't get the painting wet." He scanned the small room. "We need to hide it in here, then we'll go search for your dad."

Grant nodded.

Merrick checked the rafters. It might have been an obvious hiding place, but maybe he'd luck out for a change.

"Your head's bleeding."

"What?" Merrick touched his left temple, then found blood on his fingertips. "I hit the window in the wreck."

"Here." Grant removed his outer shirt, then pressed a wad of it against Merrick's head.

"That's going to hurt later, for sure."

"I'm probably going to freak out later."

Merrick smiled. "We'll get through this, I promise."

"Do you think my dad's okay?"

"Yeah." He was counting on that, anyway.

Grant remained quiet, perhaps numb to everything, afraid of what horrible thing he was going to have to face about his dad's fate.

Merrick took several deep breaths. How much longer would his body take this abuse before he lost a fight that he couldn't recover from? It wasn't like all of their jobs went this badly, but what if this one job was all it took?

Grant re-positioned the shirt.

Merrick closed his eyes. "This is how I hoped our relationship _didn't_ go, by the way."

"Why?"

"Hiding in a cemetery shack from goons? You saw this?"

"No, but we're together."

Merrick nodded. "I like that."

"It'll be okay. We'll find my dad. He'll have a plan for getting the paintings back. It'll work out."

"Are you always going to be this optimistic?"

"Probably."

Merrick smiled. "Good."

Grant peeked at the wound. "It's still bleeding. It might need stitches."

"I hope not."

"I can try—"

"No. If you do stitches like your dad, I'll risk bleeding to death."

"Mine would be better."

"How?"

"I _don't_ want to hurt you."

"True, but still, no stitches."

Grant chuckled. "Are you going to pass out?"

"I'll let it be a surprise."

"You really think my dad's okay?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Okay."

Lightning crashed across the sky. Grant tensed, then let out a deep breath.

"It'll be okay." Merrick rubbed his jaw. "What I'd give for one of Brandon's healing potions right now."

Grant gasped. "Someone's outside."

Merrick aimed his gun at the door. "Get down behind the mower."

The door rattled, but the lock held.

"It's me." Wyatt pounded on the door.

Merrick lowered the gun and then opened the door.

Wyatt stepped inside, drenched.

Merrick shut the door as Grant stood up.

"Dad." Grant hugged Wyatt.

"I'm okay." Wyatt glanced at Merrick. "You two okay?"

"Pretty much. How'd you find us?"

Wyatt parted from the hug, looking at Grant before he turned to Merrick. He showed him the display on a phone. A small red dot blinked with their location off Route 60. "I tracked you."

"Tracked?" Merrick gasped. "It's tracking my phone?"

"It's not you." Wyatt turned to Grant. "It's you."

"Me?" Grant caught his breath and took a step back.

" _Who_ was it that told you about us?" Wyatt's face turned red and the muscles tensed in his neck.

"Just a guy." Grant took another step back until he was against the wall.

"Who?"

"Wyatt." Merrick stepped closer.

Wyatt put a hand on Merrick's chest. "Stay out of this." He faced Grant. "Who?"

"He just said you two were thieves and in danger and that he could help you."

"Do you contact him?"

"No, he said he'd just know."

Wyatt tilted his head.

It's hard to live a normal life when everyone has a secret.

"Please, that's all I know."

"Did he give you something? A quarter? A card? Anything?"

"No." Grant's breathing was rapid.

"What is it?"

"Wyatt!" Merrick went to Grant's side.

"What did he give you?"

"The watch." Grant held his arm up. "He said to keep it on, always."

Merrick gasped. "That's why—"

"I'm sorry." Grant had tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I couldn't." Grant wiped his eyes. "He said he'd kill Merrick if it looked like I'd told you."

Wyatt scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, they're trying to do that anyway."

"I was afraid."

Wyatt shook his head as he walked away from Grant. "She's been a step ahead of us this whole time, and _now_ I know why."

"I'm sorry." Grant looked at Merrick. "They were going to hurt you."

Merrick touched Grant's hand. "You could have told us. With everything that's happening...you should have said."

Grant bowed his head. "I just had to protect you, both of you."

Merrick wrapped his arms around Grant. "I promised we'd keep you safe."

Grant took a deep breath, quivering in Merrick's hold. "I'm sorry."

"We'll get through this."

Grant looked at Wyatt. "Grandpa also told me about you a few weeks ago."

"What?" Wyatt stopped his pacing.

"He told me you were a thief, but I didn't believe him, not until this guy grabbed me and threatened you two."

"Grant." Wyatt shook his head.

"I never knew this, never suspected." Grant wiped a stray tear. "Everyone I cared about knew this secret, except me. I had no defense when that guy grabbed me."

"I'm sorry. I never wanted things to be like this."

"Because you didn't trust me, or because you didn't think I could handle it? You shut me out."

"I only meant to protect you in case things went wrong, but I see now that wasn't the right thing to do."

Grant unfastened the watch and then handed it to Wyatt.

Merrick glanced at the location blinking on the phone. "We should probably go."

Wyatt nodded. "I saw another building at the north end of the cemetery. Maybe there's a truck in there."

"You're going to steal a truck?" Grant rubbed his forehead.

"Unless you want to walk." Wyatt placed the watch on the handle of the tractor. "Now, let's go."

While Wyatt opened the shed door and then peeked outside, Merrick held up a rain coat for Grant. "Wear this. No sense in us all catching a cold."

"I'm sorry."

"We're together in this, remember?"

Grant nodded.

Merrick wrapped the other coat around the painting. He carried it as they ran through the tall grass and rain toward a larger wooden building at the opposite end of the cemetery. A white door with a window was on the side. Wyatt opened it, then let Merrick and Grant pass.

An old, blue Ford F-150 was parked inside. Merrick raised the front seat enough to slide the painting behind the seat, then pushed the seat back. Grant sat in the middle, then Merrick slid in beside him.

Wyatt raised the garage door, then got behind the wheel, lowering the visor and ready to catch the keys that fell. "Thank you."

He started the engine and then they drove away from the cemetery.

As they pulled onto a two-lane highway, Grant cranked up the heat and then held his hands in front of the vents in the dash. "Now what?"

"We find a place to get warm and figure out what to do now." Wyatt shook his head. "I need to contact Rhonda and Thurman. If Plan B doesn't work—"

"What's Plan B?" Grant looked at Merrick.

Wyatt sighed. "We're going to get you someplace safe, and then go after Jordan."

"I'm going with you, then."

"No, please." Merrick put his hand on Grant's leg.

"I don't like this."

"It has to be this way. We can't do our jobs worrying about you. She's gotten to you already. She'll use you against us and we need to know you're safe."

"Where would that be?" Grant looked at Merrick, then at Wyatt.

"I wish I knew where my dad was." Wyatt took a deep breath, then let it out. "He told you about us, but what else did he say?"

Grant looked out the front, shrugging. "Nothing out of the ordinary. We just talked about how he wanted to go fishing, a family vacation."

Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, he told me about that."

Grant glanced at Merrick's cut temple, then frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

Wyatt looked at him. "Okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing."

"No stitches." Grant smiled.

Wyatt snickered.

"Great." Merrick turned his gaze out the window to the farms they passed as they took the two-lane highway out of town.

"When did Grandpa tell you about us, anyway?"

"A few weeks ago."

"A few weeks ago?" Wyatt glanced at Grant. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I didn't believe him at first and then I was just mad. Everything I knew was a lie. But then this guy shows up in my apartment and threatens Merrick and you. What was I supposed to do?"

"No, it's fine. I'm just glad you weren't hurt."

Grant smiled at Merrick, holding his gaze for a moment before he looked at Wyatt. "Brenda."

"What?" Wyatt furrowed his brow.

"What was the name on the other painting at Grandpa's house?"

"Sandra." Wyatt glanced at him. "Why?"

"Is there a third painting?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen them until my dad went missing. Why?"

"Because that's what sounded familiar about them. I've been trying to figure it out, but Brenda, Sandra, and Trudy." Grant counted the names out on his fingers. "Grandpa always told me the story of how when he met Grandma, he always called her one of those names instead of her own because he didn't want her to know he was in love with her."

"So _Brenda's Summertime Retreat_ is about your grandmother's place?"

"I think so. Did they have a beach house?"

"Not that I know of." Wyatt glanced at Grant, then back at the road. "But you said he told you about the fishing trip. Was that at Sarabel Cove?"

"Yeah."

Wyatt glanced at Merrick. "Sarabel Cove is about an hour from here."

"It's worth a look."

"You think Grandpa is there?" Grant smiled.

Wyatt pursed his lips, scanning the road. "I hope so."

Merrick took his phone from his pocket. "What are we looking for? I doubt there's a beach house with three signs in the yard."

Wyatt nodded. "True, but...maybe we'll know it when we see it."

Merrick sat back in the seat and then let out a deep breath. A lot had changed since Loren had first contacted Wyatt saying he was in danger. Their plan since Loren's disappearance had been full of hope that it worked out, and today was no different. It'd be great if they found Loren, because Plan B troubled him. With Jordan on their trail, it'd be nice to know Loren and Grant were safe, and have some questions answered about this mystery they were involved in.

Grant pushed his leg against Merrick's, smiling. "It's going to be all right."

Merrick nodded, but the bad feeling that raced through him was telling him something different.

* * * *

# Chapter 25

The small coastal town of Sarabel Cove was quiet that afternoon. With Merrick navigating the way from the map on his phone, Wyatt drove them through the center of town, then on outside the city limits toward the beach. Crescent Beach Road 84 ran alongside the ocean, with only ten houses on the street.

Wyatt scanned the first house. "Any idea which one it might be?"

"Were there numbers on the paintings?"

"They were 246 and 562." Merrick met Grant's look. "What? I like numbers."

"Well, we're in the five hundreds here, so let's try 562." Wyatt drove past three more houses, then turned into a drive. "This should be it."

The beach house matched the one in the paintings, only it was gray. A green Jeep Wrangler with its top off sat at the side of the house. The doors of the house were all closed. Merrick hoped Loren was inside. This had been their best lead, and if it amounted to nothing, he wasn't sure what they'd do. Starting over didn't feel like a good option.

Wyatt parked near the steps, then looked at Grant. "You stay here."

Grant unbuckled his seatbelt. "No, I'm going, too."

Merrick stepped out, making sure his access to his gun clipped to his jeans was clear. It'd be nice if Loren waited for them, or even just a friendly, unsuspecting beach dweller, but the way things were going, he expected Jordan to step onto the porch.

Wyatt walked up the steps first. Merrick kept Grant behind him. As they approached the glass-pane door, the handle turned and then it opened. Merrick stopped, his hand on his gun, while Wyatt stepped closer to him.

The smiling face of a white-haired Loren Silvan greeted them.

Merrick relaxed. Had something actually worked out?

"Dad, thank goodness. Are you okay?"

"Sure." Loren stepped aside to let them in, then closed the door behind them. "Why wouldn't I be?" His voice was deep, each word spoken with deliberate intent. He possessed the air of an intelligent professor, the creative spark of an artist.

The room was bright, open. A desk sat to Merrick's right, with a sofa and two armchairs squaring off the living room. A kitchen ran along the left wall. Ahead of him, the wall was lined with glass doors that gave a marvelous view of the ocean.

Wyatt huffed. "You called me saying you were in danger."

"Yes." Loren grinned. "How'd you like my little game?"

Wyatt caught his breath. _"Game?"_

"You found my clues, I take it."

"What are you talking about? Clues?"

"They were rather amateurish, you have to admit. It took you longer to get here than I expected." Loren looked at them each in turn, then back at Wyatt.

"I didn't know what was happening. You said you were protecting _treasure_."

"Yes, it's right here." Loren pointed at Grant. "It's so fantastic to see you and Grant working together. The lie couldn't continue. He needed to be a part of your world."

"A part of—Dad, he could've been killed. We all could've been."

"Killed? Why?"

"People pay attention to treasure, Dad. We have the FBI and Jordan after us."

"Jordan?" Loren glanced at Merrick. "Are you serious?"

"Jerard is in ICU in Spokane, do you know that?"

"What?"

"What are you two up to?"

"Nothing." Loren rummaged through stack of papers. "He must have told someone about his part of the treasure."

"So there _is_ treasure."

Loren pointed at Grant. "It's right here: your family."

"Damn it, Dad."

"Watch your language."

"Dad, do you understand how much danger we're all in?"

Loren sighed. "It was not my intent. I only meant to dissolve this lie."

Wyatt scoffed. "We've been shot at, wrecked, nearly arrested. Madeleine's Gallery is destroyed, as is our friend's house, and you tell me there's no treasure?"

"I didn't say anything of the kind. The paintings will lead to treasure, but the best one is right here." Loren pointed at Grant.

Wyatt shook his head. "You're so cryptic about everything. Even your dream house has a puzzle connected to it."

"I love a mystery."

"Obviously. And you wonder where I learned to be a conman."

Loren smiled. "It's all about the—"

"Choices we make." Wyatt nodded. "Yes, I know."

"I'm dying."

"We all are."

"But I have medical reports putting a timeline to it."

Wyatt tilted his head.

"I don't want any falsehoods between us all. Grant deserves to know his father, because one day _you'll_ be gone."

Grant turned away.

"Your mom and I hated having half a relationship with our only grandson. We lied to cover for you and it affected our relationship with him. I'm an old man and I want to know him. He deserves to know his dad, not this cover version of a dad."

Wyatt ran a hand over his face. "So you put us all in danger when you could have just said there was something wrong."

"You have your son. He knows now about your spectacular life. You two can finally be honest with each other after twenty-three years."

Wyatt hung his head. "Dad, this could have been done over Thanksgiving dinner without any risk to our lives."

"But life needs to be exciting. You and Grant worked together, went through things that no talk over a family dinner would have justified. Talking just leads to anger and people going to separate rooms and slamming doors. You two _lived_ this, created this unbreakable bond."

"No." The veins in Wyatt's neck popped out. "This wasn't your place. I told you why I didn't want Grant to know, and you went ahead and ruined that, put us in danger with this silly treasure hunt—"

"It's not a silly treasure hunt."

"So there's treasure? Really? What is it, huh? Is it worth him getting hurt over? Or Merrick?"

"Stop it." Grant breathed hard. "You two are exactly the same, don't you see that? You lied to him, you lied to me." Grant took a few steps back. "I'm a part of this, not just some pawn you two can move around, keep secrets from. _Both_ of you are in this lie and don't seem to care that twenty-three years of my life are now tainted."

Wyatt stepped closer. "Grant—"

"No, I don't want to hear any more excuses. I'm tired of these games. People's lives aren't for you to just dawdle through and screw up." Grant rushed from the room, then stomped up the stairs.

Merrick tensed as a door upstairs was slammed.

"Just great." Wyatt glared at Loren. "Is this what you wanted? Did you just think he'd be okay with having all this dumped on him?"

Loren pursed his lips.

"You're right about one thing: Talking does lead to slamming doors." Wyatt went outside, sliding the door shut loudly behind him.

Merrick met Loren's gaze, not sure what to say. He let out a deep breath, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"I need a drink." Loren went into the kitchen.

Merrick stood in the living room full of sunlight with a spectacular view of the ocean. The beauty there still wasn't enough to erase the tension. The Silvan men had scattered to separate corners and he wasn't sure he had the right words to calm any of them.

On the wall of the living room were framed photos of the Silvans throughout the years. Merrick's favorite was of Wyatt and Loren with an infant Grant in Wyatt's arms. Next to that one was a black and white picture of Loren and Madeleine taken three years ago. While Merrick had only known Maddy a few years before she died, she had taken him in like family, always sending a chocolate cake home with Wyatt for him. She had been a wonderful lady and Merrick missed her. No doubt, she wouldn't like how the family was dispersed today.

While he wasn't sure what to say, Merrick knew who he needed to go to.

* * * *

# Chapter 26

At the top of the stairs, a door was closed. Merrick tapped on it. "Grant?"

When he didn't hear a response, he opened it. Inside, Grant sat on the bed, his back to the door, his gaze out the window. The room was decorated in model sailboats, with blue wallpaper and comforter on the bed.

"Can I come in?"

Grant shrugged.

Merrick sat on the bed, then rubbed Grant's back. "I'm sorry."

Grant put a hand over his face.

"I don't think we ever saw it as lying. It was like it was two separate worlds, and this didn't belong in yours. Your dad didn't tell you about the job _because_ he loves you. He just didn't want to worry you or endanger you."

"I should've been told."

"Everything has a risk of going badly. We just never know when it will happen...or who will get hurt."

Grant let out a deep breath.

He slid his hand over Grant's arm. "I never meant to lie to you about this. It's just a part of my life that I didn't want you to know about because I was afraid you wouldn't like me."

Grant scoffed.

"I still worry you won't."

"I just wish my dad was a regular dad. I wish the life I thought I had was still true, because it was a good life."

"Then you and I wouldn't have met."

Grant looked at him. "Mare—"

"I know this has been earth-shattering and awful, but just think about the moment. You know the truth. We're safe and your grandfather is fine." He touched Grant's face. "And you and me..."

"I'm sorry." Loren stepped into the room.

Merrick stood up.

Loren smiled. "I just came to check on you, and to basically say all the same things he just said." Loren shrugged. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"It's fine." Merrick nodded.

Loren looked at them each in turn, grinning. "Maddy always said you two were meant for each other."

Grant stood, glancing at Merrick as his cheeks reddened.

"I am sorry about this." Loren put his hands together as if in prayer. "I did all of this to make us closer."

Grant nodded. "I'm glad you did, really, just...it's been a lot."

"I'm sure. I tried to make it fun, though. I never intended for there to be any danger, I honestly didn't."

Merrick smiled. "We may still have some unfinished business there."

"I'll do what I can to help." He smiled at them. "How's your dad handling you two together?"

Grant fidgeted with the end of his shirt. "Well..."

"That's what I would've expected. He's pretty possessive of you both. He probably doesn't know what to do with this."

Grant smiled at Merrick. "There's been a lot going on this past week."

"Yes." Loren nodded. "Well, you two shared a private moment with me, let me share a secret with you. Follow me."

They followed Loren downstairs, to a room on the left. Inside, five easels were arranged in a row, with four rows of paintings leaning against the far wall. The paintings on the easels showed the pained expression the Xanderclied ones exhibited, only the subjects had black hair and shallow faces.

Merrick's gaze locked with the blue eyes of the subject. "Are these Xanderclied's too?"

"Yes." Loren straightened the canvas before him. "They're mine."

Merrick glanced at Grant, then Loren. " _You're_ Simon Xanderclied?"

Loren grinned. "These are my expression of humanity's existence, how awful we are to the world, to each other, to ones we love. It's not just one man's suffering."

Wyatt stepped into the room. "Yours?"

"Yes."

" _You're_ Simon Xanderclied?"

Loren tilted his head.

"I can't believe this."

Grant chuckled. "How's it feel to have your dad lie to you all your life?"

"Don't start." Wyatt cast him a dirty look, then glared at Loren. "So, not only did you set up this treasure hunt, but you used your own fake persona's artwork?"

Loren rubbed his hands together. "I intended to bring this family together. And there is a treasure to be protected."

"What? Family Christmas cards?"

Loren smiled. "You're understanding."

"No, I'm not." Wyatt shook his head. "You said you had to protect the paintings because they led to treasure."

"Yes. That is true. It's in a safe place."

"It'd be nice if you'd tell me where it is."

"I already have." Loren glanced at Grant. "Get the paintings, get the location."

Wyatt let out a deep breath. "Just tell me. I'm right here."

"I've told you everything you need to know."

"You lecture me on being open with my son, and yet you're keeping this whole treasure a secret, sending us on this stupid quest. Do you know how much danger we're really in over this farce?"

"Don't you see how much you've gained?"

Wyatt huffed. "You're not listening."

"How many paintings do you have?"

"One."

"Why do you think you need all seven?"

"I don't know, because I can't read your mind and all this cryptic sh—"

"Watch it."

Wyatt shook his head, blowing out a deep breath. "You said we had to get the paintings together. That implies more than one."

"True." Loren nodded.

Wyatt looked at Grant. "Am I this annoying to you?"

Grant caught his breath. "Uh...well..."

"Great." Wyatt glanced at Merrick.

"Oh no." Merrick raised his hands. "Leave me out of this."

"Fantastic." Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. "So, we have a family treasure, which I know nothing about, and the clues to it are all out there in the open in Xanderclied paintings, who happens to not even be a real person."

"No one has ever found out about the treasure before."

"But now people are looking for it; intelligent, dangerous ones who will find it at whatever cost. And yet I'm to know nothing about it? How can I protect it that way?"

"You'll just have to trust me."

"Oh." Wyatt smiled, then started to laugh. "You do this to me every time."

"I do what?"

"Dad?" Grant tilted his head.

Wyatt met Merrick's gaze. "As I said before, you see where I get my con artist skill from. I came by it _naturally_."

A wave of nervous energy hit Merrick.

Call me if Wyatt's lying about the treasure.

"You can tell him, Dad. Go ahead and finish out this farce." Wyatt stepped closer to Merrick. "Go ahead and make it better for him after he's been punched, drugged, wrecked, shot at. Tell him."

Loren took a deep breath. "Wyatt—"

"There's no treasure." Wyatt chuckled, shook his head. "This little adventure has just been a lesson, but in learning it we've all lost quite a lot, haven't we?"

"That's not true." Loren took a step toward Grant. "You and Grant deserve an honest father-son relationship because family is everything. Humans need to make that a priority. You've been given a child to _love_."

"I love him, I don't think that's ever been in question." Wyatt let out a heavy sigh. "You're sick?"

Loren glanced out the window.

"How long?"

"Maybe another month." Loren kept his gaze outside. "I know losing your mother was tough. I wanted to know our family relationship was built on honest ground because soon it will just be you and Grant. These lies would have torn your family apart. I couldn't let that happen."

Wyatt ran a hand over his face.

"Grant deserves to know his real dad, because his dad is a very talented and interesting man. Grant has no idea about you. You never let him close, never got to know him. Why do you think you're so shocked by these two being in love? You don't know your son and I'm not going to let you fail him."

Wyatt shook his head as he stepped over to Loren, then hugged him.

Loren smiled, patting Wyatt's back.

Wyatt waved Grant over.

Merrick bowed his head as he left the room. In the living room, he opened a sliding glass door and then stepped onto the deck. He leaned against the rail as the ocean breeze rippled through his shirt and hair. With nothing in sight for miles except the rolling waves, he took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Nothing had gone as expected, but maybe things were going to work out after all.

Somehow.

Wyatt stepped onto the deck.

"I don't need a hug." Merrick kept his gaze on the ocean.

"I think you might, but I won't." Wyatt leaned against the rail to his left.

A few moments of silence passed.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way."

"How? You mean Grant knowing the truth? You finding out about your dad?"

"I mean your cut of nothing is nothing."

Merrick looked at the horizon. "Well, that is disappointing, but maybe the next job, right?" He met Wyatt's gaze. "There will be a next time, won't there?"

"Yes, I don't want anything to change."

"Okay."

Wyatt faced Merrick, folding his arms to his chest. "Look, about you and Grant—"

A man dressed in black charged onto the deck. Merrick stepped up to Wyatt's side, then blocked the man's right hook. Wyatt shoved the guy against the house, then hit him across the face.

Merrick rushed inside. "We gotta go!"

Wyatt followed him. "Dad, stay with me."

"Come this way." Loren hurried into the kitchen.

The front door flung open, then two men ran inside. Merrick fired two shots, then ducked behind the kitchen island.

"Go around."

Merrick stood to find the two men headed at him from different directions. One grabbed Merrick, slamming him against the cabinet. The guy punched him, then slammed Merrick's hand against the counter until he dropped his gun. Merrick butted his head into the guy's face, then finished him with a left hook.

The Jeep drove across his view with Loren behind the wheel.

Merrick braced himself on the counter as he kicked the second man with both feet. The man crashed into the hutch. Merrick hit him across chin. The man fell to the floor, then didn't move.

After he picked up his gun, Merrick rushed to the driveway. The stolen truck was still there, but Grant and Wyatt were nowhere to be seen.

Something on the hood caught Merrick's eye. As he approached, his heart fell when he found Dedo sitting there.

Merrick picked it up, then looked up and down the street. "Plan B." He shook his head. "Why the hell not."

* * * *

# Chapter 27

The tracker in Wyatt's phone led Merrick to the shipyard. Five warehouses sat empty and neglected, but Merrick guessed he needed the one with the closed doors. He parked the truck inside the first warehouse, took a clip from the glove box, and then tucked it into the back of his jeans. With his gun clutched tight in his hand, he went to the waterfront side of the warehouse, then headed to the center one.

He opened the metal door, his gun aimed ahead as he slowed his movements. Inside, wooden crates on pallets were stacked two levels high, four feet apart. In front of them was a second row, then open floor beyond. Merrick stayed in the back, moving past three rows of pallets before he had a good view of the center of the warehouse.

Grant and Wyatt stood with their back to him. Before them, a sixteen-foot white cargo truck faced the oceanfront exit. Two men loaded the truck with narrow crates that no doubt held the Xanderclied paintings. Another man guarded Wyatt and Grant with a gun resting across his arm.

Merrick scanned the warehouse for Jordan. She had to be there somewhere.

He moved over one more row. Inside the truck, five crates had been loaded. The men carried the final two inside, then hopped out the back.

"They're all in, boss." One guy lowered the door, then they each secured the locks on the sides.

"Excellent."

It was Vic's voice. Vic, the one who'd saved them and promised to help them. Was he working for Jordan now?

Surely, Vic wasn't behind this.

Merrick's heart fell. That tragic day at the bank had happened because Vic hadn't given the signal. They were always so careful and yet the cops had caught them inside the bank. How had the cops known to be there?

Unless...

No, he couldn't believe it.

The past ripped through Merrick. He'd been in the lobby of the bank as the cops had arrived. Steve had been furious. They shouldn't have trusted Vic with the lookout, he'd yelled.

Brian and Steve had died. The news had said three were killed. All that time, he'd thought Vic had died, but Vic was there before him. The press wouldn't have reported three deaths, unless they were told that.

Merrick tried to rein in his anger. He'd never suspected, never seen it before, but it was all clear now.

He tucked his gun into the back of his jeans as he stepped into Vic's sight. His glare was set on the bald, muscle-bound stranger Merrick used to call a friend.

Vic held a hand out to a guard who moved toward Merrick. "I knew you'd show up."

Merrick decked him. "You bastard, you set us up."

Vic laughed. "You're just _now_ figuring that out?"

Merrick shoved him. "What was the reward for betraying us?" He shoved Vic again. "What was the price on our heads?"

"It was wonderful." Vic grinned.

"Brian and Steve died."

"Not my problem."

Merrick hit him across the chin. Vic was strong, but slow. Merrick ducked Vic's swings, then punched him in the belly. He hit Vic again, then pinned him against the crate.

A gunshot echoed through the warehouse.

One guard stood behind Grant, who was on his knees. The guard aimed the gun at the back of Grant's head.

Merrick held his hands up. "Don't, I give up. Don't."

Vic slammed his fist into Merrick's middle, then hit him across the face.

Merrick fell to the floor. His mouth tasted of blood, but he didn't think he was hurt too bad. Yet.

Grant stood. "No."

"Hold him." Vic turned back to Merrick, then kicked him in the gut. "You, search him."

Vic turned away as a guard patted Merrick down, taking the gun and clip. The guy then removed his wallet, keys and the Dedo statue. It all went into a pile out of Merrick's reach.

"The money ran out, though. Now, I'm after treasure." Vic grabbed Merrick by a handful of his shirt, lifted him to his feet and then slammed him against the crate. He put a knife to Merrick's throat. "Imagine my happiness to find our little buddy was alive and well, and working with the master thief." He looked at Wyatt. "I remembered your talk of your dad finding sunken treasure. Turns out it was true."

Wyatt shook his head. "I don't know anything about it."

Vic sneered at Wyatt, then glared into Merrick's eyes. "I know your weakness...same as his. You're going to lead me to treasure."

"I don't know where it is."

"I know, but he does." Vic looked at Wyatt. "Which will it be? Which one do I get to torture until you bring me the treasure?"

Merrick grabbed Vic's arm. "Let Grant go."

"I'm not _asking_ you." He snarled at Wyatt. "Which one?"

Wyatt gritted his teeth. "I don't _know_ about the treasure, I swear."

Vic pressed the knife against Merrick's neck, his gaze on Wyatt. "You risked your life to save him once before...or is your son more precious now?"

"Don't do this." Wyatt stepped closer.

"Which one?" Spit fell on Merrick's face as Vic yelled.

"Let them go, and I'll help you find the treasure."

Vic scoffed. He released Merrick, then went to Wyatt.

Merrick rubbed his neck, surprised to not find blood there. He glanced at Grant, who was pale.

Vic held the knife at Wyatt's heart.

"I honestly don't know."

"Don't play me for a fool, Wyatt. You know where that gets you."

Wyatt pursed his lips.

"Your dad said the paintings lead to treasure. If you won't tell me, I bet I can find a way to make him talk." Vic stepped back. "I will find him, too. Placed a tracker on the Jeep before my guys raided the house. Your dad won't get far."

"Leave him alone." Wyatt clenched his fists. "If I knew, I'd tell you. You have the paintings, they're the key to it all. Now leave my family alone."

"I'm afraid that's not good enough." Vic returned the knife to Wyatt's chest. "I want that treasure, and you're going to get it for me. You have three days before one of them dies. Which one will it be?"

Wyatt shook his head.

"You'll need one to help you, and one to be incentive for you to hurry. Which will it be?"

"You have the paintings—"

"You don't understand. I'm giving you three days to find the treasure and I'm keeping one of them. The longer it takes you to bring me the treasure, the more torture he will endure. So, which is it? Son, or partner?"

"Please, let them go. I'll beg if you want."

"Son?" Vic pointed the knife at Grant.

"Please don't hurt him!"

Vic put his hand on Merrick's chest, pushing him against the crate. "So I can have your thief? You haven't offered to beg for his life." Vic aimed the knife at Merrick's heart. "How's that feel?"

Merrick clenched his teeth. "Go to Hell."

Vic looked at Wyatt. "After all he's done for you, and nothing?"

"I told you, let them go and I'll help you."

Vic stared into Merrick's eyes for a few breaths. "Brian trained you to be _lethal_ , and yet you only wanted to make sure no one died."

"No one needed to."

Vic smirked. "You need to stick with me. I'll teach you about the world. Old Man here has made you soft. Once you kill, you'll understand."

"Never."

Vic punched him in the stomach.

Merrick doubled over, taking shallow breaths.

"Vic, stop." Wyatt stepped closer, but the guard grabbed his arm.

Vic put the knife under Merrick's chin.

Wyatt struggled against the guard's hold.

"Kill or be killed, that's the way of the world." Vic pulled Merrick's head back, pressing the knife harder. "Jordan Ciarra was lethal. She had your talent, embraced it where you deny your strength."

"Had?"

Vic raised his eyebrows. "How do you think I got all seven paintings? She's not as lethal against a bullet."

Merrick held Vic's gaze as Vic moved closer.

"Someone here will die unless I learn where the treasure is. Who will it be? You? Wyatt? Your boyfriend?"

"You'll kill us all either way."

Vic smiled. "See, you're learning. But, you know, all of this could've been avoided if you'd just drank that damned beer that day in the parking garage."

"What?"

"It was drugged. I'd have traded you to Wyatt for the treasure, all lived happily ever after."

"You have the paintings, you have me. Let them go."

Vic glanced at Wyatt. "Is that the deal? I keep him, let your son go."

"You don't have to hurt _either_ of them."

Vic hummed, grinned. "Yes, I do."

The truck's engine started. Rhonda sat behind the wheel, looking in the side mirror as she backed toward Wyatt and Grant.

Vic's brow furrowed as he looked at the truck, then at his men. "Stop her!"

Merrick shoved the knife away, then punched Vic in the nose. "Guess you never thought about Wyatt's wife being a thief, did you?"

Vic growled as he charged. Merrick flipped Vic over his shoulder, then checked to make sure Grant and Wyatt were getting away.

Grant waited by the truck, watching.

Merrick waved him on. "Go! Go!"

Wyatt ushered Grant toward the truck cab.

Merrick stepped back as Vic stood. "You know I can beat you."

The truck took off, clipping a car that tried to stop them before disappearing through the open doorway.

"They won't get far and this time I won't be nice." Vic lunged.

Merrick dodged him, slamming him into the side of the crate, then put Vic in a chokehold. "No, it's over, Vic. You lost."

"I still have you." Vic held Merrick's arms as he shoved Merrick against the crate, then delivered a second slam.

It took Merrick's breath away. His grip loosened and then Vic pulled away. Vic grabbed him around the neck, then whacked his head against the crate. Dazed, Merrick was trapped with Vic's hand around his neck.

Vic spit out blood, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "You're my ticket to treasure. You'll suffer, but you won't die."

A gunshot boomed through the warehouse. Vic fell against Merrick, then pulled him to the floor.

Merrick's gaze locked with Vic's vacant one.

"Federal Agents!" Agent Squires and six other agents swarmed in the doorway. Squires aimed a gun at Merrick. "Hands up!"

Merrick moved away from Vic, then stood.

Blood soaked the front of Vic's shirt, his dark eyes fixed in front of him.

Merrick raised his hands. Heat flared across his side. A tear in his shirt was lined with fresh blood.

"Turn and face the crate!"

Merrick obeyed, closing his eyes as Squires approached. Wyatt and the others had to be miles away by now. The paintings and the treasure were going to be safe, but he wasn't.

* * * *

# Chapter 28

Merrick groaned as Squires patted down his side. "You shot me there."

Squires grabbed a handful of Merrick's hair and then pulled his head back. "You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you do so." Squires released him, then flipped up the edge of Merrick's shirt. "Just a flesh wound."

A female agent stepped over. "His belongings."

Agent Squires picked through them before selecting the Dedo statue. "This is interesting." He put the statue into his coat pocket.

Merrick let out a loud sigh.

Squires slapped a handcuff around Merrick's left wrist. He brought Merrick's right arm down to meet his left and then cuffed it. "Let's go."

Squires kept a grip on Merrick's right arm as they walked toward a black Cadillac Escalade. An agent opened the door to the backseat and then held it.

Squires led Merrick to the door. "Get in, watch your head."

Merrick scoffed as he got into the backseat. The agent remained in the doorway until Squires opened the other door and then got in. The driver watched him in the rearview mirror.

Merrick rested his head against the seat as his stomach churned. He had always known jail was a risk, but he'd never really believed it would happen.

Squires nodded at the driver and then they headed out of the warehouse. "Are you hurt?"

"You shot me."

"You'll be fine."

"Your compassion is astounding."

Squires pointed at his own black eyes. "What do you know about Jordan Ciarra?"

"I don't work for her. She's only ever tried to kill me."

"She's dead."

Merrick sighed. "Vic told me."

"Victor Purcell?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about me?"

Merrick looked at him, then at the man driving. "Jordan beat you up, too?"

"I know all about you, Merrick Davidson."

Merrick looked out the front.

"Don't worry, I'm not here about your past, or your record of assault and battery, or the bank robberies, or alluding the authorities which Wyatt Silvan aided in."

"What do you want, then?"

"There is also the pesky detail of paint left on the loading dock of the Galloway Museum that I suspect will match the van you and Silvan allegedly disposed of, but not well enough. Who knows what all I'll find in that warehouse off Sherman Street." Squires met Merrick's gaze. "Or the detail of a Ford Explorer abandoned at an airstrip in Halltown that will probably contain finger prints, hair samples—"

"What do you want?"

Squires took a deep breath and then slowly released it. "What do you know about Bernard Chapman?"

"I don't know what kind of social circles you think I move in—"

"So you know him?"

"We've met. I owe him a drone."

"Ah, yes, I thought that was his."

"I don't know where this is leading. Perhaps you have the wrong guy."

"No, I have the right one: the art thief who just collected the Simon Xanderclied paintings. You and your partner, Wyatt, were so generous to get them all for us."

"Us?"

"You got the paintings away from Vic Purcell and they're en route to a plane owned by Thurman Allen right now. Soon, I'm going to get a call reporting that they've been loaded."

"Don't hurt Wyatt and his family. I'll take the blame for these crimes."

Squires laughed. "I don't think you understand. That plane isn't going to land in its presumed destination. It's going to be re-routed."

Merrick tilted his head. "You're _stealing_ our paintings?"

"Stealing is a harsh word."

"I won't let you—"

Squires held his gun to Merrick's forehead.

Merrick leaned back and let out a breath.

Squires nodded at him. "I'm going to make sure you don't alert the rest of your team to this."

"We'll find them. We'll get them back."

"Then perhaps I should do my other job and take you in. Shall we go over the list of charges against you?"

Merrick swallowed hard.

"My employer thanks you very much."

Merrick looked out his window as they merged onto the highway. "So, what happens now?"

"We drive and wait for the phone call. Then we'll see."

"See what?"

"Which job I have to do." Squires looked at his phone and then at Merrick. "Just sit back for now, rest. You took quite a beating earlier."

Merrick shook his head.

"Who knows, maybe I have a job for you."

"I have a job."

"Perhaps."

Merrick kept his gaze out his window as the ride to Spring Harbor passed in silence. They were back in the city before Squires' phone rang.

"Ah, here's that call now." Squires tapped the screen, then held it to his ear. "Yes?"

Merrick closed his eyes. His future hinged on that moment, and all the possibilities were bad.

"Very good, thank you." Squires ended the call. "To our destination."

"Yes, sir." The driver changed lanes, then they exited the highway.

Merrick took a deep breath and then slowly let it out.

"Sit up."

"What?"

"Sit up." Squires held a small key in his right hand.

Merrick leaned up in the seat and then Squires removed the cuffs.

"My apologizes, Mr. Davidson. It appears you're not the suspect we were looking for after all. Turns out that Victor Purcell was the mastermind behind the robberies."

Merrick rubbed his wrists as he sat back. "You're going to put all this on him?"

"I can also make arrangements for Adam Burnett's past to just disappear."

Merrick shook his head. "I'm not comfortable with that kind of debt."

"The paintings taking flight right now just paid your debt."

"No deal."

"It's your choice then."

The vehicle stopped in front of Merrick's apartment building.

"You're free to go."

"I'd like my statue back."

Squires smiled at him as he reached into his jacket pocket and then pulled out Merrick's wallet. He handed it over.

"And my statue?"

"Good day, Mr. Davidson."

Merrick let out a huff as he stepped out, then looked at Squires. "We'll get those paintings back."

Squires smiled.

Merrick shut the door and then stepped onto the sidewalk as the Escalade sped away.

* * * *

# Chapter 29

Merrick opened the door to his apartment with a key the landlady had given to him. She had believed his story of being mugged, and why shouldn't she? No doubt, he looked awful. He sure felt that way.

Inside, he locked the door, then put the key on the end table to the left of the sofa. Before him, sunlight flooded through the glass doors that led to the balcony. The wood floors were uneven and in the winter, it was uncomfortably cold in there unless he had a fire going, but the place had a splendid view of the Lake Maren. Folley's Marina was across the street and Sunflower Grill was next door. With the open floor plan of the apartment, he could look at the living room before him and the kitchen on his left. The space there felt free and had always made him feel calm, that day more than ever. It had been his favorite place, but that was all about to change.

At the glass doors, he looked upon the city. It was supposed to be the best day, but he felt empty. Out there somewhere, Wyatt and his family were probably celebrating. He should've been there, but he couldn't be. Not now.

Merrick went to the kitchen and then opened a drawer next to the sink in the island that divided the two rooms. He took a black iPhone from the drawer and powered it up. The phone, like the apartment, wasn't tied to Merrick the art thief. He called Wyatt on speakerphone. It rang twice before Wyatt answered.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

"Let me talk to him," Grant said in the background.

Merrick bowed his head. "I'm fine. Everyone okay there?"

"Yes. My dad's with us, too."

"Good."

"They're saying on the news the warehouse was raided by agents. Vic's dead."

"Yes." Merrick leaned against the cabinet as he took a few deep breaths.

"Mare?"

"I'm okay." It felt like a lie. "Squires let me go, but that's a whole other problem. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

"Where are you?"

"I'm going to lay low for tonight."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No, but Squires is taking the paintings."

Wyatt sighed.

"I'll call you tomorrow. Tell Grant I'm okay for me, I need to go."

"Are you hurt?"

"I'll be okay. I just want to sleep. I took a potion and it's knocking me out."

To have been such a good liar before...

"Okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right."

Merrick closed his eyes during the silence that followed and lasted a heartbeat too long. He just had to tell Wyatt he was afraid to stay, but too scared to leave. Just tell him.

"Get some rest."

"I will. Bye." He ended the call. How could he say goodbye to the people he cared about the most? He'd just have to leave, because the FBI knew where he was. For tonight, he was safe, but that wasn't going to last for long.

He was doing the right thing...he was.

"The right thing."

It was what he should do, it just didn't need to hurt so much.

Next, he called Thurman.

"Oh, sweetie, are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Good. I was so worried."

"I need—"

"I have to tell you, the kindergarten painting? A friend bet me five million I wouldn't be able to get that one. I laughed and said seven."

"Seven?" Merrick chuckled. "You guys have too much money."

"I've wired your cut, plus a little bit more for a tip."

Merrick sighed. More money than he'd ever dreamed he'd have and yet he felt so hollow.

"I love you, Mare. You have style and charm and you're my _best_ friend."

When he raised his hand to his head, his shirt pulled on his side. It was stuck to his skin, fresh blood soaking through. "Damn."

"Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?"

"No, but I do need your help."

"Of course, anything."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Wyatt can't know."

Thurman caught his breath. "Mare."

"No, just...help me."

Thurman paused. "All right, I'll get the stuff ready."

"Thank you."

"I'm not sure I want to say you're welcome."

"I look forward to walking down the art walk in Paris with you one day soon."

"I love you. Anything you need, just ask." Thurman ended the call.

Merrick put the phone down. It was done. He turned the phone off and then put it in the drawer. Now, just one more thing he needed to do before he faced the dreaded task. Hopefully Brandon's potion would help. It was a healing mix, surely it would work on a breaking heart, too.

This hurt, but he couldn't bring the darkness of his past into Wyatt and Grant's lives. Wyatt was no angel, by any means, but Merrick felt worse. Wyatt would promise that he had a plan and would keep Merrick safe, but this time Merrick had to protect Wyatt. He had the money, he'd go as far as Thurman could get him, and then hope his documents were good enough to get him out of the country.

He couldn't guess how much time he had. Squires said the paintings paid for his freedom, but how could he trust a Federal Agent with his own agenda? He would pack what he could carry and then go. Thurman would have someone clean out what remained.

While the view and security of the apartment made this his favorite place, he'd also chosen it because of the hallway window. From it, he could drop down to the roof of the neighboring building, scale down the fire escape into an alley lined with trash dumpsters and then make his escape. Squires was no doubt watching, believing he had Merrick trapped, so tonight, he would test that escape route.

Merrick went down the hall on his right to his bedroom. As he walked past the king-sized bed, he removed his shirt, then tossed it into the hamper. In the bathroom, he pulled out a small vial full of orange powder from the second drawer of the vanity. Witch's potion or not, it was going to ease all his pains and he needed that tonight. With three taps on the vial, he poured the powder into the water, then put the cap back on it. The powder swirled in the glass three turns, then mixed with the water.

He drank it down, then stole a glance in the mirror at himself. His eye had a good bruise forming already and his lip was cut. The flesh wound from Squires' bullet seemed to have stopped bleeding for the moment. A bruise was forming on his chest, but he was just grateful no ribs were broken.

While the potion was starting to ease his pains, it wasn't touching the worst one. He'd been wrong before. The choice wasn't between losing Grant or Wyatt. He was going to lose them both. Squires' threats hadn't come true today, but it wouldn't be long before someone caught up to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight. This couldn't touch his heart. It was the right thing to do.

The right thing.

Merrick blew out a breath. Just go through the motions. Do this.

He washed off and then dried the flesh wound before he put a bandage over it. In the bedroom, he grabbed a green T-shirt from the third drawer of his dresser and then slid it on. From the closet, he picked up a black backpack and then tossed it onto the bed. He grabbed his boots and then got a pair of socks from the top dresser drawer. He sat on the bed, then put the shoes and socks to the side as he started a mental list of what he needed to pack.

Some cash was hidden in a safe in the closet. There was money in his checking account, according to Thurman, but he couldn't plan on having access to it. However much he needed, Thurman would supply when they met up. There was also a gun in the safe. He'd need it and the ammo clip, the cell phone he'd used earlier and definitely the framed picture of Wyatt, Grant and Rhonda which sat on the fireplace mantel.

Clothes, underwear, a jacket. Go through the motions, don't think about the finality of them. Just pack.

He grabbed the maroon shirt Grant had given him for his birthday last year, the photo of the Silvans, and a watch Thurman had given him. In the back of the bag, the loaded gun and what cash he had were tucked into a pocket. He would buy clothes once he got settled. He was ready to go...well, as ready as he could be.

He placed the bag by the hall window, then went into the living room for one last look. How great it would've been to sit with Grant cuddled to him in front of the fireplace as they talked before they started kissing, then being lovers.

There could've been Sunday dinners with Wyatt and Rhonda joining them for food Merrick had gotten from the Sunflower Grill. They could have shared stories about the old days, impressed Grant with their adventures which would always end with shock that they'd actually done those things.

Merrick closed his eyes, taking in the silence of his place and pushing all the thoughts of his future away. He needed to be still; to be numb to what was before him.

Thurman had been right when he'd said Merrick had an emptiness eating him up. He'd almost escaped it, but it was back and hurting him more than he'd ever endured.

He had the ability to start over, but was that what he really wanted to do?

Maybe he was making the wrong decision. Wyatt _was_ good at what he did. He'd kept Merrick off the grid for six years, he could do that again. And what he had with Grant wasn't something he'd find again. It hurt too much to think about losing Grant. Perhaps he'd been too hasty. There was another solution, he just needed to be brave enough to try it.

But the risk was high. If Agent Squires wanted to find him, he could. Going to jail would shatter his heart just as much as fleeing to Paris was right then. Either way, Merrick was going to lose. His crimes would never go away. He would never be free.

But maybe he was thinking too hard. He'd told Grant to be in the moment. He needed to take his own advice.

A knock on the door boomed through the silent apartment.

Merrick took a gun from the drawer in the kitchen, then held it down as he took a step into the living room. The FBI wouldn't knock, so who was it?

Wyatt's voice came through the door. "Mare, you in there?"

"Crap." Merrick closed his eyes. He couldn't face Wyatt. He couldn't stay. He couldn't.

"Mare, I'll pick the lock and let myself in."

He hung his head. Picking locks was perhaps Wyatt's one weakness. Merrick had plenty of time to leave through the window escape, and yet he stayed.

"Or I'll kick the door in."

Kick in a metal door? He'd like to see Wyatt try that.

A soft cling of metal jiggled through the doorknob. Wyatt would eventually get the lock and deadbolt open. Should he let Wyatt struggle with it, or save him the trouble?

Merrick put the gun on the table, then opened the door as far as the chain allowed.

Wyatt was on his knees, looking up with a wince on his face.

"What made you think this is a good idea?"

"Well..."

"And the chain?"

Grant stepped over, holding a small pair of snips.

Wyatt stood. "I would've replaced the chain. You didn't answer your phone."

"I turned it off."

"Can we come in?" Grant stepped closer.

Wyatt tucked his tools back into their pouch. "I know you're hurt, so I could take you if I needed to."

Merrick sighed and then closed the door. He slid the chain back before opening it again and then let them step inside.

Wyatt tapped the doorknob. "I would've picked that."

"I keep telling you that's the one thing you can't do." Merrick locked the door.

Grant hugged him, not squeezing him too tightly. "Are you okay?"

"I will be." He stepped back from Grant as he glanced at Wyatt.

Grant handed him the Dedo statue. "This was outside your door."

Merrick's stomach churned as he stroked the gargoyle's nose.

"What happened?"

Merrick blew out a breath. "After you left, Agent Squires shot Vic, got me, too." He looked at his side. "Detained me long enough to get a call that the paintings had been loaded on the plane, and then he dropped me off here."

Wyatt shook his head. "Good thing we took the real ones to the boat."

Merrick nodded. "I see the beauty of that plan, now."

"Always have a plan." Wyatt smiled.

"Well, Thurman's good, but they'll figure it out soon enough that his paintings are fakes. We'll be in trouble, then."

"Gives us some time." Wyatt put his hands on his hips. "Is that why you were going to leave?"

"Did Thurman call you?"

"No." Wyatt furrowed his brow. "I know you, Mare. You didn't sound right tonight, and not wanting to talk to Grant after all our bickering about you two dating? I knew."

"It's been a bad day."

Wyatt sighed. "I'm sorry, I should have spoken up when Vic wanted me to choose."

"It's not that."

"Then what?"

He held up the Dedo statue. "This is from Squires. He knew all about me. I'd be headed to Federal Prison right now except he thinks he has the real paintings. Hell, he could be listening to us." He turned the statue around in his hand. It didn't look tampered with, but he didn't trust it.

"Damn."

"And when they find out they have fakes, he'll be after me." Merrick looked at Grant, then Wyatt. "I can't bring this to you."

"I can cover your tracks again."

"For how long? We might just be in too deep here."

"Well, maybe we are, but I don't want you to leave."

"I don't either," Grant said.

"Squires won't stop looking for me when this goes south."

"Then we'll have to give him a trail to follow that will keep him busy. I can take care of you, you know that."

"I hope so. This will be bad."

Wyatt glanced at Grant, then met Merrick's gaze. "Just don't go. I think it'll be okay."

Merrick rolled his eyes. "You two and your optimism."

Wyatt cleared his throat. "I also owe you an apology."

"An apology?"

"About you and him dating. I was afraid of losing you as my partner, but I should've seen that you can be that and a fantastic son-in-law. Or maybe I'll retire, too, and you and I can just play golf for the rest of our days."

"You hate golf."

"I have money to learn to like it."

Merrick glanced at Grant. "Maybe we should take some time off before we give this up completely."

Wyatt grinned. "Best of both worlds."

"I like that."

Wyatt tapped Merrick's arm. "I would have traded the paintings for your life, not just Grant's. I'm sorry I didn't speak up, but I knew you could kick his butt and Rhonda could get the paintings. We did great tonight, but I'm sorry if I let you down."

"It's okay. It's over, but Plan B sucks, I'm just saying."

Wyatt chuckled.

"We were lucky tonight," Merrick said.

"I really don't want to quit this, and I don't want to lose you. We're a good team and I care about you, like family."

"I want a raise then."

"Done."

"Really?"

"You name it."

"Fifty-fifty."

"Done."

Merrick tilted his head. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"

"No, I'll leave that to Grant."

"Really?" Merrick glanced at Grant, who smiled when their eyes met. "I'm in love with him."

"Yes. We had a talk." Wyatt stepped close. "And you two have my blessing. I'm glad my son has found someone and I know you're a good man."

"Blessing? Really?"

"Yes." Wyatt smiled. "I guess I was just jealous you'd pick a quiet life over our life and I'm sorry."

"You were jealous?"

"No."

Merrick smiled. "And what if I choose the quiet life?"

"Um, actually, I kind of enjoy this stuff." Grant stroked Merrick's arm. "I was hoping the three of us could work together."

Wyatt smiled. "It was fun. And Jordan and Vic are out of our way, what could go wrong?"

Merrick shivered. "Please don't say that."

Wyatt glanced at Grant. "Actually, we've been talking, and we think my dad does hold the secret to treasure somewhere."

"Really?"

Wyatt held up his phone that showed an image of the paintings stacked together. The edges formed a blue background with the word _Inside_ in a darker shade.

"Inside. Inside what?"

Wyatt smiled.

"Thurman's paintings won't have this." Merrick perked up. "I should call him. He's trying to get me out of the country right now."

"I'll call him, but I think we're onto something." Wyatt nodded. "At first, I didn't get it, but remember when Thurman took the one off the frame and there was a number six? They all have numbers, one through seven. They each have hands pointing to the right or left."

"Right or left? Like a combination?"

"Or directions." Grant nodded.

"Directions to an address." Wyatt scrolled through the pictures on his phone, stopping on an image of a billing invoice. "The paintings, in the order they were painted, lead to 1754236."

Merrick shook his head.

"Look at the address on the receipt."

Merrick held Wyatt's phone close as he read the address for Reliable Storage in Meriweather Grove, Louisiana. "It's 1754 E Monroe." He looked at Wyatt. "I'm not following."

"Meriweather Grove is the city where my mom was born. That's why I noticed this receipt when I was going through my dad's office at his house. I didn't get it then, but now...it has to be. An address to a storage unit with numbers that partially match the code on the paintings? I bet unit 236 holds something of interest."

"If the code is right."

"True." Wyatt put the phone in his pocket. "But my dad can show me the way. He said the paintings were the code, and that he'd already told us where the treasure was."

"Grandpa always wanted to take me to Meriweather Grove and visit the lake there. Said the town was a real treasure." Grant smiled. "Regardless if we're right or wrong, it'd be quite an adventure."

Wyatt placed his hand on Grant's shoulder. "A father-son team. Nothing would make my Dad happier."

Merrick frowned. "So, you're going to steal treasure from your dad?"

"No." Wyatt chuckled. "I just want to see it. I need to know this is real."

"Treasure, like the gold and jewels kind?"

"Knowing my dad, it could be a field of sunflowers or a box of family photos."

"Or gold coins." Grant grinned.

"Fine, I'm in."

"Great." Wyatt tapped Merrick's arm. "You probably shouldn't stay here anymore, though."

Merrick nodded. "I was already packed to go."

Grant whimpered.

Wyatt looked around the room. "Okay. You two take a few minutes, _talk_ only—"

"Dad."

"Then we should go." Wyatt leaned close to Merrick. "Break his heart, though, and I'll hurt you."

Merrick smiled. "Understood."

Wyatt pointed at Grant. "Same goes for you."

"I won't."

Wyatt nodded. "I'll call Thurman."

"Pick me up in the alley." Merrick walked with him to the door.

"Five minutes, we need to get you out of here, quick."

"Got it."

Merrick locked the door after Wyatt, then faced Grant. He put his hands in his pocket as he lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you."

"You'd just leave? No goodbye or anything?"

"No." He shrugged. "I mean, I tried, but...it was killing me to leave."

"I was so scared, leaving you at the warehouse." Grant's bottom lip quivered. "With Vic and then the news said..."

Merrick held Grant's hand. "I know. I'm sorry."

"And my dad said we couldn't go back, that we had to get the paintings away from there."

"He was right."

Grant hugged him.

Merrick put his right hand on the back of Grant's head. "Plan B sucks, that's really all I can say."

Grant nestled his face into Merrick's neck.

"Today scared me, too. I thought I was doing the right thing to protect you, but it hurt more than anything." He moved Grant back. "I was about to call your dad when you two showed up. I couldn't leave. It's risky, but I'll face it rather than leave you."

"I don't want you to go."

Merrick brushed his fingers across Grant's cheek. "Maybe you're rubbing off on me, but I think we'll be all right."

Grant smiled. "We'll be together."

Merrick placed his hand over Grant's heart. The future with him was going to be better than he'd dreamed.

"Are you okay?" Grant winced.

"I will be. I've been in worse shape."

"I know." Grant lightly touched Merrick's face, tracing the bruise under his eye.

"I didn't mean to shut you out today." He held up Dedo. "Squires knows all about me. I just had to step back for a bit and think. I was afraid—"

Grant placed his hand on Merrick's chest, then kissed him.

Merrick moaned, wrapping his arms around Grant. If he'd had any doubt about his decision to stay instead of run, he knew it was the right one then.

Grant rested his forehead against Merrick's.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Merrick delivered a tender kiss, then smiled at him.

Grant's eyes danced across the living room and kitchen. "This is where you live, huh?"

"Well, it was." He placed Dedo on the end table. "Shame, too. I liked it here."

"Let's go get a hotel room. I know you're hurt, but I'll give you a massage, rub your feet, fix you breakfast in the morning."

"Sounds good." Merrick got lost in Grant's blue eyes. Grant said everything was going to be all right, and at the moment he believed that. Loren and the Xanderclied paintings were safe, he had more money than he could imagine, and Grant was by his side. "We'd better go."

"I know." Grant slid his arms around Merrick's waist. "I just like this moment. I thought I'd lost you."

Merrick kissed Grant's cheek, then his lips. As the slow kiss deepened, he pressed their bodies together. Wrapped in Grant's arms, he believed everything was going to be all right.

Grant's phone vibrated.

Merrick hung his head. "That's your dad, I know it."

"Sorry." Grant answered on speakerphone. "Yes, Dad?"

"Hey, Nick's on the phone."

"Nick?" Grant furrowed his brow.

Merrick touched Grant's arm. "Someone we work for sometimes."

"He has a lead on _Lady of Evenshade_ if we're interested."

Grant slid his hand across Merrick's chest as he nodded.

Merrick smiled. "We're interested."

"All right. I'll tell him—"

"Five minutes, Dad."

"Yeah, okay, okay. I'll meet you." Wyatt ended the call.

" _Lady of Evenshade?"_ Grant put the phone in his back pocket.

Merrick slid his hand under Grant's shirt. "A cursed painting."

"Cursed?"

Merrick nodded. "We handle spooky stuff, too."

Grant pursed his lips.

"Things might get wild, dangerous."

"We'll be together, that's what matters."

Merrick smiled. "I love you."

Grant slid his hands around Merrick's neck. "Let's get someplace safe, then we can finish this."

Merrick closed his eyes as he rested his head against Grant's. With Grant there, all his worries faded. Squires would be after him soon, but Wyatt would lead the agent on quite a wild goose chase. Squires had mentioned his employer, and no doubt that mystery would come back to get them. Whether Grant's optimism was infectious, or Merrick was just too happy to care, his heart pounded with excitement. He wouldn't be facing this alone. Maybe he did have money in his checking account and perhaps the treasure hunt ahead of them would be another adventure, but the best thing was Grant's smile and the love in his eyes.

His life had been missing something, only he'd not realized it. It was perfectly clear to him now. No doubt a new adventure awaited, but for tonight, there was just the promise of the hotel room and Grant in his arms. For a change, everything was going to be fantastic, and Merrick had never been happier.

THE END

* * * *

ABOUT MICHELLE WOODY

Michelle Woody lives in Springfield, Missouri. Her other titles include Riley (winner of the 2010 National Indie Excellence Award for Gay/Lesbian Fiction), The Scarecrow's Kiss, Figment of the Heart, and Snapdragon.

For more information, visit michellewoody.com.

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!

