Retribution (Secrets & Lies #3)(25)
“What?”
Katrina laughs and picks up another rock, throwing it into the valley harder this time, the thunk of the rock off the tree louder, sharper. “We're all f*cked up. I don't trust the regular world at all, and have brought my husband and daughter into a shady half-world because of it. Hell, I'm a recovering drug addict, really, thinking of the shit my herbalist worked up for me and I popped like candy when I had my own nightmares that remind me a lot of what you go through. Jackson's just as screwed up, Andrea and Carson, too. There's been only two pure, innocent members of this family. BA's too young to be screwed up just yet, and I'll tell you, I’m afraid of the day I wake up and realize I f*cked up and she's just as screwed up as Jackson and me. The other... well, Maverick was one hell of a dog.”
“That's a pretty dark way to look at things,” I tell her. “Because when I see you, I don't see all those bad things. I see a warrior queen who loves her husband and her family, and if something happened right this second, she'd die to protect any of us. And I'd die to protect her too, even though I'm no good at that sort of thing.”
Katrina smiles and kisses me on the cheek. “And that, more than anything else, is why you and Nathan should have your chance at happiness. You're this family's light. I love you, 'Lissa.”
“I love you too, Katrina. But I'm getting a little cold. How about some cocoa back at the house?”
Katrina gets up, helping me to my feet and taking my hand as we start to walk. “Good idea. I'll cook, maybe we can get Andrea and just make it a girl thing.”
“Good morning, Robert.”
“Miss Sands, it's good to hear your voice,” Robert, the general manager at the MCS Gallery in the French Quarter says. I'm in town with Carson, Andrea and BA, the four of us on the second of the weekly trips we've set up for supplies and other things in the Asheville area. Nathan's at the clinic down the block getting the last of his treatments for his kidney problem, apparently another of the underground clinics that Katrina was able to set us up with. Unfortunately there's no underground pediatrician in the area, but Andrea's not due for a prenatal check for another two weeks. In the meantime, I'm sitting on a bench, using the cell phone coverage to check an e-mail Robert sent last night while Carson and Andrea go around the big warehouse shopping center, buying food. “I'm glad you replied so quickly. How is your vacation?”
I struggle for a second before it hits me. Ah yes, vacation. It was a quick excuse, but Carson told Robert I had a sudden urge for inspiration, so we were all going on a road trip, going wherever my artist's heart desires. So far it's holding up well, and it fits the stereotypical artist mentality. I could 'go' anywhere from California to Kalamazoo and still be 'finding inspiration'. Actually, maybe there is a kernel of truth to the idea, because hanging around the compound and seeing the breathtaking views of the mountains has my mind going places that make me feel like expressing myself. So my lie is easy, even if I feel a bit guilty about it. “Very well, thank you Robert. St. Louis is an amazing city.”
“That's great, Miss Sands. I hope it is doing well for your health. I assume you got my e-mail?” he says in his kind way. I've spoken with Robert probably more than most men, and while he's not a friend, he's a nice man, and very good for us in running the everyday operations of MCS.
“Yes, that's why I called. Something about a potential client?”
I can hear the eagerness in Robert's voice, and I can understand. My pieces go for big money, even the small paintings. A commissioned piece like Ascension can fetch us all upward of a million dollars easily, although since it was for a school I gave them a price break. “Yes, Miss Sands. Yesterday we had a woman come in, she looked over Effort and Moon Dancer and was very impressed. She said she'd never seen such dynamic work before.”
“It's always nice to have a fan,” I say, thinking instead of Vadim Orloff. He'd been enthusiastic as well. “Did she buy one of them?”
“Yes, in fact she put down a cash deposit for Moon Dancer, but more importantly, she wanted to discuss commissioning another piece. Moon Dancer she said is for her company, but she wants to get something for herself as well, a piece she said she's willing to pay over a million dollars for. From the way she dressed, she's not some window shopper either.”
I hum, worry winding its way through my brain. After Vadim Orloff, I feel warning bells in my head any time Robert mentions a fan. “Tell me about the woman please, Robert.”
Andrea, BA in her arms, comes up, seeing me talking. “Everything okay?”
“Maybe,” I whisper, relieved she's there, “but I've got it so far. Stick around?”
“Sure,” she says, taking a seat on the bench next to me. I give her a grateful smile and turn my attention back to the phone call.
“You there, Miss Sands?”
“Yes, sorry. Andrea was just asking if I wanted anything, we're doing some shopping. Please, go ahead.”
“Okay. Well, she was tall, with olive skin, with very long black hair. More than that though, I gave you a message because of what she was wearing. She certainly has money, Miss Sands.”
A cold knot builds in my stomach as I listen to Robert's description, and I lick my lips, trying to keep calm. Andrea sees my discomfort and takes my left hand, stroking my hand gently, helping immediately. “What do you mean what she was wearing, Robert?”