Page 37 of Everything We Found

“Why are you telling me then? Obviously, other than because I asked.”

“Beats me. I’m barely holding my shit together.” He smacked the steering wheel with both hands. Nadia flinched. He ground his teeth. He couldn’t shut up around her. She was the only person who made him feel safe enough to be reckless with the truth.

He looked at her and she stared right back. She reached for the door handle. “I have to get back.”

“Is Aimee asleep?”

“Yes, why?”

“How asleep?”

“Asleep, asleep. I gave her a Lunesta. Knocked her out. Why do you care, and what does that have to do with you sitting out here like a creeper?”

“I need your help.” She was already shaking her head before he finished asking. “James’s paintings still in the garage?” Heknew they were boxed and ready to be transported to the art gallery he’d wanted to open.

“Yes,” she answered, wary.

“I need them.”

“Then ask Aimee.” She opened her door.

“She’ll ask me why I want them. Would you wait a sec? Nadia, stop.” But she was already out of the truck.

She shut the door and leaned into the window. “You don’t think she’d notice they were gone?”

“Of course she’ll notice. But I can’t have their disappearance traced back to me.”

“She’ll think they were stolen. She’ll file a police report. You leave any prints and the police will trace them back to you. And you’ll lead them right to James.”

“Which is why I need you to open the garage door. I’m not touching anything but the boxes I’m taking.”

Nadia’s hands closed abruptly on the door ledge and she gave him a thinly veiled smile. “Haven’t you hurt Aimee enough? I won’t let you take his art.”

“I wouldn’t if I didn’t have a very good reason to.”

“No, you can’t ask that of me.” Her body went rigid.

He lunged across the seat and snatched her wrist before she left. “You will because you owe me.”

Her pupils dilated, making her eyes appear darker and more intense. She knew exactly what he meant and Thomas kicked himself for playing that card. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t. But times were desperate.

Nadia snatched her wrist back. “Good. Night.”

Long strides took her across the street and into James’s house.

He stomped the footwell. “Fuck me.” Those paintings needed to be shipped to Puerto Escondido for there to be any chance of James believing he had history in that town. For him to believehe was Carlos. That he was a painter. Thomas didn’t want to break into his house, but if it was his only option to retrieve the art, he would.

A metallic, cranking noise broke through his thoughts. Across the road, James’s garage door slowly lifted on its tracks. Thomas was standing just outside the garage by the time it fully opened. Nadia stood on the small step of the door leading into the house, arms crossed. Their gazes met over Aimee’s VW New Beetle. Her face hardened when she noticed the relief and gratitude on his.

“I’m not touching anything. This is on you. She wakes and I’m calling you out. I will not take the blame for this.”

His jaw tightened. “Noted.”

She watched from her side of the garage as he hefted a box and carried it to the truck bed. He returned for a second box, then a third. When he came back for the fourth box, she stood by the stacks waiting for him. Arms crossed, expression guarded.

“It’s true then. You convinced your dad to hire my mom.”

He drew back a fraction. That had been so long ago. But the question had been waiting to be asked. He’d brought up their past.You owe me.