“No need. It’ll go in the car where it can’t be damaged. Thank you again, Valentina. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”

And then they were gone, leaving the sound of the chime fading away and me alone with Rhett and a stack of cash on my desk. Part of me wanted Rhett to leave so I could count it and find out how much Lucas Titan had deemed as the perceived value. The other part wanted to beg him to stay and tell him everything.

“Sounds like you’re going to have one happy new artist on your hands.”

“She’ll be very surprised.”

Rhett studied me closely, and again I was reminded that I was facing a detective. He couldn’t know I’d painted it. There was no way he could know.

“Well, I’d best get on my way and back to work. My cases aren’t going to solve themselves.”

Do I add another case to it? Rix’s words came back to me. Should I even trust him to get her back?

I’ll give him another day, I decided. Then all bets are off.

I smiled at Rhett and wondered if I looked as conflicted as I felt. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you later.”

He continued his study of me for several moments, and I wondered if he’d push. He didn’t. “You certainly will.”

The door whooshed open and two more customers walked in. Rhett nodded and headed out.

What was I doing with him? And how in the world had Rix gotten a painting from my house to the gallery? And why?

After a steady stream of customers until closing, I finally had a chance to sit down at my desk and pull up my security footage from last night. It showed me leaving and locking up, and then nothing for hours. I was near the point of dozing off when all of the security feeds went black.

“What the hell?”

I skipped back and let it replay. Again, black. For six minutes. And then the picture reappeared and there wasn’t a soul in the gallery.

I knew he could disable my home alarm system, so how much of a stretch was it really that he could disable my security cameras?

Shoving up from my desk, I grabbed my purse and stalked to the door. I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and set the alarm—gritting my teeth because I knew it couldn’t keep one particular person out.

And that one particular person had some explaining to do.

IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE I was once again parking my Tesla across the street from Rix’s house. This was a neighborhood I never should have set foot in to begin with, and here I was making it a regular stop.

Again wondering if my car would be there when I returned, I locked the door and crossed the street. The metal gate opened soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, and I picked my way over the cracked path and up the porch steps before hammering on the door.

I could have done this via text or phone call, but I wanted to see Rix’s face when he tried to explain why he did it—and I was going to use the opportunity to press him about Trinity again.

There was no answer.

I remembered that the doorbell didn’t work, so I ignored it and kept up with my pounding on the door.

Still nothing.

In my hurry to get here, it hadn’t occurred to me that he might not be home for me to unleash my tirade on. I pulled out my phone and found his contact.

VALENTINA: Where the hell are you?

I wasn’t in the mood to be nice, and yes, once again, I’d decided any rules about Rix being scary didn’t apply to me.

At least this time, his response was almost instant.

RIX: Busy.

Busy? What the hell? He wasn’t allowed to be busy. No, he was not.

VALENTINA: Get unbusy. I’m on your doorstep.

RIX: WTF, duchess? Go home. Now.

VALENTINA: No.

RIX: Stubborn woman. Be there in 5. Wait inside. It’s unlocked.

I stared down at my phone. He leaves his house unlocked? In this neighborhood?

Maybe when you’re the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in New Orleans, you’re not worried about someone breaking in.

I chanced a look over my shoulder before I tucked my phone away and reached for the door handle. Sure enough, there were at least two men watching my every move. One had a phone in hand, and his thumbs were moving furiously. So maybe Rix didn’t need to lock his house if he had people watching it. The man texting looked up at me and gave me a nod.

It didn’t take a genius to guess who he was texting with. Apparently I’d been given the official go-ahead.

Twisting the handle, I pushed open the door and stepped inside the house. It was quiet and still, and I felt like I was trespassing, even though I had permission to be inside. Then I decided that feeling was ridiculous because Rix clearly hadn’t felt the same way when he’d broken into my house multiple times and now my place of business too. And he’d snooped and stolen from me.

Now it’s my turn.

Because I was a rebel, I left my shoes on—after wiping them carefully on the rug—and started my survey of Rix’s domain. It was clearly a bachelor pad, and minimalist at best. There was a comfy couch in the living room, and a giant brown leather recliner that showed more wear than the rest. Apparently Rix liked his creature comforts.

The glass coffee table was empty except for some discarded mail. My curiosity ramped up when I realized his full name had to be on the mail. Crossing the worn wooden floor, I picked up an envelope. Rix Jones.

Well, that was boring, and it sounded fake. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was. Given that he was involved in less-than-legal activities, would he really use his real name?

Replacing the mail on the table, I surveyed the living room more closely. A giant flat-screen television hung on the wall, but not a single picture. Actually, the entire room was devoid of knickknacks. I was headed out of the living room when the front door opened and the man himself stepped into the entryway.

I wasted no time.

“Why? It was one thing to take the picture I painted and keep it for yourself, but why the hell would you take one and put it in my gallery where someone could mistake it as a piece for sale?”

Rix didn’t deny anything. “Because your pictures should be hanging on the walls of that gallery. I just gave you a push. Bet someone already bought it, didn’t they?” He came toward me. “Is that what’s got you all fired up?”

I propped my hands on my hips, refusing to back down. “You broke into my house—again—and stole from me—again—and then you broke into my business. That’s what I’m fired up about! You can’t just do whatever you want. There are rules.”