“After we make sure your mother is safe, I know exactly how to get the authorities on him. He’s been a bad, bad boy since he came into Ohio.”
“What about the painting?” Marc asked. He sat up. “We have to make sure it’s safe.”
“Painting?” Quinn looked back and forth between Royce and Marc. “I guess I’m not as good as I thought. Fill me in?”
This part was a little harder to admit to. Royce poured himself another drink. Fuck it, they’d sleep here tonight, and he’d ask Garrett to stay, too. He knocked back the whiskey, his eyes watering and throat burning. He turned back to find them all watching him. Waiting. “We stole a painting.”
Garrett’s mouth fell open.
Royce nodded and shared the whole story. When he was done, even Quinn had a look of utter shock on his face. Then his head tilted, and he started typing on his laptop. “Usually, proving that a person knowingly possesses stolen goods is hard, but in Ohio, the burden of proof isn’t as big. I’m not sure of the degree in felony, but if the piece is expensive, it could be a higher one that would mean prison time.”
Marc leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table. “The painting is worth more than 100 million dollars. And it’s been missing a long time.”
“What artist?” Garrett asked.
“Raffaello Sanzio da Urbin, but he’s better known as just Raphael. One of the greatest painters of the Italian Renaissance,” Marc said. “It’s absolutely stunning, and I hate that his hands are on it.”
Quinn didn’t look up from where he was typing. “That could mean something entirely different, but I’d have to look it up. Even if we don’t get him for that, I’m pretty sure the man trafficked drugs over state lines. He had a meeting this morning. With a known drug lord.”
“Drugs?” Genuine surprise filled Royce. “My father despised drugs. The family always dealt in illegal gambling.”
“Your uncle changed his M.O.” Quinn shrugged.
“Hold up, you guys.” Garrett turned to Marc. “You two flew to Italy and stole a Raphael?”
Marc nodded.
Dark brown eyes flicked from Marc to Royce. “That is some upper-level shit, Royce. What the fuck? You could go to prison!”
“Missing is the important word here, Garrett.” Royce set down his glass and crossed his arms. “We took it from a residence and the owner”—he held up his fingers in quotes—“ ‘acquired it’ by illegal means. Think he’ll report it?”
“He could send some pretty nasty motherfuckers after you.”
“After who?” Marc asked. “He has no idea who took it. We flew in on a friend’s private plane. One who has never met the man or been in his house. We were completely under the radar.”
Royce thought about them hitting the tourist spots but decided to keep that to himself. No use in worrying his friends. Then he thought of them in that country bed and breakfast and how Marc had held on to him so tightly. He rubbed his hands on his biceps and tried to push those memories away.
Quinn snorted. “You flew on a private jet to Tuscany and pulled off an art heist on a criminal.” He blinked, then took off his glasses to rub them with a cloth he pulled out of his pocket. “Damn. Shane and I need to up our game when it comes to adventurous weekends.”
A cleared throat pulled all their gazes to Sven, who shook his head no when Royce offered to pour him another drink. “We can figure out the logistics of getting the painting back, so it can be put where it belongs—”
“In a museum,” Marc interrupted.
Sven nodded. “Or we can use this time to figure out how to rescue Royce’s mother. She’s what’s important here.”
“Agreed,” Garrett said as he ran a hand over his crew cut. “But I will say I can’t wait to hear Dom’s reaction to your action movie shit.”
“So let’s get to it.” Quinn typed on his laptop, then stood to point at the monitor. “I’m bringing up the images of the house. It would help if we knew what room your mother is in.”
Royce walked to the monitor. “Bring up all of the bedrooms. Their proof of life was to show someone walk into her room. I’ll recognize it.” He watched as Quinn flipped through the rooms, then pointed.
“Good. Good.” Quinn turned and circled the room on the blueprints. “Earlier, we agreed the best thing to do would be to watch the house the next two nights to see how many times Corbin’s men patrol outside. I have the security system specs—gotta love the rental company—and it’s an old one that’s easy to shut down.” He pulled up the floor plan.
“What the fuck is a keeping room?” Garrett blurted out. “Sounds kinky.”
Royce squinted at the image. “Family room, maybe? It’s by the kitchen.” He pointed. “This place has a coffee bar between the master bedroom, bath, and closet.”