Page 10 of The Maverick
I looked into those mysterious eyes, surprised to see they held pain and sorrow. How could I see that? How could I know that? Was I projecting my issues onto him?
Confusion washed over me as I studied the sunburst of topaz and gold within his brown irises.
“I appreciate your support,” I said, breaking our gaze to watch a couple holding hands as they looked at one of myShattered Lotuspaintings. The woman stepped forward and tripped on the hem of her long dress. Her husband caught her, helping her to her feet.
“How are you doing?” Attikus asked.
“I’m okay,” I said. “A bit stressed, but that’s understandable. This is my first gallery, so I want to make sure everything goes without a hitch.”
“As far as I can tell, everything is working out beautifully.”
Willow approached me. “The media would like some photos of you both, if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Attikus said. “It’s a great opportunity to show the community the fabulous new art gallery here in Providence.”
After Attikus and I answered questions and had our photos taken, I walked over to the appetizer table and grabbed a bacon-covered avocado, popping it into my mouth. The savory taste settled the erratic nerves inside me.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Attikus asked me.
“Water would be great. Thank you.”
He walked over to the drink stand.
“You have a package.” Willow handed me a small brown box. “Maybe it’s a gift from a collector who couldn’t make it today.”
I’d received lovely handwritten letters congratulating me in the last few days from loyal fans around the country.
“A gift on opening day?” Attikus returned with my drink and placed it on the tall table. “Let me help you.” He reached into his pocket for a pen. Then he twisted the other end of it, revealing a small blade. He cut the tape and handed me the box.
“You have dangerous gadgets.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
I opened the box, saw the bloody finger, screamed, and dropped it. Fear for my mother overwhelmed me. My body swayed as I met Attikus’s concerned eyes.
Then I blacked out.
CHAPTER SIX
ATTIKUS
“She’s still sleeping,”I said to Detective Gary Farmer, who stood in the hospital waiting room with me.
He had curly red hair, a determined expression, and integrity I’d never seen in any police officer. We had a history, and I trusted him.
Detective Farmer had arrived, wanting to question Nessa about the severed finger. But I didn’t want him disrupting her rest. I debated telling him what I’d seen at Loretta’s Café but held back.
What if that incident had nothing to do with the severed finger? What if it was a personal issue she didn’t want anyone to know? I’d wait to ask her those questions later.
Why? She’s not your family. She’s not your girlfriend.
I grunted at my inner voice. It wasn’t wrong. But I was a businessman who valued my investment. Nessa Lambert was my most recent investment. Her well-being ensured I profited. I didn’t spend all that money renovating the retail strip—the gallery—to let some fucker ruin it on its first day of opening.
I briefed Detective Farmer on what I’d seen in Boston and sent him a picture of the men. Maybe they had something to do with this.
“I’ll take a look,” he said, glancing at his phone.
“Please keep me posted on your findings.”
“Will do.” He tucked his small notebook into his chest pocket. “If you can have her stop by my office to give her statement when she wakes, I’d appreciate it.”
