Read Online Burning Intensity by Elizabeth Lapthorne - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lapthorne
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
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and in small, neat lettering rewrote it clearly so she could look at the big picture.
Why would Kent and Luke have remained so involved in a complex, but straightforward heist? Sure, the National Gallery wasn’t the average home invasion or small, independent store, but neither was it the Tower or protected like the Mint. More than the minimum necessary people didn’t make sense.
Unless there was more than recovering the painting at stake?
Chelsea and David hadn’t indicated that either man had a personal involvement with each other or Thaddeus, nor had there been time for them to contact anyone inside the Gallery itself. Chelsea had been their inside contact, and so had there been another connection somewhere she would have come across it.
It couldn’t be personal—so it must be the painting itself. Could the painting be that critical? Or perhaps those whom they were selling it to were powerful enough that Kent and Luke felt the need to oversee everything personally, to micromanage the job.
No, that didn’t fit properly. If they were afraid of their clients then they’d be scrupulous about the details and planning stage, but they wouldn’t risk being caught because their team was too large.
The painting was key, it was the only logical answer. It felt right.
“What could make a painting so important that these guys would risk the potential success of the mission to keep tabs on it, to steal it personally?”
Her question, though spoken aloud, was partly rhetorical. She felt no offense when James looked up at her, but then returned his gaze to the screen of the laptop and continued scrolling.
“It wasn’t ego,” she continued as she stared at her flow chart. “Both men have plenty of that, but they’re professionals. I can believe they’d be in on all the planning and behind the scenes stages, but they wouldn’t have risked exposure by coming along into the Gallery itself. They’re both physically strong and powerful in their smuggling circles, it doesn’t fit they were scared of their clients. No, it was the painting. Maybe they wanted to steal it literally with their own hands, or maybe it’s a talisman of some sort, a culmination of months of work. There’s a reason for their actions. We find it, and maybe we’ll find the painting.”
El jolted when she glanced up to find that James had scooted closer to her on the couch and now peered over her shoulder, seeming intrigued by her complicated diagram.
“Can I see this?” he murmured.
She grinned, but handed it over. He scanned the document, appearing to take in the whole before analyzing individual areas more closely.
“I’ve never thought to map out a heist like this,” he said without looking at her. “You’ve certainly captured the heart and many of the details. This is great.”
James appeared enraptured. He pressed a finger to his lips, clearly studying the chart. She wondered if it felt like an intellectual challenge to him, to piece together the steps of who fitted where in relation to the painting. Happy for him to chew over it, she picked up the laptop and brought it to her legs, scanning through the documents, having read them multiple times before.
She let her eyes wander the screen, scrolling down as she needed. Not reading it per se, she let her subconscious mind fill in the blanks, hoping to pick out the important facts. James remained engrossed in the chart, distracted from his study of the crew. Tabbing over to Luke’s dossier she remembered that he seemed to have been the brains behind the crew.
The ringleader, he’d hidden in plain sight, acting like the wing man for Kent, when in reality he’d been running the show all along.
“Luke was in charge,” she said, more to herself than James. “It was never Kent’s call, none of it was. Luke would have directed where they hid the painting. Somewhere close. Ninety minutes, even at that time of the evening, you can’t drive far in central London.”
Dimly she
Why would Kent and Luke have remained so involved in a complex, but straightforward heist? Sure, the National Gallery wasn’t the average home invasion or small, independent store, but neither was it the Tower or protected like the Mint. More than the minimum necessary people didn’t make sense.
Unless there was more than recovering the painting at stake?
Chelsea and David hadn’t indicated that either man had a personal involvement with each other or Thaddeus, nor had there been time for them to contact anyone inside the Gallery itself. Chelsea had been their inside contact, and so had there been another connection somewhere she would have come across it.
It couldn’t be personal—so it must be the painting itself. Could the painting be that critical? Or perhaps those whom they were selling it to were powerful enough that Kent and Luke felt the need to oversee everything personally, to micromanage the job.
No, that didn’t fit properly. If they were afraid of their clients then they’d be scrupulous about the details and planning stage, but they wouldn’t risk being caught because their team was too large.
The painting was key, it was the only logical answer. It felt right.
“What could make a painting so important that these guys would risk the potential success of the mission to keep tabs on it, to steal it personally?”
Her question, though spoken aloud, was partly rhetorical. She felt no offense when James looked up at her, but then returned his gaze to the screen of the laptop and continued scrolling.
“It wasn’t ego,” she continued as she stared at her flow chart. “Both men have plenty of that, but they’re professionals. I can believe they’d be in on all the planning and behind the scenes stages, but they wouldn’t have risked exposure by coming along into the Gallery itself. They’re both physically strong and powerful in their smuggling circles, it doesn’t fit they were scared of their clients. No, it was the painting. Maybe they wanted to steal it literally with their own hands, or maybe it’s a talisman of some sort, a culmination of months of work. There’s a reason for their actions. We find it, and maybe we’ll find the painting.”
El jolted when she glanced up to find that James had scooted closer to her on the couch and now peered over her shoulder, seeming intrigued by her complicated diagram.
“Can I see this?” he murmured.
She grinned, but handed it over. He scanned the document, appearing to take in the whole before analyzing individual areas more closely.
“I’ve never thought to map out a heist like this,” he said without looking at her. “You’ve certainly captured the heart and many of the details. This is great.”
James appeared enraptured. He pressed a finger to his lips, clearly studying the chart. She wondered if it felt like an intellectual challenge to him, to piece together the steps of who fitted where in relation to the painting. Happy for him to chew over it, she picked up the laptop and brought it to her legs, scanning through the documents, having read them multiple times before.
She let her eyes wander the screen, scrolling down as she needed. Not reading it per se, she let her subconscious mind fill in the blanks, hoping to pick out the important facts. James remained engrossed in the chart, distracted from his study of the crew. Tabbing over to Luke’s dossier she remembered that he seemed to have been the brains behind the crew.
The ringleader, he’d hidden in plain sight, acting like the wing man for Kent, when in reality he’d been running the show all along.
“Luke was in charge,” she said, more to herself than James. “It was never Kent’s call, none of it was. Luke would have directed where they hid the painting. Somewhere close. Ninety minutes, even at that time of the evening, you can’t drive far in central London.”
Dimly she
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