Cygny's Six

Cygny finished bucklingher shoes when she heard the knock at the door. “Someone else at the door?”

She didn’t hear anything from the bedroom and wondered why Leo hadn’t answered the door.

She walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, only to frown into the mirror above the dresser before turning back around. Leo wasn’t there.

The knocks at the door started again, but this time there was a voice with it.

“Hey, aren’t you guys coming?”

Cygny recognized the voice of the man who’d sat across the table from her just the day before.

Crossing to the door, she opened it up.

He stood outside with his guard behind him. “We’ve been called into the gallery to start, but you weren’t there. I know it would be better for me if you weren’t there, but I guess I’m a pushover for a pretty woman. So,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “you going to come and fight me fair and square for these paintings?”

It took Cygny a moment to make her decision. She couldn’t let everything go on without her.

“That’s very nice of you.”

“Nice?” He scoffed at the idea. “Honestly, I’m kind of looking forward to going toe to toe with you.”

“With me?”

She really wasn’t sure of what to make of that admission.

“Why me?”

“Why not?” He gestured down the hall and she started to walk. He caught up with her and folded his hands behind his back. “Honestly? You’re a challenge. And I like challenges.”

“I think you’re the only one here that would say that.”

He laughed at the idea.

“Women say that but a man who has a good handle on his ego likes a woman who can stand up to him.”

She met his side-long glance with an arch look. “I’m not sure you could handle me.”

His stride stumbled but he quickly fell into step beside her. “If you weren’t already involved, I’d be curious to try.”

She decided not to play coy. He might be a little forward with his words, but he was observant. A trait that was helpful in determining whether artwork was real or counterfeit.

“Who knows…” She smiled and let herself play the game. If this man were to slip through the net after the auction was over, having a good rapport with him would be helpful if they need to track him down again. “I might want to cross swords with you again in the future.”

He tossed his head back with a laugh before he answered her. “I hope you do. I really hope so.”

The door at the end of the hallway opened and Cygny could see that the other buyer and his guard were in the room. She was quite literally at the point of no return. She had to go forward, because backward wasn’t a possibility.

Cygny knew that wherever Leo had gone, he had a reason to go. She’d trust that he was okay and looking for something that would help.

Like a way out.

They stepped into the gallery and one of the house guards closed the door behind them.

The instant Cygny turned to look at the doorway she felt a cold chill down her spine.

The French doors at the far end of the room opened with the barest of noises, but they still carried across the room as the guard locked the door they’d just walked through.

“Good evening, lady and gentlemen.”

Everything around her felt like it was suddenly in slow motion.

Turning on her heel, Cygny felt the floor buckling under her feet.

Beside her, the other man caught at her arm. “Something wrong?”

“If I was you, Mister Samuels. I would take my hands off of her.”

He did what he was told, and it took everything for Cygny to remain on her feet.

Hestood at the head of the room, the Caravaggio, ‘Sacrifice of Isaac,’ behind him. With a satisfied nod in her direction, he addressed the rest of the room.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming to my little event. I take it that the offerings were worthy of your time and expense.”

The other men looked at each other, but Cygny couldn’t begin to move. Not yet.

Not when a ghost stood before her.

“Hello, Diana.” His smile was almost welcoming, but she wasn’t going to fall for any of his lies. “Or should I call you Cygny? When did you come up with that colorful moniker, I wonder?”

She didn’t reply. She didn’t want to even think his name.