Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Thiago Vergara was an up-and-coming artist in the late seventies. He was starting to make a name for himself on the global art scene when he disappeared along with thousands of other people during that time period. Everyone believed he died with the other people. His studio was raided and all his work stolen. Since then, all of his missing paintings have been accounted for.”
Will looked up at him and lifted one eyebrow. “Why do I hear an interesting ‘but’ coming in this story?”
Charlie smirked. Oh, the dirty things he could say, but he swallowed every last one of them. Will was smiling at him. He was relaxed. They weren’t trading insults and hurtful words. He didn’t want to ruin this moment and cause Will to close up on him. “Ehren’s uncle was the owner of four Vergara paintings that no one has ever seen before.”
“You’re sure? How do you know they aren’t forgeries? Fakes?”
This time it was Charlie’s turn to arch an eyebrow and smirk at his lunch companion. “Do you think we’d really come all this way without first having those paintings thoroughly investigated and authenticated?”
Will shrugged. “Maybe you were also looking for an excuse to burn your tastebuds on some amazing Thai.”
“The paintings are real,” Charlie grumbled. “We had three different experts authenticate them. One is believed to have been painted in the eighties, but the other three…” he paused for dramatic effect, “are believed to have been painted in the last twenty years.”
“So, well after Vergara was supposed to have died.”
“Exactly. Interesting mystery, right?”
Will’s expression scrunched up and he cocked his head to the side as he watched Charlie. “But I’m confused. You’re here searching for Thiago Vergara?”
Charlie shrugged and dug into his bowl. Will did have good taste when it came to selecting Thai food. The first bite might have been too hot, but everything else was amazing. “Sure. Or just trying to find out what happened to him after he disappeared. Maybe he wasn’t immediately killed, but held by one of the military generals and forced to paint for them. His paintings could have been used as a type of black-market currency. The ones in Ehren’s possession are the only new ones we’ve found, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more out there.”
“Ehren hired you to find him?”
“Nope.” He looked up to find Will staring at him with a dumbfounded expression. “We thought it was an interesting mystery that needed to be solved. We were between jobs at the time, and none of us had been to Buenos Aires yet.”
Will shook his head and laughed. Charlie froze and watched as his entire body trembled with it. His heart tumbled over itself and skipped about his chest. He hadn’t heard that sound in years, and despite everything Will had been through, it hadn’t changed one bit. It was loud, free, and boisterous. People stopped eating and gazed at Will, because how could you not? No one ever sounded so happy.
He’d heard that laugh for the first time the night they’d met. It was actually after they’d had sex. Well, after they’d had sex the second time that night. Charlie had made some off-hand remark that had tickled Will just right and that laugh exploded from him, changing something inside of him forever.
“I can’t believe you,” Will said around a mouthful of chuckles. “You run off to Argentina because you stumble across a weird mystery. Are you the international branch of the Scooby-Doo gang?”
“The Scooby-Doo gang wishes it was us.”
“Whatever,” Will immediately shot back. He pointed at Charlie with his chopsticks. “Is this seriously what you and your friends do now?”
Charlie smirked. “No, not quite. This is a different kind of job for us. Usually we’re infiltrating drug lords to rescue kidnap victims or unseating warlords.” He shrugged. “Sometimes we fuck with the alphabet soup to piss them off.”
“The what?”
“Alphabet soup. CIA, SVR, MI6, Mossad. Those types of intelligence groups,” he listed on his fingers.
“You’re crazy,” Will muttered as he returned his attention to his food.
“Maybe. We thought we’d follow this trail on a whim. You have to admit that new paintings from a dead Argentine artist showing up in Turkey is an interesting mystery.”
Will shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.” His tone might be grudging, but Charlie didn’t miss the small hint of a grin. “Have you found any leads?”
“Zilch.”
Will’s eyes jumped to his face. “You’re kidding.”
Charlie shook his head. “We’ve hit dead end after dead end. We were looking into Benicio Perez since he seems to have a particular hatred for Vergara, but it’s turned up nothing. Well, almost nothing.” He leaned forward over his bowl and smiled broadly at Will, loving the way the man swallowed hard at being under such intense focus. “Digging into Vergara led us to Perez, which led me to you. And your problem is exactly the kind of thing that we are used to helping with.”