6. Michelangelo

I’d booked a two-bedroom suite in a place I’d heard Penelope mention once, right on the ocean, in Laguna Beach. When I pulled into the valet area, she looked over at me and smiled.

“Excellent surprise, Brand.”

I beamed.

“Come sit with me,”I said once we were settled, motioning to the chaise lounge on the terrace that looked out over the ocean.

“You go ahead.”

I’d intentionally moved a second one out of view. “We can share.”

Pen raised a brow and folded her arms.

“Come on. I won’t bite.” I took a seat, spread my legs, and patted the chaise. “You wouldn’t really want me to sit on the cold, hard concrete, would you?”

She rolled her eyes but, thankfully, sat in front of me. I moved her hair from her neck, leaned in, and nibbled her soft skin.

My Butterfly giggled. “Hey, you said you wouldn’t bite.”

“When presented with something I know will taste divine, I can hardly resist.”

Penelope raised her hand and smoothed her hair over the place where I’d just had my mouth. I half expected her to get up, but was relieved when she rested her back against my front. “Thank you for everything you did to help me today.”

“I told you that’s what I’m here for.”

“Somehow, I doubt you meant confronting my father and digging into my inheritance.”

I put my arms around her when she shivered. “I do what’s needed.”

Neither of us spoke for several minutes, listening to the waves crashing on the sand, instead.

“The first time you ever called me Butterfly was on Fire Island. Do you remember?”

“I told you I remember everything, but do you recall why?”

“What’s today?”

I checked the time. “As of three hours ago, it’s the fifteenth of September.”

“It was this time of year, almost exactly. Tara brought you to the island to see the annual monarch migration.”

I pictured it as if it were yesterday. Every year in mid-September, tens of thousands of monarch butterflies stopped to rest on the island’s dunes as they made their way from Canada to a mountaintop near Mexico City. I’d never seen anything like it before or since.

“There was one that would not leave you alone,” Pen said. “It kept flying all around you. Finally, it landed on your shoulder. Seconds later, it flitted away.”

“Tara had walked far enough away that only you could hear me when I said the butterfly reminded me of you. Flitting close, deigning to touch me, then flying away too soon for me to keep you.”

Penelope laughed. “Deigning? Hardly. God, Brand, I did everything I could to get you to pay attention to me.”

“What about now, Butterfly? Do you still want me to pay attention to you? Even keep you?”

“Promise to never clip my wings?” She smirked as if I was teasing. I wasn’t.

I leaned in close enough to kiss her cheek. “I promise.”

“I wish we were there.”

“Me too,” I said, knowing she meant Fire Island.

“Even if we left now, the monarchs would be gone by the time we arrived.”

“If we left now, you’d miss your surprise.”

“I thought staying here was my surprise.”

“Silly girl, thinking you’d only have one.”

The following morning,when we arrived at Doc Butler’s place in Montecito, her surprise was waiting for Penelope outside the front door.

“They’re all here!” she screeched, jumping out of the car as soon as it stopped to greet her four best friends in the world.

“I owe you one,” I said to Doc when he walked over and stood beside me.

“You owe me a helluva lot more than one, Ripa.” He grinned. “Although seeing the smile on my daughter’s face makes this one for me as much as for you.”

“Actually, it’s all for them. And you’re right; I owe you my life, Doc.”

“Live well, Brand. That’s all I ask. Oh, and help me fight crime, starting with the art forgery ring. While the tribe doesn’t know it, there’s a whole lot more at stake than what their gallery suffered.”

“Understood, sir.”

“On that subject, has Penelope agreed to the first part of the plan?”

“Not officially, but I think she’s in favor of it.”

“Before your first mission gets started, you’ll need code names.”

“Hers is easy. Butterfly.”

“Did I hear my name?” Pen asked, winking when she approached.

“It’s actually your new code name. Now, we need to come up with one for me.”

She looked up at me. “Michelangelo.”

Doc raised a brow. “Someone has a high opinion of your abilities.”

Pen shook her head. “He began his career by passing off one of his sculptures as an ancient Roman statue in order to make more money. The cardinal who purchased it recognized his extraordinary talent and forgave him. He eventually became one of Michelangelo’s patrons.”

Doc’s eyes opened wide. “You’re telling me one of history’s most famous artists started his career as a forger?”

I nudged Penelope. “You weren’t even an art history major like Tara was.”

Her eyes scrunched but just slightly.

“Not that you aren’t an expert on the subject,” I quickly added. “I mean, anything to do with art.”

Doc put his hand on my shoulder. “I’d stay stop while you’re ahead, but telling you to stop before you get farther behind applies better in this case.”

I chuckled, side-glancing at Penelope to see if she laughed or even smiled. She didn’t do either.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”

“Nothing you said was wrong, Brand. Maybe if I’d switched majors, I wouldn’t have fallen for the forgeries.”

“But then you wouldn’t have had the knowledge to start the gallery in the first place,” said Tara, joining us.

“We should probably talk about the financial ramifications of the hit we’re—I’m—going to face.”

My sister shook her head. “You were right the first time. If the gallery continued to be wildly profitable like it has been since we opened, all the partners would reap those rewards. Losses and setbacks work the same way.”

Penelope murmured her agreement, but neither Tara nor I believed she meant it.

“The five of us are only here for a couple of hours. Let’s not ruin it by talking about the forgeries. There are so many unanswered questions at this point,” said Tara.

“I need to inform the others, at the very least.

“I already did.”

Penelope’s fists clenched. “You did what?”

Her tone was my cue to step away, but when I attempted to excuse myself, Tara grabbed one of my arms and Penelope grabbed the other. Neither made eye contact with me since they were shooting death glares at each other. I looked over their heads and saw the other three partners in the gallery watching from a safe distance. Smart women.

Tara continued. “You would’ve led with how this is all your fault and, thus, your responsibility. I presented the facts. Plain and simple.”

“I asked you to wait because the FBI asked me to wait. Who else did you tell?”

“No one, and I don’t appreciate your insinuation.”

“Too damn bad. You could’ve gotten me in a lot of trouble.”

When my sister rolled her eyes, the last place I wanted to be was between her and Penelope.

“The real reason you asked me not to say anything to the rest of the tribe was so you could figure out a way to cover the cost of the reparations on your own. Admit it.”

Tara was right, not that I’d chime in.

“Brand? A minute?” Doc called from where he stood with Merrigan near the entryway to their house. This time, both women looked at me rather than each other.

“This, uh, may be important,” I muttered, excusing myself.

“While it appeared you needed to be rescued, there are a few things we’d like to discuss with you,” said Merrigan, ushering me inside.

I glanced over my shoulder to where Penelope and Tara still appeared to be in a standoff.

“Keep in mind they’ve been friends since they were kids. They’ve worked through things tougher than this,” said Doc, squeezing my shoulder.

My worry, while I’d listened to their heated discussion, was that either of them would expect me to choose sides. I was probably giving myself too much credit to think they would, and appreciated Doc and his wife giving me an excuse to bow out.

“Earlier, Kade asked if you thought Penelope was agreeable to your plan to go undercover as an engaged couple,” said Merrigan.

I waited for her to continue.

“After overhearing what little we did of the exchange between her and Tara, along with what Quinn has said, we have some worry that Pen may…”

“Take matters into her own hands?” I said when she hesitated.

“Precisely.” Merrigan turned to Doc.

“We brought this up because we would not typically be in favor of involving a civilian in an investigation of this nature,” he added.

I raised a brow. “Someone like me, for example.”

“Well, yes, and that leads us to the reason we asked you to come inside. Kade and I would like to suggest you consider additional training to prepare you both for this type of assignment.”

“Training? I mean, I’m in complete agreement for me, but why Penelope?”

“What Merrigan means is it will be a requirement for either of you to go undercover, at least for K19. As for Pen, while it may seem as though attending the upcoming auctions will be without risk, I want to remind you what she, Tara, and Aine went through six years ago. Our intention is to prepare for the worst-case scenario, Brand. For both of you.”

Back before I had any inkling that Tara Emsworth was my half sister, she, Penelope, and Aine were kidnapped. The kidnappers had kept the women drugged and transported them from San Francisco to Seattle, where, after three days, they were rescued. I didn’t know about Aine or Penelope, but Tara still suffered nightmares from it as well as what she’d gone through in Italy because of me.

Before I went to prison, Tara, our father, and I were almost killed by the Calabrian Syndicate. The very people I planned to go up against in the second part of the plan Doc, Merrigan, and I hadn’t yet discussed in detail. It was either them or the Sicilians, and either way, I’d be putting my life on the line. I’d not allow Pen to do the same.

“You’re absolutely right. My apologies. I hadn’t fully considered the risks Penelope may face. I’m also aware I am unequipped to handle some of the situations I may find myself in.”

Doc cocked his head. “You’re better equipped than you think. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Considering he was not one to blow smoke up someone’s arse, as they say, I thanked him.

“Penelope has had self-defense training as well as hostage-survival skills. However, that was six years ago. At the very least, she needs a refresher as well as additional training in other areas.” said Merrigan.

“I’ve made arrangements for the two of you to meet with a buddy of mine who recently retired from the Defense Intelligence Agency in DC. His name is Alonzo Longabaugh, code name Sundance, and coincidentally, he has a place in Manhattan.”

Doc glanced at Merrigan, who was reading something on her mobile.

“Excellent,” she said under her breath. “We’ll also have support from Mallory Felice, code name Flick. She’s an expert on Italian organized crime who is currently employed by MI6. I’ll let her sort out how she wants to handle briefings and if she thinks it would be prudent for you and Penelope to travel to the UK.”

Travel to the UK? I could certainly be wherever Doc and Merrigan needed me, but I hadn’t considered whether Penelope had the same kind of flexibility. She was the managing partner of the gallery and would need to make arrangements for time away for the training they were recommending as well as when we attended the art auctions.

From the windows of the French doors that led out to the garden, I caught a glimpse of her and her four friends.

“See?” said Doc, motioning in the same direction. “All’s well again.”

While the women were hugging, laughing, and brushing away tears, the way Penelope’s shoulders drooped told me things were anything but “all well again.”

She turned then, her eyes seemingly meeting mine through the windowpane. Was she seeking me out? Could she even see me? I raised a hand to wave, knowing how foolish I’d appear if she didn’t wave back. But she did. And smiled.

“When are you planning to return to New York?” Merrigan asked.

“I booked a red-eye, although now, it hardly seems fair to make Pen leave.”

“I think they were all planning to after dinner,” said Doc. “Long gone are the days when they were single and didn’t have a care in the world.”

I wouldn’t contradict Doc, but he hadn’t been involved in Quinn’s life when she was younger. I hadn’t been around much longer than he had, but I knew enough from my conversations with Tara and what little time I’d spent with all of them together to understand there’d rarely been a time when they didn’t have a care in the world.

“Here they come,” said Merrigan, standing to open the doors I’d been peering through.

Penelope walked straight over to me.

“Hey,” I said in a quiet voice.

“Hey,” she sighed as much as said.

I longed to put my arm around her shoulders, pull her close, and kiss her temple. Wanting it didn’t mean I could. I’d been out of prison a few days, and as much as I’d fantasized about Penelope and me being together, that’s all it was for now—a fantasy.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“As you’d expect. There’s no way they’ll let me bear the brunt of this, either financially or by taking the blame.”

While mere seconds ago, I convinced myself I couldn’t embrace her, I did anyway. When I put my arm around her, Penelope leaned into me. “I know how hard this is for you, but your actions were exactly as they should’ve been. You performed due diligence regarding the provenance, and it appeared as authentic as the art. As I well know, you’re dealing with masters in forgery.”

She shifted so my arm was no longer around her and faced me so her back was to the others. “Quinn asked whether the auction houses should be equally responsible for reparations. I didn’t know what to say.”

“How did you respond?”

“I said it was something I should’ve thought of myself and would look into it. In fact, I probably should’ve been meeting with our insurance broker rather than worrying about the house on Fire Island.”

“You’ve always been too hard on yourself.” I took her hand in mine, needing to reestablish our connection.

“No more than anyone else.”

I smiled and shook my head. “Wrong. Far more than anyone else.”

She shrugged and turned around when my sister said her name.

“Am I forgiven?” Tara asked.

Rather than answer, Penelope embraced her.

“I have a confession,” Tara continued. “Something I want to tell both of you at the same time.”

Penelope took a step back so we were side by side.

“I’m pregnant.”

Pen wasquiet on the ride back to Los Angeles.

“We could skip the red-eye and spend another night at the beach,” I offered.

“I need to get home.”

I reached over and squeezed her hand. “Which part of today weighs so heavily on your mind, Butterfly?”

She squeezed back, then let go. “It’s nothing.”

I wouldn’t venture a guess, given whatever I’d say might make her feel worse. Was she still upset about Tara telling the others about the forgeries? Or was it Tara announcing she was pregnant? Or something else entirely? The only thing I knew for certain was Penelope was glum, and I couldn’t help but want to make her feel better. I just had no idea how. I could take her hand again, but would she pull away? I could stop the car and wrap her in my arms, but would she bristle?

My best course of action would be to keep my mouth shut and see if she’d open up to me without me forcing the issue.

We drove in silence for several minutes, most of which I spent biting my tongue.

“Were you serious when you said we could spend another night at the beach?”

“Very much so. We can stay longer if you’d like.”

“Escaping my life doesn’t sound so bad right now.”

When her eyes filled with tears and she turned her head away, I prayed that escaping her life didn’t involve keeping her distance from me.