Chapter 46

On Saturday morning, Stone lay in bed, attempting to read through the agenda for the final day of board meetings. The problem was his mind had other ideas and kept trying to poke holes in the plan to take down Petry.

Beside him, Monica groaned and nuzzled against him. She tilted her head back, peeking at him through half-closed eyes. "Hi."

"Hello, yourself. Did I wake you?"

Her hand traveled down his stomach, her lips following close behind. "Does it matter?"

He tossed the papers on the nightstand. "Not in the slightest."

A half hour later, they lay in each other's arms, worries of the coming day temporarily banished from Stone's thoughts.

"I believe that's what's referred to as an excellent start to the morning," Stone said. "Here's hoping it's a harbinger for the day ahead."

Monica propped herself up on an elbow. "Tell you what. If everything goes as planned, tomorrow I'll treat you to a repeat performance."

"And if it doesn't?"

She grinned. "Then you'll treat me."

"Deal."

They sealed it with a kiss.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Five-thirty."

"Too early to get out of bed and too late to go back to sleep. Whatever will we do to fill the time?"

"Perhaps I should practice for tomorrow, in case things go awry."

She lay back on her pillow. "What an excellent idea."

Practice went so well that if this were any other day, they would have never left the bed.

Reluctantly, they showered and dressed, then joined Dino and Viv for breakfast.

"Everyone ready for the big day?" Viv asked.

"As ready as we can be," Stone said.

"Are you carrying?" Dino asked.

"I doubt the board meeting will get heated enough that I'll need a weapon."

"Maybe not, but the party will be a different story."

"I'm already concerned enough about tonight. I don't need to add a gun to my worries."

"What could possibly go wrong?" Dino said.

"Do you want a list? Or…?"

"Now you've both gone and jinxed us," Monica said. "We might as well go back to the room and crawl into bed."

"I hadn't realized that was an option. I'm game if you are."

"Don't tempt me."

"It was your idea."

"That's not an excuse."

"I'm serious about the gun," Dino said.

Stone sighed. "Yes, Mother."

After they finished eating, a golf cart took them to the hotel entrance, where two of the Arrington's vehicles awaited them.

Stone kissed Monica. "See you back here at five."

"If you hear anything more from Billy, let me know."

"I will."

Dino and Viv shared their own goodbye, then the women headed to Strategic Services' L.A. headquarters in one Cayenne and the men to the board meeting in the other.

Teddy was also up early.

The first thing he did was check the locations of the trackers. Petry's vehicle was at the Four Seasons, and Sticks's cube truck was in the same secure parking structure in North Hollywood it had been in since the previous afternoon. Simon's car had also not moved from where it had been when Teddy had gone to sleep. Not at the Verdugo Royale Hotel where Simon had been staying, but at the LAX Hilton, where he had gone yesterday evening.

After turning himself into Billy Barnett, he ventured outside, where he met with the head of the Strategic Services overnight security team. She reported no incidents.

He was about to head back inside when headlights lit up the gate to his property.

The supervisor cocked her head, listening to her earpiece, then said, "Mr. Barnett, Stacy Lange is here."

"Great, let her in."

The gate rolled open and Billy's personal assistant drove up to the house. She climbed out of her car holding a tray with two cups of coffee. She held one out to Billy. "For you."

"Thanks," he said, taking his cup. "You ready to whip everything into shape?"

"You won't even recognize this place in a few hours. Trust me, this is going to be your best party yet."

"You know your way around the house. Help yourself to anything you need."

"Are you leaving? The sun's not even up yet."

"Busy day."

"Don't tell me Ben's making you go to the board meeting."

"No, I've been able to avoid that particular circle of hell."

She grimaced. "Then what could you be doing that I don't know about?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret. There're a lot of things I do you don't know about."

"My life would be a lot easier if that wasn't true."

"Are you sure about that?"

The deep rumble of a motor drew their attention to the gate, where a delivery truck had stopped.

"That'll be the tents," Stacy said.

"I leave everything in your capable hands."

He went inside, grabbed a pair of duffel bags he'd prepped the night before, and took them to his garage.

Today was not the day to be driving around in his easily identifiable Porsche Roadster. The same was true for his new Audi A6. Anonymity was the theme of the day, which was why he'd borrowed one of the studio's production sedans—a five-year-old silver Ford Taurus.

He gave the guard at the gate a wave as he drove by and headed down the hill into the city.

Simon was packed and driving away from the Hilton by seven a.m., his gaze flitting to his rearview mirror every few seconds to check for tails.

He had switched hotels yesterday, booking his room under the assumed identity he would use to leave the country, to avoid Petry showing up and demanding the original Matilda Stones.

He had hoped that would allow him to get a sound night of sleep, but instead he had tossed and turned, barely getting more rest than he had the previous night.

He had only two things left to do before he could put this whole mess behind him. The first, pick up the originals from Rudy, and the second, hand them off to Barrington. Neither of which would occur until that evening, which meant he needed to lie low until then.

He cursed himself for not insisting the lawyer meet him earlier, but he'd shot himself in the foot by giving an "end of Saturday" deadline. Hindsight, and all that.

He called Rudy.

"Yeah?"

"It's Simon. I'll pick up the paintings from you at nine-thirty tonight."

"Give me a second."

The line was muted for nearly a minute.

When he came back on, Rudy said, "Nine-thirty's not going to work for me."

"Excuse me? I'm paying you good money."

"I delivered what you paid me for. What you didn't pay me for was to be a storage facility."

"That's not—" Simon stopped himself. Getting into an argument wouldn't solve anything; he also didn't want the paintings in his possession any longer than necessary. "What is the latest time I can come by?"

"Hold on."

The line was muted again.

What the hell was Rudy doing? Consulting a paper calendar or something?

Rudy returned and said, "Seven."

"Seven? You can't do any later?" Simon didn't bother hiding his annoyance.

"You know, you're kind of a son of a bitch. I'm starting to think I'm busy all day."

Simon took a deep breath. "My apologies. I have a lot going on, so I'm a bit stressed."

"And that's my problem how?"

In as contrite a tone as he could manage, Simon said, "Seven p.m. will be fine."

A new call lit up his phone. His eyes widened when he saw the caller ID. It was Phillip.

"I need to go. See you tonight." Simon punched the button to switch calls. "Phillip? Where the hell have you been?"