Here Comes Trouble Read Online Free Page B

found what she came for. Not yet. Liza would have to wait and Sheila would have to hope she didn’t come looking for her.
    Grabbing more folders, she spread out the papers and got to scanning. More files. More scanning. Still no sign of the work that had brought her into this room in the first place.
    The file marked “Abrams” was wedged into the fourth box, forgotten as the painting itself. She wrenched the folder free, smoothing the wrinkles and creases as she opened it and stared into the photograph.
    Tears blurred her eyes. The family portrait depicted three children and their parents staring up at her, as if relieved to have been set free of their cardboard trappings.
    “Levia,” she whispered. Anger burned her eyes clear as she reached for her phone and took picture after picture, as close as she could, striving for every bit of detail she could manage, focusing on the abstract signature of an artist long dead, murdered along with his entire family save for his youngest daughter.
    A daughter who had survived the camps, the loss of everyone she’d known and loved; a daughter who, years later, would change Sheila’s life forever.
    “I found it, Levia,” she whispered and traced her fingers over the photograph. Instead of relief expanding in her chest, panic pressed down. The thought of having to go into that studio and paint again. The last time she’d put brush to paint had been to paint a cowboy-themed mural on a little boy’s bedroom wall . . . a little boy who had had so little time to enjoy it. “Brandon.” Sheila squeezed her eyes shut, as if the action could stave off the grief that continued to overwhelm her. The grief that stopped her from painting.
    And yet Nemesis’ plan hinged on Sheila’s forging ability.
    Without those paintings, without that distraction, their plan would never succeed.
    Like Scarlett O’Hara, Sheila shoved the worry aside for another day and focused on the file in hand. While these files would never be enough to present in a court of law—not that law enforcement even had cause to search the vault in the first place—Nemesis, and Sheila in particular, excelled at meting out a special kind of punishment. Given Chadwick’s world-wide connections and reputation, there was no way he’d ever be made to pay in the traditional sense for keeping this lost art piece—and probably others as well—from their rightful owners unless special plans were made.
    And plans were Sheila’s specialty.
    Sheila replaced the files and restacked the boxes. When she was certain she was alone she slipped on her shoes and flipped the switch to trigger the bookcase. Cool air wafted over her as she stepped into the office, waiting until the case slid into place before she poked her head out the office door. She stepped over the threshold, punched the lock, and pulled it closed behind her, taking an extra second to smooth her dress, wiggle around the decoder that dug into the sensitive skin between her breasts, and run a hand down her hair.
    Satisfied all was in place, she headed toward the stairs, the knots in her belly releasing enough to let her breathe easy for the first time in hours. With a bounce in her step, she almost squealed as she rounded the corner and barreled into Malcolm.
    “Find what you were looking for?”

Chapter Three
    “Dammit, Malcolm.” Sheila resisted the urge to press trembling fingers against her fluttering chest. He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, a knowing gleam in his eyes. He’d thrown off her plans twice in one night. Two times too many. “I thought you’d gone downstairs.”
    “Nope.”
    Nothing more, just one word. Nothing on his face, just passivity. Once upon a time she’d have been able to read his expression, identify his moods, but not now. Not when it mattered.
    “So, did you?”
    “Did I what?” Sheila kicked out a leg and tapped restless fingers against her hip.
    “Find what you were looking for?”
    Find what she was—“Oh,