Midnight Kisses (Midnight Series) by Emily Bold Page B

chest and awkwardly stumbled up the staircase. Just one look at the two scantily-clad ladies was enough for her to realize where she was. Had Matthew, too, been ordered up this staircase with a pistol pressed into his back, or had he come here of his own accord? Never in her life would she have guessed that Frank Foster, the one who had always been so kind and ready to help, might have had something to do with Matt’s death.
    “In there!” he commanded gruffly, grabbing Danielle by the arm and yanking her back before kicking open the door and shoving her inside.
    “What the  . . .  ?”
    A man with a face like a boxer—crooked nose, bulging eyebrows, the neck of a bull—brought his fist down on the desk and jumped up.
    Quickly, he traversed the room, pulling Frank in by the top of his shirt, and slammed the door shut behind him.
    Danielle twitched as he continued scolding the new arrival. His voice was ear-piercing.
    “Have you completely lost your mind, Frank? Why are you bringing a wench here?”
    Frank broke away and ran his fingers through his hair.
    “You wanted clues, Lou? I brought you the answer to all of your questions! And to top it all off  . . .  ” he yanked the painting from Danielle’s hands, “  . . .  the Venus de Lavinium !”
    The man named Lou came closer, suddenly interested. His anger had disappeared in a puff of smoke and was replaced by pure greed as he reached out for the painting. Frank stood there, beaming with pride and smiling a satisfied smile.
    “How do you know it’s the Venus ?” Lou inquired, running his fingers over the paint.
    “I don’t know, but Lady Langston did. I was trailing her, and to be honest, I was more than a little surprised to see her heading straight for Audrey’s museum. She seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, and when she saw this painting she started crying,” Frank reported.
    Lou came closer, inspecting Danielle as if she were one of those questionable exhibits in the museum. After a few moments, he took the gun from Frank, only to then aim it at Danielle.
    “Lady Langston, I see. Your husband told me much about you. Such a shame he had to leave us so soon, and he seemed in such great health, don’t you think? Tell me, dear, is this the Venus ?”
    Danielle’s palms were sweaty, and no matter how much she racked her brain, she was trapped. There was no doubt in her mind that the man in front of her was Matt’s murderer. What did he want from her? Would he kill her if he thought he had found the portrait? Should she lead him to believe he was holding the Venus in his hands, or should she tell him the truth? She didn’t know the answer to these questions, and so she preferred to say nothing. Which turned out to be a mistake because Lou raised his hand and slapped her square across the face.
    Danielle tripped and stumbled against Frank’s chest, who pushed her back against Lou, with Lou twisting her arm behind her back and pressing the pistol against her temple.
    “Open your mouth, you slut! How do you know it’s this painting?”
    The door opened, and a red-haired prostitute entered. This gave Danielle a moment to breathe, because Lou pushed her back against Frank and grabbed the redhead instead.
    “What do you want? Get out of here, or I’ll  . . .  ”
    She wiggled the bottle of whisky in front of his face and wrested free of his grip. The delicate fabric of her gown gaped open and revealed more than it covered.
    “They can hear you all the way downstairs. I thought a little drink to calm the nerves wouldn’t do any harm.”
    She poured whisky into the two glasses and thrust them into Lou’s and Frank’s hands. Danielle was shocked at how shamelessly the woman strutted around, despite her nakedness. At the same time, she was relieved that the whisky really did defuse the situation. The redhead sat down on the edge of the desk, legs spread wide open, and inspected the painting she had taken from Lou in exchange