Peyton Riley by Bianca Mori Page B

been talking about you in our circles. I'm sure you can make your own decision."
    She began nibbling on her thumbnail. "Can you let me know the details?"
    "The piece is coming in from Warsaw. Ivor's got it. The buyer wants to keep it quiet so the interface will all be online. Anonymous. All the transactions are wired, too. No face time, no hard currency. Clean and quick."
    "And the fees?"
    "I take a five percent fixer's fee off the commission. The rest is yours."
    Peyton heard her gasp. "Just to put the buy together?"
    "Hey," said Carson. "I do this as a favor to Ivor. I'm in the area, I know there's someone who can help him out, I talk to you on his behalf. All it costs me is a conversation. Can't get too greedy over that."
    "Why didn't he talk to me himself?"
    Carson gave her a wry smile, and after a moment she smiled back. "Neither the buyer nor I trust Ivor. Would you?"
    "I want to see the piece."
    "Done," he said simply. She shot him a bewildered look, and he chuckled. "Dear me. What kind of dealer would you be if you didn't inspect it, right?"
    She continued chewing on her thumbnail. "I don't know. It sounds too good to be true."
    "You've quite the reputation. The O'Keefe sale—what a way to make a splash! Certainly you should not be surprised that business comes your way?"
    "But still–"
    Carson leaned back and spread his hands wide. "Don't get too comfortable," he laughed. "Deals like this, they come once in a blue moon. My advice is, grab it while the grabbing's hot. You'll not likely see something like this anytime soon."
    "Dangle the bait," murmured Peyton.
    "I mean, it's all up to you," said Carson. "But I need to know quick, because when I say this is a hot piece, I mean it's a hot piece. If you want to be careful, I understand, but I need to know now because I need to find someone else who can do it, if you can't."
    Peyton held her breath as Anja clutched her elbow and chewed nervously on her nail, the thumb nearly plugged inside her fleshy lips. Carson kept his gaze trained on the blonde.
    A troop of shrieking kids ran across the room, cutting Anja and Carson from Peyton's view. The pack of schoolchildren were giddy with the post-spring holiday high and spent quite some time laughing and generally being little idiots who blocked her view and scrambled her hearing. When they finally passed, Anja was leaning across the table and holding both Carson's hands in her own.
    "…I must, if only for him," she was saying earnestly.
    "Listen, Anja, the trouble that he's in, if there's anything I can do…?"
    "There's nothing," she said in her little girl voice, and the resignation in it tugged at Peyton. "I'll do this, Carson, but you have to promise me it'll be okay." She paused, the sunglasses halfway to her eyeline, staring beseechingly at him. "I need to be okay. For him. If something happens…"
    "It will…it will be okay…" Carson shifted his gaze from her face.
    "Then I'm in." She stood, replaced her sunglasses, and stalked out the door.
    Carson glanced at Peyton's way. "Not yet," she said. He gave a small nod and ambled off the opposite direction. After timing five minutes, she followed.
    They met by the brick exterior of the old part of the museum. Peyton found him leaning against the wall, hands jammed in his pockets, watching the pedestrian traffic.
    She popped out the earpiece and stowed it in her pocket. "That went well," she smiled brightly.
    He spared her a brief glance and shrugged.
    "What's with you?"
    He watched a family of incredibly tall Dutch laugh their way past—a blonde mother with a chubby pre-school girl in hand, a chuckling dad pushing a bike on which a small boy perched on the front wire basket. As their laughter echoed away, he shrugged. "I'm just tired. Next stop?"
    She glanced at her watch. "Anders Van Der Luyden."
    It seemed to take a superhuman effort for Carson to peel himself off the wall, and when he did, he had a sigh that was nearly petulant.
    "Are you sure you’re all right?"