Free The Red Velvet Horse (Siren Publishing Allure) by Iona Blair Page A

with someone as disreputable as this.
    They were sitting in Nick’s bizarrely furnished office, which had a clear view of the gallery floor below. An elongated African warrior in cast iron brandished his spear beside an early Ming dynasty figure with pigtails and a Fu Manchu moustache. Animal skin rugs dominated the floor and walls.
    “So what does it involve?” Holt asked warily. Desperate for some quick cash, yet only too familiar with the kind of underhanded business arrangements Nick dealt in, forged artworks being his specialty.
    “Just a couple of items that you could sell for me in your shop,” he replied glibly, flicking the ash from his cigar towards a hefty jade ashtray.
    “Stolen, I suppose?”
    “No, but they were supposed to be.” Nick laughed wickedly. “And the insurance company has paid handsomely for the theft.”
    “If there are any questions asked, where am I supposed to have…acquired this merchandise?”
    “I’ll take care of that.” Nick stuck the old stogie in the corner of his mouth and worked it around with relish. “I’ll provide you with legitimate looking paper work, just in case anyone gets nosy. But that’s highly unlikely.”
    “Give me a couple of days to think about it.” Holt felt intensely uncomfortable with the whole thing. He didn’t want to involve April without her prior knowledge. And yet, didn’t want to add to the mess he had landed her in, by asking her to participate.
    It was a conundrum that he wouldn’t have wished on his worst enemy.
    Yet, the fact remained that Village Antiques was about to go under. Only a bold move could save it.
    “Nick Eglassio?” April was wide-eyed in disbelief. “How could you even consider doing business with him? The man’s a well-known crook.”
    “Believe me, I don’t like the idea any better than you do. But it’s either that, or go belly up. Which is it to be?”
     
    * * * *
     
    Since the robbery, Holt had been avoiding seeing Carla. Not only in order to save money, which he could no longer afford, but also because he suspected that she might have had something to do with it.
    He had not breathed even a hint of this suspicion to another living soul, too ashamed of having been used as a dupe. Yet, the persistent memories of Carla seeming more than a little interested in the store’s security system, as well as the value of the merchandise continued to haunt him.
    “This is absolutely gorgeous,” she had gushed, referring to the Edwardian pearl pendant he had given her for Valentine’s Day. Then, assuming (correctly) that it came from Village Antiques, asked him if they had a lot of similar pieces of comparable value.
    “Quite a good selection at any given time,” he had replied frankly. Never thinking for one moment that she could have any ulterior motive for asking. But then, even now he wasn’t certain that she did have.
    Then there was the matter of the security code, and how the conversation had veered around to it on the night he had drank too many Vodka cocktails. They had been lounging in Carla’s heavily sexual back room, which had every appearance of a Turkish brothel, complete with beaded curtains and floor cushions.
    Had he told her what it was? For the life of him, he couldn’t now remember.
    Now that the need to get naked with a woman for full sexual intercourse was hot upon him, he relegated all these questions and doubts to the back of his mind, and headed for Missy’s Massage Parlor with a raging hard-on that would not be denied.
    “I’ve missed you,” Carla scolded playfully, as she led him towards the scarlet covered bed. Wearing harem pants and impossibly high-heeled shoes, her full breasts swelled out invitingly from the skimpiest of halter-tops. “What have you got for me there?” She dragged her long red fingernails down the length of his bulging crotch. “Feels good whatever it is!”
    Holt’s need was too urgent to indulge in this type of pre-coital flirtation and play. “Just