23
“I hate that painting even more in daylight,” Drake sat on the sofa. He couldn’t stop staring at the hideous thing. The nude was so blatant. Too realistic to be ignored. It was almost as if a naked harlot was lying in their midst.
“You only hate it because you have taste,” Nikita curled up on the couch beside him with her bare feet tucked under her. He had his arm over her shoulders and if Altman or Zoe had anything to say about it, they were keeping it to themselves.
Esly sat in her armchair, unaware of anything out of the ordinary—like a Night Stalker getting cozy with a Navy SEAL.
Altman inspected it again. “There’s no card, no secret inscription carved on the frame, we don’t have x-ray vision to see if there is actually a copy of Dogs Playing Poker underneath it.” They had tried
