Read Dancing with Deception Online
Authors: Kadi Dillon
Dancing with Deception (4 page)
She had agreed to hide The Dance on impulse. She’d wanted to see her father smile at her with gratitude and yes, damn it—pride. But he hadn’t. He’d all but patted her on the head and climbed out her window.
I’ll be back.
And now here she was, locked in a motel bathroom—crying—and blaming everything on her parents. It made her feel small.
She let the tears fall silently down her cheeks and hoped to God some of the hurt would go with them.
Checking into a hotel under a false name was nothing new to Austin Channing. Becoming someone different in every state added adventure to his life. He felt mysterious.
After slipping a stick of mint gum into his mouth, Austin watched a teenage girl with purple hair stride into the bicycle shop on a deserted side street. She tugged a little mutt along with her. Moments later, she came out with nothing but a sunny smile, and headed down the street.
He waited until the girl disappeared around the corner before abandoning the stone bench at the bus stop and walking into the bicycle shop.
The furry little dog wagged its tail when it saw him. Austin nodded at the owner of the shop, barely glancing at him, before crouching down in front of the mutt.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He put a little Irish in his voice. If he was going to play, he wanted to have fun. Leaning in for a closer look, Austin scratched the dog’s floppy ears. “This your pup?”
The man behind the counter shook his head. “Nah, I’m watching it for someone.”
“I can’t believe my luck. Are they coming back soon?” Austin stood, not taking his eyes off the mutt.
“Should be. She went to fill out a job application at the bakery. No dogs allowed.” The clerk pushed his sandy brown hair off his forehead. “Why?”
“Well I don’t know if you noticed, but this is a pure-bred Yorkshire terrier.”
“Okay.”
Austin sighed.
Kids these days.
“It’s a very valuable breed. A breed that I, in fact, show. I’m willing to pay a good sum of money for a dog like this.”
The clerk’s eyes narrowed as he studied Austin.
Greed
, Austin thought as he saw the wheels turn in the kid’s head. “His head has the perfect shape, just perfect. See how it’s more flat on top than round?”
“Uh huh.”
“And the muzzle is long. His hair’s just dreadful, but it’s nothing my groomer can’t fix. Why, I’d offer at least thirty-five hundred for this dog.”
The clerk’s eyes widened as he took the bait. Austin saw his mouth open, his throat work. “Dollars?” he squeaked.
“Cash, yes.” Austin leaned down and scratched the dog again. “Absolutely perfect. My last dog, Buffy, just passed away. This pup reminds me of her. Do you think she’ll sell?”
“Listen, she isn’t going to be back for a while. I’d say an hour at least. Why don’t you come back then? I’ll let her know someone’s interested. You can leave your number here so I can call you when she gets here.”
Austin beamed. “Excellent.”
He scribbled a random set of numbers on the pad and nodded. He let himself out of the bicycle shop and made his way back over to the bus stop to wait.
When the girl came back around the corner, he watched her disappear into the bicycle shop and come back out a few minutes later—with no dog.
Austin stood up as she approached him.
“He gave me five-hundred dollars! For a dog!”
Not as much as he was hoping for, but it was decent for an hour’s work. Holding out his hand, he waited for the girl to give him the money.
“You got change for a hundred? How we supposed to split it?”
Austin pulled his wallet out and slipped the five one-hundred dollar bills inside. “I’ve already got it.” He slipped two-hundred and fifty dollars worth of bills in her hand. “Here. Excellent job, by the way.”
“Thanks, Mister.” She stuffed the money into her skin-tight jeans. “Wow, that was a quick way to make a couple hundred. Who needs stupid school?”
Brimming with amusement, Austin shoved his wallet into an inside coat pocket. “Stay in school, sweetheart.”
Hell, she’d make a lousy con artist. Who would trust a girl with purple hair? That was what the game was all about; marks had to trust their hustlers. A person would take one look at her purple hair and piercings, and would run for the hills.
A respectable con had to look the part, be the part. He had to think on his toes and sell it like it was going out of style.
Thief, swindler, crook—call him what they wanted—people
gave
him their money.
“So what about that guy? He’s gonna be out five-hundred bucks.” She squinted against the sunlight.
“Nah,” Austin waved that away. “He’s got our furry little friend now. Better off than he was at the pound where I got him from.”
“Hmm. Good way to look at it. Bye.” She smiled and pranced away.
As Austin watched her walk away with two-hundred and fifty dollars worth of fake bills, he smiled. He loved Chicago. It was almost too easy to make money here.
Knowing there was a slight risk of being noticed if he lingered too long on the streets, Austin pulled his cap lower over his eyes and headed back to his hotel.
He liked the luxurious hotel. He stayed in it often when he visited his hometown—not that he ever used the same name more than a few times. Too risky. A lot of his bigger marks were from Chicago.
Including his most recent mark—or should he say marks. Since he was alone in his hotel room, Austin let out a rusty chuckle. He’d paired up with a high roller this time around, and together they’d taken over two million from a pompous senator. Delaney had never seen it coming. He’d shoveled out the money for a painting that didn’t exist.
Using his own name this time around had gained Austin a confidence that an alias wouldn’t have been able to pull off. Not only did his temporary partner trust that he would supply a phony painting, but he’d even believed Austin would deliver it to Senator Delaney. Then—now Austin laughed—he’d trusted Austin to split half of the loot.
But cons didn’t work that way and his partner should have seen it coming.
He’d gotten exactly what he needed from the guy—his respectable name. That had gotten Austin’s foot in the door and the elusive painting sold. He knew his partner would be angry, but he had to admit he didn’t expect the guy to go postal on him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money to spare to fund their whole endeavor.
Lucky for Austin, he’d found the faded old canvas in his storage unit, one of the paintings his little girl had made for him. It worked as a decoy, he had to give it that. Rebecca had promised him she’d keep it with her, and that would take the heat off him for a while. At least until he could come up with a plan. They wouldn’t stoop so low as to hurt a girl, right?
Feeling lighter—and richer—than he had in a while, Austin sat down at his laptop and turned on the Wi-Fi, might as well check some of his auctions. Some sucker was always looking for authentic Michael Jackson hair. Austin’s was black, after all. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
His eyes bugged out when he saw his own lock going for three thousand bucks. He ran a hand through his hair and decided there would be more where that came from.
The new message indicator blinked, so Austin switched over to his email. His fingers hovered over the keyboard and his eyebrows rose when he read the screen name. Looked like his friend was getting impatient. He clicked on the email and waited for it to open.
You are screwing with the wrong person, Channing.
Austin shook his head and chuckled.
No
, he thought as he closed his laptop. No, he was finally screwing with the one that would make him filthy rich.
Chapter 3
Gideon was livid. He paced the small, dingy hotel room like a caged animal.
He’
d made sure to lock the door to the room and chain it, as well. He’d even taken the extra precaution of sliding a chair up under the doorknob. He’d paid cash for the room and used a fake name, which went a long way to ease his mind.
He tossed a furious glance at the bathroom door, which remained stubbornly closed. He could pick the lock, he knew. But because his temper was boiling like magma in his veins, he decided to wait her out. It wouldn’t do any good to barge in there like the brute she thought him to be. Cooling down was his best option. It would also give him time to think.
Even though it didn’t go a long way to cool his temper, he realized she had locked herself in the bathroom out of fear—fear of him. So he hadn’t handled her the best way, he could admit that to himself. He looked around the little motel room and scoffed. What was he planning on doing? Beating information out of her? That’s more than likely what she thought.
The call to his personal cell phone told him he was dealing with professionals. Though he hadn’t believed she’d been mugged by strangers, he never expected her to be in this deep. She had told him she was only hiding a painting from them. He wondered what kind of painting would be worth her life. It had damn well better be a freaking Picasso.
He had until midnight to retrieve his boat before the bastards destroyed it. And damn but that burned him. He loved that boat. It’d taken him a year to build it and God knew he worked his ass off doing it.
Avery
was his pride and joy. He used her for both business and leisure and everything in between. He didn’t know what he would do if those bastards destroyed her as they’d threatened.
He couldn’t hear Rebecca moving around and that worried him. There wouldn’t be any way to escape since there was a room behind the one they were in, but she’d sustained injuries before she’d jumped into his boat. What if she’d passed out?
He knocked softly on the door. “Rebecca. Please come out and talk to me.” He tried to keep his tone gentle. He sighed when no answer came and pulled his knife out of his pocket.
With skill and patience, he picked the lock.
He opened the door warily, bracing for an attack. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d fashioned a weapon out of a towel rack to hit him over the head with.
His mouth twitched when he saw her curled up on the tiled floor. He wondered how long she had spent the past hour sleeping versus just ignoring him. Without a sound, he crouched down in front of her.
She had pulled her hair back, leaving only a few silky strands loose. Violet smudges under her eyes were evidence of her exhaustion. The tears she’d shed after locking herself in the bathroom still clung to her lashes. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought about the way he had lost his temper with her. The bruise on her high-set cheekbone was livid and ugly against her ivory complexion, reminding him that he wasn’t the first brutal man she’d dealt with today.
Gideon gathered a sleeping Rebecca in his arms. She was soft and warm, pliant in her exhausted state.
He carried her to the single bed in the room.
When Rebecca could no longer hold on to blessed unconsciousness, she blinked her eyes open. She didn’t have that moment of fuzzy unawareness one normally feels upon waking. Gideon sat in an ugly, under-stuffed chair with his long legs propped up on the edge of the bed. He seemed to be completely engrossed in watching the television. Careful not to make any moves that would give her away, she studied him from beneath her lashes.
His handsome features were relaxed now, showing no signs of anger—not that she was fooled. His temper was quick and lethal and she wasn’t about to provoke him further.
As if he heard her thoughts loud and clear, his gaze snapped to hers so suddenly that she jumped.
“Feeling better?” His voice was scratchy, as if he’d been sleeping for a while. He cleared the rustiness from his throat. Studying his sharp gaze, she knew he hadn’t slept at all.
Rebecca nodded at his question before she knew the answer, and sat up on the bed. Despite the aspirin she had taken, everything ached. She glanced at the window. It was still light outside, so she couldn’t have been out long. “What time is it?”
“Coming up on six o’clock.” Gideon switched off the television and closed the distance between them in two steps to sit down beside her on the bed.
The room wasn’t big. The queen-size bed took up half of the space, leaving room for a table for two and a scratched dresser. Rebecca shuddered, wondering how the hotel had passed inspection.
Gideon’s voice brought her back. “We need to talk.”
“All right.”
“Look, we’re done pretending you’re an innocent victim. So let’s just clear that up.”
She wanted to tell him she
was
a victim to this nightmare. Knowing he would never believe her, she lifted her chin.
“They want a painting,” he prodded, leaving her with an opening.
“They want the painting my father gave me. I won’t let them have it.”
His eyes narrowed fractionally. “That doesn’t tell me anything, Rebecca.”
“That’s all you need to know.” She didn’t want to drag him into this mess. She felt guilty enough for his involvement thus far.