Great Exploitations (Crisis in Cali) (6 page)

“I’ve got some things to tell you,” was all he said.

My clutch slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor. My knees felt close to doing the same. “What are you doing here?” I inspected the room, half-expecting to find Damien Wallace waiting on the bed.

“What? Expecting someone else?” Henry lifted a brow, making a point of noticing my dress, or lack thereof.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you. Not when I just left you in my office a little more than half an hour ago.” My voice trembled as I stayed in the foyer. I wanted to flee that room as much as I wanted to stay within it.

“I’ve been over this a hundred times, rehearsing the lines I’d use to explain this all to you, coming up with the words that would be best . . . but now that you’re in front of me, I’m not sure how to explain it all.” Henry was back to pacing, although his tempo was slower and more methodical than it had been when I’d entered.

My heart was beating so hard, I could hear it. “Why don’t you start with what you’re doing at this hotel, in this room, when I was expecting someone else?”

Henry glanced at me. “Someone else as in Damien Wallace?”

My breath caught in my throat. “How did you know?”

“Because I set this whole thing up,” he replied, his hands on his hips as he circled the room. “Damien and Ariel are old friends. We knew each other back before either of us ‘made it.’”

Was the room spinning? Was I spinning? Was the whole entire world spinning out of control? I had no fewer than ten million questions that needed to be voiced, but all I could do was stumble toward the nearest chair and fall into it. After I was settled, I stared into my lap and ran through everything Henry had just said.

“What do you mean you set this all up?” I asked slowly. “You couldn’t have.” To my knowledge, not a single man knew about the Eves. We made sure to pour the fear of God into those ex-wives who knew of our existence to keep who we were and what we did a secret. For Henry to have set up the Wallace Errand meant that he knew about us. That he knew of the Eves in
any
capacity was disastrous, but if he knew about everything
everything
, I didn’t want to wake up tomorrow.

“I did.” He studied the floor like looking at me was too difficult.

“How?” I asked.

“I had Ariel make the call and set up the appointment.”

I swallowed and kept checking off question after question. “Why?”

Henry’s jaw set. “Because I needed you to know I knew.” He paced another few revolutions before speaking again. “And I needed to explain some things and needed you to explain some things, and catching you in this world”—he thrust his arm my direction—“seemed like the best way to air both of our dirty laundry.”

Some things were making more sense. Most things were making even less sense. As much as I didn’t want to have this conversation, there was no way around it. He knew what I did and likely what I’d been doing for years. All that was left to do was try to explain myself while he tried to explain why he’d set me up.

“But how did you know I would get assigned to the Wallaces?” I asked.

That was when Henry’s pacing broke to a stop as he angled his body in my direction. His stance was rigid, his expression almost cool. “Because I knew you were already in the area working another . . . what’s the trade lingo? Errand, isn’t it?”

Again, the breath caught in my throat, but this time, my stomach decided to join in the shock. “How did you know—”

“That you’d been assigned to ruin my life as I knew it?” he interrupted, raising his brows.

My stomach twisted again. “How long have you known?”

He didn’t pause. “Before we so ‘coincidentally’ ran into each other that morning on the beach.”

When my stomach knotted again, I found myself searching for a bathroom. “You couldn’t have known. You
couldn’t
have.”

Henry cocked his head to the side. “Couldn’t I have?”

I dropped my head into my hands and focused on my breathing. Surely if I could just think coherently, I would understand. If I could just make sense of the words being said, everything would be clear. “But how could you have known? It was your wife who made the call. She was the one who called us.
Your
wife.”

After weeks of dodging the topic, it felt strange to voice the Mrs. Callahan elephant in the room. The very woman I wouldn’t want to sit next to on an airplane was the Client I’d taken on to bring down a man I’d once loved. The cause and work I’d devoted myself to for so long seemed less and less noble as I followed Henry through this confounding maze.

Henry’s eyes continued to bore into me. “I don’t have a wife.”

I gave myself a moment to feel the shock of his words. “No? Then who was the lovely woman with a black heart who handed me a file detailing your life in an airport bathroom weeks ago? A mere figment of my imagination?”

He shook his head. “Not a figment of your imagination, but an illusion.” My eyebrows had just pinched together when he continued. “That was a woman I’ve hired to pose as my wife so the public, and most importantly the Eves, would believe I was a married man, but I never actually married her.”

What he’d been saying before had been confusing, but what he was relaying now utterly boggled my mind. “Why would you pretend to be married? Why would anyone
pretend
to be married?”

Letting out a long breath, Henry stepped toward me. “To get to the woman I’d lost but could never forget. To discover if she still harbored any of the feelings I’d held onto for years. To pave a way for me to redeem myself for my past sins.”

When I looked at the emotion on his face, I had to look away again. There was too much coming at me—both what was being said with his words and being said with his body language. “Henry . . . I don’t . . .” I took a breath, focusing on the words I was trying to form. “I don’t . . . understand. I’m . . . I’m . . . confused.” Even those poorly stuttered words had taken such an effort, I almost felt sweat beading on my forehead. “I don’t understand what you’re telling me. None of it.”

Henry came closer until he had kneeled beside me. He didn’t touch me, but his presence calmed me some. “It took me years to orchestrate. I’d hardly expect you to grasp it all in the span of a few minutes.”

“You’ve been working on this for years?” I closed my eyes, considering it. “Why?”

“For you.”

My head started shaking. “That makes no sense. For you to have been planning this for years, you would have had to have known what I’ve been . . . doing . . .”

He didn’t blink as he said, “I’ve known for close to three years.”

“If you’ve known for that long, why go through all of the hassle of waiting and setting up a scorned-wife scheme in order to get to me? Why not just walk up to me on whatever street I happened to be walking down three years ago and save yourself the headache?” If what he was saying was true and he’d known about my work for that long, I didn’t understand why he’d waited three years to initiate our meeting. If he’d been so desperate to ensure our paths crossed again, why go through the expense and patience of putting something like this together?

Henry clasped his hands. “What would you have done had I walked up to you on the street three years ago?”

I didn’t need to voice my reply—we both already knew the answer.

“I went about things the way I did because I knew when you were faced with a chance to exact the revenge on me that you’d no doubt been holding your breath for, you wouldn’t say no. After what had happened between us, I couldn’t rely on your forgiveness but instead your thirst for revenge.”

What he spoke was the truth, but I was embarrassed to hear it. Up until the last few weeks, the only thing I’d felt for Henry Callahan
had
been my thirst for revenge. Of course, that had changed—apparently just as he’d hoped and planned it would. I couldn’t decide if I was more outraged or impressed by his scheming.

“Why were you so concerned with coming back into my life? After everything we’ve been through, why did you want to find me?” My voice sounded empty, hollow almost.

“For several reasons. First, to apologize as I’d never gotten a proper chance to, next, to give you an explanation about what happened, and finally”—Henry’s hand dropped over mine, folding around it—“to try with everything I had to get you back.”

I tried to ignore his hand touching mine. I tried to convince myself I felt nothing. But I wasn’t good at lying when it came to Henry. “I see why you didn’t want to just wander up on the street to me and try to say sorry, explain, and beg me to take you back.” A small laugh rolled from my mouth, although there was little humor in it.

“You understand now?” His voice was high with doubt.

“No, not at all. The only thing I understand is why you didn’t want to come face to face with me out of nowhere three years ago. The rest I can’t even pretend to understand.”

“But will you try?” His hand gently squeezed mine. “Will you try to understand?”

How could I promise to try to understand what he’d done when Henry Callahan had again deceived me? How could I not promise to understand when Henry Callahan’s hand around mine made me feel certain that life wasn’t so bad as long as he didn’t let go?

“You’re asking me to try to understand why you faked a marriage for years so that this woman could call the Eves and complain about an unfaithful husband, banking on the fact that no one other than the best, aka
moi
, would be assigned to as big a case as Henry Callahan’s, also banking on the fact that I wouldn’t tell the woman who is my boss about your and my previous relationship, and then banking on the fact that eventually you could endear yourself to me like you had once before?” I took a breath. “You’re asking me to try to understand why you’d play ignorant to me planting myself into your life in order to obliterate it and then, after all those years of planning, setting up a friend and his wife so as you could stage this moment right now?”

Henry looked as old and weary as he had the first morning I’d seen him on the beach. He looked as if he’d aged a couple decades in a few minutes. “I’m asking if you’ll try.”

I nodded, although I wasn’t sure if I was ready to agree to it. “G, the woman I work for . . . does she know about any of this?” I eyed my purse where I could almost sense her phone about to ring.

“She knows nothing.”

I shifted on the chair. “Good, because if she did or even if she suspected any of this, we’d probably all have targets on the backs of our heads.”

“This woman, this business…” Henry swallowed hard, like something had gotten stuck in his throat. “You’re in deep, aren’t you, Eve?”

As hard as it had been hearing Henry explain what he’d done and why, this would be harder. To an outsider, what I did seemed repulsive and reprehensible. I guessed that a man who’d once loved me and still seemed to shelter a good deal of concern for me would label what I did as glorified prostitution. I’d always held some pride for my job and the lives I’d set free in doing it—few were strong and brave enough to do what I did—but having to look Henry in the eye and give him a proper explanation was turning out to be far more difficult than I’d anticipated.

“Do you understand what I do?” I asked, lowering neither my voice nor my eyes. I wasn’t ashamed and I didn’t want to come across that way. Perhaps conflicted, but not ashamed.

“I understand the basics, and that’s enough for me.” Henry’s jaw tightened.

“Do you understand why I do what I do?”

His jaw would not relax. “I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about that, and I believe I might have a good understanding . . . and I’m going to guess that what you saw the day you ran away from me might have been the catalyst for this
career
.”

I bristled over his tone. “Is my career so much more shameful than anyone else’s?” I popped out of the chair and crossed the room to stare out the large window. The city looked the same, its abundance of lights flickering in the dark, but my entire world seemed forever changed.

“Only you can answer that,” Henry replied, rising from his knees. “I’m not going to judge you for what you’ve done or tell you I’m disappointed or take the moral high ground. You did what you had to and wanted to, I’m sure, and that’s all I need to know.”

For some reason, dressed in a revealing cocktail dress, I felt more naked than I did when I was actually naked. “What I do—what I’ve
done
—doesn’t bother you?” There was a hint of doubt in my voice because I found it hard to believe that a man who cared about any woman wouldn’t be bothered by her having a career like mine. Most men were jealous, possessive creatures who didn’t want to share their bedmate with another man . . . or
men
.

“It bothered me at first. It bothered me a lot.” Henry stared at the chair I’d just been in, as if I was still there. “But it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

My eyebrows pinched together. “How can it not bother you anymore?”

Henry’s stare left the chair to find me. “Because I told myself that when I found you,
if
I found you, nothing else would matter. I’ve committed years to waiting for this moment when I could apologize, explain, and if you weren’t flashing a ring on your left hand, try to win you back. I ran through every possible scenario I might find you in . . . from the most illustrious of careers to the lowest of them, from being engaged, seriously dating, or batting for the other team.” I lifted a brow, but he kept going. “I went through every possible situation I believed I could find you in, and even in those worst ones, I arrived at the conclusion that I wouldn’t let it bother me.”

I went back to staring out the window. “But you didn’t think of the scenario you actually found me in, did you?” It was a wasted question. How could he have run through this possibility? What I did wasn’t a career one heard about or would even believe existed.

“No, I didn’t.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That’s why it took me a while to . . . get used to the idea.”

“And you’re used to the idea now?” From his inability to meet my eyes, I had my answer.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to the idea, Eve. What you do is difficult to wrap one’s mind around, despite whatever reasons I’m sure you have for doing this.” Henry waved around the room I’d arrived at to lure a married man into bed so his wife could be free to leave him with money on her side. “But me getting used to the idea doesn’t change what you’ve done as a profession, and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”