Sinful Deception (Covert Affairs Book 3) (6 page)

Worry swirled in her belly. “They didn’t tell me…”

“They don’t want you to worry. We’re all struggling in our own way, Tee-Tee. We’ll get through it.”

Tova lowered her gaze to the cake and speared the creamy frosting with her own plastic tines. She pulled a card from her pocket and handed it through the fence. “Wish I’d known. I’d have given you money instead of this.”

He took the card, opened the envelope with a smile so sweet and grateful it made her stomach hurt. “Just seeing you was enough…” He opened the card and saw the gift card for phone minutes first. “
Sweet
.” Then read and lifted his smile to her. “You know I love you, right?”

She nodded but cast her gaze downward before he saw the tears there again. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. My shift starts in thirty minutes, and it will take me that long to get back to town. Take the cake.”

He stuck the fork between his teeth and laughed. “Remember how Mama always used to say that?” he mumbled around the plastic. “Cedro, you take the cake.”

Tova laughed, pulled out her wallet, and dragged all the cash from the billfold.

“Uh-uh,” Cedro said, struggling to get the cake box through the small opening and pull away. “No, Tova. I’m not taking your money.”

She lifted the lid on the box and shoved the measly sixty bucks in—payment for her own cell-phone bill and groceries for the week. But she could always grab leftovers from the diner, and Marcus’s gift would help. Cedro didn’t have those luxuries. “Yes, you are. You need to eat.”

“I get by—”

“You’ll never get another job if you’re sick. Just take it. I’ll make more tonight.”

He finally got the bent cake box through the opening, balanced the whole thing on one hand, and stuck his arm through the bars. “Come here.”

She reached through, and they hugged each other with the cold bars between them, their cheeks pressed against the metal. Tears slid down her face. Dammit, this was so unfair. So wrong. Why did her family have to be split like this?

“I’ve got a lead on some work in Calexico,” Cedro whispered. “Try not to worry. We’ll all be okay.”

Panic seared her belly. She jerked away and hit him with a hard stare. “You’re not trying to come over the border again. You nearly died last time.”

“I did not.” He laughed it off. “That bullet didn’t get anywhere near my heart. Fucking Border Patrol are lousy shots. And they gave me a kick-ass scar. Chicks dig it.”

“It’s not funny.” She pushed at his chest. “Don’t try to get over the border on your own again. It would kill Mama and Papa if something happened to you.” She fisted the front of his T-shirt. “Promise me, Cedro.”

“T, I don’t have the money to get a smuggler to guide me—”

She shook him, panic crawling up her throat. “Promise me.”

He sighed. “Okay, okay. I promise.”

She released his shirt, but her heart was still beating too hard and too fast. She knew her brother. Once he got an idea in his head…

She’d been holding off on telling him her plan, in case it didn’t go through, but now, she had to give up the secret. “Listen. I talked to some friends and got the name of a good
pollero
. We worked out a price, and I picked up an extra job to help with money.”

“Tova, you don’t have time for a second job. You have school—”

“Please, Cedro. Give me some time. I’ll get you across—safely.”

“How much?”

“Five thousand.”

“That’s too much. I can find one for three—”

“Who will abandon you in the desert to starve. I’ll pay top dollar to get you here safely. Stop arguing with me. We both know I’ll win.”

He laughed and gave her that charming grin, one that had gotten him into trouble with girls way too early. Only, she knew the man behind that smile, and she knew she’d have to work fast to keep him from running the border on his own again.

“Go have a drink with your buddies. Share the cake. Have a great birthday.” She kissed his cheek again and pulled back with her guts in a knot. “And stay
away
from the border.”

He squeezed her arm, then stepped back. “Great to see you, T.”

His smile had changed, and now he looked more like a lost, disheartened little boy. And Tova felt like an invisible force dragged her back to the car. Her heart was mangled. Tears gushed until the road blurred on her drive to work. Tears she hadn’t known she had inside her.

By the time she reached the restaurant in San Diego, her body ached from her shoulders to her hips, a hole burned in her chest, and her eyes were red and puffy.
Not
the best way to elicit tips.

Tova touched up her makeup in the rearview mirror and hustled through the back kitchen door to start her shift. She was already wrung out and exhausted when she punched in and filled her apron with pens, straws, and an order booklet.

“What’s going on, girl?” Carrie flitted into the back from the main restaurant, her red hair up in a ponytail, the mess of curls flowing down her back. She glanced carelessly at Tova, then stopped on her way to the industrial refrigerator. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and sniffled, fussing with the apron at her hips to keep from looking Carrie in the eye, but Tova felt like she’d swallowed broken glass. “How’s it out there? Busy?”

“Hey.” Carrie’s hand landed on Tova’s upper arm, her voice soft. “Sweetie, what is it?”

Tova shook her head, but her shoulders slumped.

“It’s not busy,” Carrie said. “Stop a minute and talk to me.”

Tova put a hand on the desk nearby for support. “I just saw Cedro.” She shook her head again. “It’s his birthday. I brought him cake…” Her voice broke. “Fuck. He’s been out of work for weeks. Hasn’t eaten in two days.” She dropped her hand and tried to pull herself together. “I think he’s going to run the border again.”

“Oh no.” Carrie pulled Tova into her arms. “Did you tell him you’re working to get—”

“Yes, but I know him. He’s impatient, and he’s proud. He doesn’t want his big sister fighting his battles.”

Carrie tucked a strand of hair behind Tova’s ear. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry.”

Tova took the moment of comfort. The only comfort she received nowadays. But she finally pulled back and touched the wetness beneath her eyes carefully so she didn’t smear her makeup again. “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”

She
would
be okay. And Cedro would be okay. And her parents would be okay. She’d make sure of it.

She took a deep breath and met Carrie’s gaze. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the camming, and…”

Tova shook her head. “I’m just…way out of my depth here.”

“Sweetie, give yourself a little time. It will become totally natural. You won’t even think twice about it.”

She didn’t want taking off her clothes in front of a stranger to simulate sex for them to ever become totally
natural.
“I believe you, but the thing is, I need money pretty fast.” She licked her lips and glanced around. The back room was empty, but she still lowered her voice. “I was thinking... What about phone sex? It’s more anonymous, I wouldn’t have to get naked and touch myself on camera, you know?”

“That’s a decent option, but you won’t make near the money you will camming.”

Tova dragged her lip through her teeth. “Like how much less?”

“About a third. It’s a big drop. Guys are visual. They want to
see
you.”

“Shit.” Tova pressed her hand to her forehead and found herself sweating. “I just don’t know…”

“What about static chats?” Carrie suggested. “Prerecorded shows you put up for people to watch. It’s a good option. They don’t go for as much as a private chat but, depending on the show, would go for more than a group chat. And still way more than phone sex. And they’re always available. I’ve heard of some girls doing really well with them. The key is to find a niche. Something you do well that other women don’t.”

“Like what? Sex is sex.”

“Oh, honey. Not even. There are a million fetishes out there you can specialize in. Hey, what about your dancing?”

“What about it?”

“Not a lot of girls can dance well. They all do a little bit, but you’ve got great experience. Man, yeah,” she said, her gaze going distant for a moment, then coming back to Tova. “Have you ever pole danced?”

Tova snorted out a laugh. “No.”

“With your experience, it would be super easy to learn.” Carrie’s expression lit up, and she started gesturing wildly. “I’ve got a portable pole I never use that you can borrow. You can go online and grab the basic moves on YouTube. Oh yeah,” she said, excitement singing through her tone. “Sweetheart, men can never get enough of a sexy girl rubbing on a pole. And the women who are really good at it are in the clubs.” She crossed her arms with an expression of certainty. “If you can get the moves down, create a fresh style, your own look, maybe use costumes and props, and create several different pole routines to record… That would work real good for you, honey.”

Tova could definitely dance. She could dance for hours without a second thought. And since she’d quit the UCSD dance team because of the time and travel requirements, she missed it. If she wore costumes…it wouldn’t matter if someone put a still video out on the Internet. Her identity would be secure.

“Oh yeah,” she said, her mind spinning, her heart releasing. “I could do that. And I could still do the phone sex on the side.”

“Sure. Playhouse Flirt also has a phone-sex line. And you’re already set up with them.”

Hope percolated to the top of the din inside her. Two revenue streams without completely compromising herself. Now, if she could manage to keep from fucking up this new endeavor the way she had the sexcam deal, she might just have a chance to help Cedro.

Five

Marcus’s phone chimed in the pocket of his gear vest just as the transportation van pulled away with a dozen illegal immigrants he and Trigger had chased down in the Mesa.

“I’m hungry.” Trigger pulled the tailgate on their truck, flipped up the back, and dragged out their food packs. He grabbed a liter of water from the cooler and peered into the dusky landscape. “I’m just gonna check out that area where I think that kid dropped his bag. Be right back.”

Marcus planted his ass on the tailgate and pulled an apple from his lunch. Then dragged his phone from his pocket and clicked into his messages. There was one from a local number he didn’t recognize.

When he expanded the message, it read:

6192015979: Thank you for the phone minutes. That was really thoughtful. And again for helping me with the camera. And the advice. You went above and beyond.

He stared a moment, having a hard time getting his brain around the fact that she’d actually contacted him.
Four
freaking days later. When he did, warmth rushed his chest and a smile crossed his face. Which was fucking ridiculous. She was a damn
stranger
.

But the reminder didn’t quash the excitement brought on by the message.

MARCUS: Good to hear from you. Are you going to tell me your real name?

6192015979: It’s Tova. Is yours really Marcus?

MARCUS: It is. Tova is beautiful.

He took a second to change the contact information with her name.

TOVA: Thank you. How are you? At work?

MARCUS: I’m good. Yep, at work. Everything okay with you?

He bit into his apple, grinning. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. His phone buzzed again.

TOVA: Yeah, good. Another midterm over. I’m going to have to nail down a major soon. *shudder*

Small talk? This was awesome.

MARCUS: No ideas on what you want to do?

TOVA: Oh, lots of ideas. Just can’t choose one. Did you always know you wanted to be a cop? (Provided you really are a cop.)

Marcus laughed.

MARCUS: I knew since I was a kid. My mom said I liked guns at an early age. Said she knew I’d go into the military, law enforcement, or crime.

TOVA: LOL. Why not military or crime?

MARCUS: Military was too rigid. Crime was too dangerous—my mom would have killed me.

TOVA: LMAO. Funny. I liked guns young too.

Marcus’s hand holding the apple dropped to his thigh, and he frowned.

MARCUS: That feels like an odd thing to hear from you.

TOVA: We lived in a bad neighborhood. Different country. Different culture. Different way of life. It was a necessary skill to have. Luckily I never had to use it against anyone. Just lots of target practice with cans and bottles.

Different country
. His mind automatically darted toward the legitimacy of her citizenship. But he forcefully stopped the thought midstream. Just because she’d grown up somewhere else didn’t mean she wasn’t American. And even if she hadn’t been born American didn’t mean she wasn’t American now. And even if she wasn’t American now, didn’t mean she was in America illegally.

He was so fucking warped.

He crossed one ankle over his knee, trying to figure out what nationality she was. Italian, maybe, but her skin was light. Dark-haired Irish? Light Middle Eastern? If she was attending UCSD, she was most likely here on a student visa.