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Authors: C.J. Miller

Taken by the Con (11 page)

BOOK: Taken by the Con
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“You feel tense,” he said.

No mystery why. “Rough day.”

“I’m sorry about what happened at Audrey’s,” he said.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said. Cash wasn’t her boyfriend. They weren’t even dating.

“I was trying to forget you,” he said.

He had flirted with Lexie to forget her? “Hard to do when we work together,” she said.

“Sometimes I want to forget everything.”

“You don’t mean that,” Lucia said. “What about your son?”

Cash froze and he pulled his hands away. “I didn’t mean him. He’s impossible to forget. But it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. Maybe it would be better for him if I wasn’t around.”

She hadn’t seen Cash this low. To suggest that his son was better off without him spoke to the depth of his sadness. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

Cash stood from the bed. “I’m fine. I’m taking steps to improve my life.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Tonight being the exception.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong except miss your curfew and make me jealous.”

“Jealous of a felon?”

“Of Lexie,” Lucia said.

“Why? She can’t measure up to you.”

Insecurities she’d been clinging to drifted out of reach. “She’s everything I was supposed to be.”

“You are who you are. ‘Supposed to be’ is for people who don’t have direction or dreams.”

“Try telling my family that. Why can’t I go along with what they want? It would make things easier.”

“Because when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s hard to make a compromise.”

He had that right. “Maybe I’m also a little jealous of you. You seem to know what you want. You open up to people easily. You connect.”

“I have to connect to people or they won’t talk to me. If I don’t get the information, I’m useless to the FBI.”

The words shook her. “You are not useless.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why did you cover for me tonight?”

Why? It had been an impulse. Confusion about where Cash had been had mixed with worry. The lie had slipped out of her mouth. “I knew what was at stake.” His son. Jail time. Her shaky status with the Bureau had seemed secondary to that.

“Thank you,” he said.

She couldn’t leave him like this and she wasn’t good with words. A tremble rose through her accompanied by a rush of emotion. She knelt on the bed and reached for him. He took two steps and she grabbed the sides of Cash’s shirt and drew him to her.

“I don’t like being wrong, but I was wrong to think you were nothing more than a felon,” she said.

Then she kissed him. Hard. He opened his mouth and returned the kiss. Ignoring her leg, she pulled him onto the bed beside her. She crawled into his lap, straddling him, pressing her body against his. His arms wrapped around her.

“Don’t jerk me around, Lucia, and don’t do this if you’re trying to cheer me up,” Cash said, breathing hard.

Lucia rose up on her knees over him. This man, this sensitive, sweet man who had been through so much and remained loyal to the people around him was better than most men in her life. “I am not jerking you around.” She wasn’t doing this to cheer him up. It was more than that. Much more.

He touched her hair at her temples and ran his fingers through it. “What is this about? You said this afternoon we had nothing.”

She had been wrong then, on the defensive. “I shouldn’t have said something I didn’t mean.” Her impulsiveness was a trait her family had ruthlessly criticized while she was growing up and that she’d worked hard to control. Too hard.

He shifted away and moved her off his lap.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

His flirtation had led her to believe he’d wanted to sleep with her. Had she thoroughly misread the signs? Was he rejecting her?

“I’m preventing you from making a mistake you’ll regret in the morning.”

“I won’t have regrets.”

Cash kissed the top of her head. “This is one of the hardest things I’ve walked away from, but I won’t let you hate me in the morning. I’m a man women regret being with. I know you’ll never trust me, but you can trust me on that.”

* * *

For someone who’d slept off a night of drinking, Cash appeared rested and together. His suit was crisp and he worked at his desk, head down, talking with his criminal contacts or doing research or whatever Benjamin had assigned him.

Lucia caught him looking at her several times, but she avoided making direct eye contact. Everyone on the team would know something had happened between them if she turned red. Much to her sexual frustration, Cash seemed fine with the unconsummated state of their relationship.

Lucia wondered about Cash. He’d rejected her. Lucia had been rejected before, so it wasn’t new, but she’d been sure Cash was feeling the chemistry between them. What was it about him that made her instincts perpetually off-kilter?

Her internal instant messenger flashed on her screen. She had a message from Cash.

I’m meeting a contact at the Smithsonian American Art Museum at noon. Come with me as backup and we’ll have lunch. My treat.

An olive branch to smooth over some of the awkwardness between them? He didn’t have to treat her to lunch. She could buy her own meal. When they had work to do, what had happened—or hadn’t happened—in her bedroom was irrelevant.

I’ll work backup. We’ll buy our own lunches. I’ll let Benjamin know.

Whatever you say, boss.

Lucia tried not to read too much into it. Was he trying to keep their personal and professional lives separate, as she was? Was he finding it easy to not let their chemistry cause trouble for them?

Lucia informed Benjamin of their plans so he could inform museum security that an armed agent would be working on site. She checked her weapon and left the building with enough time to reach the museum ahead of schedule.

Lucia and Cash entered the art museum separately. It was a strange place to meet a contact. Security guards were posted everywhere and video cameras captured visitors coming and going.

Lucia sat on a bench with a sketchpad open on her lap and a fedora pulled over her face, her hair twisted into it. She watched Cash through her phony eyeglasses. He was standing in front of
The Knight of the Holy Grail
, a painting by Frederick J. Waugh of a knight kneeling in a boat before two angels. Cash’s hands were in his pockets and he stared at the painting.

The man they’d run into on the street when leaving Preston Hammer’s house—the man Cash had called Boots—ambled toward the painting and stood next to Cash, almost shoulder to shoulder. Boots was wider and taller than Cash and his clothes were more casual.

The two men were speaking, but Lucia couldn’t hear what they were saying.

She touched the gun at her hip. She was a good shot. No one would hurt him, not while she was watching. Her protective instincts surprised her. Cash was fast becoming her partner on the team and that was a title she was slow to give to anyone.

* * *

“How much you think it’s worth on the market?” Boots asked, nodding at the Waugh painting in front of Cash.

Forgeries and the sale of stolen artwork had been Cash’s father’s area of expertise. Growing up, Cash had learned quite a bit about the world’s greatest masterpieces. In a high school art class, he’d learned to paint by copying the masters. His father had been proud, but later disappointed when Cash didn’t express an interest in marketing his skills to sell fraudulent copies as originals. “Immediately after the theft, without papers and with the authorities looking for it? A couple hundred thousand. With papers, the sale to a legitimate private collector could go for five million.”

Boots snorted. “How many legitimate private collectors do you know?”

Not many, but that wasn’t part of Cash’s world anymore. The distance between him and his father was deliberate and clear. Lucia, Audrey and their friends probably had several priceless, legally obtained works of art in their homes. “I assume you didn’t want to meet to discuss an art theft. Because there’s zero chance I’m lifting anything from this gallery. Too risky,” Cash said.

“I wouldn’t be so bold.” Boot grinned. He was that bold. “I heard you’re looking to make some cash and get back in the game.”

That was the word Cash had put out on the street. Associates who knew about his trouble with Adrian would know he needed the cash to make a life for him and his son. Those who didn’t probably weren’t overly concerned about why Cash was looking for work. Most hustlers on the street were always looking to make a buck. “You heard right.”

“How much cash you need?” he asked.

“I’ve got some debt and some dreams and not enough cash to finance either. I want to parlay what I do have into a livable sum.”

“You didn’t set up a nest egg before you went in?” Boots asked.

Boots was asking if Cash had an illegal account or a location where he stashed cash or other high-value items to fence. “No time to save much. I used almost everything I had.” He’d used every penny for Adrian, but he’d need Boots to believe he had something to gamble with.

Boots didn’t bat an eye. “You know your father-in-law is running some games at night.”

“I heard,” Cash said.

“You want in?” Boots asked.

“Sure do,” Cash said.

“Working for him?” Boots asked.

While that could put him closer to Anderson, he needed to bring Lucia inside, as well. “I’d rather take my chances at the table,” Cash said. “That’s where the real money is.”

“Depends on what you’re willing to do. Your old buddy has some big dogs on his payroll,” Boots said.

Cash shook his head. “You know me. I’m not in the big time. I’ve got limits.”

“If you didn’t have limits, as you call them, you could get your payday faster.”

His limits, including being unwilling to kill or harm anyone, were set in stone. Even before he’d promised Britney he’d turn his back on their fathers’ cons, he had never been okay with violence. “I’ll wait for my payday.” And so Boots wouldn’t become suspicious, he added, “I can’t risk going back to prison.”

“Why don’t you call him yourself?” Boots asked.

“I don’t know where he is,” Cash said.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Boots said. “I always thought how you went down was screwed up.”

Boots had known about the surgery and treatments that Adrian had needed and how desperate Cash had been to help his son.

When Adrian was sick, Cash had asked Anderson for the money directly, but at the time Anderson had had cash-flow issues. He’d helped Cash by setting up the con instead. Though Anderson hadn’t met Adrian, Anderson told Cash he’d hoped to mend fences with his daughter and meet his grandson. After Cash was caught and his lies exposed, it had made everything worse: worse between Britney and her father and worse for Cash’s marriage.

Cash’s skills had gotten him the job and his desperation had gotten him caught. That he’d taken the fall alone had maintained his credibility and could be a way back to Anderson.

“I’ll be in touch,” Boots said and walked away.

* * *

“How will I explain this exactly?” Cash asked, lifting his pants leg to highlight his ankle monitor. He would be patted down and scrutinized inside Anderson’s casino.

Benjamin’s rubbed his jaw. “We’re sticking to the modified truth. Tell him you’re working for us. He’ll expect tracking devices.”

The tracking device might make Anderson nervous. “Do you think he will take me anywhere or tell me anything with an electronic device around my ankle?” Cash asked.

Lucia tapped her pen against her notebook. “Anderson is careful and he’ll be especially careful if he’s close to cashing out and getting away with his money.”

Benjamin sighed. “Anderson will have questions about how Cash got out of jail. We don’t know if Anderson has people on his payroll at the prison. We’re sticking with the cover story that Cash is working for the FBI, but willing to be bought.”

“Boots said he’d text me the location tonight,” Cash said, giving up the argument for removing the ankle monitor. He wouldn’t win. He was stuck with it, even if he thought it would impede the operation.

At least Benjamin had given Cash an untraceable cell phone. Untraceable for criminal enterprises. The FBI had access to every phone call and every message sent and received from the phone.

“Where are you planning to be before then?” Benjamin asked.

“We’ll get ready and meet at Lucia’s,” Cash said. At Lucia’s raised eyebrows, Cash deferred to her. “Fine, then come hang out at the Hideaway. I figured you’d prefer a place that isn’t filthy and overrun with rats.”

“I can meet you at the location.”

Since the incident in her condo where they’d almost slept together, she’d been standoffish. She’d need to shake that before they went undercover. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. We go together. Otherwise, Anderson will sense it’s a setup. He’ll err on the side of caution and cut me out,” Cash said.

Cash knew the man was meticulous and careful. With so much money on the line, he’d be paranoid.

“Stay together. Get into character,” Benjamin said. “And work out whatever is going on between you two before you go. I don’t want this getting blown because of some bull in your personal lives.”

Benjamin left them alone. Lucia sat in silence.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Cash said.

Lucia looked out the window behind him and then she met his stare. “This case is important. It’s a big one. High visibility, yes, but also people are counting on us to find their money. They are counting on us to give them back their retirement, their savings and their financial security. There’s a lot on the line.”

“You perform well under stress,” he said.

“You know when I don’t perform well?” she asked. “When I have a distraction. When I’m so busy thinking about you that I’m not thinking about the case. I’m wondering what you’ll do next and why you’re saying this or that.”

She was making excuses. Something else was going on, something she wasn’t ready to admit.

“Are you blaming me for your nerves?” he asked, feeling annoyed. He’d tried to be friends with her. He’d tried being a good partner. He’d been careful with her feelings.

BOOK: Taken by the Con
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