True Lies (10 page)

Moving quickly now, he lifted the scissors from the counter and began to cut away the beard it had taken months to grow. Curling, dark blond clumps fell into the sink. When he had cut away as much as he could, he lathered his face and picked up the razor. Smooth, taut skin gleamed in a swath down his cheek. He shifted his jaw and puffed out the hollow she had called sexy, methodically scraping away his camouflage. When he had finished, he gave his face the same scrutiny he had been giving his body.

What would she think if she could see him now? Would she like the way the hollows emphasized his high cheekbones? What about the square jaw and the long, stubborn chin? Would she still call him handsome?

He seldom considered his looks, except when he thought of new ways to alter them. For a short-term cover, assuming a different expression would often do the trick—he was as skillful as any actor when it came to controlling the muscles of his face. His expression now, though, was as vulnerably naked as his freshly shaved cheeks.

I've always hated cops.

I don’t hate you, Bruce.

But she would.

He threw the razor into the sink and strode to the other room, kicking his jacket aside as he passed. There was no going back. Prendergast had just disappeared forever. He could have used the new closeness to pressure Emma into revealing more about Simon, and her unwitting cooperation could have been a big advantage for the investigation, but Bruce could no longer stomach the deception. The woman who had broken down and cried against his neck didn’t deserve any more lies.

But he couldn’t tell her the truth. He knew how protective she was toward her brother, and if she knew that the police were already closing in, she might do something stupid and desperate. He had given her Xavier’s number, but he didn’t hold out much hope that she’d call it.

And there was still the possibility that she might be involved in the smuggling, no matter how much his heart wanted to believe in her innocence. The cop in him had known it from the start. Nothing she had told him had proven anything, one way or the other. Simply because she seemed to display genuine concern for her brother didn’t mean that she wasn’t doing something illegal herself. And plenty of criminals had a hard luck story they could tell about their childhood.

As it had at least a hundred times in the past few days, his gaze went to the photograph of Emma. He stared at the black-and-white image, this time seeing her as she had been that morning, curled into a ball, her cheeks streaked with tears and the lashes around her blue, blue eyes glistening in wet clumps.

No one had ever held her while she had cried. The admission had humbled him, and had sent a confusing blast of emotions through him. Guilt. Sympathy. Admiration. He’d heard her side of the story today, had learned of the suffering and pain that lay behind the naked facts Xavier had given him. He hadn’t pushed her, but she had opened herself up to him as readily and honestly as she’d kissed him. While he’d been plotting on how to proceed with his case, how to use her, she had willingly invited him past her barriers.

She’d done it again. Since the moment he had first seen her unsling that hunting bow from her back, she had managed to surprise him. He had never met a woman so challenging before, or one who stirred his interest to this extent. Since the death of his wife, he had shut himself off from feeling anything other than his simple devotion to his duty. It was easier that way, less painful, less risky.

His hands tightened into fists at his sides. Emma had wanted him to stay with her. He’d seen the need written clearly on her face, and tasted it on her lips. No, not him. Prendergast. The overweight, clumsy, harmless tourist.

But he’d just killed off his alter ego as surely as he’d killed any chance of an honest relationship with Emma. He couldn’t reveal himself to her as he really was. He couldn’t jeopardize the investigation any further. And most of all, he couldn’t bear to think about the hurt and the anger—and the hate—that he would see on her face if she ever learned of his betrayal.

But it wasn’t a betrayal. He was just doing his job. Why should he feel guilty about that?

It was a hell of a situation, but there was only one way out. He would never be able to see Emma again.

Ten minutes later, he broke the news to Xavier.

“You can’t do that!” Xavier shouted into the phone. “I want you right where you are. You've got an inside track with the Duprey woman.”

“Too late. Prendergast left town permanently.”

“Dammit, Bruce. That tip you gave us about Simon Duprey paid off big time. We followed him to a warehouse in Bangor. I just found out that it belongs to Carter McQuaig. The feds have had their eye on him for years, but haven’t found anything more than innuendo and rumor. They're falling all over themselves to help, now that it looks as if we'll be able to tie McQuaig to narcotics.”

“I figured the kid wasn’t prospecting. Only his sister would have been gullible enough to swallow that story.”

“There you go with the sister again. It was a good cover story. She probably helped him cook it up. Or if she didn’t, then she got him involved. You should be cozying up to her and pumping her for more information—”

“That’s not an option,” he said harshly. “I want to bring this operation to a close as fast as possible.”

“We all want that.”

“I gave her your phone number.”

In the sudden silence Xavier’s indrawn breath sounded like a hiss. “You did what?”

“Considering her background, I couldn’t reveal anything about our investigation, but I had to cover the possibility that she might be innocent so I gave her your number. You're a guy named Jones in the justice department that Prendergast did some work for. If Emma decides to turn to the police, you'll help her.”

“Hell, Bruce, that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“The plan changed.”

“This isn’t like you.”

“No, it isn’t. I'm having some strong doubts about the things that I've been doing for the sake of my job—”

“You're a good cop. Don’t start having some midlife crisis thing on me, now.” His voice lowered to a tone of forced calmness. “Stay with me on this. You've got plenty of time off coming to you. When the case is wrapped up, you get yourself to somewhere tropical and laze around on a beach for a few weeks. How does that sound?”

“I'm not about to walk off the job, if that’s what you're worried about. I told you, I want this wrapped up fast. That’s why I've decided to go in from the other end. Get me everything you've got on Carter McQuaig.”

There was another silence. “What are you planning?”

“When I started this investigation, I was after the head of the chain, not just the links. It’s time to dig deeper.” He rubbed his smooth chin, his eyes glittering with icy hardness. “Do we still have that black Corvette we impounded last February?”

“Yes, we do. Why?”

“Find out if McQuaig has any connection to the drug ring that I infiltrated in Chicago.”

“No! Absolutely not. You're not going in that deep again.”

“My cover wasn’t breached. I'll use the same connections and get myself an invitation to—”

“Bruce, it’s too dangerous. To go in that deep, we have to spend time setting it up. You don’t know what you'll run into if you get close to McQuaig, or who else might be close to him. It’s too risky.”

He clenched his jaw. Too risky? Not when compared to the consequences of spending any more time around Emma Cassidy. “Depends how you look at it, Xavier.”

* * *

The sun had set half an hour earlier. Shadows loomed in every corner of the cabin. With the darkness had come a creeping chill, but Emma didn’t get up to start a fire. She was curled into a corner of the couch, her cheek on her updrawn knees. Although it was difficult to see more than a pale rectangular outline, she kept her gaze on the envelope that rested on the coffee table. The number that Bruce had scrawled in his bold, strong handwriting was no longer visible, but that didn’t matter. She had no intention of using it.

She had tried to call Simon at least twenty times since Bruce had left. There had been no reply, nothing, not even a busy signal. She was worried. She was almost worried enough to pick up that envelope and carry it to the phone and put her trust in a cop. Almost. But not until her brother was out of this. Maybe Bruce was naive enough to think that his friend could get Simon a deal, but Emma wouldn’t risk seeing another member of her family in prison.

“Simon,” she whispered, “where are you?”

Had he told those people that he was quitting? Had he told them that she would pay his debt? She hadn’t even thought to ask how much he owed. Likely she would need to liquidate some of her stock in order to cover it, but that didn’t pose an insurmountable problem. She was good at making money. But she wasn’t much good with people, was she? Dry-eyed, she turned her face toward the window and looked at the first faint stars that glowed above the horizon. Another sunset had come and gone, and she had dealt with it alone. She would deal with Simon’s problem alone, too. She shouldn’t have let herself get close to Bruce that way. She should have known better. Turner hadn’t stuck around when the going got rough, either.

The sudden shrill of the telephone made her jump. She sprang from the couch, her heart tripping painfully. Before the second ring had finished she was across the room and lunging for the receiver.

“Emma?” The trembling voice belonged to her brother. “Emma, is that you?”

She pressed a hand over her chest and took a deep breath. “Simon. Thank God. Tell me what happened.”

There was a fumbling noise before a new voice came on the line. “Miss Cassidy? Or perhaps I should say, Miss Duprey?”

“Who is this? Where’s my brother?”

“I'm an associate of your brother’s, Miss Duprey. We've been having a long conversation and I'm very distressed to learn that you don’t approve of our business.” The voice echoed slightly, as if the man were speaking from a tomb. “Simon tells me that you advised him to quit working for us. We can’t permit that. It would leave us in an awkward situation.”

She had to maintain a tight control over her mind, or she would be reduced to a pile of nerves. “Did he also tell you that I'm willing to pay you the money my brother owes?”

“But the money isn’t the issue right now. It’s the work, you see. We need people we can count on, and now we can’t count on your brother anymore. Do you understand the problem? Wait, I'll let Simon explain it to you.”

There was a muffled thud, and a sudden cry of pain. Emma steeled herself not to imagine what was happening at the other end of the phone line. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to function.

“Emma? Are you there?”

“Simon, are you all right?”

“No. They're going to kill me. You never should have told me to quit. You can’t quit something like this.” His voice broke on a sob.

She felt sick. Even this was her fault. “Simon, hang on. I'll find a way to help—”

“Miss Duprey.” It was the other voice again. “You can’t think about contacting the police, or we will kill your brother.” He said it with a cold, casual indifference, as if he were announcing they’d have bacon for breakfast.

Emma didn’t doubt him for a moment. If she had even remotely considered going to the police before, that option was now eliminated. “I told you I'll pay you what he owes,” she said quickly. “I'll pay more. How much do you want?”

“We don’t want your money. We want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simon tells me that he’s been using your plane, and that your piloting skills are much superior to his. As far as we're concerned, the solution is simple. You will take over your brother’s job while we keep him here as our guest.”

Chapter 6

I
t was amazing how many different emotions could get tangled up with love. Emma knew she loved her brother, but right now she felt fear, worry, despair...and anger. She had seen the mixture before, when she had been at a shopping mall and a mother had found her lost child. The woman had cried with relief and hugged the wayward boy, then had held him by his shoulders and had shaken him like a rag doll, screaming at him not to wander off like that again, then had hugged him once more. The cycle repeated, over and over, as the pendulum of emotion swung. Love...and anger at the vulnerability of love.

If Simon was suddenly restored to her now, she wasn’t sure whether she would hug him or shake him.

She eased her pickup into the shadows at the side of the warehouse, turned off the engine and slipped her keys into her purse. A bulb in a metal cage glowed weakly beside the sign on the wall. CM Imports. Business Hours 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. No Parking in Front of Door. Emma tipped her wrist toward the dim light and checked her watch. Almost 10:00. They would be coming for her soon.

The man who had phoned yesterday had been very specific when he had told her the time and the place. This was a test. They were telling her to jump, and they wanted her to answer “how high.” Although she had never dealt with this particular strata of criminals before, she recognized intimidation when she saw it. She’d bargained with sharks and with slime in the business world, and that’s how she had to handle this situation.

Her sober rust-colored suit with its padded shoulders and severe tailoring projected an impression of strength, her hair was carefully gelled into a sedate, backswept style, and her makeup was understated and elegant. She couldn’t let them see her weakness. She couldn’t let them know how her hands had shaken so badly that she’d taken five minutes to button her suit and three separate attempts to apply her lipstick.

She had to look at this as a business deal. They wanted something from her, she wanted something from them. It should have been simple, but her fear for her brother was clouding her thinking. It was there beneath the veneer of outward calmness like a raging current beneath an ice-covered stream.

Simon had cried on the phone. And they’d hit him.

A spasm shook her body. She tried to call up the strength that had gotten her this far. They wanted her to make one very important run and then they would let her brother go, they said. Every fiber of her rebelled at the thought of following their orders, but she had to play along with them until she could get Simon out. And once her brother was safe...