Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance (18 page)

A
fter Karis left
me in the interrogation room again, I shifted my weight in the chair and tried to stretch my back as much as my shackles would allow. Sitting in the same position for so long was extremely uncomfortable. Which, I knew, was why suspects were put in this position to begin with. It was all part of interrogation tactics.

While I hadn't gone to college – hadn't even graduated high school, actually – Uaine had made psychology a mandatory study for those of us he felt had real talent. Some grifters relied solely on their charm, but Uaine had known that understanding human psychology put things on a completely different level. He'd been worse than any professor could've been, drilling things into my head. And he hadn't only stuck with the parts of psychology that worked on marks. He'd prepared me – and a few choice others – for interrogation, both from the authorities as well as other criminals. His tactics had often been harsh, but they'd worked. I might've been the one chained to the table, but I was still in control.

Well, more or less.

I'd been essentially cornered in the room, alone, with the girl I hadn't been able to get out of my head, and while she seemed to want to help me, I wasn't so sure about the rest. I was also fairly certain her partner and their superiors didn’t know about our past, which gave me a bit of an edge.

It also meant they had no idea how much it'd tortured me to have to sit on the wrong side of this table from her. It wasn’t so bad when she'd been in here with her partner, Agent Alverez. Alverez presented a distraction, a face and voice to focus on that didn’t belong to Karis, but when Karis had come in alone, it was torture. She'd talked like we'd only just met, but I'd understood that. If her bosses knew we had a past, she'd be taken off the case.

Worse, she'd be kept away from me.

While I hated that thought on a personal level, now that I knew Karis had foolishly gotten involved with Uaine, I couldn't let her out of my sight.

I'd be damned if that bastard took one more thing from me. If I had to, I'd kill him to keep Karis safe.

I shifted again in my seat. My back was really starting to bother me, and my shoulders and elbow had begun to ache from being stuck in the same position for who knew how long. Sitting like this wouldn't have been comfortable for anyone, but most places were made to accommodate people of average size or only a bit bigger. I was six and a half feet tall. Not much was made to fit me.

My body wasn't the only thing that was uncomfortable. The moment I'd heard about Leticia, a headache had started to form. My own self-preservation had me worrying about what would happen if they could link me to the murder scene, but I wasn't so self-involved that I wasn't upset over what happened, especially since I knew that it was my fault. She hadn't been a saint – who was? – but she hadn't deserved to die.

I'd been mostly lying when I'd first told Karis that I could help her find Leticia’s killer, but now I thought there might've been more truth to it than I realized.

There was only one person I knew who would've killed some poor woman just because I'd botched a job. Or because he was simply pissed at me more than usual. As much class as Uaine had in person, he had none when it came to work. He was ruthless in the worst possible way, which meant that the word was probably already out that I was in FBI custody.

This little side trip didn't mean my career was over, not by a long shot, but once I got back on the street, it'd take a bit of work to get things back to normal.

If
, I reminded myself. Not
once
, but
if
. If Karis could work out a deal for me, I knew I'd never be able to run a con again. She might be able to get me immunity for my past, but it wouldn't cover new crimes.

That was when it hit me, all of it. No matter how this little saga ended, I was done. If I didn't have a deal, they might not have enough to charge me with Leticia's murder, but it sounded like there might be enough for the museum job, which meant almost certain jail time. With a deal, I'd have to toe the line.

Either way, my life as a grifter was done.

I was still adjusting to the realization when the door to the interrogation room opened again. This time, Karis wasn't alone. She held the door for a pair of agents who came in carrying a small box that I really didn't like the look of.

“What’s that?” I asked her, nodding to indicate what the other agents had in their hands.

“It’s a tracking device,” the younger of the two agents answered. “So we can keep an eye on you electronically when we can’t physically see you. It’s small enough that you can pull a sock over it and not have everyone see it.”

“I get that, thanks,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge to my voice. “But why am I wearing it?”

“Agent Melendez will brief you on that once we get it attached,” the older agent said. He tapped on the screen of his cell phone while the first agent got the strap fitted to my ankle. A moment later, he spoke again, “It’s transmitting.”

“Thank you,” Karis said. She gestured toward me without looking in my direction. “Now, his shackles.”

The senior agent fished out a key and unlocked both the ankle and wrist cuffs. I wanted to stand up and stretch, but I had a feeling they wouldn't take too kindly to me making any sudden movements. They were most likely in good shape, and neither of them were small, but I still towered over them.

“Thank you, gentleman,” Karis said. She gave them polite smiles as they left.

As soon as the door closed, I stood up. Karis raised her eyebrows.

“Sorry, but I’ve got to stretch my legs,” I explained. I paced a couple steps and looked around as if I hadn't seen the room before. “So, this is how confessions happen, huh?”

She laughed, but it wasn't the same sweet sound I remembered from our childhood. Not even the full, rich sound I'd imagined her adult laugh to be. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’d like to believe that people only admit to what they’ve actually done.”

“Why don't you have a seat in this chair for a few hours and see if you’re not ready to confess to all kinds of things you didn’t do.” I gestured toward the chair. “I’ll call your buddies in here when it’s time to let you out.”

She laughed again, and this one was more real. It felt good to see her truly amused at something, but it was followed by an awkward, uncomfortable silence that said we couldn't avoid our issues for long.

I rubbed my wrists where the cuffs had chafed my skin. I couldn't handle the silence, and I wasn't ready to talk about what was between us. “So, what's the deal?”

“I’m taking you into my personal custody for the remainder of our investigation. That's the first step in your deal. I have it all right here, and you can read over it.”

Her voice was cool and crisp, the professional Agent Melendez. Not my Karis.

Shit.

She wasn't my Karis, and I needed to stop thinking about her that way.

“If I'm in your custody, what’s the tracker for?”

“If something goes sideways, the higher ups want to know where you are.
Sideways
could mean escape, violence against me, kidnapping, any instance where you and I become separated, or I'm unable to report to my superiors for any reason. If anything goes wrong, all bets are off. No offers on the table. No more private custody. The gloves come off, and you go away.”

“And all I have to do is agree to help you with this investigation?” I asked. I'd read through the papers she'd said were my deal, but I wanted to at least know some gist of what I was looking toward.

“Well, to get out of here today, you have to agree.” She held out the papers. “To stay out, you have to actually cooperate. I’m putting my career on the line here for you, Bron, because I don’t think murder is your style. You're not messy, and murder is messy.”

That wasn't the reasoning I'd been hoping for, but I was glad she believed I was innocent.

“You’ve done your homework on me, then.” I gave her one of my usual charming grins, silently hating myself for behaving as if she was just some mark.

“It’s like I know you inside and out, Broderick Murray.” She gave me a grin of her own, but the ice was present underneath it. “But there’s just one thing before we go. We need to get a written confession to seal the deal.”

Oh, she was good.

“Not going to happen until I read this thing all the way through,” I said.

“You’re not getting your deal until we catch who murdered Leticia Backman, I'll tell you that much.” She crossed her arms, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re standing your ground,” I said. When we were kids, the gesture had seemed fierce and courageous. Now, as adults, I could see a glimmer of that girl again.

And boy did she look pissed.

My amusement evaporated. “We’re not going to find the killer in here, Karis.”

She glared at me. “I’m starting to think Alverez was right about you. You’ll say whatever you need to in order to get out. Hell, you probably don’t have a clue who it is.”

“I’ll tell you,” I said. “But I’m not going to tell you yet. Not until I have something in writing.”

I wanted to trust her, I really did, but there was no way I could trust the agency. I'd been screwed over too many times before.

She sighed and shook her head as if I'd disappointed her somehow. I hated that feeling, but I knew I had to protect myself. I wanted more than anything to not have this between us, but I knew it wasn't possible. Things between Karis and I would never go back to the way they’d been when we were kids. Nothing could ever go back to being that simple again.

“You’ll get what you want from me, Karis, but you’re going to get it on my terms,” I told her. It wasn't easy staying firm when all I wanted to do was kiss her again.

“All right,” she ground out. “But you are still in FBI custody, and that doesn't change when we leave this room or this building. If you put even a toe out of line, your ass will be right back in this building so damn fast you won’t even remember leaving it. Do you hear me?”

She was right in front of me now, looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes of hers. My gaze dropped to her lips, then came back up, noting the flush staining her cheeks.

“Sure, I’ll behave.” I tried not to sound too dismissive or too interested. She couldn't know how much I wanted her. I needed to keep the upper hand.

She gave me a hard look, then started toward the door. Apparently, I was supposed to follow her. That wasn't hard. I'd followed her around for years. It was an easy habit to get back into.

Her partner, Agent Alverez, rounded the corner just as we stepped out of the room. She frowned at us, and I could tell she was trying to figure out whether or not she should put down the coffees she was holding so she could have her hands free.

“Talk to Colman,” Karis told her as we passed by. I tried not to make eye contact with the older agent. She’d made it clear she wasn’t my biggest fan, and despite her small size, she was a hell of a lot scarier than the other agents I'd seen.

I ignored the looks I was getting as I followed Karis. For a brief moment, I let her take all of my attention, let myself watch her the way I'd wanted to from the moment I'd seen her again.

Once outside, she stopped and turned toward me.

I glanced around, confused. “Where’s your car?”

“At home,” she said. “I don’t usually drive to and from work.”

“Okay, so where are we going?”

“A safe house, but first, I want you to tell me that name you’re withholding before we go anywhere.” Her hands were on her hips, a familiar look of determination on her face. “Look, Bron, I didn’t stick my neck out for you because I'm a nice person. I stuck my neck out for you because of who you are. To me. Not who you are to scum like Leconte. Who you are to me, Bron.”

My resolve wavered as my stomach clenched. Her words weren't full of passion. They were matter-of-fact.

But they were still there.

She cared about me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I know you didn't have to do that.”

She gave me a curt nod, her face red. “So you know you can trust me.”

Damn. She had a point. I still needed to play it smart though. I considered for a moment and then decided to compromise. “I think I've given you enough to figure it out. That'll give you somewhere to start, but I won't go on record with a name until I read that deal.”

Her mouth tightened. “Uaine Leconte.”

“He's dangerous,” I repeated my warning.

She met my gaze, her eyes flashing. “So am I.”

She turned away and started toward the agency carpool. I watched her for a moment, letting her words sink in.

Damn right she was dangerous.

I just wasn't sure who was in more danger. Uaine or me.

I
hated driving agency cars
, but the safe house was further away than my apartment. We rode in silence, but I could feel the electricity crackling between us. I didn't doubt that he could feel it too, but I didn't think either of us were ready to acknowledge it yet. I had a feeling we wouldn't be able to avoid it for long though, not if we were going to be spending so much time together.

Thanks to traffic, it took us nearly twenty minutes to get to the safe house – okay, technically it was an apartment, but safe apartment sounded weird – but as I started to pull up to the curb, Bron grabbed my arm. I gave him a sharp look.

“Hands off, Murray.”

“Don't stop,” he said.

I should've bristled at the command in his voice, but I could feel the tension in his body, and I knew he wasn't trying to play me. I drove past the building, and down another two blocks before pulling into a space between two buildings. I turned toward Bron.

“What?”

“A couple of the guys out front, I'm pretty sure they work for Uaine.”

I blew out a breath. “Dammit.” I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket, looked at it, and then back at Bron. “Does Uaine have people inside the FBI?”

“I don't know.”

“Cut the shit, Bron. This isn't about your deal. I need to know if my agency is compromised.”

“I really don't know,” he said honestly. “He has people everywhere.”

I rubbed my temples, resisting the urge to close my eyes. I didn't trust Bron enough for that at the moment. I had a decision to make. I could go back to the safe house in the hopes that Bron was wrong. I could call Colman and request a different place to put Bron. I could ask for additional agents to watch him.

Or I could go a more unconventional route.

Colman had left it up to me how much security I wanted on Bron. With the tracker, I could monitor Bron from anywhere. I wasn't required to stay with him twenty-four seven. I'd planned on staying with him at the safe house for a little while, at least until we discussed things, but after that, I hadn't decided.

Now, however, another option was trying to make itself known. It was a bad idea. A very, very, very bad idea. Horrible. Stupid. The worst possible thing I could do.

I pulled the car out of the alley and turned left. “Are you hungry?”

I felt Bron's confusion, but he didn't ask, just answered my question. “Yeah.”

I wasn't quite ready to admit where we were going, so instead of getting my usual take-out, the two of us went into a little diner and took a booth in the back. We placed our order and sat in silence until the food came.

It was strange how good it felt to have him sitting across from me. Despite the plethora of unspoken things between us, there was still the undercurrent of camaraderie we'd always had. For a few brief moments, I was almost able to pretend that things were different. That we were two old friends meeting to catch up after having parted ways under less dramatic circumstances. Or that those missing years had never happened, and this was our routine, sharing dinner. That we'd stayed friends...that we'd become something more...

I pushed aside the thoughts before they could become even more dangerous.

Better to focus on the meal in front of me and how I was going to explain to Benita how having Bron released into my custody was a good idea. I knew there was no way I could spin the rest of this as anything but stupidity. At least, by keeping her out of it, she'd be protected if the shit hit the fan.

“You know, Karis, I don’t normally eat such fine cuisine,” Bron broke the silence as he finished the last of his hamburger.

“I’m ashamed to admit that my diet consisted mainly of greasy foods, sweets, and coffee these days,” I confessed, grateful for the safe topic.

“I know how it goes,” he said. “You get busy, and before you know it, you can’t find the time to eat what you know you should be eating. I’ve been there.” He popped his last fry into his mouth. “I have to admit that it's good though.”

“That it is.” I tossed a few bills onto the table, enough to cover the bill and a generous tip. I stood. “Ready?”

“Are you going to tell me where we're going?” he asked as we walked out of the diner and back to the company car.

I didn't look at him as I answered, “My place.”

We'd gone two blocks before he spoke again. “Do you make this commute every day?”

“When I don’t spend the night at work,” I told him as I made a turn. “Though I usually take the subway.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He looked over at me.

“I wish.” I tilted my head and stretched my neck as if just the memory of sleeping on one of the break-room couches had given me a crick.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” he asked, a note of concern in the question. Real concern.

I knew he was good at playing people, at making them think he cared about them. It was how con men worked. I supposed there was a possibility that he was trying to do the same to me, but my gut said he was being genuine. At least I hoped it was my gut and not my heart wanting to hear something so badly that I was lying to myself.

“I don’t remember the last time I really slept all night,” I answered honestly. “I’ve been pretty busy with your case since we started.”

And there it was. The real truth that neither of us had wanted to say. He’d come back into my life because he'd committed a crime, and I'd been the one assigned to catch him.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said, his tone cool. He looked away.

Dammit.

I knew I needed him to be cooperative, but a part of me wanted to just have it out with him. Wanted to demand answers and get all of this personal stuff out of the way.

But this was work, and that had to come first.

“So, how embarrassing is it that you were outsmarted by a girl?” I kept my tone light, trying to tease him into warming back up again.

“Speaking of that,” he said. He still didn't look at me, but at least some of the ice had disappeared from his voice. “I’ve been wondering how you figured out it was me at the museum.” He paused, and then added, “Hypothetically, of course, since I don't have my deal in place.”

I pulled into the parking garage that housed cars for several nearby apartment buildings. I glanced at him and gave a truthful but purposefully vague answer, “Let's just say you couldn't avoid
all
reflective surfaces.”

He looked impressed. “Well, damn.”

His response startled a laugh out of me, and it suddenly became easier to breathe. I parked the car, and he followed me into the building next door. The elevator was out – of course – so we had to walk up three flights of stairs. The fact that he wasn't out of breath as he kept pace with me told me that he was in as good of shape as I'd initially suspected.

When we got to my door, I slid the key in and felt an unfamiliar wave of self-consciousness wash over me. The man standing behind me was used to five-star hotels, expensive suits and meals. The diner had been a quick bite, and it hadn't really been personal. Besides, there was a big difference between thinking that he was slumming it for a meal and realizing that he'd probably view my home in the same way.

“Pardon the mess when we walk in,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “I know you’re used to five-star accommodations, but some of us work sixty-hour weeks and don't always find the time to clean.”

He gave me a funny look. “I may be used to ritzy hotels, but do you realize how long it’s been since I’ve been somewhere permanent?”

I hadn’t even thought about it, I realized with a start. I'd just assumed he lived the vagabond life of a grifter because the money was good and he enjoyed it. We'd both lost our parents and had been displaced, but I'd never been without a home. Sure, it'd been hard to get used to living with my aunt, and then on my own, but I'd always had a home.

He'd lost his, and it wasn't until now that I realized he hadn't had one since.

My heart twisted painfully in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Karis? You didn’t have anything to do with it.” He stared at the door, his face stony.

I wanted to protest. Wanted to tell him that I should have had something to do with it. That I should have made someone tell me where he'd been sent. Should have found him. Brought him home with me.

But I knew that nothing I said now would mean anything. I hadn't been there for him, and no apology would ever make that right.

I opened the door, and we entered my apartment.

“I know it’s not much, but it's mine.” I tossed the car keys and my purse onto the small table next to the door.

“It’s cozy,” he said.

“I guess. Make yourself at home.” I gestured toward the couch.

Shit. I hadn't considered where he'd be sleeping tonight.

He plopped down on the couch. “Comfy,” he said, bouncing a little.

“Want anything to drink?” I walked into my small kitchen. “I’ve got beer, water, and Coke.”

“I’ll take a beer,” he said.

“It’s light,” I cautioned.

“Still beer.”

I pulled out two bottles and opened them on the counter before going to sit down next to him. The couch was a decent size, but the two of us were so tall that our knees were nearly touching, and unless I wanted to go get one of the two kitchen chairs I owned, there was no way around our close proximity. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

I handed him one of the bottles and wondered what the hell we were going to do now. Usually, on the rare days I was home this early, I'd relax with a book or maybe binge some television. If we were at the safe house, I probably would've been able to make some suggestion about playing cards or watching TV and felt like I was simply passing the time. At home, however, it felt different.

“This is strange, isn’t it,” he said with an uneasy laugh. “The two of us sitting down and having a beer together. Never thought this would happen.”

“To old friends,” I said, raising my bottle to him.

“Old friends.” He took a long drink from his bottle. “So, Karis Melendez.” He sounded like he tasted my name as he said it. His eyes drifted from his bottle to my face. “
Agent
Karis Melendez,” he added.

I felt my face glowing and heating up with the threat of blushing. He hadn't said anything remotely suggestive, but I could feel us moving toward the things we'd been tiptoeing around all day. “Bron Du Murier,” I countered.

He laughed, a sincere one that I liked much better than the fake one he used when he was trying to be charming. “You like it? Du Murier sounded fancier than Murray.” He slid a glance at me. “I never even considered losing the name you'd given me.”

My stomach flipped. The alcohol had taken a bit of the edge off my nerves, but it couldn't seem to stop my body from responding to him. Even after all this time, a look and a few choice words made my heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he continued as he moved a bit closer. Heat radiated off of him. “I chose my aliases because a part of me always hoped that you'd hear one and come find me.”

“I noticed,” I said as I let myself lean into him. My hands itched to touch him and I curled my fingers to keep myself from doing something stupid. “I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner.”

He gave me a smile, but his eyes were sad. “Can't change the past.”

My treacherous hand cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning his face against my palm. “I wish I could change what happened.”

His eyes opened and locked with mine. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. He moved slowly, his intent clear on his face. I knew what he was going to do, what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I'd been thinking about it since the first time his lips touched mine. My body screamed at me to meet him halfway, to let things take the natural course they should have taken years ago.

But I couldn’t do it.

That was a line that, no matter how badly I wanted to cross it, I couldn’t. That would have been the end of everything for me. I was already dancing a fine line here. To let him kiss me, to kiss him back, would break it completely.

“I’m sorry,” I said, fighting back tears as I pulled back. “I can't.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his tone casual despite the tension in his body. He grabbed his beer and downed the rest of it. “So, where am I sleeping tonight?”

“It’s up to you. You can have the bed or the couch,” I offered without looking up. I couldn't let him know just how much this was affecting me, especially if it hadn't meant as much to him as it did to me.

He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face until I had to look at him. “Do you come with the bed?” The question itself should've been teasing, but the desire in his eyes took away all levity.

“No, I don't.” The words felt like glass coming out of my mouth.

He dropped his hand. “Then, I’m fine with the couch.” He got up and stretched. “Where’s the bathroom?”

I pointed, and he headed that way without a backwards glance. After he closed the door behind him, I got up and grabbed a couple of blankets to dress the couch for him. I was glad he'd elected to stay out here, and not only because I knew both of us were too tall to fit comfortably. The thought of him in my bed, even alone, would've kept me awake for days.

“Thanks,” he said as he appeared beside me. “See you in the morning, then...Agent Melendez.”

I swallowed hard and managed to resist the urge to ask him to call me Karis. “Goodnight.” The word came out a little stiff, and my cheeks burned as I turned away.

“Thanks, by the way, for everything,” he said. “You didn’t have to do all of this.”

I dipped my head in acknowledgement and headed for my room. Part of me wanted to take a shower, but I was suddenly exhausted. That sort of tired that seeped into bones and muscles. I locked my bedroom door and stripped out of all my clothes, leaving them in a pile on my floor. Doing anything else seemed like too much effort.

I crawled under my covers and pressed my face against my pillow. All I wanted to do was sleep, to sink into that dark oblivion and not have to think about everything that'd happened in the past twenty-four hours. I didn't want to think about the man in the next room and how much I wished he was lying here next to me. We'd fallen asleep next to each other many times in the past, and I'd never felt as safe as I had when he was with me, when his arms were around me.