Rules of Survival (Entangled Embrace) (9 page)

“Planning is overrated,” I lied—said it with a smile, too. I was proud.

He opened his eyes and turned toward me. The grin on his face was actually worth the lie. “Right. Says the girl who’s mapped out our route in painful detail.”

“Busted.” I laughed.

He shifted until he was leaning sideways against the wall, facing me. “Do you ever just wing it? Wake up in the morning and face the day without a plan?”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“Why?” he said, voice low. He hovered dangerously close, and added, “There’s a lot to be said for spontaneity.”

I swallowed hard and forced myself not to back away—or push forward. There was no denying the attraction, but I wouldn’t allow myself to act on it. “Not in my world.”

He considered it for a moment, then nodded, sitting back in his original position. “Yeah. I guess I can see that.”

I should have left it there and closed my eyes. Drifted to sleep and let the conversation die. But I was starting to realize something about myself. I
liked
having someone to talk to. It was nice to finally come clean about my life. It didn’t matter if I told Shaun the truth. He wasn’t there to judge me. I wasn’t trying to win him over. We were just two people stuck in a bad situation together. When we got out of it—and we would—I would disappear and never see him again. It might have sounded cold to a normal person, but to me it was sort of freeing. For the first time in my entire life, I had no reason to hide.

“My mom did what she had to do, I
get it
, but it sucked,” I said. “I never stayed in one school for more than three months. I never had any friends. There was no control. I felt like a ping-pong ball.”

He stretched his legs. “You never had any real structure.”

Shaun was irritating. He was arrogant and spontaneous, and didn’t seem to think anything through, but he was also real. There was a good chance someone else would have felt sorry for me. Pitied me for all I’d missed out on and everything I’d gone through. Not him. There was no sympathy in his voice, only understanding.

“Planning things out is the only area of my life I’ve ever felt like I had any control over. I try to stick to little things. I learned early on that bigger plans—what you were going to be when you grew up and where you were going to live long-term—tended to fall through. But the little things? Those I can have more control of. Even if it’s as simple as making a plan to get from point A to point B.”

“That makes sense,” he said. “Control is an illusion, though, you know that, right?”

“Maybe,” I said, forcing a smile. The wind outside kicked up, seeping in through the cracks and chilling the air. I shivered. “But the illusion helps me get through the day. Sometimes I need that.”

He reached across and pulled the far corner of his jacket tighter around my shoulders, his finger brushing my cheek accidentally. “Yeah. Me, too.”

I shifted closer, until we were shoulder to shoulder, and closed my eyes. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. It was just for the warmth.

Just for the warmth…

Chapter Ten

“Friends” was a loose term when it came to con men. There were a few Mom considered trustworthy, but she made sure I knew that “trustworthy” only went so far. One of the most important of her rules—
always
remember there was no honor among thieves. Even your friends would sell you out if the price tag was right—not that I’d ever
had
friends.

I figured my best bet at getting some information on who Mick might be was Gerald Collins. I’d never met the guy, but Mom told me all about him. She knew him from time spent in Kansas City long before I was born. He’d retired from the game and had hoarded his stash to buy a beef farm in upstate New York. He was the nearest, and also the most off-the-radar, so naturally, he was our first stop.

“And what makes you think we can trust this guy?” It was early afternoon and Shaun had been on edge since we stepped off the bus. He insisted he wanted to call Patrick again, but every time I pointed out a pay phone on the way over to Gerald’s, he made up an excuse.

It wasn’t a safe place to stop.

Too many people around.

Patrick was probably sleeping…

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was rattled about what happened in the mall parking lot. He might not believe that Patrick was the one who ratted us out, but he couldn’t deny the facts.

“Trust is a relative term,” I said with an offhand wave. “He won’t narc on us, though. No way would he bring the cops that close to home.”

“Comforting,” Shaun huffed. He knocked twice on the screen door, then adjusted the hoodie to cover the shackles. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”

“If it is, it wouldn’t be my first,” I said, trying to force a smile.

“I have no trouble believing that.” His demeanor was different today. Warmer somehow, and I liked it. There were actually points that I forgot I was shackled to a bounty hunter. I found myself laughing at his jokes and studying the lines of his face, committing them to memory. “It might end up being your last, though.”

“Wow. And you called
me
dramatic…?”

A few minutes later, a stooped old man appeared, cigar hanging from his lips and coffee cup in hand. Balding and covered with liver spots, he looked like a normal little old man—not a sexy mastermind who used to con rich women out of their millions. But he was. I’d heard stories. Mom used to tell me Gerald Collins was quite the James Bond type back in his day—whatever that meant.

He took one look at us, rolled his eyes, and started to close the door. “How many times do I gotta tell you people? I’m not converting—”

“Wait! We’re not here to convert you.” I jammed my foot in between him and the door just before it slammed shut. It crunched against my big toe and I bit back a scream.

The pressure on my foot eased. He didn’t open the door all the way, but he left enough room to eye us suspiciously through the crack. “What ya want?”

“My name is Kayla. You knew my mom. Melissa Morgan?”

His eyes grew wide. “You’re Mel Morgan’s kid?” He gave me the once-over—tip to toe. After a moment, he nodded and pulled the door open all the way. “Yeah. I can see it. Ya got the same eyes.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing someone tell me I looked like Mom made me feel warm all over because I didn’t see it. Mom had been beautiful. Long silky brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a button nose. She always joked that her appearance was one of her biggest assets. She was cute. Innocent-looking. No one ever suspected a criminal mastermind when they saw her. And boy did she know how to work it.

Me? I saw myself as shifty-looking. Suspicious. I wasn’t one of those girls who peered into the mirror thinking they were ugly or too fat, but I didn’t have that innocent, little-girl-lost look like Mom had. I gave off more of the “Oh crap here comes trouble” vibe.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t be
thankin
’ me. Those eyes are evil.
Pure evil
. Make the devil get up and dance, they could. Turn a priest to sin.”

Shaun snickered. I elbowed him hard and turned back to Gerald. “Mr. Collins, I hate to intrude, but I need your help.”

“Of course you do. And I have no desire to help you because it’ll only land me in a heap of trouble, but I will. Somehow you’ll talk me into it. That’s just the way you Morgan girls work…” He pushed the door open a bit wider and gestured us inside with a sigh. “Go ahead and take a seat—but don’t get too comfy. You’re
not
staying long.”

I heard the words clear as day, but the look in his eyes said differently. In that moment, I was sure we’d made the right decision coming here. He was complaining about Mom, but it was obvious he remembered her fondly. He was crotchety on the outside and totally gooey on the inside. Just what I needed.

I nodded and sank into the couch. Gerald eyed Shaun warily as he sat down beside me—ridiculously close.

“Go ahead and give the girl some room, why dontcha, boy? She ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Shaun looked at me and I sighed. “That’s actually one of the reasons we’re here.” I pulled the hoodie aside and held up my hand. “Any chance you can help us get these off?”

At first he was amused. He snorted his coffee, sending droplets splattering across the coffee table between us, and laughed so hard he began to wheeze. It got to the point where he was turning bright red and gasping for air. For a minute I was sure he’d give himself a heart attack, or at the very least, pass out from lack of oxygen. Slapping a hand against his paint-covered overalls, he hooted. After he got himself under control though, his expression faltered and all the humor drained away.

“Wait! You on the run from the cops? Don’t be tellin’ me you dragged trouble to my door, girlie.”

I jumped to my feet, inadvertently yanking Shaun along with me. “No! These cuffs aren’t from the police, I swear.” I nodded to Shaun. “He put them on me and then lost the keys.”

Gerald’s face paled. “Girlie, how old
are
you?” He shot Shaun a death glare. “Does her mamma know what you’ve been up to?”

It took a second, but when I realized what he meant, heat rushed to my cheeks. “Oh my God, no. Trust me it’s
not
like that. At all.” I hoped Shaun knew enough to follow my lead and not come clean about who he really was. I was pretty sure old Gerald would just about freak if he knew I’d walked a
hunter
into his house. He’d been out of the game a while now, but I bet he still had people looking for him. “It was kind of a joke that backfired.”

He narrowed his eyes and I was sure we were busted. What a lame excuse. A joke?
Really, Kayla?
What the hell was wrong with me? I was an excellent liar. I needed to be. It was all part of the life. I could come up with a prize-winning excuse on the spot. I could sell ice to Eskimos, Mom said time after time. A joke that had backfired? I wanted to kick myself.

Apparently though, Gerald bought it. After a short stare-down, he simply nodded. “You said that was one of the reasons…”

“The other reason is Mick.”

And just like that, the atmosphere changed.

Gerald had either been a horrible con man, or he was seriously out of practice, because his poker face was nonexistent. His right eye twitched, and all of a sudden, he started fidgeting like he had fleas. Tapping his knee and shifting in his seat. “Who?”

“You don’t know the name?” Shaun asked. He didn’t even try hiding his disbelief. I couldn’t blame him. Gerald’s reaction made it so painfully obvious that it was almost funny. “You sure about that?”

“I think I’d know,” Gerald snapped. He stopped tapping his knee and slipped his hand beneath his leg. “Why don’t you ask your mamma?”

I hated when people lied to me—ironic considering I’d spent my life lying to others. It made me cranky. I bit back a snide remark. “My mom is dead. Almost a year now.”

His face fell. He bowed his head and said, “I’m sorry to hear that, girlie. Your mamma was a pain in the ass and trouble on two long legs, but she was a good egg.” He winked. “Mostly.”

That
he was telling the truth about. He hadn’t known she was gone and seemed genuinely sorry. But he was lying about Mick—and that bugged me.

“So you can’t tell us anything about Mick?” Shaun said, steering the conversation back to focus. I was thankful.

“Mick who? Do ya got a last name? Description? Why are you lookin’ for this Mick character?”

“Just someone I heard knew my mom.” I shook my head, watching him. His eye still twitched, and since he’d stuffed his hand beneath his leg, he’d started tapping both feet. The guy was a walking poster child for suspicious behavior. “All I’ve got is a first name.”

“Wish I could help, but nope.” He stood, smoothing out his overalls. “I think I
can
help ya with those cuffs, though.”

Getting the shackles off was better than nothing. We couldn’t make him talk. Well, Shaun probably could, but I wasn’t about to stoop to violence. At least not yet. “That would be fantastic. Thank you!”

“Just sit tight. Lemme go find my handsaw. I’ll have those binds off in a jiffy.”

“We’d appreciate it,” Shaun replied as Gerald left to get his saw. He finished with, “You fucking liar,” just as soon as the old man was out of earshot.

“You caught that, too, huh?”

“Like a neon billboard.” He stood and gently tugged me toward the hall. “Any idea why he’d lie?”

“No clue.” He knew exactly who Mick was—but why lie? “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“The old guy seems to have a soft spot for Mom. What if Gerald knows Mick is bad news? Maybe he wouldn’t tell me where to find the guy if he thought I might get hurt.” A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as the wheels inside my head began to turn.

“You told me you went back to the cabin, hoping for a name. You didn’t see the whole letter, but maybe you found what you needed… Maybe it’s not Jaffe. It could be this Mick guy.”

“Maybe,” I said, excited. “Think about it. Mom said in the letter that she’d trusted the wrong people. That someone had betrayed her. It makes sense that it could have been one of her partners!”

“Betrayed her?” Shaun asked, eyebrows shooting up. “Partners?”

Oops. I hadn’t mentioned that part to him yet. Deep breath. It was time to come clean. “Mick and this T person… My mom knew them because they were her partners.”

He blinked. For a minute all he did was stare. Mouth open, eyes wide, and fists balled. My previous concern about him going apeshit, like he had in the junkyard, lingered on the edge of my subconscious. Since I was cuffed to the guy, escape was a pretty moot thought.

“Are you shitting me? You gave me that speech about how I needed to look at this as a joint problem and you’re withholding info?” He stomped his foot. “That’s bullshit. This is my life you’re playing with now. Full fucking disclosure is a given.”

He was furious and I shouldn’t have cared—I’d done what I’d done to protect myself—but I did. I actually felt
bad
. About keeping a secret to
protect
myself. He was a
hunter
, for fuck’s sake. He’d handcuffed himself to me so I couldn’t escape, and here I was feeling guilty.

The world was coming to an end.

I wanted to be pissed that he was making such a big deal about this, but I couldn’t. He hadn’t been anything other than honest with me so far and I’d lied to him. And really, it wasn’t so much the lie that bothered me, but the double standard I’d imposed. I’d told him we were in this together, yet I’d withheld information that technically
could
have gotten him killed.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.”

His eyes blazed, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Why the hell didn’t you?”

I didn’t know what to say. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t have an excuse ready and waiting. For the first time, the truth seemed like a better answer. “I don’t
know
you, Shaun. Think about it from my perspective, for a second, because in case you missed it, I have justifiable trust issues. Patrick has hunted my mom and me my entire life. You come along—his mini-me—and chain us together. Does that sound like an act that screams
trust me
to you?”

Some of the tension faded. “I need to know everything. You asked for my help. I can’t give it to you if I don’t have all the damned facts.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier. I took a deep breath, determined to get the whole thing out. If I wanted free of this in one piece, and the chance to have a normal life some day, I couldn’t do it on my own. “What I said about not seeing the whole letter was the truth, but I did get a little more than I told you. There was something about someone getting hurt—killed—and she was the main suspect. Aside from that, the only other thing I saw when I skimmed the letter was something about information. She had something and wanted it to get to the ‘right people’… I think the information has to do with the murder she was wanted for—which I also think is what got her killed. Find the information, and I find the killer.”

“Information…” He held my gaze, then grabbed the chain and tugged lightly. “And that’s it? You’re sure?”

“I swear, other than the partner thing, that’s the last of it. You know everything I do now.”

He watched me for a moment, and I couldn’t tell from his expression if he believed me or not. After a minute, he set the chain down and said, “If she had information that would clear her name and save her life, why wouldn’t she bring it to the authorities herself?”

“Maybe she was afraid it wouldn’t matter. Mom wasn’t a saint. She might not have killed anyone, but she’d done other things. Just because she cleared her name of murder didn’t mean she’d be free. She had me to think about. No,” I said. “She would never have gone to the police unless there was no other option.”

“That makes sense…but you’re not considering all the facts here.”

“Yes I am,” I insisted. What else was there?

“No. You’re not,” he said. “Didn’t you say Mick
and
T were her partners?”

“So?”

“Your theory is actually great. Her partner would be in the perfect position to set her up for murder—but remember there were
two
of them. Maybe it was the other one. The one whose name begins with a T.”