Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires (107 page)

Speaking of pride, the criminal's kryptonite, a not-so-small part of me wants to flaunt my work, to show my father what I've learned. Show him what I've become.

“All right.” I pick up my sandwich, suddenly hungry again. “Here's the deal.”

August 2

8:00 a.m.

An anonymous Control agent drives us to the station. It feels odd planning a crime under the watchful eye of a man in uniform, but what my dad said makes sense: out-maneuvering a communications conglomerate is small potatoes next to capturing Gideon. Actually, the scam is big potatoes, but the Control doesn't eat potatoes. Anyway ...

The station's front door is locked as always. I knock.

“Go around,” says a voice I recognize as Shane's.

I lead Dad to the cellar door at the back of the building, the door that connects via a closed corridor to the downstairs lounge. “So they don't fry,” I explain.

We come upstairs to find Travis at my desk with his laptop, color printer, and binding machine. Shane and
David stand behind him, and Franklin sits at his own desk with a cache of sharpened pencils within reach.

Shane steps forward. “Ciara, what's he doing here?”

I walk over to him. “Dad's going to help us with the con.”

“You told him?”

“He already knew.” I look at David. “The Control bugged Elizabeth's office and phones.”

David grimaces and lets out a sharp exhale. “What about my office? What about downstairs?”

“I don't know,” my dad says, “but I could check if you like.”

David's shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you. Let's start in the lounge.”

When they're downstairs out of hearing, I turn to Shane. “You could be a little friendlier to my dad.”

“He looks at me like I'm a circus lion about to turn on my tamer.”

“Ooh, I'm your tamer?” I tug his shirt collar to bring his mouth to mine. “Let me get my whip and chair.”

Travis clears his throat. “When y'all get your tongues off each other's tonsils, I'll show you the file.” With a few swift mouse moves, he displays a two-page print preview. One page contains a surreptitious photo of the real Elizabeth, followed by a list of fun facts about her. “All we gotta do is replace the information with disinformation.”

I pull his digital camera out of my lower drawer and turn to Franklin. “I'm ready for my close-up, Mister DeMille.”

In the parking lot, Franklin shoots me doing mundane things like walking to my—I mean, Elizabeth's— Mercedes. To simulate candidness, I pick my teeth in the rearview mirror.

Soon David and my father join us. Franklin starts snapping shots of David. I scan the woods for the Control agents I know are patrolling, but even in the morning light I can't see them in their mottled green daytime uniforms. I doubt Gideon would send a human to do his work, anyway, so we're probably safe until dark.

Dad stands next to me, chin in hand, examining David.

“Hold everything,” he says suddenly. “I have an idea.”

David stops his charade of casualness and turns to my dad as if awaiting orders from General Patton.

“I know what this con is missing.” Dad takes a dramatic pause. “Emotion.”

I ask him to explain, knowing I'll regret it.

“These Skywave folks,” he says, “won't believe Elizabeth has changed her mind just for the money. After all, the whole reason she was improving the station was so she could sell it.” He points at David. “What if she has a better reason to keep it?”

“I don't get it,” I say, though I actually do. I just don't want to be the one to explain it to my boss.

“Hear me out.” Dad slips into sales mode—not that he was ever much out of it. “A relationship gives Elizabeth a plausible motive for keeping the station. After all, she wouldn't put her ever-lovin' honey out of work.”

David looks at him, then me, with more than a touch of trepidation. “So we pretend we're going out.”

I gasp. “No, more than that.” I reach into my—I mean, Elizabeth's—purse and pull out the tiny black jewelry box.

David advances on me. “You stole the ring?”

“I was going to give it to you, once you'd wised up enough to take it.”

He snatches the box from me and opens it, looking relieved it's not empty.

“A good con is all in the details.” I reach forward and pull out the ring, then slip it on my finger. “We get a picture of me wearing this and maybe us holding hands.”

“That's brilliant, Pumpkin.” Dad beams at me. I feel my face flush with pride. “But better yet, wait until the meeting tomorrow to show the ring and announce the engagement. It'll create a distraction.” He waves a hand between me and David. “You two should kiss for the photo.”

My smile fades. “But he's my boss.”

“No, you're his boss, in our new reality.”

“
0«r
reality? When did this become your con?”

“When I improved it.” He tilts his head toward the station. “I'm sure the corpse will understand.”

My jaw drops as I realize he's referring to Shane. For a moment I can't find my voice.

Finally I raise a trembling hand and point to the station. “Go.”

“Honey, I didn't mean—”

“Now.” I turn my back. I can't even look at him.

The sound of crunching driveway pebbles fades as he walks away. I look up at David. “I'm so sorry.”

“Why?”

“For what he suggested. I know why he did it. He doesn't want me with Shane, so he thinks he can push me into another man's arms. I'm not some gypsy wench who'll let Mum and Da choose her husband.”

“I'm sure your father just wants you to be happy.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “So how do we do this?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss.”

I snort. “We don't. It's stupid.”

“It's not. You said, ‘It's all in the details.' A sneaky candid of us kissing will make the engagement a lot more credible. It'll already be established in their minds that we're a couple—that Elizabeth and I are a couple—so it won't come out of the blue.”

I rub my temples and wish he were wrong. I should have figured it out myself, and probably would have if I weren't so pissed at my dad.

“You're right.” Determined to be a professional, I move to stand beside Elizabeth's car. “Let's get it over with.”

David joins me, and we stand there looking like idiots for a few moments. “I'll ask again,” he says. “How do we do this?”

I shrug. “Close our eyes and think of England?”

“Are we done yet?” Franklin yells from the other end of the parking lot.

“Keep shooting until we tell you to stop,” I call to him, then turn back to David. “Pretend I'm Elizabeth.”

His dark green eyes droop at the corners.

“But don't look sad,” I add. “Remember, we just got engaged.”

I hold my hand up to display the ring. He takes my fingers and runs his thumb over the diamond, a dozen emotions playing over his face. The breeze suddenly drops to nothing. Along with the distant
click-whir
of the camera, I swear I can hear my own pounding pulse.

“I really loved her,” he murmurs.

“I know you did.” I stop myself from asking why.

“But it's time to put away the past.” He covers the ring with his palm, then shifts his gaze to meet mine. “Can you help me?”

I want to look away, break the connection our all-too-human eyes are forming. “Depends what you mean by ‘help.'“ I pull him closer with the hand he's holding. “If you mean, can I give you one last moment with her, one chance to say good-bye the way you wanted to, then yes.”

He draws the back of his fingertips over my cheek, then leans in close. “Good-bye,” he whispers.

I expect the kiss to be tentative, awkward. Instead, David's mouth meets mine with a familiar conviction, as if we've done this a thousand times. As the kiss deepens, his longing makes me dizzy, a wave pulling me under. It feels like it could drown me.

He pulls me tight against him. I can't push him away, can't even wedge a hand between our bodies, so I respond the way Elizabeth should have, returning his passion and making him feel, for a moment, that he's not a heartsick fool. As he presses me against the car and his fingers tangle in my hair, I find myself hoping—and fearing—that I'll never be the object of such a love, one that could bring a man to his knees and never let him stand again.

His mouth tenses suddenly, and he draws in a sharp breath through his nose. He pulls away, eyes glistening.

“Okay? “I whisper.

“Yeah.” He passes a hand over his mouth, then clears his throat. “I think that went well.”

“Me, too,” I try to chirp, hoping to ease the terrible weight of the moment. My face feels like it's been in a sauna.

I signal to Franklin, promising myself I'll never think about the kiss again.

David says, “Um ...”

“No.” I put up a palm between us. “No ‘um.' Let's just—leave it.”

He nods quickly. “Good idea.”

A car is rumbling toward us down the gravel driveway, sending a cloud of dust into the trees.

Lori.

She doesn't even pull into a parking spot, just shuts off the engine in front of me and leaps out.

“Where have you been? I've been calling you for three days.” She slams the car door. “I went to your apartment and some goonie-looking guy told me to mind my own business. What the hell's going on?” She steps back and scans me. “And why are you wearing a suit?”

I take her hands. “I'm so sorry about the phone. I was held hostage, and then the battery ran out and I didn't have time to charge it.”

“Hostage? Are you okay? And again, what's with the suit?”

I hesitate. She knows about the vamps, but nothing about my past. “I have a big meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She looks at David, then at Franklin, who just walked up to us. Her voice lowers. “Does it have anything to do with, you know ...” She makes fangs with her middle fingers.

I look past her shoulder to see my dad striding toward us. I seize Lori's arm and drag her toward Elizabeth's car. “Tell you what, I'll explain it all over lunch.”

“Isn't it a little early—”

“Greetings!”

Lori turns and smiles at my father's approach. “Hello.”

“You must be one of Ciara's college friends,” he says to her in a snake-smooth voice.

Lori shakes his hand and introduces herself as I stand there hoping the earth will swallow me as a midmorning snack.

“Pleased to meet you,” he says to her, “I'm Ciara's father.”

Lori's face goes blank for a moment. “Oh, you mean her foster father.”

He turns to me. “Pumpkin? What did you tell her?”

“That you were dead.”

Lori gapes. “Wha ... ?”

I take her arm to lead her inside. “David, I'm taking a very long coffee break.”

“Wait,” my father says. “Lori, do you have any acting experience?”

9:45 a.m.

My best friend Lori, innocent little cutie-pie Lori, the one uncorrupted element in my
entire fucking life
, has turned into a monster.

I stand in the parking lot with my father, watching her pretend to be me. She hikes her miniskirt into microskirt territory, flirts with David, jams in my driver's seat to an imaginary song on the radio, and generally acts like a dork.

Dad thought it would be a great idea for Elizabeth's marketing director Ciara Griffin to come to the meeting with her tomorrow. I admit a bigger staff makes Elizabeth look more impressive, but despite Lori's enthusiasm for the role of yours truly, she's a novice. And despite Dad's qualifications, I'm beginning to resent his enhancements to my operation, like I'm a kid who needs help with her science project.

I glare at him. “If she gets in trouble because of this—”

“It's her choice. And look how jazzed she is.”

He's right. After an initial flurry of indignation that I'd hidden my darkest secret from her, Lori adjusted rather well to my criminal past and present. If I were a mugger or a bank robber, she'd feel different, but people think con artists are cool.

Mostly because we are.

10:15 a.m.

“This was your dad's idea?”

“Yes, although I had to agree it was an improvement on the plan.”

Shane glowers at the empty chair behind David's desk. I brought him in here so we could speak privately about The Kiss, away from the mockery of Travis and Franklin. “Where's your father now?”

“Outside, directing Lori on the finer points of being Ciara Griffin. I couldn't watch anymore. Besides, I wanted you to hear about this from me.”

Shane's face is set in a stony pensiveness, his posture closed, arms folded over his chest. He flicks an icy glance at me. “Why? What's the big deal?”

“No. None big deal. I mean, it was nothing.” I drag a hand through my hair. “If I seem nervous, it's not because it affected me. I just didn't know how you would react.”

“You think I'm a jealous man?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“Insecure?”

“No,” I hurry to say. “Just sensitive.”

He takes a step closer, backing me up against the desk. “Do you want me to get mad?”

“No.”

His lips curve in a crafty smile. “Good. Because it'll be a lot more fun to get even.”

11:15 a.m.

I stare at the Gallery of Me, both genuine and pretend, on Travis's computer screen.

“Am I really that obnoxious?” I ask Lori over a box of doughnuts at my desk.

“Yes,” Franklin answers.

“But now you know where I get it from.” I glance at David's closed office door. My dad is in there ingratiating himself with my boss. In just a few hours they've become good buds. David's probably hungry for a substitute father since his own died so young. As for my dad, he wants to be everyone's friend, just in case he needs to take advantage of them one day.