by Kresley Cole
Squick. "Uh, another time, Gram."
Her dark eyes were merry. Sherry always made her merry, and Al was quick on the refills.
After Al's wife had passed away, my parents had worried he might be lonely, so they'd invited him over for Sunday dinner. Twenty years ago. He'd kept showing up every single Sunday, so eventually we'd adopted him too.
The evidence that Gram and Al were friends with benefits was getting more difficult to ignore.
Mom put her hand on my shoulder and took a deep breath. "Honey, did you truly tell an infatuated billionaire you never wanted to see him again?" She asked this the same way another mother might ask, Honey, do you do the drugs?
"I . . . did." What was it about him that made me behave so unexpectedly? "But I'm going to rope a Canadian whale tonight. I'm turning this all around."
Dad closed his laptop, about to weigh in. He would never get mad at me, but I hated disappointing him. Mom rejoined him on the love seat. They were always tied at the hip, best friends as well as partners. Their fake art canvases leaned against every available wall. "Did Sevastyan hurt you, sweet pea?" He narrowed his fierce blue gaze. "I'll kill him if he so much as--"
"No! He didn't. He's not the type."
"I'll back her on that," Pete said. "He might've been about to wipe the street with my face, but that guy would never hurt a woman."
Our two opinions appeased Dad on the matter.
Karin tilted her head at me. "It seemed like Sevastyan scared you."
Yes! "A little. But it wasn't him." I frowned. "It was kind of him." They were still waiting for an explanation, so I said, "I just don't like who I am when I'm around him, okay?"
"He'll call," Karin said. "Trust me."
Trust me? Everyone had to chuckle.
With a contemplative expression, Al said, "So now ve vait for call to come."
"Don't hold your breath, folks, or you'll suffocate." I tossed my messenger bag on the couch, then hauled my basket to the laundry room. Every Sunday I washed clothes here. Every Sunday Mom made sure to leave the washer and dryer stuffed full for me to process.
Once I'd finally gotten my clothes going, I rejoined the group. I leaned over the playpen to give my little guy a mwah! kiss on his head. Cash blinked his big leaf-green eyes and reached for me with chubby hands, which meant I was putty. I lifted him into my arms, then sank onto my favorite spot on the couch.
The love I had in my heart for this little human staggered me. "You're getting huge! Just between us, you might wanna lay off the beer and hot wings, kiddo."
Blink, blink, gurgle.
As much as I adored this kid, you'd think I'd want some of my own. I'd been prepared to spawn for Brett, but I hadn't looked forward to the prospect.
Cash gurgled again, showing off his first tooth. With those eyes and his dark-brown hair, he would grow up to look just like his father.
Fifteen months ago, Karin had accidentally gotten pregnant by a mega-rich CEO. When she'd broken the news, he'd accused her of a paternity play, and walked away. The catch: she'd truly loved him. The one time she hadn't been conning.
The guy's last name was Walker.
Fitting.
After her baby was born, Walker had started sending monthly checks without a word. So she'd named the guy's son Cash. We all thought that was hilarious.
And if a gal couldn't make a joke when she'd been knocked up and deserted, when could she?
We'd considered sending Walker monthly checks for the sperm. Once we settled the debt and got back on our feet. Speaking of which . . .
I asked Benji, "Is the congressman's package away?"
"Yep. Right now he's watching a surprisingly well-shot video and shitting himself." You have to play to pay.
In our blackmail packages, we demanded total compliance or else we would send the evidence to every major paper in the country (truth). We also warned that if we got any pushback from the blackmailee, Anonymous would add them to their list of high-profile dirt bags to financially destroy (lie).
Though Benji excelled at his job, his artistic talent was wasted on badgers. As a teen he'd wanted to be a wildlife photographer, had continued exploring it in his free time. Before we ran out of free time--
A message chime sounded from my bag; everyone grew quiet. Benji leaned over and took Cash from me. "Check your messages, Vice."
As I dug my phone out, I grew jittery, didn't know what I was hoping for. I glanced at the screen. "It's an e-mail from Brett."
Groans sounded. "Steady Brettie," Pete muttered.
Benji added, "By-the-Book Brett."
I rolled my eyes. "You guys don't even get how ironic it is to call Brett steady and by-the-book. He really wasn't either, was he?" They'd disliked him because he was a law-abiding Muggle who would never understand our secret way of life. The few occasions I'd brought him to family gatherings, they'd been paranoid and miserable with the gull around.
For the longest time, I'd suspected them of running a badger game on Brett to get rid of him.
The woman I'd caught him with had been off-the-charts hot, a legit showgirl. Brett hadn't even known her last name. So what had she been doing at the party we'd thrown?
My grift sense had screamed something was off about the entire situation.
None of my scoundrels had copped to it, so I'd let it go. Maybe my ego had been trying to protect itself by drumming up a conspiracy theory.
"You have to give the guy credit," Dad said. "It's been a year, and he's still not giving up."
"I never understood that relationship." Mom fished for something out of her sewing basket. "I will say this till I'm blue in the face: We're a breed apart. Which means the only mate for a grifter--"
"Is another grifter," I finished for her. Mom and Dad were the perfect example. He'd been the married mark in one of Diamond Jill's temptation scenarios, but he'd been wed in name only--for a scam of his own.
A grifter for a grifter.
I used to balk at Mom's wisdom; now I accepted how right she was. Always watching what I said and did around Brett had gotten exhausting. "If I had a dollar for every time you've told us that, we wouldn't be in so much freaking trouble."
"Hear! Hear!" Gram took another swig of sherry. "But I disagree with the grifter mate theory. You just have to find a fellow who loves you more than life. For a man like that, anyone who thinks to ruin his relationship--such as another woman--might as well be trying to murder him."
Dad grinned at me. "Plus, in my case, I'd have to assume your mother hired a honey trap. She already trapped me once that way."
Mom play-slapped his stomach.
Sooner or later, I'd be forced to check my mailbox, might as well do it now. I opened Brett's weekly message and read:
Tailgate, Fourth of July. You got a lightning bug to land on your palm, and it reflected in your eyes as you laughed. I'd never wanted a kiss more.
I'll always love you, B
I recalled that night. He had kissed me, his earnest hazel eyes glinting as he'd told me how much he loved me. . . .
Then I frowned. Was this ache in my chest even for Brett?
Oh, shit. I was feeling emptiness--because of Dmitri.
"Speaking of gulls who are interested in Vice . . ." Pete turned to me. "How about you text Sevastyan?"
"That'd be an unconventional play," Benji said, his voice lowered because Cash had conked out against his chest. "But then, he's an unconventional mark. Dude owns two of the top fifty highest-grossing tech patents."
Gram sighed. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds just divine. What could he have done in a club that was so bad?" She was still angling to find out.
"I wasn't thinking clearly last night. I was hammered."
"Victoria Valentine!" Gram tsked. "Never drink on a con!"
"Not fair. It was my night off." I set my phone aside and pulled my deck out of my bag.
"When Karin goes to the casino tonight, I think she should scout things out with Sevastyan," Mom said.
"If he's attracted to Vice, he'll be attracted to a woman who looks so similar to her."
Marcia! I cut cards and shuffled. I wasn't going to point out that Karin had already had her shot.
Dad said, "Your mom's right, sweet pea. We should switch primaries--just this once--since you're still getting into the swing of these new cons and he's a unique target."
Mom was more direct. "You tossed away the biggest mark this family has ever had a line on."
Al made a move on the chessboard. "Only in America, with the catching and releasing."
Karin sank onto the couch beside me. "I struck out with Sevastyan, but if you help me find an in, maybe I'd have better luck. Since you're not interested in this guy, you shouldn't mind, right?"
The idea of Dmitri touching my sister . . . his deep voice rumbling in her ear . . .
Bile rose in my throat. Jealousy clawed at me.
"No go," Pete said, saving me from having to answer. "This guy wants Vice. Only her. Trust me." Again a round of laughs. "He seems obsessed. When I stepped between him and Vice, for a second, I thought he was going to kill me."
Recalling his sinister stare gave me chills. "Yeah, something's way off with him. He's pinging my radar left and right." Because he was crazy! Admittedly! He talked to himself and handled confusion "badly." His likes included spanking strange women and humiliating them in nightclubs.
"Has he lied to you?" Dad asked.
"Not a single time. Still, something is wrong with him." I was about to add, "Trust me," but stopped myself.
"We're not asking you to marry him," Mom said. "We simply need you to fleece him for as much as humanly possible in the next couple of weeks."
Al said, "Type on phone to man. Tell heem you had change of heart."
Dad cast me an encouraging smile. "We wouldn't ask this of you if the alternative wasn't so daunting."
"Daunting?" Pete crossed his arms over his chest. "Is that what we're calling murder?" He faced me. "'Cause that's what Uncle Joe is looking at if we miss the payoff."
Frustration welled. "Then we need to run!"
Cash woke in Benji's arms and yawned, taking in the scene.
"This is our home." Dad's tone was firm. "These are our people. That's our absolute last play."
I shuffled. "Even if I reestablish contact with Dmitri, how do we monetize it? And every second I waste with him, I could be targeting another guy. Pete's got those whales coming in--"
Another chime sounded. Again everyone tensed. Holding my breath, I put down my cards and checked my phone. "It's him."
Gram exclaimed, "Oh, thank Lady Luck!"
"What did he write?" Karin scooched closer to me.
"'I will pick you up for dinner at seven.'" Excitement surged inside me, and I feared our desperate situation was only partly to blame.
Pete said, "I like it. Direct. No explanation. No rehashing."
"What do we write back?" Mom rose, beginning to pace. "We need more engagement. Lots of question marks, Vice. Flirty, but not too flirty."
If I was going back in on this con, I'd do it my way. I typed two letters.
Karin said, "What the hell?"
"What did she do?" Mom cried. "What did she do???"
"Vice told him . . . no."
I glanced up, shrinking from their horrified expressions. "I'm playing a hunch."
Dad said, "Ballsy, sweet pea. Let's hope he likes the chase."
Al took one of Gram's rooks. "Vee Russian men do like chase."
Another chime. DSevastyan: Other plans?
Mom clasped her hands. "Please, just be . . . nice."
Again, I was typing.
Karin translated for everyone: "She wrote that she and her friends might go clubbing. She punctuated her text with emoticons of a martini glass, a prescription pill, and a dripping syringe."
Al glowered. "Vee raised you better than thees."
Mom looked like she was about to faint, so I said, "Elusiveness. If I'm going to milk-cow him, I should be elusive, right?"
Gram said, "Elusive, yes. Impulsive, no. Long cons are long because we spend time plotting, my dear."
I caught my parents sharing a glance. They were . . . scared. As if I'd just taken a dive and shanked our game-winning shot.
Come on, Sevastyan, please text back.
No one spoke. Gram's sherry bottle clinked against her little glass as Al refilled her.
Please, Dmitri, please, please, please.
Another chime. Relief made me sag.
DSevastyan: Are you busy now?
Karin read the text aloud while I answered. Vice: Not really.
I jumped when my phone rang a second later. "It's him."
Karin snapped her fingers. "Paper! Pen!"
Mom scrambled past canvases and sewing materials to toss Karin a notepad and pen. "Put it on speakerphone, Vice."
What if he mentioned what we'd done? But he was a mark, and we worked these cons by committee. As Mom always said, "It takes a village to play a mark."
Karin said, "Sound like you're smiling when you pick up."
I scowled at her, was scowling as I pushed the speaker button and answered, "Yo." All around me, my family went mum, not a peep to give them away. Even Cash seemed to be holding his breath.
"What did you think of the gift I sent you?" Dmitri asked.
The sound of his deep, rich voice filled the room, sending an unwelcome thrill through me. "I'm not at home." I made my tone bored as I said, "What'd you get me?"
"A car. The deliveryman took a picture of it. Would you like to see?"
A freaking car?? I sighed, "I s'pose."
A photo popped up in my text-message queue--a cherry-red Porsche convertible parked in front of my dusty apartment building, standing out like a diamond in coal.
I texted the pic to the conference line Benji had set up for our consultations and confabs.
Phones all around vibrated. Silent checking of screens; soaring eyebrows. Karin wrote a dollar sign with a question mark and flashed her note to Al. He held up five fingers.
The car was worth five hundred thousand dollars? Then my face fell. "Dmitri, what made you decide to lease a car for me?"
"No lease. The title is in the glove compartment. It is yours regardless of whether you ever see me again."
I mouthed, Holy shit!
"Though I do hope you will have dinner with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not looking for an affair. And you obviously are."
Another bout of silence from his end of the line, which anyone on earth would be tempted to fill with babble. I used the move often. I patiently cut and flipped cards. I can sit here all day, Russki.
He finally asked, "Am I, then?"
"I'm not having sex with anyone outside of a committed relationship."
Karin scribbled: Too soon!
"Understood. I still want to see you."
"I'll have to check my plans. And I might be called in to work."
"Then I will tell Peter not to call you in."
Sevastyan was assisting in his own grift! "If not an affair, what do you want from me?"
"More, Vika. I will always want more from you."
Jaws dropped. Gram fanned herself. I saw Mom squeeze Dad's hand, as if she was too scared to hope.
Dmitri was either the best player we'd ever heard or he was really, actually taken with me.
"Okay. Pick me up at seven."
"Where would you like to go?"
The prospect of free food awakened any grifter's appetite. "I like Italian."
"Then we should go to Italy."
Mom and Karin shared an awww look, until I said, "I want to stay local--in case I need to bail."
At that, Gram swayed like she might fall off her chair. Mom glanced heavenward.
"Then I will be on my best behavior, moy angel. Until then. . . ." He ended the call.
I exhaled a long breath.
Pete ran his hand over his face. "So that just happened." Then he turned
to Benji. "You owe me ten large, partner."
Al leaned back in his chair, his hands over his belly. "Russian man ees smeeten to our girl. Called you my angel."
Reminded of something else Dmitri had said, I asked, "What does prosto rai mean?" He'd repeatedly rasped that when we'd gotten off together.
Al chuckled. "Prosto rai means . . . sheer heaven."
CHAPTER 13
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"Should I stay or should I go now?!" Karin and I belted out the song along with the stereo. Top down in our new convertible. The Clash playing. Hair blowing. Sun shining. Singing at the top of our lungs.
"So you gotta let me know . . . SHOULD I COOL IT OR SHOULD I BLOW?!"
I was happy, truly happy, for the first time in forever. We'd just cruised the Red Rock Canyon loop, the Porsche dazzling against the sandstone and red washes.
When Karin and I had driven it by the folks', everyone had looked at me with new respect. The car wasn't a seven-figure score, but I had another date with a billionaire, another iron in the fire.
When the song wound down, Karin turned off the stereo. "Now that we're alone, you want to tell me what he did in the club? Must've been pretty bad for him to send you this ride as an olive branch."
I'd known this question was coming. "It's one for the sister vault, okay? He . . . he got me off. In front of other people."
She blinked at me. "And then?"
"And then? That's not enough? I wasn't prepared for it!"
Karin looked confused. "Was it good with him?"
"That was part of what freaked me out so bad. I got off harder than I ever have. Harder than I knew was possible." So help me, if a crazy Russian was my key . . .
Karin waved that away. "So you have a fetish. It's perfectly normal."
I did a double take. "I don't have a fetish. Are you high?"
"You're an exhibitionist. You always have been, you know."
"What are you talking about?"
"When you were little, I'd dress you up really cute to use as my shill, and the second I turned around, you'd be stripping. I was lucky if I could keep you in a diaper." She chuckled. "You've never noticed all of your baby pics are of you running around parties naked?"
"Yeah, but by all accounts I was a hard-partying, rule-breaking kid. And what does that have to do with me as an adult?"
"Not the same thing, of course, but you've always been a little nudie."
"This isn't funny."
"Vice, for God's sake, I do badger games. Talk about exhibitionism. Benji watches me do stripteases and dance around in lingerie. I'd be lying if I said it didn't get us worked up."