The Last Best Lie

by Kennedy Quinn

  Hunter smirked. “Don’t be a fool, boy. Your sorry-ass bosses are shooting their wads trying to get back at me. But they’re shooting blanks.”

  “Looks to me like the sorry ass is sitting in this jail cell.” He shot me a smile.

  Hunter stood and stalked toward the bars until he and Sweet-Eyes stood toe-to-toe. The young man straightened but didn’t back off.

  “You know, boy, I hope you’re not going to be too disappointed.”

  “In what, old man?”

  “Well, I’m going to be so busy screwing over your bosses that it’ll take time to get around to a little pissant like you.” The cop started to speak, but Hunter raised a hand. “Now, don’t get me wrong, boy. I admire your tough act in front of the female. But she won’t let you do her; you’re not her type. Is he, Angel?” Hunter reached through the bars and traced my jawline with one finger. “You don’t want this poser, do you?”

  I jerked my head away, angry at his arrogance, but even more so at the way my body warmed to his soft touch.

  The cop’s youthful face turned bright red. He shot me the same look Chester gave Fancy, then turned and glowered at Hunter. “You got me quaking in my boots.” He threw his shoulders back. “Want me to stay, ma’am?”

  “No, thanks. I can handle this.” Or so my mouth said.

  Hunter smiled. “That’s right, boy. Walk on. Me and my girl want to be alone.”

  I smiled, hopefully with more conviction than I really felt. “I’m okay, really.”

  Sweet-Eyes nodded and, with a final glare for Hunter, left us alone.

  The cop’s footsteps faded into the distance. I turned my attention to Hunter. His expensive Italian shoes were dirty, and the knees of his trousers smudged. The torn right shoulder of his silk suit flopped to one side, and his pearl-white shirt—stretched taut over the arms anchored over my head on the bars—gapped several buttons’ worth, revealing dark chest hair. I swallowed and forced my eyes upward.

  Near black in this light, the hair on his head was swept back into his usual Euro-vogue style. Yet one strand had fallen loose, arching gracefully over his forehead, a sudden reminder of boys I grew up with. I could see them, dressed in their Sunday best, scuffed at the edges, poised to run loose the moment the service finished, leaving me to stare longingly at their escape.

  He licked his lips and smiled. “Like what you’re seeing, do you?”

  My attention rocketed back to the moment. I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, despite the intensity of my body’s reaction to being so near him. I mean, seriously, hormones—who needs the damn things? Especially when they’re going to activate over exactly the wrong man! “I’m just admiring the cops’ handiwork. Or did the store detectives take you down?”

  “It took four of them; only one was worth his salt. I’ve hired him.”

  “You hired a man who arrested you?”

  “He was just doing his job, and he held his own despite having Larry, Moe, and Curly underfoot. I appreciate competence, and I reward what I appreciate. Does that surprise you?”

  “A little.”

  Hunter reached between the bars and captured my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, his light touch sending shivers through me. “I can do a lot that might surprise you.”

  I yanked my hand away, wiping it against my jeans to quell the tingling. “Don’t start.”

  He chuckled, low in his throat. It was a low reverberation that resonated down my backbone. I raised my chin, staring directly at him, hoping my eyes reflected defiance and not the warm flush of sexual awareness traveling, like a teasing caress, over my flesh. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

  “I’m not. In fact, I’m impressed. You and that woman set me up real good. You know, every now and then, you do seem almost capable.”

  “Hey, you walked into it. Why would you get caught so easily, knowing who she was?”

  He shrugged. “We’d never met. If I had known, I wouldn’t have let my guard down.”

  “Or your zipper?” I smiled at his questioning frown. “I was hiding behind the boxes in the store room, slipped out right under your nose.” I glanced down at his crotch. “So to speak.”

  He nodded, his smile seemingly approving. “Not bad, Angel, sneaky and underhanded.”

  “I’m glad you’re pleased. And I have news that will make you even happier. But first I want to know how you found me.”

  “You’re supposed to be Polly P.I., you figure it out.”

  “I suppose with an organization as large as yours it wouldn’t have been too hard to keep an eye on all the train and aircraft manifests.”

  “Especially with a bizarre name like yours.”

  “You know what? My mom picked that name. If you’re not careful—”

  He grinned. “What? You’ll tell your mommy on me?”

  “Laugh it up, but my mother is a formidable woman. She can handle the likes of you.”

  “I guess that makes you a real watered-down copy.”

  I glared at him, the truth of his observation stinging like a swift slap. “Bite me.”

  He hummed low and leaned in. “Come a little closer.”

  I simmered in silence, unable to get over those old feelings of inferiority.

  Finally, Hunter backed off, smiling as if triumphant at shutting me down. “I called someone and had him follow you from the airport.”

  My head jerked up, my gut clenching again at the fear of being stalked, my ego furiously trying to deny the vulnerability that my mind couldn’t.

  He grinned. “You didn’t know, did you? Someone followed your every step.” His voice took the tone of amused, yet intimate, threat. “He was right behind you, Angel. So close, he could have touched you, grabbed you. Could have just—” He thrust a hand through the bars.

  I squealed and jumped back.

  Hunter laughed. “There’s the big, bad detective for you, squeaking like a mouse.”

  “Shut up, jerk!”

  “Gee, I guess that puts me in my place.”

  I tapped on the bars. “I’d say you’re in your place.”

  A smirk bloomed on his lips. “Voltaire’s got a nice cell just like this waiting for you.”

  I felt my hands clench, feeling trapped, options slamming closed around me like heavy steel doors. “I’ll bet that makes you so happy.”

  “Don’t blame me. If you would do what you’re told—”

  I slammed my hand into the bars, anger rising. “Where the hell do you get off—”

  His brows creased, and he pointed a determined finger. “Listen, Missy. I’m a part of an official investigation. Where the hell do you get off thinking you deserve special treatment?”

  “I’m a part of this too.”

  “What you are is a spoiled brat! A pushy, arrogant—”

  “I’m arrogant? I’m arrogant?” I said, my voice shrill with frustration.

  “Pitch it a little higher, Angel. I don’t think you broke every glass in the place.”

  I clamped my jaw shut and breathed hard through my nose, trying to regain control. “Why do you have it in for me?”

  His eyes held mine for several seconds, the message unreadable. He relaxed against the bars. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re nothing special.” His taunting smile returned. “You said you have something. Surprise me. Show me you do.”

  My eyes narrowed and I smiled, confident my knowledge would put me back in control. “Fancy called Jake ‘Big D.’ Adalida did too. Obviously, Adalida couldn’t have killed him.”

  Hunter raised a brow as if impressed. “You found out about Adalida? Well, well. How can you be so sure Fancy is innocent?”

  “She was at work all day yesterday.”

  “You know that for certain?”

  “There were witnesses.”

  “Friends of hers?”

  “Colleagues. People with no reason to lie and good reasons to tell the truth.”

  Hunter nodded. “Hunh. Passable. Not brilliant, but passabl
e.”

  “Downplay it all you want. But I found the ‘Big D’ connection before you did.”

  Seemingly unimpressed, he cocked his lips in a snarky smile. “Angel, all you did was eliminate two potential suspects, one of whom has been dead three years. Good job. Any other deceased people you think we can eliminate?”

  “You know, Hunter, if you said one genuinely nice thing to me, I’d pass out cold.”

  “You have beautiful eyes,” he murmured.

  And there it was again, the flush of awareness, like lowering my body into warm water. I bit my lower lip, awkwardly shifting my weight from one foot to another.

  He stroked my hair. “And beautiful hair. Soft, cool to the touch. A shiny black curtain.”

  My cheeks burned hotter. His eyes met mine with unguarded sincerity. I blinked and tried to hold brave under his gaze. His gaze shifted to my chest. “Nice rack, too.”

  As much disgusted as angry with the break of mood, I crossed my arms. “Must you always go one step too far? Okay, so you had me followed, but how did you get here so fast?”

  “I have friends.” He grinned. “One of them gave me a ride on her jet.”

  “Sheesh, that’s some friend.”

  “I give her rides; she returns the favor. She practically begs for my version.”

  Jealousy swatted me upside the back of my mind. “Just because you’ve got some rich, pathetic old woman—”

  “Nothing old or pathetic about her. She makes you look second rate.”

  “Hey, I got your ass tossed in jail. How second rate is that?”

  Hunter’s amused expression didn’t waver.

  “Hunter, do you really think women can’t resist you?”

  “You can’t deny the evidence.” He looked me up and down, his eyes moving languidly, taking in each curve of my body. He purred. “Hmm. You clean up real good. I like what I see.”

  I stepped back from the bars, my face so hot I must have glowed. “You aren’t so delusional as to think I’m attracted to you?”

  “I know the way a woman holds herself when she’s interested: the flushed skin, the shallow breathing.” He reached through the bars and slid his hand slowly up and down my arm.

  I flinched. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

  “Yes, you do. But you want me to ask first. Or, so you tell yourself.” He grabbed my arm firmly and captured the small of my back with his other hand. His voice dropped as he caressed me through my clothes. “You think I don’t know you, but I do.”

  My heartbeat quickened. “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Angel, I know the places your soul wants to go to.”

  A penetrating intimacy filled his eyes, as if he could see into some corner of my mind where even I didn’t dare venture. Exhilaration trickled down my spine. “We’re not going to do this,” I whispered.

  “Yes, we are.” He released my arm and reached up to tap me on the forehead. “You think you only live here.” He dropped the hand to my abdomen. “But this is where you want to live.” The hand on the small of my back dropped lower, and he pulled my hips forward, pinning me against the thick, hard jail cell bars. “And here.” His voice turned gravely. “You like the blood rushing in your ears, too loud to let you think, to hesitate. That’s what you want. Isn’t it?”

  “I … I don’t …”

  His eyes glistened. “Those thin-blooded, brainy types, they don’t do it for you, do they? They’re not men enough to get the juices flowing.”

  Desire resonated in my mind, like a lion’s roar, at once anticipating and commanding the fulfillment of appetites too visceral, too primal to even want to deny. “You’re wrong,” I said, my voice thin and strained.

  He wet his lips, cupping my chin in his hand, stroking my lip with his thumb. My knees almost buckled as he said, low and hoarse, “Did you know I’ve been watching you? Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”

  My gaze darted about his face as my blood trilled in my veins. I could barely breathe. What had he seen?

  He stroked my hair again, then leaned in close. “How does this feel? Do you like it?” His baritone reverberated in my head.

  I looked into his eyes, reveled in the deep blue marbling the steel. My lips parted.

  But then something else swirled in those enigmatic eyes: triumph. Triumph over me! Anger flared in my gut. Bastard! I tensed, just as a plan flashed through my brain. Taking a calming breath, I relaxed into the bars between us and stroked his bicep. “You really think you have me pegged, do you?” I said.

  He stroked my back. “It’s why you’re here.”

  “Is it?” I matched his sultry tone and shot him a look of daring. I leaned forward, pulling my shoulders back, my breasts rising. “Maybe I just like seeing the big bad wolf behind bars.”

  Chuckling, his confidence palpable, he said, “You’re not stupid. You know they won’t hold me here long. If you really wanted to get away, Angel, you’d be gone already.”

  His other hand stroked my neck. I leaned into the caress. “Mmm. You’re right. I admit it, I do want something.”

  He brought a lock of my hair to his lips. His eyes glistened through narrow slits as he stared hungrily at me. “What’s that, Angel?”

  I ran my tongue over my lips. “I want a ride.”

  He pulled my hips firmly into the bars; his voice dipped. “I want it too. You must have known that.”

  “From your girlfriend.”

  His hands halted; confusion twisted his rugged features. “What?”

  Staring into his eyes, I said. “I want you to talk your girlfriend into giving me a ride.”

  He stood back. His expression clearly broadcast his indecision. Was I asking for a three-way, or had he misjudged my sexual orientation?

  I allowed a grin. Excellent. The ball was back in my court. And not a minute too soon; a few more seconds and I’d have been doing a pole dance on the jail bars. I folded my arms over my chest. “Your girlfriend with the jet is going to take us to Canada.”

  Brows knit, he narrowed his eyes at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I found her. Tina, the woman from the alley.” His disorientation filled me with delight.

  All play and seduction disappeared from his demeanor as his body tensed. He raised his head, and he looked down at me. “How did you find her?”

  “All you need to know is that I’ve picked up her trail.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Quebec. I’ll tell you precisely where when we get there.”

  “You’ll tell me now, damn it.” His voice recovered its hard, cold edge.

  “You’re not in a position to demand anything, Maxie.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and squaring his stance like a quarterback daring someone to make a charge. “Those idiots out there know I can sue their asses so bad their grandkids will be born in debt. When I get out—”

  The baleful gleam in his eyes began to eat away at my confidence, but I took a deep breath and tried to tough it out. “When you get out, you and I are going to find this woman. I don’t care whether you convince your friend to take us there, or you pay for our tickets, but—”

  “Or I pay? You’ve got some nerve, Angel.”

  “Do you want to catch this killer or not?”

  “I won’t be blackmailed.”

  “This isn’t blackmail. I’m … bargaining. I’m trading my valuable services as a private investigator.” I ignored his derisive snort. “I have an important lead, and my fee is nothing more or less than the cost of the trip, plus expenses. That’s more than fair.”

  “That’s withholding evidence.”

  “Only if you were a cop.”

  “I will not be dictated to by some wannabe—”

  I grabbed the bars, sick and tired of being spoken down to. “Get off your high horse! All I have to do is call Voltaire and—”

  “Hah! And he’ll have you extradited for obstructi
on.” Hunter pointed at me, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Then he’ll get the information out of you from a jail cell.”

  That brought me up short. I stepped back. Voltaire was not to be toyed with.

  Hunter leaned forward, closing the space between us as if to seize it as his own. “I’ll make you a deal, which is more than you deserve. You give me the information, and I’ll get Voltaire to drop the charges against you. Or he’ll drag your ass in on concealed carry, and you won’t see the light of day for a very, very long time.”

  I slammed my hand into the bars. “Don’t think I don’t have leverage. Voltaire won’t want the media to get wind of the fact that one of his closest friends got thrown in jail for rape.”

  “The charges won’t stick. And all you’ll do is make him angry by starting trouble.”

  “Oh yeah?” My mind raced for a counter. “What about what happened in D.C.? What do you think he’ll say when he finds out about that?”

  A silence fell so cold that I almost felt ice crystals in the air between us. Hunter’s eyes narrowed. A very real, very deadly anger emanated from him. He stood tall and stiff, like a cobra poised to strike. “What the fuck do you know about D.C.?”

  Uh-oh. Now I’d gone that step too far. I wrapped my hands around my arms, trying to warm myself against the chills racing down them, knowing suddenly what the mouse feels like just before the flash of fangs. “I know that Jake saved your ass, yet again.”

  His simmering response let me know I’d chosen the right track. Speaking carefully to keep the trembling out of my voice, I said, “Jake left me a souvenir of the adventure.”

  Hunter flinched. Old suspicions resurfaced. What if Hunter thought Jake had betrayed him? Would he have killed Jake? Could the look I thought I saw in Hunter’s eyes at the hospital have been guilt rather than loss? I realized I was holding my breath, like that same little mouse just wanting it to be over. I let it out slowly.

  Hunter’s gaze held steady, studying me as if looking for a weak spot, a breach to blow open. “You have proof?”