Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)

by Tessa Bailey

“What the fuck is that?” Connor thundered.

  “Repayment for a favor,” Austin replied, voice even more brisk than usual. “Fat lot of good it did me.”

  Erin stared down at the brown paper bag in her lap, chewing on her bottom lip and looking miserable. “Why are you doing this to me? You know I didn’t hold up my end.” With an unhappy sound, she snatched up the bag and removed a Ruger, pointing it at Austin. “I feel guilty now. Why do you people insist on making me feel feelings?”

  Polly realized she’d shot to her feet with a shouted denial of no when all six sets of eyes landed on her. Making sense of her reaction was too difficult with adrenaline sweeping through her veins; she only knew she didn’t like that gun pointed at Austin. In fact, she found herself swallowing a shout at Erin, her feet itching to move in their direction. What the hell would she do when she got there?

  Her gaze was drawn to Austin, who watched her through narrowed eyes, that same unnerving but arousing way he’d done last night. “It’s not loaded, sweet.”

  “Too bad,” every other male in the room muttered.

  Feeling the beginnings of a red flush climb her neck, Polly spun back toward the front of the meeting room and dropped down into her chair, ignoring Henrik’s pitying headshake. Austin’s footsteps were the only sound in the room as he came closer, circling in front of her and Henrik, the way a hawk circles field mice. She refused to look up when he stopped, although his regard made her want to squirm, much the way he’d made her do on the hotel bed.

  A steaming cup appeared in her line of sight, a string dangling from the side attached to a familiar square of pink paper. Her verbena mint tea. She risked a glance at Austin as she accepted the drink in his hand…and felt it down to the soles of her feet. Rage danced behind his calm exterior, making it so much more effective for the control he displayed.

  Her stomach muscles seized as Austin leaned down and spoke for her ears alone. “If this is a newly devised brand of punishment, sweet, know that I prefer your other methods far more. As do you.”

  Oh God. Oh God. She crossed her legs out of absolute necessity when moisture gathered in a desperate plea for Austin. Having him inside her. Hearing him beg with such urgency for the delivery of pain.

  An unsteady breath shifted her hair. Gathering himself. “Be very aware that I’m considering murdering him for sitting beside you.”

  With that icy statement hanging in the air, he straightened and went to lean against the wall to her left, leaving her feeling polarized and wickedly aroused at the same time. There was a sense of accomplishment she didn’t want to feel, but had no choice but to embrace. He’d left her, and she’d punished him in return. His discontent was more extreme than she’d imagined, but it bred anticipation. The things he would do to please her…

  I barely know myself anymore. New Polly feels…buoyant. Sexy.

  Derek entered the room and went to stand at the dented metal desk, but Polly barely registered him among the chaos lighting up her head. That is, until he dropped a heavy file onto the desk, the loud sound sending her heart leaping into her throat.

  “This file belongs to a man I want out of Chicago.”

  Henrik leaned forward, elbows on knees. The picture of eagerness and relief, perhaps at the promise of a distraction. A place to center his displaced energy. “A big fish.”

  Derek nodded. “He’s wanted internationally, not to mention seven states. But only for questioning, because law enforcement doesn’t have one solid goddamn shred of concrete evidence on him. He has operated under over thirty known aliases. And I say known, because he’s gone off the radar for months at a time. An embedded officer on an unrelated case has reliable information that he’s in Chicago.” Derek paused, letting the information sink in. “We believe his real name is Charles Reitman. And since he’s decided to show up on my watch, this big fish is about to get fried.”

  …

  “Listen, Shaw. You walk into any goddamn place, be it a dive bar or the White House, someone is being fed bullshit. Lies are told everywhere. Someone is always getting played.” Charles Reitman tossed his cigarette over the railing of the Atlantic City boardwalk onto the deserted beach, creating a red arc. “When you walk into a room, look around. If you don’t see someone getting played, odds are you’re the sucker.”

  “Be the liar, not the lied-to.” Austin propped his elbows on the worn wood, riddled with carved initials, and stared out at the black ocean. “Is that to be the evening’s lesson, then?”

  “Close enough for today.” Charles tipped his hat to a trio of passing women, earning himself series of muffled laughs. “Like any skill, lying gets better with practice. The trick is to believe your own lies. Who the hell’s to say what truth means anyway? Maybe we make our own.”

  “Make your own truth,” Austin murmured, thinking back to earlier that evening at the poker tables, he and Charles soft-playing, whipsawing, and signaling their way to five grand in under three hours. It had been too easy, sharking tourists out of their entertainment money, all while becoming their best friend. They’d probably never realize they’d been had. “What happens when you start to forget the actual truth?” Austin sent Charles a sideline glance. “What then?”

  His partner’s face split into a wide grin. “When you can con yourself, you can con the world.”

  Austin drifted back into himself. To the present. Back to the meeting room, surrounded by faces that didn’t look quite so familiar anymore.

  Look around. If you don’t see someone getting played, odds are you’re the sucker. It wasn’t mere coincidence that his ex-partner’s name and presence in Chicago had been shoved in his face not once, but twice in a matter of forty-eight hours. Someone in the room was working an angle, and it appeared Austin was the mark. There was no other explanation for Charles being targeted in a city that boasted no shortage of criminals, was there? No. He’d never believed in coincidences, even when he’d been green, but his efforts to keep his aliases disconnected from Charles’s had been stellar. No one should have put them together as partners. Or even acquaintances.

  Except Polly. Had she brought the captain in on this? Had he not moved fast enough to help her and she’d grown impatient?

  If she only knew how he’d spent his morning. After Austin’s usual trip to Gemma’s school to watch her walk safely into the single-story brick building that housed her exclusive day-care center, he’d begun tapping associates for information, formulating a way to achieve Polly’s end game doing what he did best. Conning. Waking up with her beautiful face inches from his own had been the oddest and most awe-inspiring moment of his life. She’d…trusted him. Even when he’d given her every reason not to, she’d slumbered beside him, allowing her mind to go blank around a man whose lies came easier than his truths. Even more miraculous, he’d done the same. He’d slept with Polly.

  After allowing himself to experience her body heat among the sheets for the better part of an hour, a sense of urgency had penetrated his dense, satiated fog. She’d asked for his help, and so far, all he’d done was fuck her into next bloody week. Which wasn’t to say the mind-blowing fucking they’d done hadn’t been helpful, because he certainly felt in top form. Polly had better feel the same, or he’d lost his touch.

  Self-disgust followed on the heels of that thought. She wasn’t someone on whom he’d used his touch. Once you knew how to please a woman, you couldn’t simply turn off the knowledge, but there had been more to what they’d done. Infinitely more. Hadn’t there? The girl had turned him inside fucking out.

  Unless Charles had been right all those months ago…and Austin had been the sucker being played in the hotel room.

  Afraid at what he might find, Austin dropped his gaze to the girl who’d supplied him with a heaping dose of brutal jealousy only moments ago, and prayed he wouldn’t find deception on her exquisite face. Her hands were clenched around the tea he’d brought her, attention focused straight ahead. So pale, he envisioned rubbing his hands together and laying t
hem on her cheeks to give them color. She looked as shell-shocked as he felt. Was it guilt? Or was the captain’s newest case actually a coincidence?

  No. He didn’t believe in those.

  Austin felt the captain’s sharp gaze transfer to him and did his best to appear bemused. He had no choice but to act surprised by the news until more information could be obtained. “A fellow con, is he? He must have felt the draw of my unparalleled talent and wanted to get a glimpse of me in the flesh.” He crossed one ankle over the other. “He’ll be sorry to learn I’m not passing on my secrets.”

  Derek’s dark look said he wasn’t entertained. “Have you crossed paths with Reitman?”

  Here lies a crossroads. If he lied to Derek, he would lose this squad job if it ever came out in the wash, which could spell prison time if he didn’t get out of town fast enough. Eventually, he’d have to make his way out of the country, never to lay eyes on his daughter again. Probably a good thing for all parties involved, but it would be…unpleasant. Never seeing her again. His other option was to be honest—the horror—which would fuck him over with Polly if she didn’t already suspect he had more than a passing knowledge of Reitman’s activities. All these thoughts occurred to Austin within a split second, as did the subtle headshake from Polly caught at the edge of his peripheral vision. And a flash of them tangled together in the darkness without the bitter taste of deception between them.

  “I’ve crossed paths with no Charles Reitman, although I might have met him by another name.” Austin nodded toward the file. “Have you a picture handy?”

  It took Derek a moment to act, reaching behind him to scoop up the heavy file, settle it on his lap, and remove a five-by-seven snapshot. All without his focus wavering from Austin. Interesting. When it became obvious that the captain didn’t plan on getting up any time soon, Austin sauntered over and accepted the glossy picture. Keeping his features schooled, he took a moment to scrutinize the shot, although he recognized his ex-partner instantly. It must have been relatively new, because Charles had aged around the eyes, hair gone silver at the temples. Being that they’d only gone their separate ways almost four years ago, he wondered if Charles’s usual wells had run dry. Karma could be a bitch, as Austin was sure he’d find out for himself someday soon enough.

  “Not familiar.” He handed the picture back to Derek and swore he could feel Polly’s energy calm to his right. Where she still sat beside the motherfucker who’d taken his seat. God, he couldn’t wait to get her alone. Screw waiting until tonight. His smile was more unnatural than he would have liked as Derek circulated Charles’s snapshot. “What has brought this poor imitation of yours truly to the windy city?”

  Derek finally turned away to include the rest of the room. “Reitman’s MO is fairly straightforward. Cozy up to new money and involve them in a nonexistent investment scheme. He plays the long con, and his patience makes him good at it.”

  Austin realized he was still standing in front of the room and went to take his position once more against the wall, casting a discreet look toward Polly as he went. She was still white as a sheet drying in the wind, attention trained on Derek. Perhaps it was a good thing they weren’t sitting beside each other or he might have yanked her up against his side by now, shaken some red back into her lips.

  Sera’s voice made the image blur. “Does Reitman already have a mark? Do we have a starting point?”

  “It appears he does.” Derek sifted through the file. “She’s nothing like his usual victim. Well-moneyed, cultured, established in the upper echelon of wealthy society, not just in Chicago, but international circles. In the past, he’s been more apt to target up-and-coming businesspeople with little experience making investments. But he appears to have switched gears.” The captain took the photograph back from Sera, tossing it faceup onto the desk’s surface. “Reitman arrived in Chicago with the young woman, although they’re not living together, nor do we have any idea how long they’ve been acquainted. But they’re frequently seen together at parties, dinners, and what have you. It’s possible he’s going for one final score, getting this woman and several of her peers to invest in a fabricated idea. That’s what we need to find out.”

  Austin’s sixth sense began to ping. Derek was right; this wasn’t Charles’s racket. It was too big. Too risky. And to Austin’s knowledge, Reitman didn’t mix women with business, although he certainly indulged that particular vice off the clock. Handling the women had been Austin’s end of the bargain and the reason Reitman had taken him on as a partner in the first place. His ability to charm the fairer sex had been his way into the life. Not to mention, the reason he’d wanted out after years of using his body to make money. He’d been nothing short of a prostitute.

  Something was afoot here, and the acid boiling in Austin’s gut told him it was bad. Very bad. But when Derek opened the folder again and Austin caught a peek at a woman’s photograph, Austin realized he’d had no idea the level of fucked-up that had been achieved. Reitman’s mark was the last woman Austin had ever conned. Isobel Klausky. Sitting on the woman’s knee was his illegitimate daughter in her ballet costume, red hair in pigtails tied up with ridiculous white bows.

  “No,” Austin whispered, the room crumbling around him.

  The captain was looking at him again. “If you have something to say, Austin, speak up.”

  Years of training gave Austin the outward appearance of composure, even though razor blades made mincemeat of his organs. “I said, no. A leopard doesn’t change its spots.” Find out as much as possible. Find out what Derek knows. Austin had a feeling it was more than he was letting on. “There must be a personal connection between them. Something that gave him an inroad to which he wouldn’t typically have access.”

  “Such as?”

  Derek didn’t have the answer yet. It was there in the frustrated set of his jaw. But Austin reckoned he only had a matter of days before the captain was in the know. He hadn’t underestimated Derek on day one, and he wouldn’t make that mistake now. Nothing happened in this city without their leader being fully informed. Austin ran a hand through his hair, turning it into a stretch. “I can’t work miracles, old boy. Give me some time.”

  The captain inclined his head. “Had a feeling you might finally decide to be useful on this case.”

  There was his answer. The captain was just as all-knowing as Austin had suspected. A silent communication passed between them, and Austin hated the gratefulness he felt as a result. Instead of outing him in front of the squad, Derek was giving him a chance to do what he did best, alone. But he wasn’t working alone, was he?

  Derek handed him a packet from within the folder, likely a broken-down version of Reitman’s record. God, he hoped it didn’t contain a copy of his daughter’s picture. At the same time, he hoped it did. His head was going up in flames, just knowing what Reitman was capable of doing. He might never speak a word to the child he’d fathered, but knowing a single hair on her head was harmed in retaliation for what had taken place between him and Charles? Unacceptable. He couldn’t let it happen. Damn it all, he wanted to be back in the dark hotel room listening to Polly breathe. Feeling his way along the bumps of her spine. He wanted to go back to those stolen hours and never leave.

  It couldn’t be a reality now, though. His past had come back to smother him and thus, Polly. Once she knew the kind of monster she’d allowed to touch her, she’d never look at him with anything less than loathing ever again.

  “I’ll be checking in via phone for the next few days. Once Austin has something solid, we’ll meet and discuss our next move,” the captain said, before giving Austin a meaningful look. “That shouldn’t be longer than two days.” Chairs scraped back around the room, assaulting Austin’s ears like otherworldly shrieks. Dismissed. How easily they’d dismissed his potential tragedy without even realizing it.

  His gaze found Polly where she still sat frozen in her seat. He wanted to touch her in some way. Any way. Ask her what she knew. What she wanted to know.
Instead, he tucked the file under his arm and strode from the room.

  Chapter Twelve

  Polly’s chest felt hollow as she moved down the hotel corridor, the walls on either side close enough to cave in and smother her. Austin had vanished into thin air after the meeting, and she hadn’t questioned herself about coming here, to the place they’d been together only hours before. She simply knew he’d be there waiting, on the other side of the door. So why did fear attempt to slow down her legs? Without a conscious decision, she stayed close to the left wall as she walked, poised to turn around and run back the way she’d come. Why?

  Because although she knew Austin would be inside that room, she had no idea which side of Austin would greet her. The cocky bastard for whom she’d spent months building a patent dislike. The lover who’d stolen her will and mastered her body in the dark. Or the man who’d finally let his exterior crack back in the squad room. Had anyone else noticed? Polly hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from Austin to make a judgment. The fractures in his veneer had been subtle, but on Austin, who never exhibited signs of anxiety, the tiniest difference was like a boulder dropping into a still lake.

  She needed to know what that boulder represented. He’d agreed to help her. She’d confided in him. And she wasn’t about to let him hang her out to dry. Or use the information she gave him to bring down Reitman on the squad’s behalf. This was her mission. She hadn’t come this far to watch it go down in navy-blue flames in the hands of the police.

  Polly stopped in front of the door and felt a punch of unwanted excitement dance through her middle, knowing she and Austin would come face-to-face in mere seconds. Who would he be? What would he do? The enigma of Austin used to increase her distrust, reinforce her hatred for his chosen profession. It still should. She needed to remember that. Needed to remember that despite what happened on the other side of the hotel room door, they would always have the potential to become opposition once they walked out.