Tricks

by Cambria Hebert

  I put the bank card and the other IDs into my leather jacket pocket.

  The man to my right cleared his throat. “Be sure to use Max’s closet. He, uh, never wore leather jackets.”

  “I’ll do my job,” I said, leaving no room for any more orders they wanted to present as suggestions. I probably wanted the men the Feds were after more than they did. This was just a case to them, a check in the box, a job well done.

  Not to me.

  To me, this was my brother’s life.

  This was justice.

  The city came into view, with sky-sweeping buildings, crowded streets, and cluttered sidewalks. People bustled around wrapped up in coats and scarves. Some carried briefcases; some carried white cups with the infamous green logo on the front. The coffee that came in those cups was apparently available on every single block in this monster of a city.

  We had only been traveling for a short time, but the difference between New York City and the town in Pennsylvania where I was coming from were very different. There was an energy to this city, a hum of activity that I would bet never went to bed. Blaring horns and smells from the many vendors on the sidewalks all pressed in on me, making me feel like I was in a different world.

  “Have you been to the city before?” one of the men asked me as I stared out the window.

  “Not since I was a kid.” I might as well have never been here before. Seeing something through the eyes of a child was never the same as through the eyes of the grown man.

  The man started talking again, telling me all of Max’s usual places—the coffee shop he visited every morning, the restaurants he frequented.

  I made a sound and the man stopped talking. “I’m surprised my brother went out to eat. I figured he would be eating at his desk.”

  The men in the car exchanged a look.

  “What?” I said, knowing immediately that there was something I was missing.

  The SUV slid up to the curb in front of a towering apartment building made of cream-colored stone.

  “This is your apartment.”

  “Max’s apartment,” I corrected.

  “Remember,” Black suit number three said. “We need you to find the thumb drive that Max had in his possession. It contains records and statements that will put away many powerful men for a very long time.”

  “How do you know it didn’t get destroyed in the car crash that killed my brother?”

  “He told us it was somewhere safe.”

  I felt a pang of sorrow for my brother. For his loss. I wished he was somewhere safe.

  I palmed the keys to the apartment and prepared to get out of the car. I needed some air. I needed some time to think. To grieve.

  “Do not confront the men who killed Max. They will get their punishment. Don’t do anything that might make anyone suspicious of who you really are. Find the thumb drive, contact us, and then you can bury your brother the way he deserved.”

  I swung around. “You have his body?”

  The man beside me grimaced. “There wasn’t much left.”

  So there would be no burying of my brother. He was cheated out of life and a proper funeral. Anger inflamed my insides, sweeping through me like a raging fire. I wanted to punch something.

  I started to get out of the SUV.

  “Wait,” one of the men in black said behind me. “You do know that your brother didn’t live alone.”

  It wasn’t really a question; it was said more like a statement, like a confirmation of knowledge already known.

  A feeling of thick dread dropped into my gut. “No.”

  “For the past year, your brother has been living with someone.”

  “He has a roommate,” I said, really hoping that’s what they meant.

  The man cleared his throat. “Girlfriend.”

  Fuck.

  “So I’m supposed to play boyfriend to…” My voice trailed away as I realized I didn’t know the name of the woman who was living with my only brother.

  “Charlotte Rose Carter,” he supplied. “We realize this might be uncomfortable.”

  I made a sound the boys in the Corps taught me. It wasn’t polite. They wanted me to go up there and pretend to be someone else, to look into the eyes of a woman who loved my brother and who was now going to be betrayed. She would just go about her day like he wasn’t even gone, like all was right with the world, when really everything was all wrong.

  “It isn’t as if we are asking you to sleep with her,” the man said.

  I barked a laugh. Sleeping with my brother’s woman was the last thing on my mind.

  “I’ll be in touch when I have the drive,” I said shortly. I was beyond done with this conversation. I realized these men were just trying to do their jobs, but they were assholes.

  I slammed the door to the SUV the second my feet hit the sidewalk. They disappeared into the New York traffic seconds later. I took a deep breath and stared up at the building. Cold air whipped around, pushing against my skin and hair. I didn’t mind the cold. It was a good way to help numb that hollow ache in the center of my chest.

  Not quite ready to go inside, I pulled out the phone I was given and dialed a number I knew from memory. As the line rang, I stepped closer to the building, realizing someone might recognize me if I hung out in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “This is Reed.” A voice came on the line.

  “It’s Patton.”

  “Patton? Why didn’t you call from your phone?” Nathan and I had been friends since being stationed together a couple years ago. It really hadn’t been that long, but it was long enough for us to recognize that we were cut from the same cloth. Nathan and I shared the same experiences, the same hobbies, the same Marine Corps mentality that many of the men we worked with displayed.

  The instant alert was clear in his tone, the instant urge to rush into action when he felt something wasn’t right. We read each other well. It was that coupled with everything else that made us tight. Hell, it made us honorary brothers.

  “It’s a long story,” I explained, not wanting to get into everything out here in the open. “I’m in NYC, family stuff. Can you hold the job for me until I can get down to North Carolina?”

  Nathan pulled the phone down so his voice was slightly muffled. “Patton wants me to hold his job,” he said with a hint of humor in his tone.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Honor, Nathan’s wife came onto the line. “Patton have you gotten yourself in trouble already?”

  “You know it.”

  She laughed, but then her voice turned serious. “Call if you need him.”

  By him, I knew she meant Nathan. A guy would think after everything she had been through, she wouldn’t want Nathan involved in anything dangerous. It just goes to show how tough Honor really was.

  “Thanks,” I replied, and I meant it.

  Seconds later, Nathan was back on the line. “What can I do?” he said, his tone serious.

  “I got it handled.”

  “I have no doubt, man,” he said. “You know you got a place here. I’ll just sweet talk Honor out from behind that computer and she can help me with the first couple cases.”

  I heard Honor’s giggle in the background and rolled my eyes. Those two were enough to give a guy cavities. Everyone knew I liked women, but settling down with just one? Wasn’t going to happen.

  “We got work already?” I said, surprise and pride swelling in me. When Nathan first invited me down to Jacksonville to be part of a private investigation firm, I knew it was something I wanted to do. I just hoped we could make it work.

  “Yep. We got some contracts with the Corps already.”

  “Sweet.” A pang of regret hit me because I wanted to be there. But this was important. This was for my brother.

  “You’re sure you’re all good?” Nathan asked, reading me again, even from over the phone. Sometimes that guy was so perceptive it was creepy.

  “All good.”

  “Call me if that changes.”

 
After I agreed, we both hung up and I pushed the phone back into my pocket and stared down at the new keys to my new apartment.

  The apartment I now shared with my brother’s girlfriend.

  6

  Charlotte

  The hot water slid over my bare skin, leaving a trail of tingles along my flesh and causing a deep moan to vibrate my throat.

  There wasn’t anything quite like a steaming hot shower to release the tension that always seemed to find its way into my muscles during the day. Massages were good too, but who had time for that?

  Stepping backward under the spray, water cascaded over my head, weighing my hair down and pressing the silky strands against my back. I pushed the remaining conditioner through the ends of my hair and as the product made its way down to the drain, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

  How I wished I could slip into a pair of satin pajamas and curl up on the end of the couch, maybe with some movie from my high school days that we all used to giggle over in the theater while eating gummy bears and Sour Patch Kids.

  There would be no silly movie, candy, or even lounging in pajamas for me tonight. I had to work. The only reason I was home was because I wanted to change before meeting a client for dinner at one of the cafés near Times Square.

  It was a new case, a new client, and I got the “privilege” of making sure they signed with Keller, Krane, and Associates. As I stood under the cooling spray, lingering in the quiet of the shower, I reminded myself this dinner, this meeting was just one more way I could improve my standing at the firm. It was one more way I could prove my worth to the partners and solidify my position.

  I’d been working toward this for as long as I could remember. Being a success was my dream, my life’s work.

  So why did I feel so tired?

  I shut off the water and grabbed the white towel hanging over the shower curtain bar. After half drying I stepped out onto the white rug in front of the mirror and swiped my hand across the fogged-up glass. My hand mark was just enough to see my reflection in the mirror.

  After smoothing some leave-in conditioner in the tangled mess that was unfortunately my hair, I began working out the tangles with a wide-tooth comb.

  Maybe my exhaustion was just because I barely slept last night. Waking up to a piercing alarm and a creepy man in my apartment, who then proceeded to try and kidnap me, was enough to make anyone tired.

  Not to mention I spent my entire day reliving what happened and going over every detail in my head, over and over again. Several times I found myself reaching for the phone to call the officer I spoke to down in the lobby, but every time I changed my mind.

  It wasn’t as if I thought I misunderstood what happened to me; it was quite the opposite. I understood quite clearly that those “break-ins” on the lower floor and the fire alarm had merely been a distraction. A distraction to get to what they really wanted.

  Me.

  What I didn’t understand was why.

  And being the analytical, goal-oriented person that I was, I knew I couldn’t just call the police and tell them my suspicions without something more. I was curious by nature.

  Curiosity killed the cat. The thought echoed through my head like some childhood nursery rhyme.

  Good thing I wasn’t a cat.

  I laid down the comb and reached for a jar of moisturizer when a sound had my movements freezing. I stood there completely still while my heartbeat jack hammered beneath my ribcage. Images from last night flashed behind my eyes. A man creeping through the dark. A sweaty palm grabbing me. The absolute feeling of panic clawing its way up my windpipe.

  I locked the door when I came home.

  Hadn’t I?

  I glanced on the counter for my cell phone. Screw not calling the cops. But my cell wasn’t in the bathroom. It was lying useless in the bottom of my purse out in the kitchen.

  I wondered what was worse: having your dead body discovered wearing granny panties or no panties at all…?

  Another sound came from out in the living room. I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what it was. But I didn’t know.

  Yelling for help would only alert the intruder I knew he was there.

  There was only one thing I could do.

  Swallowing down my fear, I tightened the towel around me and reached for the handle on the door.

  I was going out there.

  7

  Tucker

  I was hoping she wasn’t going to be home.

  Soon as I let myself into the apartment, I heard the shower running and knew that she was.

  I probably should have taken the time to ask for more information about her. Like what she did for a living. Surely she had a job, but I didn’t know what it was. It would have been helpful in figuring out her daily schedule and hours. But it was too late now.

  I didn’t ask and I couldn’t bring myself to really think much about it. This wasn’t about her. I didn’t need to know her to get this job done. In fact, the less I knew about her, the less I saw of her, the better it would be for everyone.

  My eyes took in the room, focusing on the small but clean space. This is where my brother lived. This was where he spent his free time and his nights.

  That insistent ache in my chest intensified and my heart squeezed. This was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Not only was I staring at my brother’s life, but the life I knew nothing about. My own brother.

  How could I let so many years pass without reaching out to him?

  I’m sorry, Max.

  Shutting the door silently behind me, I stepped farther into the room, my eyes taking in everything but really only wanting to see one thing.

  You’d think I wouldn’t really need to see a photo of my brother, being that we shared the same face, but it wasn’t really someone’s features that make them who they are completely. I think I understood that better than most people because I did share my face. Yet Max and I… we wore them so differently.

  Hopefully I would find the flash drive before anyone figured that out.

  I skimmed the surfaces of the room, the coffee table, the small wooden bookshelf crammed with books. The generic art hanging on the walls of scenic views and ocean waves. The couch was solid gray with a few white pillows on each end and small round side tables flanked each end. The only thing on the tables was one lamp each.

  There were no framed photos. No smiling couple images. Nothing really that told of the people who lived here. There were no hobby magazines. There were no movie cases on the stand beneath the flat screen.

  I never stayed in the same place very long because of the Corps, but even I had stuff lying around that would have given some clue to the kind of guy I was.

  I wandered over to the bookcase and leaned down, looking at the rows of books filling up the shelves. Most of them were on law and business.

  Was this woman a lawyer?

  Great. Just what I needed. Some opinionated, nosy, question-filled woman that was going to argue and pick apart every last thing I said.

  Or maybe the books had been my brother’s. Maybe he had been brushing up on the law because of the things he was involved in. God, I hoped so. I did not want to deal with a lawyer right now. I stood up and looked behind me at the bar separating the living area from the kitchen. A brown leather purse was lying there atop a black briefcase.

  I would find answers about this chick in there. I rushed across the room and in my haste, I bumped into the table and knocked it over. With a light swear, I caught it, but not before the lamp hit the carpet. It was made of silver metal so thankfully it hadn’t broken.

  I picked up the lamp and the shade fell off, hitting the floor again. I swore a manly type of swear and then scooped it up and slid it into place.

  What the hell does a man need a lamp for anyway? That’s what the lights in the ceilings were for.

  I started toward the bag on the counter once more when the door across the room swung open and a woman came barreling out. She was nothing bu
t a blur of movement, forcefully rushing forward as a cry of determination ripped from her throat.

  Before I could ask her what the hell all the excitement was about, she tackled me.

  She freaking tackled me to the floor.

  We landed on the carpet in a heap, with me beneath her and a pair of long, tan legs straddling my middle.

  Her legs were bare.

  Holy mother of God, she was wearing nothing but a towel.

  She was wet. She was mostly naked. She was sitting across my lap.

  Desire swelled inside me and all thought left my head. I couldn’t even be shocked she managed to tackle me because I was too busy thinking about the weight of her across my hips. Damn, she felt delicious.

  My body started to react on its own; it never needed any prompting from me. In fact, I have gotten hard from a lot less than something like this. I blinked, trying to focus on the fact she clearly meant me bodily harm.

  Was my brother into this kinky shit?

  Maybe he hadn’t been as straight-laced as I thought…

  As I considered the possibility of this woman gyrating her hips on top of me and demanding I get out of my clothes, she drew her arm back and swung down.

  Thank God I had reflexes that were just as automatic as the hardening of my dick.

  My hand caught her wrist just before she clobbered me with something.

  “What the fuck!” I yelled, snapping out of my sex dream and back to reality. I blinked, looking at what I just stopped from hitting me upside the head.

  It was a giant-ass hairbrush. It was large and round with bristles that actually looked like they would leave a mark if she got in a good swing. And judging from her actions just seconds before, if I had been any slower on the uptake, I’d be sporting a rash from that thing and a headache.

  “Max!” the hairbrush-yielding she-devil exclaimed. She released the grip on the brush and it fell from her grasp, hitting me right in the nose.

  “Goddamn it!” I roared and knocked it away, where it hit the bottom of the island with a thud.

  “I’m sorry!” she gasped, reaching down to grab my face and inspect where the brush hit.