Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance

by Parker, M. S.

  I nodded. “I understand. And thank you.”

  Her mouth twisted into something that looked like a cross between a smile and a frown. “Don't thank me yet, rookie.”

  I nodded again, then started to recount every notable physical trait and personality quirk I could remember. It was painful, recounting memories that put me back into a time I'd never be able to reach again. A time when I'd been happy, normal. I hadn't been the half-abandoned, half-orphaned kid who'd lost everything. Things hadn't been perfect. I knew that, and I wasn't trying to romanticize my past, but I'd had my parents, and I'd had Bron.

  To her credit, Benita sat and listened, only stopping me when she needed to ask a question, but never commenting on anything I was telling her. Colman called her after the first thirty minutes, but she answered tersely about being in the field and let me keep going.

  When I finally finished everything, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I never realized how much it'd affected me, not talking about what happened. My aunt had been content to let me grieve and process in my own way, and I'd been grateful for that, but I could see now that it might have done me some good if I’d been more open with my therapist. I knew I still had to deal with the consequences of my actions, but having someone who knew all of it made me feel lighter somehow.

  Okay, almost all since I hadn't told her the details about what happened this morning between Bron and me, specifically about the kiss.

  Benita let out a long breath, and I waited for the judgment.

  “Alright,” she said finally. “I’m on your side.”

  The relief was almost enough to make me sick. “You are?”

  “Yeah. This kid probably got himself snatched up by someone who groomed kids like him. No way does some random kid turn into a successful art thief without a mentor. And I'll almost guarantee that child's teacher has a lot more crimes to his name than your Bron. We turn Bron in now, and we’ll never find the source. Even if Bron's not working for his teacher now, if we manage to get to a bigger fish, maybe we can work something out for your friend.”

  I nodded, stunned at her words. I'd been more than grateful that she'd decided not to turn me in to Colman, but I'd expected that we'd move on Bron like any other criminal. I'd never in a million years thought that she'd agree for the two of us to work alone so we could possibly help a childhood friend.

  “Thank you.” The two words didn't seem even close to adequate enough to express what I was feeling.

  She gave me a brisk nod, then something in her expression shifted. “Tell me one thing.”

  “Yes, anything.”

  “Are you still in love with him?”

  I knew what she was hoping I'd say, but after how much I'd kept from her – and knowing that I was keeping that kiss a secret still – I had to be honest. The only problem was, I wasn't entirely sure what the truthful answer was. What I'd felt for him before had been an innocent, child-like love. I hadn't even really gotten to the older adolescent stage before he disappeared. Then years apart, not knowing who he'd become. A connection was there, I couldn't deny it, but I didn't know if it was something that would go away as I received closure, or something that could turn into an adult, grown-up version of what I'd felt as a child.

  “I don’t know,” I answered finally.

  She nodded. “Thank you for being honest.” She opened the car door. “We’ll play today like everything’s the same, but tomorrow, you and I are diving head-first into this investigation.”

  I nodded in agreement and opened my door.

  “Oh, and Karis?”

  “Yeah?” I said, looking at her over the hood of her Jeep.

  “You owe me about a dozen pizzas now.”

  I flashed her the biggest smile I could manage at the moment. “At least.”

  As we walked back inside, I knew that, no matter how much Benita was on my side, things would come up that I couldn't ask her to protect me from. Decisions I would have to make. Emotions I would need to sort. She would support me, help me as much as she could.

  But when it came down to how I felt about Bron, and what that would mean for my future, I was still alone.

  Chapter Four

  Karis

  I stared up at my ceiling, frustration, and confusion mounting, making sleep practically impossible. I sighed in exasperation and rolled over, flipping my pillow as well. If only all my problems could be solved by something as simple as changing positions or turning over to a cooler side of a pillowcase.

  Somehow, I managed to keep my job today. Now that Benita was risking her career as well as mine, it seemed much less likely that this pursuit of my childhood...whatever was going to leave me without a career. We just had to keep Colman and his too-friendly hands away from it as long as possible. Once Benita and I got everything into place, we could bring Colman in on things, and he'd be none the wiser.

  I was incredibly grateful to my mentor for understanding and agreeing to help me. I knew I was both in over my head, and emotionally compromised by Bron, even if I didn't know exactly how I felt about him anymore. I needed Benita's experience and expertise if I wanted to get this under control before it got any further out of hand.

  I also needed a good night’s sleep. I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I dropped dead of exhaustion. I needed to clear my mind, start thinking objectively like I'd been trained to do, and get some shuteye.

  I'd never had an easy time sleeping, especially after my mom left and my father...died. My aunt made me see a therapist a couple times, and he'd given me some breathing exercises to help me relax.

  I closed my eyes, took slow, steady breaths. It took longer than usual to work, but eventually, I felt the tension start to ease. And, at some point, I finally fell asleep.

  * * *

  “You came.”

  I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my eyes. I was at some sort of gallery, or maybe a museum. I couldn’t quite place it, but it was beautiful.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

  The voice came again, and this time, colors swirled and warped in front of me until Bron stepped out of nothing. I was struck again by how handsome he had become. He was so tall, easily six inches taller than my own six feet. Still lean, but clearly strong. His hair was just as wild as ever, his eyes still intense. He was a man now, but I could see the boy in there too.

  “You haven’t exactly made it easy,” I replied, trying to keep my voice even despite the fact that he made my pulse race.

  “I know, and, for that, I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere as he stepped toward me. “But perhaps here we can forget about all that troubles us and just dance?” He held out a hand.

  “Dance?” I asked with a wry grin. “To what? You should know better than to try to feed me a line like that.”

  He tilted his head to the side, and my heart missed a beat. It wasn’t right for someone to be so charming.

  “Can’t you hear the band?”

  I started to shake my head, but then, sure enough, the rich tones of a piano drifted through the air, followed closely by the lilting melody of a violin, maybe a cello. I knew the music, but couldn't name it.

  “How did you do that?” I asked more curious than surprised.

  He held out his hand. “Don't worry about it. Now, how about that dance?”

  “What on earth makes you think I know anything about ballroom dancing?” I laughed. “What cheesy romance novel have you been hiding in?”

  He laughed, and I swore the sound was pure sin. “Just trust me. Like old times, right?”

  I stood there, in the strange room, with the strange band, and a strange man I now barely knew but was still irrevocably drawn to. His hand was still held out, the look on his face one of immeasurable patience.

  I took a deep breath and then slid my hand into his. The smile that lit up his face was new, real, and he used my hand to pull me into his arms. He held me just like all of those magical ball scenes I had seen at least a
dozen times in the movies or on TV. I expected to stumble, since I didn't know the steps, but to my surprise, we drifted across the floor quite elegantly.

  “I missed you, you know,” he murmured above my head.

  “I taught myself to forget about you,” I admitted. “It hurt too much, and I couldn't take any more pain. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “No, just a survivalist.” He gave me a sad smile.

  I didn't want him to be sad. I wanted to see that real smile again.

  He continued, “I think that’s why you’re willing to forgive all this trouble I’m stirring up for you. You know I only did what I had to do to survive. You know who I really am.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  I leaned my head against his chest. It was warm, and solid, and felt so real even though some part of me knew it wasn't. His heart beat under my ear, racing along despite his calm demeanor.

  “I wish you hadn’t run away from me,” I murmured. “I know why you did, but I wish you hadn't.”

  “I wish you hadn’t stopped chasing me,” he countered. “I might've let you catch me.”

  I couldn’t help the bitter laugh that welled up. We both knew what would've happened if I'd caught him. What would happen eventually. “I'll find you again.”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Bron.” I hesitated. “I have a question.”

  One side of his lips quirked up. “I'm sure you have more than one.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I'm being serious.”

  “I know. And I’m totally serious. Look at my face. The ultimate in respect and maturity.”

  I risked a glance up only to see him smirking at me. I could only sigh and return my head to his chest. He'd always been like that. “If none of those terrible, awful things had happened, do you think we would…we…”

  “Do I think we would be together?”

  I nodded. I couldn’t work up the courage to look at him. I could face down FBI recruits, cops, criminals, my boss...but not him.

  “I think you know the answer to that, Karis.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” I fell silent, and just let the music fill the air around us. I knew this was a dream; a beautiful, perfect dream.

  And like all dreams, it had to end.

  But not yet.

  First, there was something I wanted to do, even if it was only in my subconscious.

  I looked up at him now, let myself meet those beautiful cerulean blue eyes of his. I ran my fingers through his hair, then down to the back of his neck. I pulled his head down and kissed him. No rush, no shame, just him and me.

  Chapter Five

  Bron

  I listlessly set up a row of paints on one of the shelves Leticia had provided for me. Normally, I loved this part of the con, the preparation, the excitement of what was to come. Plus, I always enjoyed the opportunity to make art. Instead, my head was full of Karis and her cursed lips.

  It had been a little over a day, and I still couldn't stop thinking about that kiss. I knew I needed to get my head on straight, but I just couldn’t push her out of my mind. She was like a disease, infecting every part of me until she was all I could think about, dream about.

  “I see you’re settling in nicely.”

  I looked to the door, surprised to see Leticia there. I'd been so absorbed in my thoughts of Karis that I'd completely forgotten I was in my target’s house and had a character to maintain. I recovered and shot her the most grateful smile I could manage. Fortunately, I'd had a lot of practice lying to marks.

  “I really can’t thank you enough for providing me such an amazing space,” I gushed, making probably a few too many hand movements. I needed to cool it. I was playing a gay artist, but not a caricature. I'd done this part before, so it should've been easy. Man, I was so off my game. “The lighting, the atmosphere, the grounds. Wow. Just wow!”

  She laughed, but it was such a polite, perfectly poised laugh that it grated against my ears. Everything about this woman was carefully sculpted to appear good to those around her. It made me wonder what I’d find when I chiseled a little deeper. Like most of the societal elite, I had no doubt there was a persistent sense of superiority in her that made her feel like she was better than the poor she exploited. It was one of the reasons I had so few qualms about conning the rich.

  I almost faltered but managed to hide it behind a cough. I had to get myself together.

  She, however, didn't seem to notice. “I’m off to a charity luncheon, but I'll return later today to see you out. My maid, Angelina, will be here should you need anything. And of course, security is stationed outside at the gate if there are any problems with that...ex of yours. If you have any questions, feel free to ask any of the staff.”

  “Oh goodness, thank you.” I considered giving her a hug but decided that it'd be too over the top. I contented myself with another smile.

  “You're very welcome, young man. I can’t wait to see what you get started on with the proper room to breathe.”

  “Me too, ma’am.” She didn't seem like the type who'd appreciate me calling her Miss in an attempt to make her sound younger.

  She gave me a soft smile. “Please, call me Leticia.”

  “Of course, Leticia. And again, I can’t thank you enough.”

  Her hand flew through the air in a dismissive gesture. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll see you later this evening.”

  It was a relief when she whisked out, leaving me to my easel, canvas, and paints. I intended to use them whenever I had the chance, but I also had versions of several paintings in various states of progress in case it didn't look like I was getting enough work done in the time she'd given me.

  I pulled out one of the partial paintings and set it up while I took the next half-hour exploring my little space. I needed to know every nook and cranny, but I wanted to make sure that Leticia was really gone before I started exploring the rest of the place. I knew of too many in-home cons going wrong because the grifter didn’t wait long enough, and the target returned for a forgotten purse or set of keys. I may have been half-stupid over my encounter with Karis, but I wasn’t that stupid.

  It would probably be easier than I thought to scout the place anyway. I'd anticipated there being more hired help to dodge around. I figured it would be relatively easy to avoid them, and if I was caught while snooping around – as long as I wasn’t doing anything too incriminating – I could always claim I had gotten lost trying to find the kitchen. Or the bathroom.

  I frowned. Speaking of which, where was the bathroom? It was actually the best place to learn all sorts of information about a mark. Medicines, perfumes, shampoos, conditioners, dyes, they all told a story that could be used to further a grift.

  There was probably a guest bathroom on the bottom floor of the opulent mansion where I was currently being housed, but that would only tell me Leticia's opinion of the majority of her guests. I needed to get to the master bath. It would be easy enough to take the guest bathroom out of commission, then have to use the top one, but that wasn’t a day one task. Before I could do anything else, though, I needed the layout of the house.

  I'd looked up what blueprints I could, and by looked up, I'd cashed in a favor from yet another one of my hacker friends who owed me one. But I knew there were bound to be details not included in the official records, and it was those details that interested me. I knew enough to know that details could make the difference.

  Hands in my pockets, I strolled out into the hall connecting what I best could describe as the charity wing to the main house. I catalogued everything, using the brains that should've gotten me into Harvard or Yale. For the most part, it was predictable. The occasional plant, portrait, statue. All very elegant and stylish, but utterly devoid of actual passion. It was so by the book that it was enough to make me yawn. Sure, I loved the finer things in life, but what was the point of amassing such a collection if she didn’t actually enjoy them? Better to have
bad taste and love it than great taste and not care.

  Then again, I had developed quite the taste for chaos over the years. Maybe I just didn’t like how orderly and clean everything was. Either way, the place made me feel unsettled.

  And being unsettled made me think of Karis.

  Hell, everything made me think of her.

  I growled in frustration and rounded the corner into what looked like the kitchen. Almost instantly, I heard a startled yelp and a clatter. Turning my head, I saw a young woman standing in the doorway opposite me, a teapot in her hand, and a serving platter on the floor.

  “Who are you?” she asked, eyes wide.

  I took in her plain white polo, the yoga pants that showed off her considerable curves quite nicely, and the practical ponytail. Her accent wasn't thick, but it was there. She had to be the maid. “Angelina?”

  She nodded, her expression still one of surprise and worry. “Who are you?”

  I gave her a smile that was far more real than the one I'd given Leticia. The girl seemed sweet.

  “Oh, I'm so sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Brody Martin, the artist to whom your mistress is graciously granting her patronage.” I gave a little bow with a grin to tell her that I was trying to be charming, not pretentious. “She told me I could find you for something to eat?”

  I watched Angelina visibly relax. No doubt she was used to being constantly on edge for richer visitors who treated her poorly simply because she was the help. Now that she realized I was more like her than her employer, she wouldn't be quite as much on her guard.

  “Of course, Mr. Martin. What would you like? Something healthy? Something...indulgent?” Her tone changed slightly on the last word.

  I leaned over the counter and raised my eyebrow. Oh, she was going to be like that, was she? That put a whole new spin on the fun I could have while running this con. “Indulgent sounds...appealing.”

  She blushed, but didn’t back down, instead letting her dark eyes run over my body, her expression telling me that she liked what she saw. I wondered how many of Leticia's guests this little minx had seduced. I had no problem pretending to be another of those.