Delicious Deception

by Tami Lund

  There weren’t a whole lot of places to go. The terminal was tiny, and two sides were composed of floor-to-ceiling windows. Rows of metal benches interspersed with vending machines lined the windows. The ticket windows were on one end, and restrooms and, presumably, offices made up the fourth wall.

  Connor headed toward the opposite end of the small space and paused, never losing track of Window Man’s position. Brazen Teen leaned against a vending machine, put her hands behind her back, and did a little shimmy. “I knew you were interested,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “Jesus,” Connor muttered. “Didn’t your daddy pay you any attention when you were growing up?”

  “What’s this got to do with my dad?” The girl thrust out her bottom lip and pouted.

  “Everything,” Connor said and he glanced up to see that Window Man hadn’t moved from his spot in the far corner. He had his phone in his hand, but every few seconds, he would glance in their direction.

  Connor shifted his focus back to the girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Candice. What’s yours?”

  “Connor. How old are you, Candice?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” he said with disgust. “You can’t be more than sixteen, probably more like fourteen or fifteen. You’re almost young enough to be my daughter.”

  “You have a daughter?”

  “No. I don’t have any kids, thank God. And if I did have a daughter, she sure as hell wouldn’t dress and act like you. Trust me on that one.”

  Candice pouted again. “My dad probably doesn’t even know what I’m wearing.”

  “Maybe you need to make him notice. Not like this, but get in his face. Make him pay attention to you. Where’s your mom?”

  Candice sighed and slouched against the snack machine. “The ’rents are divorced. Mom’s remarried to this accountant type who won’t even let me wear makeup.”

  “Mom’s new husband is a smart man. I take it you’re visiting with Dad at the moment?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, not that it was much of a visit. All he does is work and watch TV. I spent the weekend hanging out at the pool and fending off the stupid boys who live in his apartment complex.”

  “Stupid boys?” Connor asked with amusement in his voice.

  She rolled her eyes yet again. “They’re all so young. They aren’t mature and handsome like you.” Candice turned into a sex kitten right before his eyes. She tried to run her fingers down his chest to his belt. He leaped out of reach and gave her a little shake.

  “Candice, knock it off. I’m not going to do whatever the hell you’re hoping I’m going to do. And just so you know, I’m not attracted to slutty women anyway. I like wholesome, pure women. Women who are honest with themselves. Women who don’t throw themselves at older men just to try to attract Daddy’s attention.”

  Candice had a sullen look on her face, which Connor assumed meant he might have possibly gotten through, at least a little.

  “Listen, now that I’ve said that, I need a favor, and it involves pulling that stunt you just pulled on me. Can you help me?”

  “Didn’t you just say I shouldn’t act this way?”

  Connor gritted his teeth and forced himself to ignore her question. “Did you notice the guy holding up the window, standing apart from everybody else in the waiting area?”

  Candice nodded. “Sure. He wasn’t nearly as good looking as you, though, so I didn’t waste my time.”

  “I suppose I should say thank you, but I don’t think it would take very much to look better than that guy. He looks like he’s spent some time in the ring with Rocky.”

  “Who’s Rocky?”

  Connor shook his head in disbelief. “I want you to change your mind. Actually, the more I think about it, flirting with that guy is bound to get your dad’s attention. Much more than flirting with me.”

  Candice looked doubtful. “How’s it different?” she asked dubiously.

  “Because that guy probably would take advantage of what you’re trying to offer.”

  The doubtful look turned intrigued. Was it because of a desire to help him or because he’d mentioned that Window Guy might actually do what she thought she wanted him to do? Hopefully, it was the former.

  “He’s right over there.” Connor nodded and rolled his eyes to the left. “I want you to go up to him and flirt with him. Distract him, so that I can get out of here without him seeing me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think he wants to kill me.”

  Candice’s eyes widened until they threatened to pop out of her head. And then, in a reverent voice, she said, “Cool.”

  Kids. Maybe it was best he’d gotten away from Emily Kate when he had. That way he wouldn’t take the chance of having any of his own.

  He felt compelled to warn Candice not to go anyplace alone with the guy, no matter what he said or did. “If he tries anything, scream at the top of your lungs, got it?”

  Another eye roll, but she nodded as she did it.

  “Okay, I’m going to wait here while you go distract him. If you can, get him to turn the other way, so his back is to me. Then I’m going to take off. Remember, don’t go anywhere with him, and make sure your dad can see you, too.”

  “As if he’d pay any attention.”

  “Something tells me that when you start talking to that creep, he’s going to drop that phone and sprint over there to beat the shit out of the guy.”

  “What’s in this for me?”

  “Consider it an adventure. Something you can tell your friends back home. Tell them ... tell them I’m an FBI guy and you were helping me with a big case.”

  Candice’s eyes widened again. “Are you really an FBI agent?”

  He lied. And hoped she wouldn’t ask for his badge. Didn’t FBI guys always carry badges?

  “That is so frickin’ cool,” she breathed, suddenly a young, eager teen again. “Tell me what to do. I’ll help in any way I can. This is so frickin’ cool.”

  Connor bit back a sarcastic remark as he explained, again, what he wanted her to do.

  “You got it. Yes, sir.” She actually saluted. He tried not to groan. “I’m out. Good luck, sir. I’ll make sure you get your man.”

  “Er, yeah. Thanks.”

  She turned and rushed straight to the man in question. Connor watched as the guy’s eyes widened when Candice thrust her hip and reached out and stroked a finger down his chest. She shifted her stance, slowly moving in a circle, taking the guy with her as she moved. Connor was impressed despite himself. Hell, maybe she’d go into a career as an undercover cop or something. Maybe he’d just helped get her life on track.

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing with my daughter? Do you have any idea how old she is, asshole?” The inattentive father was suddenly in Window Guy’s face, stabbing his finger into the guy’s chest while spewing insults and curses, just as Connor had predicted. It was now or never, so Connor bolted.

  He pushed through the glass door and paused, watching as a nondescript sedan screeched to a halt on the other side of the bay where the buses pulled up to load and unload passengers. Two guys jumped out. The passenger had dark hair, a dark beard, and looked like a serial killer. The driver had blond hair, a clean-shaven face, and eyes that Connor recognized, even from that short distance.

  Emily Kate’s eyes.

  “Oh no.”

  He doubted it was a coincidence that an FBI agent showed up at the very same bus station where he had purchased a ticket a few hours prior, just as it hadn’t been a coincidence that one of Vik’s men was there, watching him. Which of them was the FBI watching—him or Vik’s guy? He hoped to hell it was the other guy. Connor’s involvement in what went down at the Lucky Belle Casino had been purely accidental, but the fact that he hadn’t gone to the authorities with his knowledge would no doubt be a strike against him.

  If Emily Kate didn’t already hate him for leaving, she surely would if she found out he’d been a
rrested by the FBI. By her own brother, no less.

  His self-preservation instinct kicked into gear. He glanced around, searching for an idea of how to get out of there without being caught by Emily Kate’s brother or the other, far scarier-looking guy at his side. He spotted a suitcase parked not too far away with a Texas Rangers baseball cap perched on the handle. The guy he guessed was the owner slouched in a chair, his gaze glued to his phone, completely oblivious to everything going on around him.

  Connor inched closer, trying to appear nonchalant. Candice’s father and Window Man were still arguing in the far corner. Emily Kate’s brother and the serial killer were almost to the door leading into the bus terminal. The Texas Rangers fan never looked up.

  At least not until Candice’s father swung at Window Man, and Window Man reciprocated by leveling the now-attentive dad. Connor winced, Candice screamed, and Texas Rangers Fan finally tore his attention away from his phone.

  “Fight,” he called out, leaped from his seat, and headed toward the mêlée.

  Connor grabbed the hat, stuffed it onto his head, and then searched for an alternate route out of the building. He spotted an employees only sign on a door near the counter where he’d purchased his ticket. Banking on the idea that employees had a separate entrance into the building, he headed that way, keeping his head down and his eyes on the prize.

  “Shit! It’s the cops!”

  Connor glanced over his shoulder. Emily Kate’s brother and his friend had just stepped into the terminal. At the shout, pandemonium erupted. People jumped from their seats and ran every which way except toward the entrance, where the two federal agents paused and scanned the crowd. Some grabbed their luggage, some abandoned it. Others began urgently digging through their bags, and Connor saw more than one person toss small packages into the nearest trash receptacle. Shaking his head, he increased his speed, darting around panicked individuals, until he was near enough to the employees’ entrance to reach for the knob.

  “No way, buddy. Nobody’s allowed back here without proper ID, and definitely not right now. What the hell happened?”

  Connor glanced at the guy dressed in a security guard uniform, whose job apparently was to block this entrance instead of jump into the chaos and try to rein it in. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Those two guys walked in, somebody shouted ‘cops,’ and everybody began to run.”

  The security guard nodded. “That makes sense.” Connor stared at him, not understanding. The guy explained. “People who don’t want other people to know they’re traveling, whether because they’re carrying something they shouldn’t or they aren’t supposed to leave the area, tend to take the bus over other modes of public transportation. Least amount of security checkpoints.”

  Exactly why Connor was there. “Right. That does make sense. Sorry to bother you. Thought there were restrooms over here.”

  “Back that a-way.” The helpful individual pointed at the vending machines, next to which was a hallway with a sign very clearly indicating toilets.

  “Thanks.” Connor turned his back on the guy, searching the moving and shifting crowd for Emily Kate’s brother. He needed to get out of this place, and it appeared there was only one way to do so.

  Luck—if he could call it such—was finally on his side. The two government agents had joined the throng surrounding Candice’s dad and the man who punched him. The serial killer-looking one had Window Man pressed against the wall, his hands in cuffs behind his back. Candice was clinging to Emily Kate’s brother, crying into his shirt. He appeared highly uncomfortable with the situation. Connor ducked his head and made a beeline for the entrance.

  People streamed out of the bus station as if someone had pulled a fire alarm. Connor pushed his way through the crowd and stepped outside, turning to the right, away from the bus loading bay, and slipping around the corner of the building. He rushed around the back and emerged on the north side. The car Emily Kate’s brother had arrived in was parked a few feet away. The engine was still running. He glanced around, but no one was paying him any attention.

  What the hell? He’d made worse decisions in his life.

  He hopped into the car, shifted it into gear, and drove away from the scene, just as a line of police cars came tearing down the street from the opposite direction.

  Chapter 10

  Emily Kate couldn’t decide whether to be happy or furious when Connor showed up at the restaurant that afternoon. He looked ragged, exhausted, and had aged ten years since he left her house earlier that morning. She’d harassed Pedro until he admitted that he’d taken Connor to the bus station after picking him up from her house.

  She’d fallen into a funk at that point. She’d managed to make it out of the kitchen and into the restaurant proper, and then she’d sunk into an unoccupied booth, feeling hugely disappointed.

  Well, that certainly explained the way he’d acted the night before. Ravishing her as if he thought he might not ever see her again. Over and over, all night long. And she’d let it happen, instead of insisting he talk to her about his plans.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. No wonder her brother was constantly scaring off potential suitors. It appeared she was incapable of making smart decisions when it came to dating the opposite sex.

  Except now Connor was back. No, there was no decision about how to react to his presence. She didn’t need to decide between happy and furious. She was straight up furious.

  She burst through the swinging doors, just as Connor pulled a Texas Rangers baseball cap off his head. “What are you doing here?” she said icily. Everyone in the kitchen turned to watch her, but she didn’t care. For once, she wasn’t remotely concerned about being on display.

  “Getting ready to work. How’s the crowd out there? Pedro says you let him put his enchiladas on special today. Are they selling okay?”

  “You do not work here anymore,” she said, surprisingly even, considering her insides were quaking with suppressed rage at the moment.

  Connor flashed her a surprised look right before his gaze darted to Pedro, who flushed a dull red and looked guilty as hell.

  “Obviously I decided to stay.” He shifted his gaze back to her. He continued to watch her, and Emily Kate felt a surge of satisfaction at the wary look in his eye. He should be wary.

  “Obviously I’ve filled your position,” she retorted, as she waved at Pedro, who now wore the black chef’s hat.

  He immediately pulled it off his head and offered it to Connor. “No, ma’am,” he said in a rush. “I don’t want it. I want to study under Connor for a while longer.”

  “Awhile longer,” she repeated. “How much longer? A day? Two? A week? Can we have a specific end date this time?” Her voice was like ice. Just like her heart.

  “I’m not sure,” Connor admitted. “Things are ... complicated at the moment.”

  “Complicated.”

  “Yeah.”

  “My life, on the other hand, is not remotely complicated. I own a restaurant. My restaurant is currently fully staffed. I have no need for an executive chef who may or may not decide to stay beyond the very next day.”

  Pedro actually winced at her words, but Connor looked angry. He strode across the kitchen, snagged her by the arm, and then dragged her into the small, windowless office that she almost never used, and slammed the door closed behind him.

  “Knock it off, Emily Kate. I’m not in the mood,” he snapped when he released her arm and dropped into the faux leather chair parked behind the old, wooden desk.

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re not in the mood? You’re not in the mood,” she repeated shrilly. “You aren’t the one who was left behind without so much as a goodbye.”

  “I said goodbye,” he muttered.

  She threw her arms in the air. “Oh, well. My apologies. I guess I didn’t realize that by goodbye you meant forever. As in, I’m getting on a bus and heading who knows where and I don’t expect to ever see you again.”

  “You’re seeing me right now.”r />
  “You’re being an ass. Get out of my restaurant.” She stabbed her finger at the closed door.

  Connor sighed gustily and then reached out his arm and hooked it around her waist. The next thing she knew, she tumbled into his lap. She struggled to stand again, but he clung to her more tightly and buried his face in her hair.

  “I love the way your hair smells,” he mumbled.

  She finally managed to twist out of his grasp and jumped to her feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, her hands fisted on her hips.

  He laughed. It sounded slightly hysterical to her ears. “I didn’t tell you I was leaving because I couldn’t bear to see your face. I knew if you looked remotely sad, I wouldn’t be able to go. And I really need to go, Emily Kate. This has been great. All of it, especially you. I wish I could stay, I really do. I want to stay.”

  “Then stay.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I need to go back. I need to be an executive chef there, not here. It’s what I’ve been working toward for ten years.”

  While she was proud of her little restaurant out in the sticks, and her patrons would argue it was the best restaurant in the area, that area was not enough for someone who had trained and worked in a metropolitan city, in a restaurant as renowned as Oliver’s. She’d done her research, had looked it up on the Internet. So whether she wanted to or not, she understood what Connor was trying to tell her. And while it hurt that staying with her was not enough to pull him away from his dream, she also knew damn well she could not ask that of him. It wasn’t fair.

  She’d made a choice to take over Louisiana Kitchen instead of continuing to pursue her dream of making a living as an artist, and while she loved the restaurant—and appreciated the steady income—she also resented it. If Connor had a chance to realize his dreams, she of all people could not hold him back. Except ...

  “Then why are you here now?”

  “Remember, my wallet was stolen? I can’t go anywhere.”

  “Oh.” Her brother’s warnings about guys with crooked smiles echoed in her head. “Right.”

  • • •

  Going back to Louisiana Kitchen had been stupid. But when he drove away from that bus terminal, he’d felt so overwhelmed, all he could think about was getting into a kitchen, getting behind a grill, throwing himself into cooking. He needed to get his hands dirty so he could think straight, so he could relieve the stress that had him twisted into knots. With no other options at his disposal, he’d made a dive for his foxhole.