“Tomorrow, or the next time I see you we won’t be partners.” Caleb walked to the door. “I’ll be your competition.”
“Where are you going?”
“To chase down your daughter.” He finished his drink and placed the expensive glass on a table by the door. “I can’t decide if you told her about me to spite me, or her.” He paused, studying the old man’s face.
Hamilton moved his glass in tiny circles on his desk, watching the amber liquid slosh. “We’re more alike than you know.” Hamilton shrugged. “Sooner or later, she’d figure that out, and I thought if she heard it from me, she’d…understand. But that girl never understands.” He dismissed Caleb with a wave of his hand and swiveled his chair around, propping his crossed ankles on the sideboard behind him.
Caleb didn’t trust Hamilton’s sudden parental angst…if he was playing him, he’d show his hand tomorrow. Either way, Caleb would have the ledger tomorrow, or this op would expire along with the warrants. Without another word, he left the office, and came face to face with an eavesdropping Harris Tate. His bruises were fading, but the joy Caleb felt about giving them to Tate hadn’t…good times, good times.
“You got something to say?” Caleb arched a brow. Harris pantomimed shooting Caleb with a gun, and walked away backwards, apparently not interested in a rematch. “That’s right, off with you.” Tate disappeared around the corner.
Caleb pulled out his phone and dialed his security detail responsible for Francesca. When she picked up, he didn’t waste words. “Where is she?”
“The gardens,” she said.
He hung up, wondering why he was surprised to discover this place had gardens. It took five minutes to track Francesca down, past the large fountain of a cherub with urn, down a gravel lane hedged with green stuff, none familiar. He found her lying on her back, staring at the clouds. Blooming pink roses and shrubbery with large blue flowers swayed in the breeze. Francesca was Gaea personified, earth goddess. He knew the moment she noticed him. Her lip jutted out.
“Stop pouting,” he said. She closed her eyes, shutting him out. He sat next to her, feeling out of place in the gardens, on the grass…amid all this nature. He didn’t know how to fix what Hamilton did, or if it was possible to even smooth out the last fifteen minutes, but he wanted to. Too much. “From the moment you met me, you’ve seen who you wanted to see. My sin is that I allowed you your fantasy, but can you blame me?”
She scrunched up her face, as if forcing herself to keep her eyes closed. “You’re a crook. Go away.”
“Your father gives you a hint of the real me, and you’re running scared. No surprises there. You never could handle it, so I made an executive decision and didn’t say anything.”
Her eyes opened, and then narrowed, glaring at him. “A kind person would have told the truth from the beginning and allowed me to choose what to do with the information.”
The truth? She didn’t have any truth. Her father fed her a different fairy tale, that’s all, but this time Caleb was the villain. Truth was Francesca’s father was a sociopath, a murderer, and an extortionist, and made a lot of money doing it for a very long time. And Caleb was a Fed out to stop him. But it was too soon to pull that particular trigger. He needed the ledger first, and…he’d given up enough of his soul for one day. Revealing her father’s sins would devastate her. He couldn’t do it.
“Kind isn’t listed on my rap sheet,” he said. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Caleb leaned back on his palms, digging his fingers into the grass. With the gentle breeze and the warm temperatures, it would be a great day for a picnic. Instead, he was being cut loose by…his soul mate. “You had to know. Have you seen me?”
“Really?” She propped herself on her elbow, glaring at him. “I’m supposed to judge you by how you look? Should I have judged you by your clothes? Half the movie stars dress like you. And your proclivity for fast cars? I grew up with people like that. What about you was supposed to shout ‘criminal’? No, Caleb, I did not know you were an art thief, a gun whatever, and, and…” She waved her hand in the air. “Whatever else my father said that I can’t remember.”
She never failed to surprise him. Not once did she mention the jagged scar on his throat, the scrum she’d witnessed in the kitchen, his many guns affixed to his body. Nathan Plimpton’s snide remarks were the first tip off she ignored. Jimmy the cabbie, for shit’s sake, practically spelled it out to her. She ignored it all, because she didn’t want to know.
Francesca shook her head, sitting. “No. You fooled me.” She pulled grass up and allowed the clippings to cascade back onto the lawn. “You’re a good liar.” She met his gaze, and he could see her denial had matured to anger. “You made love to me knowing you were lying to me. Are you even ashamed?”
Damn. This was going to get messy. “Shame is a luxury, sweetheart, and I got the girl.” He pulled her across his lap and kissed her with all the frustration and anger bottled up inside him, because he despised this role she was punishing him for. It wasn’t who he was. She had no idea who he really was. But when she moaned and melted in his arms, fumbling with his belt buckle, it was Caleb who broke the kiss, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I got the girl and I’m not sorry.”
“I hate you.” Her eyes revealed her grief.
“I’m okay with that.” He’d earned it. “You wanted your hero and got me.”
She pushed him away, lying on her back, staring at the clouds. “You must think I’m such a fool,” she said. “How you must have laughed.”
“Don’t be stupid.” He lay next to her, staring at the clouds, too. “I thought you were wonderful.”
“Stop.”
“From the moment I saw you.”
She sniffed. “Yeah?”
He nodded, dejected. “That first week, I’d linger in the hallways a little too long, hoping you’d walk by. And when you did, I choked more times than not, having no idea what to say to a woman like you.”
“Like me?”
He saw a particularly spectacular cloud off to the right that looked like a Harley. “There aren’t many women like you in the world, sweetheart.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He snorted. The first time he told her the absolute truth was the first time she didn’t believe him. The irony was galling. “I had no idea what made you tick. You weren’t vain. You weren’t hungry for money or things. All you seemed to care about was catching your father’s attention…and helping those kids of yours.”
“My father.” She sniffed. “He doesn’t care about me.”
He kept his eyes on the sky and captured her hand, grateful when she didn’t pull away. “I care about you.” When she didn’t respond, he figured it was now or never. He might not get another chance to open up to her, and he’d be gone soon, so… “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to care about you.” He ran his thumb over her engagement ring, its edges. He’d taken a while choosing this ring, wanting it to be classy, but unique, like her. When it came time to give it to her, though, he’d lost courage, fearing she wouldn’t value it, so he left it on the pillow and ran, hoping for the best. He found himself hoping for the best a lot with Francesca.
“Well, I don’t want to care about you, either.” She sniffed again and wiped a tear.
“Yes, you do.” She didn’t know any better. Even now, he suspected she’d believe him if he made up a good enough lie. Francesca loved him, and she was the type to give everything, do anything, to be loved. Caleb blamed her father for twisting her up so much. She didn’t know what was good for her. “I realized my mistake at the party. Somehow I’d allowed myself to want you. All it took was a look, and I came to heel, hoping you’d let me—” He stopped himself in time.
“Let you what?” She turned her head to the side, searching his profile.
He met her gaze. “Touch you.”
Her expression crumpled, and her chin quivered. “I don’t know what to do.” The air left her lungs on a sob. “My head tells me to
leave, to go far away…”
If he were a good man, a kind man, he’d tell her to run. He wasn’t. Caleb needed Francesca to stay the course. One more day, because the endgame was in sight, and her father was about to give him the piece of evidence that would destroy the Hamilton empire. But if Francesca ran away, her father undoubtedly would renege, and more people would suffer, more people would die, and their suffering would be on Caleb.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll drive you to Harvard myself. But give me until then to close this deal with your father.”
She wiped her tear-washed cheek, blinking furiously, but her other hand held his firmly. Caleb was grateful, even if she probably didn’t realize she was unconsciously seeking comfort from the man who’d devastated her.
“A deal,” she said. “I keep forgetting that’s what we are. I’m supposed to shut up so you can keep your job, and you promised not to marry me. I’d thought it a low bar when I made the deal. Now I see you were always on my father’s side.”
He rolled toward her, studying her profile, memorizing it to revisit in his dreams. Her tears made him hate himself, hate Hamilton, the Feds, his life. Soon he’d be out of her life, but until then… “I need you to trust me.”
“You’re one big lie, Caleb.”
Dejected, he wanted to spill his heart to her and come what may, see if she’d recognize his truth. In Caleb’s world, words of love had their place. They were a grifter’s tool, lifted from their box only to benefit a con. To give love freely, honestly, was to become the mark, a thing of ridicule. “Francesca, I—”
“No! I can’t trust you!”
He heard himself say, “Trust me, because I love you,” and hated himself for it, not because the words weren’t true, but because he’d used them. He needed her to trust him or his operation would fail, and no amount of truth or con could change that.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she smiled a sad little smile. “I’m pathetic.”
“Stop. No. No, you’re not.” His heart was racing, and he wasn’t sure he could continue keeping things from her…not if it did this to her. He refused to add to the damage of her father.
“Because I love you, too.”
Her words closed his throat, forcing him to swallow past his guilt. He reminded himself she didn’t have the benefit of actually knowing him as he knew her, so this exchange was still smoke and mirrors for her, but people like him, they took what they could get and were happy to get it. He was happy for Francesca’s love. Even this less than version. Selfishly, he tucked her words away to savor when his world no longer had Francesca in it. When she was safe.
“And, and—” She nodded, pulling herself together. “I do trust you, Caleb. I do.”
He closed his eyes to hide his guilt. “Tomorrow. I promise I’ll make things right.” And she’d never have to see him again. His final gift to her. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him, tears poised on her lashes.
“I know you will.” She draped herself on him, pressing her lips to his chest as he held her.
She loved him even though it hurt. It made Caleb feel obligated to explain, if only a little, so when he disappeared, she might understand his actions, so he searched for the right words to console her, without revealing secrets that would compromise others. “I’ve spent my life…surviving,” he said. “And I’m good at it. In my business, that makes me dangerous to be around. People pay a price for being close to me.”
She kissed his chest again, caressing and hugging him. “Seems a lonely existence.”
“You’re not hearing me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. They could never be together. It would put a huge target on her back, worse than the one her father put on her, because Caleb didn’t have Hamilton’s veil of respectability to hide behind. As the wife of an undercover agent, he’d risk her life every day just by waking. And who would protect her when he died?
“I hear you,” she said. “And I heard my father. This is where we part ways.”
She did understand, if only this little bit. It crushed him. “Tomorrow. It will be over.”
Her head moved on his chest, nodding. “Two very dangerous men, me in the middle, but you were my dangerous men. Now…” She shook her head. “I’m done. I can’t be a part of this.” She sucked her lower lip into her mouth. He could feel her trembling. “I should have known we were too good to be true. Who I am with you…that’s not me.” She rested her chin on his chest, her gaze settling on his lips. “But you made me wish…” Her voice cut out, and she swallowed hard and then sat, turning her back on him.
Caleb stood, incapable of watching her pain any longer. He surveyed the grounds and logged where Walter and Ralph were on duty, and the flash of sunlight reflecting off his security operative’s scope a hundred yards north, in the bushes. The most painful moment of his life, and it was being witnessed by bored hired guns…and he couldn’t care less. He just wanted it over. It was time to get to work.
Chapter Twenty
It was happening, and Francesca wasn’t ready. Caleb was leaving. She told herself it was time to look out for herself, save her pride, wave good-bye to the love of her life, and give herself time to process what she’d learned in her father’s office. That was the sane thing to do. “Will I see you again?”
He studied her, hiding his thoughts, and then reached out and pinched a pink rose off one of the shrubs scenting the garden. For a second, she’d thought he was going to give it to her, but he didn’t. He stood there, staring at it, running his thumb over its petals.
“Nothing has changed, Francesca, but how you feel about me. I’m not going anywhere. There’s just someone I have to see, and I’m running out of time.”
She’d gotten it wrong again, and wasn’t sure why she was surprised. It was becoming her thing. So…Caleb was still her father’s golden boy, and he’d found a way to survive Harris’s machinations. How like Caleb. But had Harris been wrong about everything? If time was a factor and Caleb’s job secure, did that mean he’d found a way to retrieve her father’s ledger? Francesca hated that she still cared. “Who are you seeing? Bartleby Scrivener?”
Caleb pinched the bloom from its stem, scattering the rose petals to the ground. “Why do you ask?” He spoke so quietly, she had to replay the words in her head to be sure it’s what she’d heard.
“Harris told me Scrivener had the ledger, and my father had an expectation that you would get it back for him.”
“When did Harris say this?”
“I texted you before I busted into the office. I told you I needed to see you.”
Caleb slowly turned around, scanning the grounds as if looking for something. “You need to get inside and stay inside until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
“No. I don’t.” The time where she’d automatically obey Caleb without question was over.
He bent and tugged her to her feet. “Stop, Francesca. I’m not one of your boyfriends, trying to browbeat you. I’m trying to protect you. You’re vulnerable out here, so get your ass indoors.” He hustled her across the lawn toward the house.
When they reached the mansion’s foyer, he turned to leave, whispering, “Thank you, Francesca.” His tone stopped her cold. It sounded like good-bye.
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay. “Talk to me. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
Caleb searched her upturned face, and then his gaze settled on her lips. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her with such gentle adoration it busted open the protections she’d erected around her heart. She tugged on his T-shirt, slipping her hands beneath it to caress his glorious skin; he broke the kiss. She saw his hesitancy and remembered his words. He’d said he loved her.
“Make love to me, Caleb.” She entwined her arms around his neck, drawing his lips closer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was leaving her. She sensed it was true…and couldn’t bear it. “Just one more time.”
She could feel the battle raging inside him. He didn
’t move, not even when she pressed her belly to his arousal, moving against him, needing him, wanting him, desperately afraid he’d leave her craving and bereft…forever. The muscles at Caleb’s jaw moved and clenched as his fingers bit into her back.
“It would have been better if we’d never met.”
Pushing his hair back, she studied his rough, wild face, marred with scars from past and present, and knew he was wrong. “Easier. Not better.” He’d ruined her for anyone else. She stood on her toes, nipped at his lips, teasing him with kisses. “You’re afraid of me,” she said. “Of this.”
“Terrified.”
It cost her the last of her pride, but she spoke what was in her heart. “I need one last time.”
She pulled his head toward her until he relented, capturing her mouth, kissing her, tongues meeting, making them one. He bent, lifting her into the cradle of his arms. She held on as he hurried past the foyer and up the stairs.
She’d live in the moment, she told herself. She’d forget the past and abandon a future her conscience wouldn’t allow, but she wanted now. Reality would come knocking soon enough, and then nothing—not love, family, time, or ambition—would keep the pain of losing him at bay. He was a criminal. Her father hired a criminal. She couldn’t be a part of that. But now…she had Caleb, and this moment was a gift, and gifts required gratitude. They did love each other, and this would be the last time that mattered, because she wasn’t a woman who romanticized those who lived outside the law. She couldn’t live like that. Wouldn’t. Caleb was right. Francesca wanted a hero, and he’d shown no inclination to change his ways.
He hurried into her bedroom, used his booted foot to slam the door behind them, and then allowed Francesca to slide down his body and stand as he locked the door. She slipped her shirt off, trembling with need, then tossed her bra aside as he lowered the zipper of her pants. She felt as if she’d explode with impatience, and then he kissed her, never breaking contact as he walked her backward until she fell onto the bed. Shimmying out of her pants, she longed to bear his weight again, to welcome him inside her. Caleb tugged off her panties and then unbuckled his belt as Francesca crawled to him on her knees, tugging his T-shirt up. Caleb grabbed its hem, lifting it over his head as she tasted his gorgeous, wide chest, his rippling muscles, the tattoo. She moaned, unable to caress him enough, taste him enough. He shucked his boots and pants. She tugged him onto the bed, maneuvering him onto his back, straddling him, and then tasted her way up his body, starving for him, drawing her breasts up his chest until they were belly on belly, and her lips met his.
Seduced by Sin (Unlikely Hero) Page 20