A Just Deception

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Mainly because he couldn’t stop staring at my boobs.”

  Ouch. Peter closed his eyes. Did he need to hear that? “I guess the T-shirt worked.”

  “He had to have been blind for it to fail,” Billy offered.

  Izzy fired Billy a warning glance before Peter could blast him.

  “I pretended to be interested in their cause,” she said. “He explained they help people on welfare. They have ten cabins on the property and they let people live there while they get back on their feet. Sort of a halfway house. The tenants are screened and, once accepted, they’re required to do fundraising for the organization and pay a small rental fee. He didn’t give me specifics, but said they try to secure employment for the residents. The goal is to get them to be self-supporting as quickly as possible so they aren’t at the compound long. “

  “How many people live in the main house?” Peter asked.

  She shook her head. “No idea. I met a woman. Her name is Courtney Masterson and she can’t be more than twenty. She’s eight months pregnant and all indications are that she lives in the house. There’s a swing set out back and Seth confirmed there are children living there.”

  The idea of children living with Kendrick must have been killing her. Peter could see it in the pasty color of her face. “Give Sampson her name. He’ll run it.”

  Izzy nodded. “My guess is Courtney went there when she got pregnant. She seems healthy enough, but I don’t know if she’s seen a doctor. I’m assuming so, but she left quickly. It seemed like she was afraid to say anything. She kept looking at Seth to gauge his reaction.”

  “Maybe he’s the father?” Billy asked.

  “Could be,” Izzy said. “But nothing about the way they acted indicated they were a couple. It was very strange.”

  “Where are the cabins on the property?” Peter asked.

  “Just beyond the house. I could see the roof of one of them from the back door, but the property is wooded and the trees block the view. There’s a narrow dirt road though. I’m guessing the other cabins are along the path.”

  Billy stuck his bottom lip out. “You thinkin’ you want to do a sneak and peek?”

  Bet your ass.

  “I’d like to know what’s on the back end of that property. Sampson needs to get us some land surveys so we can check it out.”

  Izzy scoffed. “Good luck with that. He doesn’t want you within ten miles of that place.”

  “He’ll change his mind as soon as we give him something he couldn’t get playing fair. When you give him Courtney’s name, ask him about the surveys.”

  “I have to check in with him today. Besides, I really want to know how she got there. She must not have a family.”

  Peter shrugged. “You never know about women from these small towns. With no real employment opportunities, she might have conveniently wound up pregnant hoping to land the baby’s father as a husband. The guy probably bailed on her.”

  Izzy’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. “Well, that’s an interesting theory. Did you even hesitate to consider she might be lonely? She could be searching for companionship and accidentally wound up pregnant. Why does she have to be a hustler?”

  Holy crap. Somehow he was back in the Izzy minefield again. She was working at staying neutral, but those green eyes were snappy. “I’m not saying she’s a hustler. You have to admit, it’s a possibility.”

  “That’s true,” Izzy conceded. “But you shouldn’t make presumptions about her motives.”

  “Yeah, well,” Billy said. “You two can fight about this all you want. It bores the hell out of me. I might as well go for a run. I’ll need some form of entertainment while we’re in this rathole.”

  When Billy left, Peter wandered to where Izzy sat on the dresser. “What did I say that pissed you off?”

  She stared down at her fingers wrapped around the edge of the dresser, tight enough for the skin to stretch. Yep. Izzy had something working her over.

  She finally looked at him, squirmed, and dropped her head back. “When I was in high school I slept with just about any male who came within twenty feet of me, and it had nothing to do with trying to snag a husband.”

  “That’s different.”

  “No. It isn’t. Maybe this girl is searching for the one person that will make her feel something during sex. That’s all I wanted. Someone to make me feel like it was more than a fuck. I just needed someone to love me for more than the sex act. I finally gave up when it didn’t happen.”

  Minefield. By now he should be getting better at detecting it.

  He sat next to her, stretched his legs in front of him and slid a hand down her back. “I’m sorry I made assumptions.”

  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and laughed, but nothing seemed funny.

  “You just don’t get it, Peter.”

  She moved off the dresser. “I’m taking a shower.”

  The invisible film of lustful grime from Seth ogling her all afternoon had sunk into her bones and left her feeling a gear behind.

  Plus, she couldn’t stand the way Peter was now watching her. Men. They always stared at her for one reason or another.

  Time alone with no one analyzing her. That’s the way her world worked best and maybe, for once, Peter would leave her be. She hurried to the bathroom, and shut and locked the door. If the bathroom had a window she’d probably climb out.

  What had she just done? He probably thought her a whore and Peter had standards in that area. He wouldn’t want to even touch her after that little admission.

  Maybe that’s what she wanted.

  She breathed deep craving the sensation of air filling her lungs.

  Taking off her clothes, she tossed them on the cracked tile floor. The bathroom, with its brown vanity and drab green sink, was an extension of the rest of the motel and she hated every bit of it. Or maybe it was simply being there she hated.

  After turning the shower on full blast, she stuck her hand into the stream and waited for the hot water.

  The door flew open and crashed against the wall with a bang that rocked her. She clutched the shower curtain for balance and turned as Peter stepped into the bathroom.

  “What the hell, Peter? You scared me!”

  He slammed what looked like a metal pick on the sink and got within an inch of her. His blue eyes locked on hers and the steel there could have broken cement. Hard, hard eyes.

  “I’m naked here,” she shrieked.

  But the sickening vulnerability had nothing to do with being naked.

  “You don’t say something like that and walk away,” he yelled. “If you’re pissed, you need to tell me why. I’m not a goddamned mind reader.”

  Isabelle shoved the curtain back and twisted the shower knob. The faucet wasn’t providing the only steam in the tiny bathroom. She turned, gave Peter a shove and reached for the towel hanging on the rack.

  “And I deserve some privacy.” She wrapped herself in the stingy towel.

  Peter, to his credit, kept his eyes focused on her face. He must really be mad. Most men would have at least snuck a peek by now. Or maybe he was trying not to piss her off any further. That theory made much more sense.

  She angled around him, stormed out of the bathroom and shut the adjoining room door. All they needed was Billy wandering in with her wrapped in a swatch of cotton barely bigger than a hand towel.

  Peter followed her. “What’s this about?”

  Damn him.

  They needed a distraction here. She spun to face him and the towel came loose. She should reach to tighten it, but maybe…if she just let it sink to the ground…his mind would move elsewhere.

  Sex she could handle.

  Even if she didn’t want their first time together to be manufactured because she was too terrified to admit she was losing herself. Was she that pathetic? Obviously so.

  “Don’t even,” he said, somehow knowing exactly where her mind had gone. “You’re not going to get out of talking to me. I’ve
been stepping in all kinds of shit this past week and I’m pissed.” He huffed out a breath, and bit down hard enough that the muscle in his jaw flexed. “I know you’re intentionally doing this. I can see it in your eyes. Creepy Izzy is barking at you and I’m trying to stay cool, but dealing with you on an emotional level can be a nightmare.”

  Oh, my God. Give up already. How could he still be standing here after all she’d subjected him to? Crazy. That’s what he was.

  She scoffed. “That’s not it.”

  He stuck his hands on his hips and puckered. The silence hung between them, daring her to say something, but she’d wait it out. Part of good lawyering meant knowing when to keep quiet.

  Peter slowly shook his head. “You’re trying to frustrate the crap out of me so I’ll give up on you. Classic move, Izzy, but you’re busted.”

  Her breath caught, backed up into her throat and she gasped. No air. No air. Breathe. But she couldn’t. Not with her nerves chewed raw. He wouldn’t go away. Wouldn’t leave her to this agony of being stuck between two worlds.

  “Shut up,” she said.

  “Talk to me.”

  “Shut. Up.”

  The pressure behind her eyes intensified and she jammed the heels of her palms into them. The pounding wouldn’t stop, so she dropped her hands and looked him square in the eye.

  Back him off.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  He didn’t flinch.

  “No you don’t. You’re scared. Big difference.”

  Hot tears began to pour from her eyes and she swiped at them, ran her wet hand down the towel. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. How could she have let this happen?

  “I just handed it over to you,” she blurted.

  He stared back at her. Clueless.

  “What?”

  “I told you about my being promiscuous. I shared that with you.”

  “So what?”

  “See! You don’t get it.”

  Peter dug both hands into his hair and pulled. “Holy, holy shit. I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  Isabelle began to pace, keeping one hand on the knot in the towel. “Telling you not to make assumptions had nothing to do with Courtney. It had to do with me giving a piece of myself to you and wanting you to not judge me. You totally missed it. I’ve never done that before and you missed it!”

  A sob punched free, and she covered her mouth as if that would make it stop. Just great. The emotional torture clearly wasn’t enough because now she got to be humiliated too.

  Peter finally moved. In three strides he reached her, but she retreated and the back of her calves bumped the ugly side chair.

  Trapped.

  Back him off.

  She swatted at him when he extended his arms.

  “Stop,” he said. “Please.”

  But the panic still roared at her, screaming that she should run.

  Shut him down.

  Fast.

  All this stress and hurt couldn’t be good.

  He stepped an inch closer, blocking her from moving. She wouldn’t look up, but let him put his arms around her, her breath hitching from the tears.

  “It’s all right,” he said, squeezing her tight. “I’m sorry I missed it, but I understand now. I do.”

  The heat of his skin flowed into her and she inhaled to quiet the madness in her mind. “I told you I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to do relationships. It’s just too hard.”

  “That’s crap,” he said, holding her in place when she tried to back away. “You’re driving me crazy. Seriously nuts.”

  She tilted her head a little. “I tend to do that. I haven’t met a man yet that knows how to deal with me.”

  “One that can stick you mean?”

  She shrugged. “Seems as good an explanation as any.”

  “I think you don’t want anyone close to you. In any way. You know people, but how many of them are friends? Probably not a lot. If they’re around too much, they might start to ask questions about your personal life. You can’t have that.”

  “Peter—”

  He jabbed his hand out. “Not done yet. You’ve been pushing me away since the day I met you in that elevator.” He held up a finger. “You did it with that staring at my package trick—and that’s another conversation, because I’m amazed some egomaniac hasn’t decided to prove what he’s packing after you’ve dissed his dick. But I digress.”

  He held up a second finger. “You push me away every time you flip the Creepy Izzy switch because you know I’m sensitive to it.”

  “But, Peter—”

  “Hold up. Being scared is one thing. I can deal with that, but you need to tell me when something’s working you over.”

  She rested her forehead against his chest, and let her hands wander under his shirt, around his waist to the solid comfort there.

  “I’m worried you think I’m a whore. The sleeping around was a way to deal with my emotional problems.”

  He pushed her back and held her there. “I would never think that of you. I can’t even say the word to you. You were betrayed by the people who meant the most to you and you still grew up to be an amazing woman. You did that on your own. However you got there, you got there.”

  His blue eyes, so focused, nearly blistered her. She lowered her head to his shoulder and tried to concentrate on slow breaths because she was crying again. With relief maybe? She didn’t know, but he needed to see. Needed to know what his acceptance meant to her.

  She smiled through the soppy tears.

  “Are we okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

  His cell phone started ringing. The real one. Not the disposable he’d bought earlier in the day. Peter threw the adjoining door open and hustled to the phone on the bedside table. Private caller.

  “Jessup,” he said.

  “This is Special Agent Wade Sampson. There’s a convenience store on the south side of town. Meet me there in ten minutes.”

  Click.

  Peter laughed. This should be good. Simply for the pain-in-the-ass factor, he’d make it fifteen minutes.

  He stuck his head into the room and found Izzy still standing there hanging on to her towel. “You can take your shower now. I’ll leave you alone.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you need me to scrub your back.”

  That got him a half smile at least.

  “Rain check?” she asked.

  “You bet. That was your buddy Sampson. He wants to see me.”

  “Uh-oh,”

  “Nah,” Peter said. “He probably wants to throw his federal weight around. I’ve been waiting for him to call.”

  “Well, don’t make him mad.”

  He laughed and walked out the door.

  Thirteen minutes later, the convenience store lights called like a beacon on the deserted country road where only darkness surrounded him. The lack of moonlight sent a familiar buzz through his system. Dark nights like this were perfect for an op, and the longing for his normal life hit him square in the chest.

  He pushed the Camaro to eighty-five.

  Getting Izzy home safe had to be the priority. Then he’d tell Vic he wanted an assignment. And no wouldn’t be an option.

  Peter pulled into the store’s parking lot. The sign said Open Twenty-Four Hours, but considering how quiet this town was, the place couldn’t make any decent money at night.

  Sampson, wearing a suit sans the jacket, leaned against a black Chevy at the far end of the low-lit parking lot and stood taller when Peter drove toward him.

  He parked the Camaro, got out and strolled over.

  “You’re late,” Sampson said, taking in Peter’s do-rag and combat boots.

  “You didn’t give me much notice. What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Jessup,” Sampson said. “Or should I call you Monk?”

  “Peter works for me. I’m surprised it t
ook you this long to contact me. You federal boys are way too predictable.”

  The sarcastic laugh from Sampson proved Peter hit his target. At least until Sampson got in his space. Of course the fucker had an inch on him and that always sucked. Not that Peter would give Mr. Slick any room to intimidate him.

  “Stay out of my case,” Sampson said.

  Interesting body language here. His voice was harsh, yet he stood with his hands in his pockets.

  Peter crossed his arms. “Or?”

  Sampson shrugged. “Or I lock your ass in jail.”

  “I’m offended, Special Agent Sampson. I’d think the FBI would welcome a person with my skills to their investigation. I can bend the rules where you boys have to play by them.”

  “Stay out of it.”

  “No.”

  “Are you out of your friggin’ mind?”

  Peter grinned. “My boss thinks so. Makes it all the more fun.”

  Sampson gave him a confused, narrow-eyed look. “Don’t make me lock you up. You’re a war hero, but I’ll wreck your life if I have to.”

  Peter stepped closer. Got right up in his grill. “You think I care about my life when you’re sending Izzy into a situation where you don’t know what the fuck is going on? You know as well as I do the congresswoman’s daughter is probably dead, her murderer probably in that compound—Kendrick’s too—and you think I care what happens to me? I think you’re the one out of your mind.”

  “We’ll protect Isabelle.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for her once she gets inside. She’s on her own.”

  Sampson broke eye contact and stepped back.

  Cornered.

  “Don’t fuck up my case.”

  Hmm. Time to play. To rattle Sampson’s cage some.

  Peter laughed, waved a finger. “I think you’d actually enjoy locking my ass up. If I’m in jail you can steal my girl.”

  Sampson’s rock-hard expression didn’t say much. He was definitely pissed, but was he pissed that Peter caught his attraction to Izzy or that he refused to stay out of the case? Both maybe?

  “I wouldn’t do that,” the lying sack of shit said.

  “Yeah, you would.”

  “No. I’d lock you up, close my case and then steal your girl.”