A Just Deception

by Adrienne Giordano

  He turned the car off, got out and locked it before climbing the motel stairs to the second floor.

  Billy had been poking around trying to find information on the family planning clinic Courtney had visited. So far, he hadn’t been able to connect them to anything illegal, but this new theory of Izzy’s about the baby brokering could blow it open.

  It made sense that the clinic would refer down-on-their-luck pregnant women to Seth’s organization. They’d get shelter, food in their bellies and a chance to make a life for themselves and their children. Assuming Seth wasn’t selling those children.

  Jesus.

  Izzy’s theory might not be far off. He didn’t want to think what she might be doing while he was gone. The thought of her naked body, all that toned flesh, under Seth made his eyes throb. How the fuck did he get to this place?

  Shake it off. Deal with it. Izzy’s thinking got screwed. Maybe she’d come to the realization that fucking a man blind wouldn’t find a missing girl. Then again, if anyone could bring a man to heel, it would be Izzy and her sexual skills.

  Goddammit.

  He stopped on the landing, bit down hard and grunted. Okay. Settle down, chief. One hour to calm down. That would do it. Then he’d be functional again. He hated leaving that compound, but he’d be no good in this condition.

  He dialed Billy and waited for him to answer. “I’m coming in the room. Don’t shoot me.”

  “Roger.”

  Peter slid the key, an actual key, not a keycard, into the lock and stepped in. Billy, dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, had his head buried in the laptop.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Peter tossed Izzy’s keys on the dresser and sat on it. “I needed some air. Izzy came up with something and I wanted to fill you in.”

  “How is she?” He sat back and propped his feet on the desk.

  Probably getting laid right now. There’s a thought. Shit. He plunged his fingers into his eyes to relieve the exploding pain.

  “You okay?” Billy wanted to know.

  Fucking peachy.

  “Headache,” Peter said. “Anyway, Izzy thinks, and I tend to agree, that Seth is selling infants on the black market.”

  Billy’s head snapped back. “Holy crap. Is Courtney selling her kid?”

  “Don’t know. Courtney’s not talking. I went at her this morning, but Izzy got pissed at me and pulled her away.”

  “That’s why you’re here? You had a fight with Izzy.”

  Sort of. “I told you, I needed some air.”

  “Sure.” Billy shrugged in that annoying way he did when he was about to be sarcastic. “The two of you cooked up this baby thing and then you took her car and left her there—alone—to deal with it. Nice work, Monk.”

  He left her there. Alone. His worst fear and he made it happen. “It’s complicated.”

  “Not really. Since when do you, of all people, leave a teammate because the situation is complicated? What is wrong with you?” He held up his hands. “Wait. What did you fight about?”

  Right. Like he’d tell Billy? Peter swallowed the string of insults begging to be hurled. “It’s complicated.”

  “Bullshit. The truth is you broke the fucking rule and got emotional about an op.” Billy put his feet on the floor and went back to the laptop. “Deal with it and get your ass back there. She needs you now.”

  Peter shook his head. “Not this time.”

  “Waa, waa, waa.”

  “Fuck you,” Peter yelled because he’d had enough of the armchair psychology. Let Billy walk in on his girl about to bang some guy simply to get information. Then he could offer an opinion.

  “No.” Billy said. “You signed on for this. Vic wanted to send somebody else. You told him you could do it.”

  “Well, I can’t,” Peter mumbled because defeat never came easy. Or was it weakness? He didn’t know. It sucked though. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “You’re right. I admit it. I got emotional. Happy now?”

  Billy pushed the chair back and got large. “I should kick your ass. You need to suck it up and get back there. You took her car! Which proves to me you aren’t thinking. I know there’s no way you’d leave her without wheels.”

  No lie there.

  He’d panicked. He couldn’t stand there and watch her play Seth right in front of him.

  “You know,” Billy said. “This is still about you not getting your way. Every time you can’t control a situation you get pissed off. You got pissed off when Tiny went down and you got pissed off when we lost Roy. Like somehow you should have saved them. Listen up, asshole. We’re all pissed. We all lost friends. We all feel responsible. You can’t reserve the corner on that.”

  Peter braced himself, willed his body to relax. If he didn’t get out he’d go apeshit on Billy.

  Again.

  He didn’t need this. “This is crap. I’m leaving.”

  Billy waved him off. “Of course you are.”

  And that ripped it. Peter lunged forward, grabbed Billy by the shirt and got in his face. “What is your fucking problem?”

  Billy shoved him off. “You’re my fucking problem. You haven’t been right since Tiny died. We all knew it and gave you slack, but now you’re being a pain in the ass. You’re so bent on proving you can save someone that you’re screwing up. What makes you think you could have saved those men? Christ, you weren’t even there when Roy died.” Billy stepped back. “Let me say this so you can understand it. You couldn’t help them. But you can help Izzy. Why you are here, arguing with me, I don’t have a clue.”

  He could help Izzy. The words shattered Peter’s rage and he backed up, sat on the bed, curling and uncurling his fingers.

  “Yo,” Billy said, “somehow you got it into your head that you didn’t do something that could have saved them. Accept the fact that you are hurting. We all know it. You’re the only one who doesn’t. Take some time and deal with it. It wasn’t your fault those men died. I was there both times and I know there was nothing we could have done to save them. You did not fuck up.”

  Peter stared at his hands. “All I know is my teammates are dying.”

  “Yeah, they are.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “I can’t think too hard about it or I’ll wind up like you. And I’d rather put a bullet in my head.”

  No shit.

  “Whatever happened with you and Izzy, you’d better set it straight. She’s good for you. You’re not some insane asshole when she’s around.”

  Peter snorted a laugh. “Trust me, I get it, but I can’t compromise on what we fought about.”

  “Maybe not, but here’s what you need to do.”

  Peter rolled his eyes. Great. More advice from Billy.

  “Hold up,” Billy said. “This isn’t bullshit.”

  Peter waved his hands to urge him on. Might as well. Considering he was at a dead loss. And how many times had that happened in his life? Not many.

  Billy wagged a finger. “You have to learn to cooperate but not lose your nuts.”

  Why, why, why did he think Billy could help? “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means you can’t agree to anything that will compromise what you stand for. Tell her you don’t mind cooperating, but not if it means giving up your non-negotiable terms. Think about it. If you didn’t have a list of terms you’d be living in constant fear of being hosed.”

  “That’s the problem, jackass. I do know my terms.”

  This couldn’t be making sense. Not from Billy.

  “Stay specific with her. Don’t make it a huge list, but be honest. Women like that. Besides, if it’s a short list, she’s more likely to give in.”

  Izzy giving in? Doubtful.

  “Okay, genius, what if she doesn’t like my terms?”

  Billy shrugged. “Then you’re fucked, but you’ve got to try and make her understand.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Once inside the house, I
sabelle ran up the steps to her room in search of privacy. She couldn’t face Seth right now. He’d want to pick up where they left off and, well, not going to happen. Nope. The only thing she needed now was time alone to think about repairing things with Peter and getting in touch with Sampson about the baby-brokering scheme. But, with Peter taking her car, she couldn’t go anywhere. And hadn’t he told her to never call Sampson from her cell phone?

  She’d just call Peter, find out when he’d be back and then she’d find a pay phone to call Sampson. Excellent plan. Two birds, one stone. She flew into the bedroom, where Courtney sat on the bed reading a magazine and nearly rocketed off in surprise. “Isabelle! You scared me.”

  She held out her hands as Courtney shook off the scare. “Sorry. So sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I’m not going to pop this baby because of it, but, wow, you just blasted in here.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She rushed to the dresser. “I…uh…need my phone. Important call.” She dialed Peter’s number, held the phone to her ear. One ring, two, three. Nothing.

  Not taking her calls. Should have known. She jabbed the disconnect button, fired off a text and waited for his response. Come on. Come on.

  “What is it?” Courtney asked.

  Isabelle turned to her and saw the curiosity in those big blue eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “Is there an emergency?”

  Yeah. A big one. I just jettisoned the only guy that makes me feel like a living, breathing woman. The one who was man enough to keep working with me until he cracked the code.

  The full force of what she’d done finally hit her. By being an idiot, she’d annihilated her shot at what could possibly have been the most fulfilling relationship of her life.

  “We had a fight.” Izzy continued to stare at her phone, but the panic—that pecking that ravaged her nerve endings—began to take hold.

  Come on, Peter. Call me back. Please.

  “Who?”

  “Uh. A friend.”

  “The rich boy?”

  “Yes.”

  She shouldn’t have admitted that.

  “Must have been some fight,” Courtney said.

  Isabelle willed the phone to ring, but nothing came. He wouldn’t call her. She could 9-1-1 him and he’d call back in a second. No. No tricks. That wouldn’t be fair.

  But was this fair? Ignoring her? Treating her like an expendable piece of meat? No. That wasn’t fair either. Yes, she’d hurt him. She knew that, but ignoring her? After she’d given herself over to him? She shouldn’t have done it. If she’d kept her emotions locked in the box—the damned box—she wouldn’t be feeling this…this…raging skewering of her heart.

  She threw the phone on the bed. “Dammit.”

  “Yikes,” Courtney said. “I’m guessing you and the rich boy are doing the nasty. Did he dump you?”

  Wasn’t this perfect? Courtney trying to dissect this crazy situation. The irony of it was that Courtney had been dumped in the worst possible way and could probably relate.

  “I screwed up and he won’t talk to me. And he took my car, so I can’t even try to get to him.”

  A sob clawed free from the steel-plated box and Isabelle spun to the sealed window, stuck her face in the path of the sun’s rays and allowed the heat to penetrate. She would not cry.

  Please call me back.

  Who was this whimpering, pitiful girl? Images of herself as a fifteen-year-old girl standing in her uncle’s study with her pants down knifed into her brain. That was the pitiful girl. The scared one who didn’t know what to do as Kendrick pulled up his jeans while his father screamed at them.

  This Isabelle, the grown up one, didn’t allow men to control her emotions. No. She kicked their asses. Emotionally and physically. Not much to be proud of, but still…

  She counted three breaths and turned back to Courtney, but the panic continued to bubble, and tears formed in her eyes. Done. Cooked. No sense fighting it anymore.

  She lowered her head into her hands. The air came too fast, her head spun, and her ribs ached.

  Catch your breath.

  But the sobs came instead and her body shook with it, shattering over the agony, and, suddenly, Courtney was next to her, stroking her shoulders, offering comfort. All Isabelle wanted was her life back. Her house, her beach, heck, even her job.

  She wanted Peter.

  “This is stupid,” she said. “He probably just didn’t hear the phone. He has my car so he has to come back.”

  She breathed deep, let the calm inch over her.

  “He’s probably cooling off,” Courtney said. “Besides, I need him to come back, too.”

  Huh? Isabelle swiped her hand over her face and shifted to Courtney. “How come?”

  “Well, I was…uh…thinking…about what you guys said.”

  Oh, please. Please. “Yes?”

  “About helping me?”

  A burst of hope whipped at Isabelle, but she dialed it back. She snatched a tissue off the bedside table and blotted her face as her meltdown faded to the background. “Of course. You know we’ll help you.”

  “Yeah. But, it’s bad.” She glanced at the closed door.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll get you out of here. We’ll walk away. Right now.”

  Shock. No. Pure joy lit Courtney’s face and her eyes turned a shimmering, sparkling blue. “You’d do that for me?”

  This poor girl had grown so accustomed to being disappointed by people she didn’t trust kindness. They really did understand each other.

  “Yes. We’d have to wait for Peter to bring my car back, but yes. Absolutely.”

  “Uh. There’s a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  The joy slipped away, and Isabelle sensed Courtney retreating. Giving in to the fear. No. Don’t lose her. She sat next to her on the bed, draped an arm over her shoulder. “You and I, we’re a lot alike. The world, at times, has been shitty to us. We’re survivors though. We always come back. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

  Isabelle shut her mouth as Courtney’s mental war raged on. The only sound came from a bird outside the sealed window. Isabelle waited. Didn’t speak. Someone would give in.

  “I have to sell my baby.”

  The thundering behind Isabelle’s eyes wouldn’t stop. This was it. “What do you mean you have to sell her?”

  “I told them I would. I’m so ashamed, but I didn’t know what else to do. The lady at the counseling center called it a private adoption. And when you have no job and no place to live, it makes sense. I was scared.”

  “And the counseling center sent you here?”

  “Seth and Kendrick made it sound like a perfect option. They said they’d support me, get me a doctor. Then after the baby came I’d walk away from here with some money. Plus, I could make a childless couple happy. It seemed like a no-lose situation.”

  “Until you changed your mind?”

  Courtney nodded. “I was afraid to tell them. I didn’t know what they’d do.”

  “Well,” Isabelle said, squeezing her arm and standing up. “You’re not going to have to worry about that because I’m getting you out of here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Peter’s phone buzzed and he unclipped it from his belt. Two seconds later Billy’s went off. Peter checked his screen. Oh, shit. He’d missed a call and now a text from Izzy. A 9-1-1. He’d left her alone, without her car and she was in trouble. His heart nearly exploded because his worst fucking nightmare wouldn’t end.

  Son of a bitch. He snatched the keys off the dresser and hauled ass as he dialed.

  “Right behind you,” Billy said.

  Izzy’s phone barely rang before she answered. “Where are you?”

  “At the motel. You all right?”

  “Yes. Courtney just told me everything. We’re going to walk out of here together. She’s packing her things and I need your help when Seth tries to stop us.”

  The guilt settled on him, nearly dr
ove him into the ground. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I figured I could leave for an hour and get my head together.”

  “It’s not your fault. I didn’t know this would happen. I had a meltdown and unloaded on Courtney. She unloaded back.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Let’s talk about it later. In private. Right now—”

  “Yeah. We’re on our way. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

  He bolted down the stairs, but hollered over his shoulder at Billy. “Follow me to the compound, but stay on the road. Don’t drive onto the property until I figure out what’s going on. I’ll open the gate for you with the remote Seth gave Izzy.”

  Peter jumped into the Audi and started it. “You still there?” he asked Izzy.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes. What’s happening?”

  “It’s what we thought. Seth is running a black market baby ring. I have to call Sampson. Courtney is willing to talk to him.”

  “Don’t hang up, Izzy. We’ll call Sampson once you’re both out of there.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. We’re in our room. Call me when you get close. We’ll walk out and you can pick us up in front.”

  He didn’t like hanging up. Not for one second. But she needed Sampson more than him right now. Sampson could get the cops crawling all over that place. The weight of Peter’s nine millimeter, hidden at his waist, reminded him he hadn’t gone completely loco. At least he remembered to grab it before he’d gone into that office and found Izzy with Seth.

  “Izzy, don’t move from that room until I call you.”

  “Seth is at the door,” she whispered. “I have to go.”

  The line went dead.

  “Shove that bag in the closet,” Isabelle whispered to Courtney. “I’ll get rid of him.”

  Courtney leaped to her feet with amazing speed for a woman eight months pregnant. She stowed the duffle in the closet and dove into her bed. “Tell him I’m tired. Don’t say sick or he’ll have a doctor in here.”

  The knock sounded again. “Isabelle? Courtney? Everything all right?”

  Isabelle reached for the door, straightened up and gently pulled it open for him to see in the room. “Hi, Seth. Sorry. Courtney wasn’t decent.”