Taken by the Con

by C. J. Miller

  “Does she know everything? Did you go on the level with her?” his father asked.

  “She knows.” About mostly everything.

  “She wants you back in this game?” his father asked.

  “She’s okay with it.”

  His father said nothing for a long time. He walked unsteadily to the refrigerator. He took out two beers, pulled the caps and handed one to Cash. Cash wasn’t in the mood to drink, but he took a swig.

  “I’ve known Anderson for a long time. He and I go way back to the old neighborhood,” his father said.

  “I know.”

  “Keep that in mind when you hear what I have to say. I don’t want you involved with Anderson. I don’t want you tied up in something that will land you back in prison.” His father lowered his voice over the word prison.

  “I’m not returning to prison. I’ll be careful,” Cash said.

  His father touched his cheek. “Careful isn’t enough. Anderson is looking for a big score. Anderson doesn’t ever tell anyone his plans, but I hear things, you know? Good things, bad things. Mostly I hear that Anderson wants out of the game. When he leaves, he’ll take his money with him and he won’t care if the people around him take the fall for what he’s done.”

  Cash sensed his father knew more. “Why would anyone need to take the fall? Anderson is careful.”

  Cash’s father let out a burst of laughter. “He’s shrewd. He doesn’t put himself in the direct line of fire. He has plenty of people willing to do it for him. Why do you want in, anyway? I thought you turned your back on this life.”

  He had. Though the life of a con man was exciting and could be lucrative, he wasn’t interested in being a criminal. His only interest was his son. “I don’t have any other way to make a living.” The admission burned because it was true.

  Cash didn’t have a college degree or skills. When he was married to Britney, he’d had a job working at a hardware store, stocking shelves overnight. It had left him free during the day to stay with Adrian. He’d been tired many days, but it had been worth it to spend so much time with his son.

  “You’re a smart man. You’re a people person. People like you. Why don’t you use that?”

  “To do what? What pays as well as this?”

  His father frowned and his shoulders sagged. “I couldn’t figure it out. I’ve done this for so long I don’t know how to get out.”

  Did his father want out? He had always seemed to enjoy running cons. He was good at it. “Do you want to retire?”

  His father drummed his fingers against the countertop. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  His father smashed a fist against the counter, rattling some dishes that were sitting unwashed next to the sink. “Can’t. But Cash, I was never more proud of you than when you walked away from this.”

  Proud? His father had been furious. “It didn’t seem that way.”

  “I was hurt that you’d turned away from family. But I didn’t want you back into this.”

  “It’s a tough life to quit,” Cash said.

  “Sometimes, it’s the only option,” his father said. “But Lucy might change her mind. She might want a family and stability.”

  “I can give her whatever she needs,” Cash said.

  “This life is not what anyone needs,” Wyatt said.

  “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

  “Will you let me see my grandson?” his father asked.

  Cash’s heart squeezed. Adrian. Cash did not want Adrian involved in this situation. Britney had been adamant that his father not be near Adrian, but Cash didn’t have the same feelings. Not anymore. “That’s a logistical problem.”

  His father took a sip of his beer and looked away.

  “Britney’s mom has custody of Adrian. They live on the other side of the country. He isn’t interested in seeing me. I am not planning to pursue him.” Did his father hear the lie?

  If he did, he didn’t call Cash out. “I understand. It’s a conversation for another day.”

  * * *

  Searching for a single one-way plane ticket was damning evidence.

  Had Cash lied to her about his son? Had he been conning her? If he was, what was he conning her into doing?

  Arguing with herself and considering the angles was making her crazy. Lucia took the stairs to her condo feeling grumpy and unpleasant. The old townhouse should have been outfitted with an elevator.

  Audrey stepped out of her place. “Have time for a visit?”

  Lucia had time, but she wasn’t in the mood. “I’ve had a long day.”

  “Following a long night?” Audrey asked.

  For a moment, Lucia feared that Audrey knew she and Cash had been involved in the break-in at the art museum. Based on the look in Audrey’s eyes, she was referring to Cash. “Not enough sleep.”

  Audrey smiled. “Best kind of nonsleep.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Always is,” Audrey said.

  “It shouldn’t be,” Lucia said.

  “When it’s easy, it’s boring. Cash is not a boring man. I would use a lot of words to describe him, but not that one.”

  Boring described Lucia’s past relationships. Revisiting those relationships, especially the disastrous ones, would send her mood on a downward spiral. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “I think it’s clear you don’t want a safe, normal relationship,” Audrey said.

  “What makes you say that?” Safe and normal wouldn’t have problems involving criminals and extradition laws.

  Audrey threw up her hands. “I’ve met Bradley. I’ve met the kind of men your mom loves to force on you. You reject them and you don’t look back.”

  “I didn’t reject Bradley.” It had been the other way around.

  Audrey rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you? Were you heartbroken when he left you?”

  Yes. No. A little. “I was hurt.”

  “Your pride was hurt. You were fine. You were happy to throw off those old chains and do what you wanted.”

  Party girl turned therapist. “I was pissed off at my sister’s wedding to Bradley. I made a drunken spectacle of myself.”

  “I was pissed off at your sister and Bradley’s wedding, too. It was so dull, I fell asleep twice. You did not make a spectacle. You got drunk. Big deal. A spectacle would have been if you’d jumped her and ripped off her veil, then stolen her bouquet and beaten Bradley with it.”

  Lucia laughed, the picture Audrey painted making her feel better. That was something else she liked about Audrey. She said what was on her mind. “Well, now I’m in a nonboring relationship-type situation and it feels...”

  “Nauseating?”

  “No.” She tried to find the right word. “Cash makes me feel afraid.”

  “Because he’s the real deal.”

  If only Audrey knew the truth. He was a con man. And he might be conning her. “He’s intense.”

  “Intensely sexy. Smart. Handsome. Can’t hold his liquor, but we can fix that.”

  “He isn’t looking for commitment.”

  “Did he say that?”

  They hadn’t talked about the future of their relationship. How could they when Cash’s future was uncertain? “He hasn’t said anything.”

  “Why do you assume he doesn’t want you, then? Why do you assume the worst?” Audrey asked.

  Cash not wanting her wasn’t the worst scenario. The worst scenario was that their entire relationship was a long con.

  “I can’t see him wanting to be with me.” The words were pathetic but honest.

  “I can see it. Easily. You’re a phenomenal woman and it’s about time a man sees it,” Audrey said.

  “Thanks, Audrey. That makes me feel
better.”

  Audrey rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying things just to make you feel better. I’m being honest. You sell yourself short and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because your family is bent on making you something you’re not or maybe it’s because you don’t toot your own horn and so people overlook you, but stop expecting people to reject you. Maybe they won’t.”

  * * *

  Lucia was upset about something. Cash was good at reading people. This job depended on it. It was part of how he’d survived jail. She wasn’t upset about the case. She was too cool and calm on the job. She was upset with him. It was personal, and if they didn’t clear the air Matt Mitchell might pick up on it, too. They were meeting with him at Franco’s place in a few minutes and they needed to pull it together.

  “Tell me what I did so I can apologize.”

  Lucia stopped and whirled on him. “If I tell you what’s wrong, then what’s the point of the apology? Aren’t you supposed to realize it on your own?”

  “Then it’s something personal.” At least he’d read her right.

  She glared at him. “We’ll talk about it later. We’re working.”

  “We can spare three minutes,” he said.

  “Three minutes? You want to give me three minutes?”

  “It’s more complicated than that?” If it took her more than three minutes to explain the problem, the resolution would be a great deal longer than that.

  Lucia threw up her hands. “Just forget it. The case. That’s what we’re doing now.”

  Cash shook off his worry and focused on their meeting. They were paying Franco well for his assistance, but Cash wasn’t a stranger to being crossed. Anderson paid Franco well, too.

  This could be an ambush. He knew Lucia had her gun in her purse, but Cash wasn’t carrying a weapon. A gun could go off in a split second. The FBI was waiting outside and covering exits, but once he was dead, why would he care if his killer was caught?

  They did a quick check of their earpieces and microphones before going inside Franco’s apartment. Lucia’s microphone was hidden in a pair of large, yellow earrings that were the same shade as the dress she was wearing. He knew she hated the clothes she wore, but he liked them. They had a certain party-girl, sexy and flirty vibe that he enjoyed. Knowing she was already annoyed at him, he didn’t voice his opinion. It would only serve to aggravate her further.

  When they entered Franco’s apartment, Mitchell was inside, talking to Franco. The tension in the air made it difficult for Cash to tell if Franco had sold them out. He was standing in front of the fake Copley painting, holding a glass of wine and swirling it in his right hand.

  He turned when Cash entered, his face unreadable.

  “What’s the good news?” Cash asked, feigning confidence he didn’t feel.

  Mitchell stared at him and glanced at Lucia. “Franco is finishing his assessment.”

  “I don’t like to be rushed,” Franco said over his shoulder. “Great artwork deserves time and a thorough review.”

  Cash didn’t react to anything Franco said. Mitchell must’ve known that he and Franco were acquaintances, but he wouldn’t know that Cash had the resources to pay him off to suit his purposes.

  “Look at the lines, the brush strokes and the shading. Copley had many works of art, but this is one of my favorites. I know it well,” Franco said. He circled the canvas on the easel, looking behind it.

  “Then it’s authentic?” Mitchell asked.

  Franco made a sound like he wasn’t sure. Out of the corner of his eye, Cash noticed Lucia’s eye twitch and her fingers slide toward the opening of her handbag. The FBI was listening, likely poised to spring if Franco revealed them as liars.

  After a long pause, Franco turned and smiled. “Yes. It’s authentic.”

  “You’re sure?” Mitchell asked.

  Franco appeared incensed. He was keeping that part of his personality true to form. He did not like being questioned. He considered himself an art authority, absolutely beyond reproach. “I am sure. Don’t bring me a hot item and put me in jeopardy and then question my assessment. It’s insulting.”

  “What about the painting makes you think it’s hot?” Mitchell asked.

  Franco smirked and strolled to his liquor bar. “First, I read. Second, I know my artwork.”

  He winked at Cash when Mitchell’s back was to him.

  “Are we done here?” Cash asked.

  Mitchell nodded. “We have another stop tonight. We’ll take my car. Leave the lady.”

  Lucia made a sound of disapproval.

  Mitchell glared at her. “What are you, his shadow?”

  “We’re soul mates,” she said, in a voice that was almost believable. Had Cash not been in character, he would have laughed.

  “I’m taking your soul mate on a drive. I’ll return him later.”

  “Lucy, baby, I’ll be fine. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

  Lucia cuddled up to Cash, pressing into his side, her breasts nearly popping out the top of her dress. “Make it up to me tonight.”

  Cash took a long look at her cleavage, both to play the part and because he was a man who found Lucia wildly attractive. Even Mitchell seemed entranced for a moment. Lucia had given Cash a good excuse for not lingering in whatever hotbed of illegal activity Mitchell was taking him to.

  With luck, Cash would return to her place alive.

  Chapter 9

  “What’s going on with you and Lucy?” Mitchell asked.

  Why was everyone suddenly obsessed with asking him about Lucia? Guys didn’t talk about relationships. Life couldn’t have changed that much while he was in prison. “What do you mean?”

  “She seemed upset.”

  Mitchell was fishing to find out if Lucia’s emotions would have any blowback on him or Anderson, such as a bitter ex-girlfriend running to the cops about what she knew about a secret underground casino or newsworthy art theft.

  “She’s fine. I’ll make it up to her,” Cash said.

  “Make what up to her?”

  Nothing to do with Anderson or the art theft. He needed a reason for Lucia to be angry with him, but not angry enough that the relationship was doomed to fail. “She wants to get married. I’m not ready.”

  Mitchell snorted. “Why do women think marriage is the only endgame?”

  “No idea. The diamond. The dress. The party. Who knows?”

  “My fiancée has been riding me about setting a date for our wedding. Isn’t it enough she has the ring?”

  “For some women, they need that gold band,” Cash said.

  “You’ve been married before,” Mitchell said.

  Cash had been married to Anderson’s estranged daughter and it wasn’t a secret. “Yes.”

  “What made you pull the trigger?”

  And interesting choice of words, as if marriage equaled death. “My wife was someone special. I needed her in my life. She made me happy.”

  “Anderson will be pleased to know that,” Mitchell said.

  Anderson and Cash hadn’t discussed Britney. It was a sore subject for Anderson. While Cash had tried to convince Britney that keeping her father out of her life was extreme, she hadn’t yielded. “Why don’t you tell me what you need from me? I’ve proven my loyalty. I want to work.”

  “Eager,” Mitchell said.

  “To make some money? Of course,” Cash said.

  “Get us the FBI file on Anderson,” Mitchell said.

  Demanding. Cash laughed. “Do you think they’ll hand it over to me? I don’t have an all-access pass. I’m a convict.”

  “Anderson and I have talked about that. Is the FBI using you to get close to Anderson?”

  Cash knew this moment would decide it he lived or died. However he answered, whatever
his facial expression or tone, Mitchell would use it against him. Anderson wasn’t an idiot. He was smart enough to suspect this was a setup. “No. They’re using my hacking skills to close off vulnerabilities in their computer systems.”

  “Use those computer skills and get the files we need.”

  Cash could communicate the request to Lucia and Benjamin, and they could create a fake file on Anderson for Mitchell, but Cash couldn’t be too enthusiastic or Mitchell would know something was off. “I’ll need a few days.”

  “Get the file. Get it quickly. We have more work to do.”

  * * *

  Cash called Lucia from the Hideaway. He hated sleeping in the small, dirty room, but he sensed she needed space and he had not wanted to lead Mitchell to her place. Cash had gotten used to staying with her. It wasn’t difficult to become accustomed to soft sheets and the scents that wafted up from the chef’s condo below hers.

  “Lucia, it’s me.”

  “Are you okay? My caller ID shows this number as the Hideaway. Are you home?” Despite the late hour, she sounded wide-awake.

  “I’m at the Hideaway and I’m fine. Mitchell wanted to talk shop for a while.”

  “Your microphone cut out about ten minutes after you left Franco’s loft. We couldn’t get a bead on your GPS device. We’ve had dead silence over here.”

  “They must have had a signal blocker somewhere in the building. I couldn’t hear anything from you, either.”

  “We were worried,” Lucia said.

  We? “You’re with the team?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  So much for discussing anything personal with Lucia. He was glad he hadn’t led with asking about how she was feeling or attempting to open the conversation about why she was angry with him.

  “Hold on. Switching the call to speaker,” Lucia said.

  “Cash? You okay?” Benjamin asked.

  “I’m fine. I need to get Anderson’s FBI file for Mitchell.”

  The shuffling of papers. “We can do that,” Lucia said.

  “It needs to take a few days,” Cash said. “I told Mitchell I’d need to hack in and steal it. Do you want me to come in to the office tonight?”

  “Yes,” Lucia said.