by Payne, Lyla
Clinging to any part of my past wouldn’t be healthy. After today, that included Sam.
I took a deep breath and got up, then walked over to the bars and shouted for the guard. Sam’s eyes burned a hole between my shoulder blades. I smiled when I felt them slide down to my ass, resisting the urge to wiggle as the handsome British accent stopped, eyebrows raised.
“I’d like to talk to whoever is in charge. It’s important.”
Chapter 19
Sam
I wanted to be surprised at the way things turned out but I believed in being honest with myself. As hard as I’d tried to ignore my gut feelings when it came to Blair, as close as I’d come to convincing myself everything was simple, there had been more than one red flag—none of them bigger than the fear inside her I couldn’t place, couldn’t assuage.
Turned out my gut was right. That fear in her was born of the idea that I might find out what she was up to before she managed to wrangle whatever account information she needed, not any worry that stemmed from her childhood or her inability to form attachments.
It hurt my pride and my heart, which had been dangerously close to being in her palm when everything went to shit. There was no denying the chemistry between us. I knew in my soul she hadn’t faked that—couldn’t have faked that. The way we connected in bed, in conversation, in silence, was real. There was something between us, something I’d never felt before and worried I would never feel again, but it didn’t mean shit now.
Blair had been gone long enough for me to start to worry about the Cayman cops mistreating her, which made me angry and contemplative at the same time. It seemed that finding out she’d been trying to make me look like a fool wasn’t enough to dislodge the emotional attachment we’d formed. It had almost killed me not to hold her while she’d cried as though her soul had ripped in two. The desire to make her feel better about treating me like every other moron she’d ever met confused me.
It was the friendship. The one that had grown around us in the days before we’d gone to bed together, solid and formed before we’d noticed what had happened. One that meant I worried about her and wanted the best for her, no matter what that meant for me.
The good-looking cop returned, turning the key in the lock and holding open the metal cell door. “Let’s go, lover boy.”
“Where are we going?” I wanted to be more suspicious, or possibly more of a dick, but the events of the last several hours had exhausted me, body and soul.
“Cap wants to talk to you before you go.”
Go? “Where am I going?”
“Wherever you want, as long as you have the cash to get there. Come on.”
“Wait, are you saying you guys aren’t pressing charges? And I don’t have to do anything?”
He didn’t respond, motioning again for me to come along. When I paused next to him, free from handcuffs or even a strong grip, he smiled. “Cap’s got the details, but yes. You’re free to go, after a brief chat.”
I didn’t know what to say to that—not to mention the worry that saying anything at all might jinx my good luck—so I followed him down the hall to the conference room in silence. There was an older, portly man inside with Blair, whose wrists were locked in handcuffs as he helped her up and out the door.
Our eyes met as she squeezed past me into the hall. The look on her face, her eyes filled with sorrow and guilt, made it hard to swallow. To breathe. But the solid strength running underneath her pain had been one of the things that intrigued me from the beginning. Blair would survive.
The British guard took her and left me alone in the doorway to the conference room. The older man, whose badge identified him as the police captain, escorted me to the table after shutting the door behind us.
“Have a seat, Mr. Bradford.”
I did as I was told, trying not to fidget. “Sir, I—”
“No. I don’t want you to say anything just yet. I’m going to tell you what’s going on and why you’re being detained, then you can agree or disagree with the statement that has been provided by Miss Paddington. Is that clear?”
I nodded even though it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. In the movies when the police brought in two suspects, they interviewed them separately to see if their stories matched up.
“There was an alert placed on your passport, and Miss Paddington’s, due to a breakin that happened at the Belgrade home of one of our residents. It has also been discovered since you have been in custody that a sailboat was stolen from the yacht club in Jamaica, a boat that is now anchored in our North Sound.”
“Okay …”
“We’ve spoken to Miss Paddington about both of these incidents, given her connection to the Cayman resident who initiated the complaint.”
“She’s his daughter.”
“Please keep your mouth shut, young man. I’d hate to see that Spaniard win another Aussie Open.” He winked, taking me by surprise. “Miss Paddington has admitted to being in the Belgrade house and to stealing the sailboat, but insists that she told you that both belonged to her father and she had legal access to the property. She will remain here until her father decides whether or not to press charges—or the owners of the Wiggler can be located—but you are free to go. There is a ticket to Melbourne waiting for you at the airport in George Town.”
Blair was taking the fall. She was taking the blame for everything and putting me back where all of this started, but her father had insisted nothing but access to my accounts would spring me from prison. She had thwarted him, gone against his wishes to manipulate the police, and I knew I should take advantage of her kindness and run back to my life before things got worse.
It would be horrible luck to ask how exactly they could get worse, because even when it didn’t seem like it, the worse was always waiting to sweep in from the wings.
But I was worried about her. Who knew what her father was capable of, how long she would be stuck here, or how he would handle her rebellion?
“What’s going to happen to Blair?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about Miss Paddington, Mister Bradford. I daresay the girl can take care of herself, and besides, disputes between family members are resolved sooner or later.”
“So I can just go?”
“Yes. We can take you to the airport.”
“Can I talk to Blair first?”
He watched me for several moments, his expression impregnable. Finally, he shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt anything. You have five minutes, then I’m reconsidering this entire situation.”
I nodded, standing up and stretching my legs. It was weird walking around without an escort while Blair was handcuffed in a cell, but the captain was right. Blair could take care of herself. I was already too involved with this thing between her and her father, and it was time for me to exit this world that I didn’t understand. I’d lost thirty million, but at least I’d gotten out with the rest intact.
My heart was a little worse for the wear. So was my confidence.
Her face lit up when she saw me outside the cell, but she rearranged her expression quickly into one of indifference. I couldn’t blame her. I’d said some terrible things in my embarrassment and anger, and we had both fallen back into the mode of protecting ourselves first.
Still, she did get up and walk over, until we were less than a foot apart even with the metal bars separating us. I wrapped my hands around hers, which clung to the bars, even though the feeling of her skin against mine shredded my heart into tinier pieces.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to tell them I was ignorant.”
“Yes, I did. None of this is your fault, Sam. You don’t deserve to pay for my lifetime of sins.” Tears filled her eyes for the third time today.
Every bone in my body wanted to lean forward, to capture her lips in mine and kiss her until we both forgot what had brought us here. In the end, I couldn’t resist a portion of that and our lips connected for too short a time. She tasted salty and pure, exactly like the Blair I�
�d made love to in that boat, like the one who had jumped into the Danube at my side.
The one who had been lying to me. How could she be the same?
“Thank you,” I whispered again. “You’ll never know how sorry I am that this turned out to be what was real. I could have fallen in love with that girl in Santorini.”
I waited for Blair to say something in response but she only gave me a sad smile and pulled her hands away from mine, leaving me cold and lonely in a way I couldn’t remember ever being.
“Good-bye, Sam.”
“Good-bye.”
Chapter 20
Blair
Saving Sam the embarrassment of being charged with breaking and entering and theft had been a no-brainer. An easy decision, even though the idea of my dad finding out—and he would find out—caused an itchy sweat to break out on my palms. The captain had understood what was going on, and knew I was lying about Sam’s level of complicity, but lucky for me had turned out to be a huge tennis fan who also happened to have six daughters of his own at home.
Instead of making Sam’s life harder, he had simply put him on a plane. I had to believe my dad wouldn’t let me rot in prison. If not because I was his daughter, because he needed me, but Sam had left the Cayman Islands three days ago. My confidence in fatherly instincts had started to wane when the cute British accent, whose named turned out to be Darcy, came to get me.
“Your attorney is here to see you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Attorney?”
I had expected my dad to come himself, but then again, he was a fugitive wanted for fraud on six continents. Even with the inherent secrecy of the Caymans, taking unnecessary chances wasn’t part of his modus operandi.
Darcy led me to the conference room. I spent the short walk wishing they had given me a shower, or a brush, or fresh clothes. At least they had provided a toothbrush, toothpaste, and food three times a day, but prison outside the United States left something to be desired. Not that I’d ever been in prison in the United States, but it had to be better than this place.
My rank smell took a backseat to my curiosity when the man at the conference table came into view. He wasn’t my dad, and he wasn’t anyone I recognized as being in my dad’s employ. It shifted my curiosity into overdrive, along with my nerves.
Darcy unlocked my handcuffs, which was kind of him. He’d also played a couple hours’ worth of gin rummy with me, for which I would send him a basket of his favorite liquor if I ever got out of here.
I sat down at the table and gulped water from the glass in front of me while I studied my “lawyer” over the rim. His silver hair looked dull under the poor lighting, and had the look of an athlete—strong shoulders and a slim frame. He wore an expensive suit, navy-blue pin-striped and designer, and watched me with an obvious interest.
“So, you’re my lawyer.”
“I am Mr. Bradford’s attorney, but I am retained on your behalf. So, yes.”
My throat hurt, my heart hurt. If I believed I had a soul, it would hurt, too. Sam had walked out of my life without a backward glance, but he hadn’t forgotten me. The wafting scrap of hope that the friendship at the foundation of our time together had survived wrapped around me like the warmth of Sam’s body.
I’d never had a friend before, but it turned out losing one was the pits.
“Sam sent you?” I managed.
“Yes. We’ve arranged your bail, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to leave the country until the charges are resolved.”
“But I’ll be able to leave the building?”
“Yes. It’s the best we can do, but I will continue to work on the charges as long as Mr. Bradford wishes it.”
“What’s your name?” My voice shook. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling; it was too many things to articulate or pick out at one time.
His face, which had been stern and devoid of emotion, softened. “Renaldo.”
“Renaldo, please tell Sam that this is more than enough. I need to resolve things with my father before I leave the country, anyway.”
“As you wish.” He opened his briefcase and extracted an envelope with my name on the front, sliding it across the table. “You’re free to go.”
“Thank you.” I picked up the letter with weak fingers. It would be a while before I would get up the nerve to read it.
An hour later I’d been given a shower and the clothes that had been stowed in my backpack. I felt better, I smelled better, but part of me was missing. I knew it was Sam’s presence, but there was nothing that could be done to get it back.
It was time to go see my dad. Alone.
*
“Dad, I know you’re watching me on the camera right now. Open the gate or I’m climbing it.”
I stood outside the gates barring strangers from my father’s massive island home. He spent the majority of his time in the Caribbean but only had one house—the Alessandra was his home.
The gates swung open a few seconds later and I hiked up the sandy, stone-covered drive. The circle of green grass in the middle sparkled with spittle from the stone fountain, the burbling sound peaceful in the morning. I was so tired I could sleep for a week, but more than anything I wanted to go back to Whitman. I wanted my stupid, uncomfortable sorority house bed and the sound of Audra grinding her teeth. The idea that Sam might have ratted me out to Quinn, that I might not be welcomed back, made me sick to my stomach.
The front door was unlocked, so I let myself inside. Unlike the houses in Jesenice, Belgrade, and Santorini, this one had been decorated with warm colors, potted plants, and antique furniture. It felt rich and homey even with the ceramic tiled floors that led me onto a patio complete with a table and chairs. Beyond lay a swimming pool in the middle of another expanse of rich, green grass.
“Hello, dear daughter. I must say I’m surprised to see you. And a little impressed.” My father sat at the table dressed in what passed for island wear for him—a loose, pale gray linen suit and a lightweight white shirt. He still had shoes on, but it weirded me out to see him so relaxed.
I shut down all of the emotions that had spilled out of me so readily with Sam, knowing they would work against me in any negotiation with me father. “I got tired of waiting. How long were you planning on leaving me to rot in prison?”
“School’s out for the holidays in less than a week. I figured I could keep you there until January, if that’s what it took to teach you a lesson.”
“Kind of an unnecessary burden on the Cayman economy, don’t you think?”
“I pay them enough for their assistance and discretion.”
I wasn’t surprised the police were at least somewhat under my father’s influence, but I worried how dearly the cap would pay for letting Sam go.
“Well, I guess I’ve picked up a few tricks of my own over the years.”
“Yes, seducing a world-class athlete. Once again, I’m impressed.”
My face felt hot. “I didn’t seduce him, Dad. We’re friends. Were friends, anyway.”
He didn’t answer, leaving me with the impression he didn’t believe me.
“And this friendship is the reason that you did not finish the job? Have I taught you nothing? We don’t make friends, Blair. Because we don’t get to keep them.”
This was it.
I called on the tatters of courage left inside me, the ones planted by Sam’s staunch belief that I could be that girl—the one ready to shake off the life she’d been born into and step into the one she wanted. One full of honesty and, maybe someday, trust.
“You don’t get to keep friends, Dad. You live for the con, not me. I liked it when I was younger. It was a fun game, and an easy way to live, not having to form attachments. Especially after Mom died, because it hurt to think that I would lose the next person I cared about, too.” He flinched at the mention of my mother but I soldiered on. “But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want friends. I want to fall in love. I want to work for my money.”
“I though
t we were partners, you and I. That we had each other.”
“I’m your daughter. I’ll always be your daughter, and I’m thankful for the things you’ve given me. But you’re never around, Dad. You’re wanted by international authorities and you’ll never be able to come home. Never stay in one place. I don’t want what you want. I need more.”
He gave me a sad smile, then shifted to stare out over the pool, into the distance. “You’re not like your mother. You’re not like me.” His gray eyes, so unlike mine, returned to me. “Where did you come from, Blair Louise?”
“Maybe wanting a normal life is a recessive gene.”
“Perhaps.” He paused, his gaze wandering away again. “And what if I refuse to grant it to you? There are many things to consider, not the least of which is that this is going to put a serious damper on my business pursuits.”
Keep going. Don’t let him con you.
I took a deep breath. “Then I go to the FBI and tell them everything I know—how you work, how you choose your marks. Your safe houses, your favorite banks. I don’t want to, but I will.”
His lips down in a grimace. “I taught you well. I can honestly say I didn’t think the day would come when you’d use your formidable skills against me.”
“You and me both.”
“Can I ask what changed? Is it Sam? Did you fall for the boy?”
I started to shake my head, then stopped. “I don’t know. I think I could fall for him, in a different world. But he’s not the reason I decided this life isn’t for me. The idea of being happy with him pushed me to demand it sooner, that’s all.”
The breeze ruffling the leaves of the fruit trees cooled the sweat on my skin. My insides trembled, and I was sure my dad didn’t miss the evidence of my nerves in my shaking voice, yet he made no comment. I hated confessing Sam’s importance to me, because Dad would see it as weakness, as a point of leverage, and he’d taught me never to give those up.
But this wasn’t a con. This was my life.