by Dani Collins
Renny pried Con’s fingers off her arm and went with Ty.
11:02 p.m.
Tyrone had the kind of car that would have had Con and Spencer circling it for hours, ducking under the hood, checking out the dash gadgets, peeing on the tires.
Renny’s appreciation didn’t go much further than admiring a photo taped to the glove box. Four little girls with dark eyes and black ringlets sprawled on Tyrone, pinning him to the floor while he made a face of mock suffering. Someone had written across the top, “Say Uncle.”
“Cute kids,” she said.
“They’re none of your business.” He flicked the photo free and tossed it onto the dash as he put the car in gear.
Her heart pounded hard while her mind raced. Mama, don’t fail me now. She turned to her mark and spoke.
“This situation isn’t as good as it looks, Tyrone. I mean, kidnapping? Con’s not regular people, you know. He’s practically a celebrity. You’ve gone a lot further here than ripping off cars for parts.”
“That was a misunderstanding.”
“See, you know what happened, you know what you’ve done, and I don’t think it was anything like this. But there’s still time to turn this around.” Show him the prize. “Give up your claim to the money and we’ll tell the police you assisted us.”
“Right,” he said skeptically. “You’ll promise me anything. You’re like Felix.”
He saw her as a con artist and was suspicious because of it. Okay, that was an easy sell, since it was mostly true. “I was, but I’ve been living straight for ten years.”
He swung his gaze off the road to glance at her. “No one lives straight. Not all the way. That’s how I know your boys back at the hotel won’t go to the police. You’ve pulled some crooked shit today and you won’t bring the cops into it.”
“Con’s not crooked. He’s trying to get his gran’s money back from Felix. Con’s probably on the phone to the police right now. So one way or another, you’re in trouble. Even if you get your money back from Felix, at some point uniforms are going to come to your place of business. It’ll look bad for you.” She let him mull that over.
He frowned but didn’t turn back to the hotel.
She tried a different angle.
“What did you expect Felix to get you?” she asked. She thought she knew but she wanted to make sure.
“Twenty percent.”
“I mean, you. How did you think Felix was going to improve things for you? Would more money make you feel more secure? Do you want to buy nice things so you can show people how well off you are? Or is it simply what you said back at the suite? That it’s about respect?”
“Respect. Absolutely. You can’t let people crap all over you. How do you live with yourself?”
“But you can’t buy into respectability. It starts right here.” She tapped on her breastbone, feeling a pain from within. “Self-respect comes from making respectable choices. From doing the right thing. “
“And from walking away from fifty thousand dollars?” he asked cynically.
“It’s not yours to walk away from, is it?”
He pulled over, turned on her. “I’m not going to discuss how I came by that money. You know what’s good for you, you’ll shut up about it.”
His threat frightened her, but she swallowed back her fear and said in a husky voice, “Okay, I’m scared of you, but that’s not the same as respect. You give up the money, do the right thing, and I’ll respect you.”
“Like the opinion of a grifter means anything.”
“You gotta start somewhere.”
“Yeah? I got six sisters and I’ve never hit a woman, but I’m always tempted when they nag me like you’re doing. You’re the somewhere I’m going to start if you don’t quit pushing me.”
She had come too far not to. “You don’t hit your sisters. That’s something I can respect. Now keep going.”
He glared in disbelief, an expression not unlike the ones people gave Con when he was at his most trying. She held her breath.
11:03 p.m.
His Spitfire wasn’t at the curb. Con didn’t wait for the valet’s explanation.
“Murphy,” he told Jacob and sprinted across the parking lot. He jerked open the side door.
“What the hell—” Murphy yelled. Perry put up his arm like he expected to be hit.
“You’re smoking pot again?” Con demanded.
“I’m editing. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Keys,” Con demanded.
Murphy pointed to a hook on the shelves and Con grabbed them as he stepped through to the driver’s seat.
Perry hunched out of the way, allowing Jacob to get through to the passenger seat.
“Phone,” Jacob said and Con hand over his own. “Nine one one for police?” Jacob asked Perry.
Perry nodded. “I thought everything was okay?”
Jake was identifying himself over the phone, giving details in succinct tones. He paused in surprise. “She did? Well, a few things have happened since then. Renny’s been taken hostage. Possibly to a spa or beauty parlor. He said something about a manicure.”
“We’ll try the Serenity Spa first. Renny and I met Felix there this afternoon. The sign said it’s always open,” Con said.
“It is,” Perry confirmed. “Oh, man, you know what that place is after hours?”
Con had his suspicions and it was like a knife in his chest. On a distant plane, he knew he should be able to view the situation objectively and come up with a solution. His end game was usually superb. It was the point in the game he anticipated most, when the initial symmetry of the board had been destroyed. When there was less clutter and choices were limited. When specialized pieces had to be used in unusual ways to gain an advantage. He ought to be able to see how to do that now, how to control the outcome. He ought to be able to see a way to win.
But Renny wasn’t a pawn and this wasn’t a game and all he could think was, Oh, God, please.
* * *
Before Tyrone could say anything, Renny snatched the photo off the dash and held it up like a shield.
“Do you want to tell them how you once sent a bad man to jail? Or do you want their mother explaining they don’t see Uncle Ty anymore because he’s in jail?”
He pointed a finger at her, almost said something, then swiped his fingers through his hair in an impatient gesture that knocked a wavy lock loose to fall forward in an bad-ass sort of way.
She counted her seconds left to live by the pulse in her throat.
“Damn,” he said, and did a tough-guy blink that she took to mean he was hating the situation, but he would suck it up because underneath it all, he was an officer and a gentleman. He really would be cute if he lost a dozen or so of those gold chains and quit pointing guns at people.
“Why can’t women fight fair? Huh?” He shook his head. “Fine. Go.”
She smiled, sympathetic now that she wasn’t fearing for her life. “You’re doing the right thing. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“Don’t push your luck, lady.”
He didn’t move to pull away and she didn’t move to leave the car. When he raised a brow at her, she shrugged. “I need your help.”
* * *
He should have cut loose this morning, Felix thought. He should have skipped town the minute he laid eyes on that outlaw ho, Renny. He was sitting on an extra fifty grand, sure, but he was hot and he didn’t like it. His skin crawled with fear that the cops were tuning their radar to him while he was stuck in this closet of a room.
Sergio had suggested waiting for Ty at a bar, but as a rule Felix avoided smoke, to preserve his skin, and he hated that party-mix dance club music. The Serenity Spa was discreet and they knew him well enough to give him a room.
Unfortunately, they were busy due to a convention in town. The only room Tara, the night hostess, could spare was this dressing room you couldn’t swing a cat in. Painted a pale pink, including the ceiling and floor, it had a bench mounted to one wall
and paper thin walls. Since Tara’s skills ran more to helping johns find their preferred night entertainment than to offering legitimate spa treatments, she stood ineffectually at the console inside the door, trying to lower the volume on the whale song in the foyer.
Felix sat on the bench, the two cases of money caged by his feet.
Sergio leaned on the jamb of the open door, holding Tara’s left hand while she pushed buttons with her right. “We got married really fast,” Sergio was telling Tara. “She never got an engagement ring. I thought I’d surprise her. How big is this diamond?”
“It’s a sapphire. Looks like a diamond, though, doesn’t it?”
If he could have left, he would have, but Felix was stuck. Sergio insisted Felix personally return Tyrone’s money, so he had to wait to leave town. And that’s all he wanted. To leave.
“Maybe this one?” Tara punched a button on the wall.
There was silence for a few seconds, and then a moan from the room above.
“Was that a woman?” Sergio asked, lifting his gaze to the ceiling.
“China. She’s popular with the guys who like encouragement.” Tara winked.
Sergio started to smile, but something caught his attention up the hall, near the spa entrance. He offered a friendly wave. “Hey, Renny.”
Not Ty? What the hell? Felix was chewing a mint from the dish at the front desk. His nervous tension went off the scale, turning the mint to gravel in his mouth.
* * *
Outside the police station, Spencer drew the Spitfire keys out of his pocket but hesitated to follow Laila.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t want to give me a lift to the hotel? Fine, I’ll walk. There’s zero sense of urgency, since I’ll never make it to Salt Lake now.”
“That’s not—” Ah, hell, he was swearing off getting involved and helping people, because he hadn’t done Mona, Laila or Con any favors at all today.
Murphy had called Laila a while ago to say that Con had rescued Renny from Felix. Laila had relayed that to the police and they had surmised he would be out of town by the time they reached the health mine so there was no sense trying to catch him there.
As a result, whatever Laila might have salvaged of her story was also gone. So all he, Spencer, had accomplished today was to make himself look like a stalker and a shit-heel. He could at least let her know he regretted it. “I owe you an apology.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, turning back to him. “How dare you think I would put my story before—” She stopped, looked away, sighed heavily. “Never mind, I know how you dare. ” Her pained frown shrank him down to about two inches tall. “What really got to me when we were kids was the way you seemed to think I could do anything. You believed in me, and you seemed to feel the same way today. I liked that feeling. And then you—” She ran her fingertips under one eye. “I’ll see you around.”
“Wait.” He took a few fast steps to move in front of her. She had her arms wrapped around her bundle of notes, clutching them to her chest, but there was more than that keeping him from drawing her close the way he wanted to. “You know why I never made love to you back then? Because I would have had to get naked—really naked. You wouldn’t settle for anything less and I didn’t want to give up that much. It’s not comfortable for me.”
“I know I ask a lot of questions. I can’t help it.”
“That’s not the problem. I’ve always known you’re driven. Hell, at fifteen you couldn’t say enough about how you were going to be a household name. The fact that you love the spotlight and your career comes first is a given.”
“I’m telling you—”
“No, I’m telling you. I don’t talk unless I have something to say, so listen up. You’re ambitious. I admire that. What scared me off today was how much it hurt that you seemed to be going after the story instead of helping Renny and Con. I don’t like getting hurt, Laila.”
She blinked her glittering eyes and looked down at her scrambled notes. “But I wasn’t doing that. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Spend it all, he thought. Holding back and trying to avoid how he felt hadn’t worked. “I know. I also know that a reclusive, hayseed pilot is the most incompatible man you could connect with, but I still want to give it a shot. At the very least, since the pressure’s off, could we at least get one more great kiss out of today?”
Her smile relaxed until her full lips were parted, begging to be sucked and nibbled and claimed. He started to lower his head—
The door to the police station flew open and the deputy held the sheriff’s arm as she waddled quickly down the steps, a cell phone clutched against her ear. “Tell Burke we have confirmation she’s in the spa. If you get there first, tell him he is not to enter the building.”
“They’re not at the hotel,” Laila said.
Spencer spun her toward the Spitfire. “Go.”
* * *
Renny entered the spa with Tyrone and swept her damp hands down the skirt of her dress before strolling past the empty front desk, making a beeline for Sergio.
“Oh, damn,” the woman with Sergio mouthed. She came at them like a tank. “Can I help you?” Her tone said, Halt, who goes there?
“I’d like to book a facial,” Renny said, going with the line she’d worked up as she had entered.
“Will you require a technician for your facial?” The woman’s smile bordered on patronizing as she smiled expectantly at Ty.
Tyrone rolled his eyes. “Renny, this isn’t a beauty parlor.”
“Spa. Same thing, right?” Renny asked the woman.
“We offer personal massage after hours.”
“It’s a whorehouse,” Tyrone said.
“A—” Renny choked on a nervous giggle. Jacob had been horrified this morning when she had entered a bar alone. What were the rules for entering a brothel? Was escorted better or worse?
Tyrone pointed down the hall and said, “We’re with them.”
Felix peeked out the door where Sergio stood, his expression apprehensive.
“Oh, well, um, I’m not sure what to charge you for using the room,” the hostess said. “You want one of the other girls to join you . . . ?”
“Oh, no! I mean—” Renny looked helplessly at Tyrone. She didn’t know what to do, to say, to think. She’d been in some pretty nasty places with her mother, but that had been ten years ago and never anything like this.
Tyrone took out his wallet and dropped some bills on the counter, muttering something about amateurs. “Fifteen minutes, you said, right?” he asked Renny.
“Right.” She followed him to the room where Felix was watching from the door.
“You’re one turd that won’t flush,” Felix said to her.
“Nice talk.”
“Oh, baby,” a woman’s melodramatic voice said from above them.
“Also nice talk,” Renny said. “What was that?” And then she recalled where she was and noted that no one was telling her what that was, so she shut up about it.
“Why’d you bring her?” Felix asked Ty.
“She wants to talk to you.”
Renny remembered she was about to run the con of her life and said, “You won’t believe what happened!”
“I don’t wanna talk to her. There’s your money, Ty.” Felix motioned beneath the bench. “See ya.”
“Not yet.” Tyrone took out the gun Renny had insisted he unload in the car. “I want to count it first.”
“Sergio has been with the cases the entire time. I haven’t moved any of it, have I, Serge?”
“Ty wants you to count it,” Sergio said with a shrug, still leaning in the doorway. “Hey, Renny, do women prefer one big rock or a bunch of little ones?”
“Is that all for me?” the woman upstairs asked with outrageous delight.
Renny wanted to tell Sergio that size didn’t matter, but thought the screamer upstairs might contradict her.
“Count the money,” Tyrone said, nudging Sergio into the room. Tyrone took Ser
gio’s position, leaning on the doorjamb. The gun dangled loosely from his hand and his attitude said he really wasn’t enthused about the entire exercise.
Renny was grateful all the same. So far, he’d done everything she had asked. He had called the police to come to the spa, had neutralized his weapon so she felt safe and was keeping Felix here until the police arrived to arrest him. Now it was up to her to arrange charges. Being caught with the money wasn’t enough. She needed evidence. She needed Felix to confess.
First, though, she needed to get his attention. Judging by the way he had his ear tilted to the ceiling, he wasn’t here. He was upstairs, participating in the torture session.
The woman gave another medieval groan.
“I’ll count the other case and take my cut,” Renny said, getting one hundred percent of Felix’s attention.
“You know, you’ve got bigger balls than any man I’ve ever encountered,” he said.
“What? Partners share.” She knelt beside Sergio, pretended to be unconcerned by Felix’s contemptuous, “Partner?”
Sergio hefted the second case onto the bench and opened it for her. A giant, chivalrous marshmallow, that’s what Sergio was. She smiled her thanks.
“I like that, baby. Give me more of that,” echoed through the ceiling tiles.
Sergio blushed and reached for a bundle of twenties from the case in front of him. He began counting under his breath.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Renny said, checking a bundle of Con’s cash.
“I knew you were a fake.” Felix dragged his gaze off the ceiling and stuck his hand in his pocket.
“Of course I’m a fake. So what do you say? Want to work together?”
“It’s good, it’s so good. Harder, baby, harder.”
Sergio swore, sighed, and started over with his counting. Tyrone impatiently shifted to the other side of the doorjamb. Felix wiped the back of his sleeve across his forehead and said, “What?”
Abandoning Con’s case of money, Renny rose to face Felix, trying to stay on topic despite the graphic thumpa, thumpa of a headboard against a wall above them.