Hustled To The Altar

by Dani Collins

  “Listen, Felix, I grew out of your granny game with my training bra—”

  “You’re givin’ it to me now, aren’t you, baby?”

  “I’m givin’ it to you good.”

  Felix’s gaze rose to the ceiling.

  Use it, she thought. He’s distracted and he’ll give up information easily. “This is a regular score for me. When have you seen one like it?”

  “When he took my money,” Tyrone drawled.

  “Did she say that was China up there?” Felix asked Sergio.

  “Yeah. She pretty?” Sergio asked.

  Good grief, Renny thought.

  “ . . . thirteen, fourteen, fifteen . . . ” Sergio was counting, but she had a feeling he was tallying thumps against the wall, not twenty-dollar bills.

  “So Ty’s and Cons, but is that all?” Renny asked, going for a pitying tone.

  “I’ve made four times that, but I had expenses.” Felix dragged his scowl from its aim at the ceiling.

  “What’s your usual take with the insurance thing, though? A grand?”

  “At least a couple. Usually more like five.”

  “I’m close, baby, I’m so close.”

  “Is that all? A man with your looks should pull in more than that.”

  He couldn’t seem to decide whether he was flattered or insulted. Smoothing his hand down his front, he curled his lip in annoyance and said, “I do well enough.”

  She was making progress. She quelled her excitement and kept going. “What do you consider well enough? Because I don’t want to waste my time if you can’t think big.”

  “You want it all?”

  “Oh, yeah, I want it all.”

  “I think big!” Felix yanked his tie loose and opened his collar button. Beads of sweat glittered at his temples.

  “How big?” Renny motioned to Con’s money. “Because this doesn’t come from the short cons. That’s your game, right? One or two days?”

  “Long term bores me,” Felix said. “That’s why I don’t grow attached to a particular woman—” He raised his voice and made a snarly face at the ceiling.

  Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa.

  “—and why I’m not looking for a partner,” he added.

  “Are you sure about that? Look at the difference between our takes off the old lady from last weekend.”

  Thump-thump-thump-thump.

  She went after his vanity, pushed hard for his confession. “I made a mint playing her for a year and a half while you got, what? A few thousand?”

  Felix pointed a finger and started to speak, but Con appeared in the doorway, startling him into silence.

  Con’s gaze hit Renny like an arrow from a bow. “You,” he said, pointing at her, and then jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Outside. Now.”

  “Oh, yes! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

  11:14 p.m.

  Renny was too shocked to move.

  Tyrone straightened and she saw panic flit across his face as Con pushed past him into the tiny pink room, crowding Felix into the space beside Sergio’s kneeling bulk. Con took a grip on Renny’s arm.

  From the hallway, Murphy aimed a camera lens through the door and panned the group of them, from Tyrone’s scowl, to Felix’s horror, down to a frowning Sergio, across both Renny and Con, and then up to the ceiling, where a triumphant groan was dying off.

  “Lucky bastard,” Murphy said.

  “You can have one just like it for two hundred dollars,” the receptionist said, appearing behind Murphy. “Um, I’m sorry, but if you’re all going to be using this room, I’m going to need another hundred.”

  “I’m tapped out. Burke?” Tyrone said.

  “Here.” Renny plucked a bundle of bills out of Con’s case and handed it to the receptionist. “Take what you need and give the lady upstairs the rest of the night off.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Con asked, turning a look on Renny that strongly resembled the one worn by the madman who had kicked in the bedroom door this morning.

  This is bad, she thought. She opened her mouth, ready to sputter out excuses to explain her remark about playing Mona, but she halted. This was her last chance, her only chance, to get what she had come to Deception for: Felix’s arrest. Con’s opinion of her mattered—a lot—but it wasn’t her top priority at this moment. She knew she was better than whatever he was thinking of her. And she was pretty sure he’d understand, when she explained it later. Heck, she was pretty sure he’d play along, as soon as he clued in to her game and the fact she couldn’t quit now—not when that camera would make the confession even more substantial.

  So she cupped his face and gave him a short, hard kiss. “Darling! You’ll never believe what happened!”

  She tried to hold his gaze, but he looked past her.

  Sergio was climbing to his feet, his attention on Ty as though expecting direction. Felix shifted a wary glance between Con and Ty, and Tyrone tightened his grip on the gun as he met Con’s challenging stare.

  “I didn’t touch her,” Tyrone said.

  “Then you get to live,” Con said. “She’s leaving now.”

  “Oh, but—” Renny dug in her heels, shook off Con’s grip and reached for his case of money. As she snapped it shut, she heard Felix strangle on outrage.

  “Take it easy, Felix. I’m not going with Con. I’m going with you. Come on.”

  Felix looked to Con, alarmed.

  “Don’t worry. This is dirty money,” Renny said, waving a dismissing hand toward Con. “He won’t go to the police if we take it. Will you, handsome?”

  Con could see Renny wanted to score one for the home team, but this was one game that had definitely been rained out. He shook his head, meaning, No, it’s too dangerous, and I’m through playing games. However, she obviously took it as an answer to her question. She smiled at Felix.

  “See? So what’s it going to be? Are you going to keep conning seniors out of their nest eggs or do you want to move on to something bigger?”

  “Uh . . . ” Felix bounced his gaze around, as if he were trying to figure things out.

  “Now or never,” Renny said, keeping the pressure on.

  Con would have admired her tactic if he hadn’t been fixated on getting her away from Tyrone, who was starting to sweat, and his gun, which he massaged with nervous fingers.

  “Felix can’t leave. I’m not finished counting,” Sergio said. “And I thought she was with you?” he said to Con.

  “She is.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m going with Felix. We have plans.”

  “No, we don’t,” Felix assured Con, trying to fade into the pink walls, wisely terrified.

  Renny sighed. “Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone and look where that got him. Seriously, working alone pulled in what? Tell me your best caper, Felix. Impress me.”

  “On camera? I’m not an idiot.”

  “Shit!” Tyrone relaxed his grip on the gun and let it dangle from his finger while he held it out to Renny. “I forgot about the camera. This show is all yours, babe.”

  Renny leaned forward, snagged the gun—Con let out his breath and opened his palm—and Renny handed the weapon to Felix.

  “There. Now can we go? Because I want—”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Con yelled.

  “—to compare notes and be sure I’m getting a decent partner before I share my money,” she finished.

  “How the hell did that get to be your money?” Felix, more confident now that he was armed, reached out to take the case from Renny.

  She refused to release it.

  “Let go of the case, Ren,” Con told her, watching the barrel of the gun dance, feeling his airway narrow, his consciousness dim.

  “How do you figure it’s yours?” she asked Felix. “What did you do to earn it?”

  “A helluva lot more than you did!” Felix tugged.

  “Like what? That piss-ant health coverage scam? How many of those did you have to pull?” Renny fought his ef
fort to pry her fingers off the handle.

  “Enough to call this my money, not yours. Let go!” Felix went red, his forehead shone with sweat, and his grip on the gun started looking serious, while he tugged one-handed on the case.

  “I’ll get you another case of money, Ren. Let him have that one,” Con said. His blood was rushing like class-five rapids, his body singing with fight-flight chemicals. “The police are on their way. Your work here is done.”

  “Police? What the hell is this?” Felix turned the gun on Renny.

  Con was aware of his heart stopping, of the thought, Don’t let him kill her, and of the feeling of leaving the ground. Felix’s throat felt soft and squishy when he grasped it, Felix’s wrist narrow and brittle in his other hand. Felix’s body light was easy to knock over as his own body connected with it in a full body tackle that propelled them both into the hallway and onto the floor.

  Con landed on Felix hard. It hurt his knuckles and knocked out his breath, and he couldn’t get his bearings because adrenaline flushed his veins and fear made him want to throw up. His only conscious thought was, Don’t let him move because he might kill Renny.

  They had landed in the hall. He had Felix’s gun hand pinned to the floor and could feel the flex of Felix’s wrist muscles, repeatedly pulling the trigger. Con instinctively hunched, waiting for shots to explode, for screams to start, for bullets to bounce back off the wall and kill him.

  He heard running footsteps and someone said, “Freeze!”

  No problem, hoss, he thought, immobilized with terror.

  “It’s okay,” he could hear Renny saying. “The gun’s not loaded.”

  “Geez, Ty,” Sergio said. “Did you see how fast he moved? He could have killed me this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, we’ll run it in slow mo later. That was sick,” Murphy said.

  Terrific. The Prince of Play would be making the news again, with the world’s clumsiest takedown.

  Renny crouched beside Con, pried the gun from Felix’s hand and pushed it toward the officers. “Wow, handsome. I’ve never seen you move like that. Made my heart go all pitty-pat.” She touched his other hand. “Let him breathe.”

  Con relaxed his grip and Felix gurgled. The conman’s wide-eyed gaze drew Con to glance up at the officers standing over them. They were pointing guns at him that he was pretty sure were actually loaded.

  Behind them, the receptionist was hissing into the telephone, “Code blue, code blue.”

  Running footsteps sounded above them.

  “Last chance to confess, Felix,” Renny said. “I have to tell you, you’d be safer in prison than on the streets, where Con could find you. Be a good boy and tell the police what you do for a living.”

  “Fuck you,” he whispered.

  “You kiss China with that mouth?”

  Felix started to swear at her again and Con put a little more pressure on his throat.

  “On your belly, hands behind your back, both of you,” the very pregnant female cop said.

  “Not loaded,” Con said to Renny as he pushed off of Felix and lay beside him on his stomach, hands above his head. “Are you kidding me?”

  The male officer stood over him and felt him up, moving Con’s hands so they were crossed at the small of his back.

  “Do you think I’d be that kind of mouthpiece with a loaded gun pointed at me? This is Conroy Burke,” she said to the cop. “He’s not armed, unless you count those hands. Between you and me, I’ve always considered them dangerous weapons.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Burke. We’re big fans.”

  Con felt one of his hands gripped and jiggled.

  “This would be Felix Newman?” the cop asked.

  “That’s right,” Renny agreed. Carefully holding the itty-bit of skirt material around her hips, she stood with Con as the cop helped him to his feet.

  “Don’t go anywhere, Mr. Burke. We’ll have questions.” He turned to frisk Felix.

  “I was trying to get a confession,” Renny said.

  “Is that what you were doing, Mr. Burke?” the woman officer asked.

  “No, I was trying to save her life when he pointed the gun at her.” He pointed to Renny, still pissed that she hadn’t told him the freakin’ gun was a prop. “You know, I might have played along if I’d known he couldn’t actually kill you.”

  “You should have played along anyway. What did we come up here for if not to put Felix in jail?”

  “I knew it,” said Felix, disgusted. He was on his feet, hands cuffed behind his back, frowning with malevolence at Renny. “Too bad I won’t be going to jail longer than a good night’s sleep.”

  “I didn’t get the evidence you need,” Renny said glumly to the sheriff.

  “Not a problem.” She flanked Felix on one side while her husband took his arm on the other. They started to leave, the sheriff speaking over her shoulder as they went. “Laila Washington did some investigating. That number for the florist in Detroit? Seems the owner realized something was odd when people kept calling for Felix Newman. She took their numbers and Ms. Washington started calling them. So far, they’re all willing to make statements.”

  “Wha—?” Felix stumbled and would have knocked over the pregnant sheriff if her husband hadn’t let go of Felix to catch his wife.

  With his hands cuffed behind his back, Felix landed on his face on the stone tiles. He connected with a blunt, sickening thud and a shout of pain. When Felix rolled onto his side, revealing a bloody, crooked nose and broken front teeth, Con couldn’t help wincing.

  Renny cringed into him and he wrapped a comforting arm around her.

  At the far end of the hall, a door banged open and several half-dressed men trampled down a set of stairs.

  Con grinned. He was starting to have fun again.

  11:45 p.m.

  The spa staff pulled the blinds and locked them out. On the sidewalk, the police lights and television camera drew a crowd.

  Renny was shaking, but she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she felt like she’d won gold at the Olympics, or maybe she was just cold. Snuggled under Con’s arm, she stood around the way everyone else did, wondering whether the police would need anything more and waiting for the nod that they could get on with their lives.

  A few feet away, Tyrone and Sergio pointed out features of Tyrone’s muscle car to Spencer and Jacob. The bellman from the hotel had found a friend in the crowd and was explaining how he and Jacob had stayed outside to direct the police. Murphy had his camera hitched to his shoulder and pointed at Felix, while Laila poked a microphone toward the sheriff and called out questions. Felix held a spa towel pressed to his face as he was guided into the back of the cruiser.

  “How did Laila get here?” Renny asked Con.

  “She went to the police when Felix took you. She and Spence were still there when Tyrone called to say you were here.”

  “That was big of Ty to help us, don’t you think?”

  “Fishing for compliments on your reforming him?”

  “No.” She urged him to walk toward Tyrone. “But I think he deserves a reward. Tyrone,” she called as they approached. “Did you know that Con has always wanted to do a game with an automotive theme?”

  “Really?” He brightened like the Freedom Stone in Moon, Sun, Wind, Rain.

  “Renny.” Con winced. “I don’t work with partners.”

  “You do now.”

  The cruiser was pulling away and Laila waved Renny over. Renny smiled and went to her, leaving the men to talk horsepower and business.

  * * *

  Laila got as much as she could from Renny, but she could tell Renny was starting to react to the day’s events. “Give the woman a sweatshirt,” she told Murphy. He set down his camera long enough to slip his backpack off his shoulder and dig for one.

  Glancing over what was left of her notes after giving copies to the police, Laila was looking for holes when Spencer came up to her.

  “Got a minute?” he asked her.

  She
looked up at him, her heart lifting with her gaze, but hitting a bump of uncertainty. He’d said he believed in her, confessed that he cared enough she was able to hurt him, but did he realize that even if she’d lost her chance in Salt Lake, she was on the move to somewhere?

  At the same time, her hormones were screaming that if she didn’t grab this man right now, when she had the chance, she’d be a first-class fool.

  “I’ve got a minute,” she said, unable to pack enough hint into the words.

  He glanced around to see who would see them if he kissed her.

  To hell with that. She wasn’t settling for waiting to kiss him. In fact, when she considered the story she had now and the jobs she could pursue with it, she was definitely in the mood for something more than a kiss.

  “I’ve got five minutes,” she said, her voice smothered by her heart as it swelled and thumped in her throat, “and an empty van.”

  “Laila.” It was the voice of caution.

  She wasn’t about to let him talk her out of it, though. Taking his hand, she led him down the block and through the open side door of the van. She turned and slammed it, locking it behind them. Kneeing and shoving Murphy’s stuff out of her way, she made a space for herself and lay back. “C’mere.”

  “I’m just going to kiss you,” he warned, crawling between her knees and settling on her with a muted groan. “I’ve got a plan for our first time and it’s a helluva more romantic than this.”

  “Yeah? I had a plan and it was a hayloft. You had your chance to run things back at the hotel. It’s my turn again, and I say now.”

  “Have I mentioned I love the way you smell?” He nuzzled into her neck and licked beneath her ear.

  “Have I mentioned I’m high on the story I just got and very, very grateful for the lead?” She pushed her hand between them and caught her breath when she found out how ready he was. “Oh, Spence, you can’t say you don’t want this right now.”

  “Oh, I want it. I just think you deserve better.”

  She used her other hand to bring his head down for a kiss and got more than she had bargained for when he pressed for full access. He devoured her bottom lip and got her heart revving with a thrust of his tongue that told her exactly what he wanted.