Devil's Deal

by Terri Lynn Coop

  “Ignore it.” I didn’t like the peevish tone of my voice.

  “I can’t. Not unless you want Fisk at your front door. I have to take this.” He turned and walked down the hall, shutting my office door behind him.

  Through the fog of beer and lust, I processed what happened. What in the hell did he mean about Fisk showing up here? And how in the flying fuck did he know where my office was? The answer, at least to the second question, was simple. Ethan had been part of the search team.

  He was here, with all of them, pawing through everything. Moving everything.

  I’m not sure why that bothered me so much. As soon as Ethan was slated to be my case handler, it was only rational he would go through my place. The problem was that rational wasn’t even on my top-ten list of emotions right now.

  He should have told me.

  All I could think was how easy it would have been to tell me he’d been here instead of making a joke.

  I’m so stupid.

  One moment of personal vulnerability and I’d thrown myself at him. For a second, I wondered if the story about his son was true or tradecraft. Then I remembered the self-deprecating pain in his face when he said his kid hated him. Unless he was an award-winning actor, that much was true. It was as likely a result of too much beer as any desire to connect with me.

  Damn.

  I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and downed it with a couple of aspirin. I needed to get my head clear and keep it that way. Obviously, this evening wasn’t going to end the way I’d intended. To keep myself from staring at my office door, I grabbed a pile of bedding from the linen closet and made up the sofa for Ethan. It was the best way I could think to say the previous invitation was rescinded.

  I was halfway through my third water bottle when the office door whispered open. Ethan didn’t look much happier than I felt, but he smiled as he came back into the kitchen. It faded when he saw the bed on the sofa.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  If you’re going to be aggressive, it might as well be passive.

  “Tell you what?” As he ran his hands through his hair, I could tell he was fighting his way back to sobriety as fast as I did. I tossed him a bottle of water.

  “That you were part of the team who searched my apartment. Why did you act like you’d never seen it before?”

  He drained the water in one smooth motion before he spoke.

  “It was the office, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Juliana, I never said I hadn’t been here. I said you had a nice place. We were searching for you. In fact, I was assigned to toss your office. We were looking for friends, vacation houses, anything to give us a clue where you were hiding. You live a closely held life. There wasn’t much to go on. That’s why we unsealed your place, to lure you back.”

  I knew this was insane. I was furious because the man I’d been about to let into my bed had touched my desk.

  “You should have told me. And what about Fisk calling like that? Ethan, is my place bugged? Are you wired? What the hell is this all about?” In one stroke I’d moved along the continuum from whiny to harpy.

  He shook his head, all traces of his previous good mood disappearing. With an overhand toss, his empty water bottle neatly arced into the open trash compactor. He said nothing as he went to the bar, fished the key out of its hiding place, and opened the liquor cabinet. Splashing whiskey into a glass, he gave me a salute.

  “Juliana, I can count on one hand the number of people I’m not related to who know about Corey. Rest assured there are no bugs here.”

  “Then, how did he, or would he, know where we were?”

  Damn it, stop it.

  “Martin, I’m beginning to doubt some of what I read about you.”

  Clenching my fists, I fought back my anger. Then it hit me. “They lo-jacked the car.”

  “And the lady is a winner. Now, before you get all indignant, yes, I know how to disable it. It’s one of the first things you learn on the street. But I have to wait until we’re out of Dallas to make transmitter failure sound plausible. Fisk called to yank my chain and to remind me I have a handler.”

  Relief tinged with shame at my overreaction eased over me.

  “Ethan.”

  He pointed at me.

  “Good night, Miss Martin. I’m going to relax for a while in this lemon-scented, temperature-controlled, industrial-chic tomb you call an apartment and then I’m going to get some sleep. I recommend you do the same. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure I don’t touch anything of yours without permission.”

  It was the accent he put on anything of yours that made tears of rage and humiliation spring to my eyes. I stormed to my room, intending to slam the door. Unfortunately, the heavy-duty air hinges slowed it down to a miniscule click. I was tempted to throw the big clanking deadbolt, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  A blistering hot shower left me pink and pruney, but I could still feel his finger tracing random patterns on my palm. As I pulled my sheets around me, I thought about how different this night could have been.

  CHAPTER 40

  I woke up with the hangover I deserved. My water binge and shower had backed it down some, but every movement caused a stabbing pain in my temples. I tried to remember how much I drank last night. I knew I’d matched Ethan mug for mug on the beer. Fortunately or unfortunately, I couldn’t decide which, I hadn’t downed enough to forget how things went and how they ended up. I looked back at my bed and imagined him in a tangle of sheets, not wanting to wake up, one tanned arm shielding his face from the morning sun. Then he’d stretch and smile and pat my pillow as an invitation to return.

  Enough.

  Thoughts like that needed to stop right now. I’d handled it badly, to be sure. But, damn it, what else was he hiding?

  Everything. He’s a fucking FBI agent. You took your eyes off the ball.

  Done with the truth in my mirror, I tossed on a bathrobe and went searching for something for this damn headache. I’d take my cue from Ethan, but I was guessing it would be like nothing happened.

  The sofa was empty and my apartment was as quiet as the tomb he’d compared it to last night. Heading into the kitchen, I stopped short. My tea kettle simmered on low with a bag already in my largest mug. A bottle of ibuprofen held down a note.

  Caffeine and chemicals taken care of, I read his neat handwriting:

  Dear Juliana:

  I’m sorry I was such a dickhead last night. Having you go feral after getting my ass chewed by Fisk wasn’t a good combination. That and whatever the hell that liquid dynamite you served was. You’re right. I should have told you. I didn’t. Where do we go from here?

  A couple of other things:

  — The beer didn’t make it less real, it made the truth easier, and

  — I meant what I said about Corey.

  I borrowed your keycard. I’ll be back with breakfast: Ethan

  I refilled my mug, took a lap around the living room, and headed down the hall to my office trying to remember what I’d been so angry about. Stuff was moved. Stuff was soiled.

  So fucking what?

  This wasn’t my life anymore. It was a collection of meaningless things. I’m sure Fisk was waiting to seal it right back up. I decided to pack a couple of bags of what I wanted and would come in handy on this gig. I doubted I was ever coming back here.

  Clothes were easy, so I decided to do my private packing first. In the back of my closet was a panel with three hidden pressure-sensitive latches that had to be released in the correct order or steel bolts would seal it. The panel swung out, revealing a wall safe. So far, so good. The cops hadn’t tried to force it. As a secondary measure, if the compartment had been compromised, only two green lights would appear above the safe’s locking mechanism. All three were glowing.

  Keeping an ear cocked for Ethan’s return, I opened the safe and pulled out my favorite pistol, a sleek little .380 Dad had put in my Christmas stocking four yea
rs ago. I also removed five grand in cash, a handful of flash drives containing all sorts of interesting and useful information, and two sets of false identification papers I used for courier work. These were gold quality and had been tested against the best measures Homeland Security had to offer. If I needed it bad enough, I could be out of the country in a matter of hours. I was locking the safe when I heard the tone telling me the front door was opening. I secured the panel, wrapped the package in a pair of sweatpants, and stuffed it in one of my duffel bags.

  CHAPTER 41

  I stood in the bedroom door and watched him unload the white bags. Even though I was still queasy, it smelled wonderful. Once or twice he wobbled and rubbed his forehead like he was sweating. I had a feeling he’d kept up with the whiskey after I’d done my diva flounce.

  “I don’t even want to know what that is. I just want it on my plate,” I said, taking the same stool he’d used last night.

  “The Stepford clerk on duty at the front desk pointed me to the little Mexi joint down the block. We have breakfast burritos with eggs, bacon, cheese, all the good stuff, and sauces to tempt the most beer-soaked palate.” He scooped one onto the plate, added some potatoes, and handed it across the counter.

  “La Hacienda is wonderful. I don’t get to eat there too often because they close after lunch.” I dug into the homemade salsa.

  “This kitchen is fantastic. You must be quite a cook.”

  The laugh jiggled my achy brain. “Well, I am quite a hand with cereal. I can make a big bowl all by myself. Didn’t my cabinets tell you that?” It was the first allusion to last night.

  He hesitated for a second. “I’ll confess, I thought the maid had cleaned everything out before we got here.”

  “Nope. I have many talents. Cooking isn’t one of them.”

  “Too bad we have to leave, otherwise I’d make dinner,” he said, between bites.

  “You cook?”

  “Nothing fancy, but I was raised on a farm. No sisters, so mom taught me and Kevin the basics. I can grill and fry chicken like nobody’s business. I’ve even been known to bake a pie.”

  The thought of coming up with an excuse to stay here for another day, and night, danced in my head. The way he said it told me to not even suggest it.

  “My motorhome has a kitchen. I haven’t been able to figure it out. You’re welcome to try.” I couldn’t believe I was making another flat-out invitation, but there it was.

  Ethan smiled but didn’t say anything until he’d scraped his plate clean.

  “Martin, we need to talk about this.”

  I knew exactly when he meant, but decided to go lawyer and let him frame the question.

  “Please, don’t be like that Juliana, come on.”

  “Okay, what do we need to talk about? It is what it is. For my part, I’m sorry. I’d like to blame the beer, but you stumbled into a weird place for me. I can go anywhere, do anything, and react on the fly. But move a pen on my desk and I go ballistic. You should see me after a party. I’ve lost two paralegals and at least one maid over it. I’m surprised that’s not in my profile. As for the rest, I apologize for nothing.”

  “It’s cool and probably for the best. As for me, I’m sorry I talked so much. It was like I knew you after spending so much time in your office. You’re easy to talk to, and the beer sure as hell didn’t help.” He sounded as convinced as I felt.

  “Price, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together and I doubt it comes as a surprise that I’ll be introducing you as my old man. The vibe can’t be weird between us or Rockhound will pick up on it. He’s an egotistical ass, but he has good sense about people. It’s how he’s been able to stay under the radar.”

  He walked around the counter and stopped behind me. The sudden embrace emptied the breath from me. Leaning in, he whispered, “You mean I have to act like you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen? Okay, I can handle that.”

  Heat rushed through me. Here I was, wrapped in a plaid bathrobe, eating a burrito, and this guy made me feel like . . . I didn’t have a word for it. However, I couldn’t forget that at the end of the day, he was a cop.

  “Ethan, you have to be honest with me. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  His broke the embrace, but kept his hands on my shoulders. “Baby, I need you to trust me. There’s strategic shit that has to stay behind the curtain. You know that. If I compromised security, a lawyer with half your skill would eat me alive. But I promise you, if it’s something tactical or personal about you or your dad, I will tell you.”

  I grabbed his hands and brought them against my skin at the neck of my robe. “That’s fair enough.”

  An even trade for the half-million in cash, false ID, and locker of guns I wasn’t going to bother telling him about. Lust is easy. Trust is hard. Even, maybe especially, when he has blue eyes and calls me “baby.”

  CHAPTER 42

  If it hadn’t been for my headache, the cruise back to Cochinelle would have been a blast. The Challenger devoured the miles with style and the previous owner had installed a digital sound system programmed with vintage rock music, even though Ethan and I agreed on a very low volume setting. His cocky shades weren’t for attitude today. As for myself, I opted for a nice Jackie O-inspired pair. We didn’t say much, but the silence was companionable, not hostile.

  I was sorry to see the tacky entry to Heaven’s Gate. We’d agreed to kick off this dubious mission tomorrow morning. I had to nail down some details on my half-assed plan and we both had shit and hangovers to process. I also wanted to see my dog and make sure he’d be taken care of in case something went wrong.

  Ethan hefted my two duffel bags out of the trunk. I could feel eyes on us and wondered how long it would take Betty to come sniffing around. Let her eat her heart out.

  “I can get these inside for you, if you want. It feels like you packed your entire closet.”

  “You can drop them anywhere, and oh please, if I’d packed everything, this baby couldn’t have kept to that steady eighty you put it on. But, you’re right, they’re full. I didn’t want Fisk to buy my underwear drawer at the auction.”

  The truth was that I was afraid to be in close quarters with him. The spark between us hadn’t died. It was neatly cordoned off and needed to stay there.

  He got it. “I’m sure he already grabbed what he wanted.”

  “Great, now I’m stuck with that in my head. Hey, where are you staying tonight?”

  “Why, are you coming to visit me?” A quick eyebrow waggle took the edge off the question. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about it. Last time I was here, the office arranged it. Government rate and all that shit. I really don’t want to be anyplace I might run into official types, so, I guess I’ll check the phone book.”

  I pointed in the general direction of the exit. “Turn left at the gate and follow the road out to the highway. Go south about fifteen miles. Clean and cheap is on your right. Simon and I stayed there our first night. As a bonus, there’s terrible coffee right across the street.”

  “Excellent. My agenda includes food, shower, bad movie, and sleep. I’d better get started. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “I’m not far behind. Make it six. I’d rather be gone before my neighbors are up. Ethan, take this,” I tossed him one of my burners. “If you need me, don’t call on your fed-o-phone. My number is programmed in. It’s time to be discreet.”

  I was dead serious. His phone had vibrated a steady stream of text messages all morning. He’d looked once, made a disgusted noise, and ignored it for the rest of the trip. I wondered what was up, but decided not to ask. I had to believe he’d tell me if I needed to know.

  The silence yawned. We both felt like hammered hell. Still, he obviously didn’t want to leave and I didn’t want him to go. Or, even better, I wanted to go with him, put my head on his shoulder, and drowse my way through the bad movie he’d scheduled. But, that wasn’t in the cards. Not today. After an eternity of two or three minutes, he o
pened his car door. I grabbed my first bag, the one containing the contents of my personal safe and hefted it onto my stairs.

  “Juliana, can I ask you a stupid question?” With his mirrored sunglasses, I couldn’t tell how much joke was loaded into his request.

  “Sure.”

  “I assume we have a meet coming up soon. What should I call you? Obviously, Martin is out and Juliana sounds awfully formal for whoever this guy I’m supposed to be is. Calling you ‘baby’ all the time is kind of douchey, even for a hustler.”

  He was right. One of the thousand details I hadn’t thought about. Luckily, the answer was easy and obvious.

  “Call me Jewel.”

  My reward was the dimpled smile I hadn’t seen enough of today. “I like it. Good night, Jewel.”

  I watched the rear end of the Challenger turn off my street and mentally calculated whether I could run fast enough through everyone’s back yards to catch it at the gate. I almost had the route down when a small furry missile hit the back of my leg.

  Simon.

  CHAPTER 43

  I scooped up my little mood-stabilizer as Stella pulled her golf cart into my driveway.

  “I am so sorry. I should have leashed him. He jumped out as soon as he saw you and ran the rest of the way.” My wriggling dog and Stella’s butter-smooth laugh got me through the last minutes until Ethan was gone on his way.

  “I know it’s barely been a day, but damn, I missed this little guy,” I said as I flipped him on his back for a serious belly rub.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  Stella put her hands on her hips and struck an exaggerated pose. “Oh, girl, please. It has already been round the grapevine twice that you pulled in here in that monster car with a guy who could be a movie star.”

  Betty.

  I silently counted my lucky stars that Ethan and Fisk had showed up right at sunrise the first time. I’m not sure my still shaky rep could handle cops, underwear, and tattoos.