Devil in Disguise

by Heather Huffman

  DEVIL IN DISGUISE

  by

  HEATHER HUFFMAN

  Booktrope Editions

  Seattle WA

  2012

  Copyright 2012 Heather Huffman

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Inquiries about additional permissions should be directed to: info@booktrope.com

  Cover Design by Loretta Matson

  Edited by Erica Fitzgerald

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  Second Printing

  ISBN 978-1-935961-56-7

  Epub ISBN 978-1-62015-060-3

  DISCOUNTS OR CUSTOMIZED EDITIONS MAY BE AVAILABLE FOR EDUCATIONAL AND OTHER GROUPS BASED ON BULK PURCHASE.

  For further information please contact info@booktrope.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012941068

  Table of Contents

  COVER

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT PAGE

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM JAILBIRD

  JAILBIRD PREVIEW CHAPTER ONE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ALSO BY HEATHER HUFFMAN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE

  To the kind of sister who’d walk through the fires of hell to save someone she loved. Angie, you amaze with your strength and capacity to care for others.

  I adore you more than you’ll ever know.

  And to the readers who showed Jailbird and its characters so much love, thank you for your support – it means more than you’ll ever know. I hope you enjoy revisiting their world as much as I do.

  PROLOGUE

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  RACHEL COOPER HAD NO INTENTION of putting a shirt back on over the red welts that mottled her skin, no matter what pictures ended up circulating the Internet because of it. That left her with two choices: drive two hours home in the worst snowfall of the season, which also meant forgoing her night in a choice hotel and tomorrow’s planned spa day, or face the embarrassment of checking into the Atlantic City Hotel and Casino in a white silk camisole with a wool-induced rash that made her look like a walking candy cane. Anything was better than friction at that moment.

  The mohair sweater her mother had given her as a Christmas gift that afternoon was tossed in the back seat. Rachel had worn it to their awkward little family celebration at her mother’s insistence and had stripped it off the second she was out of her mother’s sight. An hour in the garment had left her in misery, and not even her ridiculously comfy alpaca sweater held appeal for her now, no matter how fiercely the snow outside was falling.

  Her mind made up, she held her chin high, squared her shoulders, and pulled her little suitcase through the hotel lobby, hoping against hope that she’d find solitude in the elevator. From where she stood waiting for her ride to the penthouse, she could see the hustle of the adjoining casino.

  Rachel barely cast a glance in the direction of the revelry, having never understood the draw of gambling. Instead, she stared intently at the elevator door to avoid accidental eye contact with anyone. It took half a beat for her mind to register who she saw in her periphery, looking gloriously out of place in the Atlantic City casino. Her heart began to pound; she was pretty sure she felt a panic attack coming on. She’d been certain he’d gone back to Louisiana long ago. There was no reason on earth for him to still be here.

  A glutton for punishment, she couldn’t help sneaking a glance. Sure enough, Conrad Langston was there in all his unadulterated Native American beauty, though he’d changed since she’d seen him last. His long, neat hair was gone, replaced by a much shorter, clean-cut style. Rachel was torn between admiring the new look and being a little sad to see the old one gone. Either way, he was breathtaking. He was dressed in black; his sharp eyes were scanning the crowd in a way that led Rachel to believe he now belonged to the casino’s security team.

  Of their own accord, her feet moved a step closer to him. Rachel stopped short, admonishing herself that even saying a simple hello to Conrad would bring nothing but trouble. Their time together had been brief, but two years after it ended she could still feel the heat from its flames.

  Any hope of going unnoticed was crushed when his gaze caught hers. A smile broke across his face. Her heart skipped a beat, then made up for it by hammering double-time in her ears. Rachel thought she smiled but couldn’t be sure.

  She hesitated, not wanting him to see her in her current state but not wanting to be rude either. With a sigh, she realized she had no other choice but to approach him.

  His eyes raked across her inflamed skin before meeting her gaze. His smile dimmed.

  “Did your mother give you another wool sweater or something?”

  “Hello to you too,” she scowled at him.

  “When are you going to tell her you’re allergic to wool?”

  “I have told her. She insists true wool allergies are rare.”

  “I mean, when will you refuse to put on the gift rather than torture yourself?”

  “That would be cruel.”

  Conrad let it drop. “It’s good to see you. In person, I mean. Television doesn’t do you justice.”

  “It’s good to see you too. I like the hair.” Rachel couldn’t help greedily soaking in the sight of his face. She’d missed him more than she cared to admit.

  At her acknowledgement of the change, he ran his hand self-consciously through the thick, dark locks. “It just seemed time for something different.”

  Rachel watched him, wanting nothing more at that moment than to sink her own fingers in his hair.

  “So are you here for the night to lick your wounds after Christmas with the family?” Conrad asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t expect it to be quite so literally, though.” Rachel laughed softly. It was laugh or cry at the moment; she was sincerely hoping she could cling to the first option. “I didn’t realize you were still in Jersey.”

  Conrad shrugged uncomfortably. “There wasn’t much for me back in Louisiana. Not sure where to head next. So I’m here.”

  “What about Gabrielle? You could go to Arkansas to live near her.”

  His reply was cut off by a voice coming through his headset. He acknowledged it then turned apologetically to Rachel. “I have to take care of this. It was good seeing you, though. You look great. Pink, but still great.”

  “You too. Except the pink part.” Rachel winced, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words were out.

  Conrad chuckled as he walked away. Rachel tried really hard not to stare after
his retreating back. On the elevator ride to her floor, she tried even harder not to daydream about him–a task that would have been made easier if she didn’t know perfectly well just how good he looked without his shirt on.

  In her room, she immediately stripped and collapsed on the bed, allowing the air to soothe her angry skin. She didn’t have the energy or will to even bother with the television. Instead, she allowed her mind to travel back to the day she and Conrad had said goodbye. At the time, it had seemed the only logical course of action. Now, she wondered why.

  There was her career, for one. It left little room for hearth and home. Her mother’s own tragic history with men was a close second. Then there was the fact that he wanted a family and she didn’t. She’d spent such a disproportionate amount of time exposing the darker side of humanity, it left her with the mindset that propagating the species was a bad idea. Besides, Conrad was singularly stubborn — a thoroughly irritating quality in a man. And he didn’t love her.

  That hard fact squeezed painfully at Rachel’s heart. She could rattle off a thousand reasons they didn’t belong together, but in reality none of them mattered when she was in his presence. If he’d shown the slightest inclination to fight for her, for what they had together, she would have done anything for him. And that made her no better than her mother.

  Rachel growled at herself and got up to look for her silk robe. It was the only thing she could bear to put on at the moment, and she wanted to order herself comfort food, diet be damned.

  Someone knocked at the door just as she picked up the phone to place her order. Warily, Rachel replaced the phone in its cradle and went to see who it was. Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t to see Conrad leaning casually against the wall.

  “Hey,” she greeted him awkwardly.

  “I come bearing gifts.” He held out a packet of Benadryl and lanolin-free ointment. “I have forty-five minutes before I have to be back at work. Do you want me to rub you down?”

  Rachel’s throat went dry and she stammered.

  “With ointment. On your back.” Conrad’s grin told her he’d accurately read her thoughts.

  “Ah, sure.” She moved aside for him to come in. “Thanks.”

  She gratefully took the antihistamine and ointment from him and headed to the bathroom for some water, swallowing a couple pills without even checking the dose. She was desperate for relief.

  “Have you seen your new niece?” Rachel made small talk as she rubbed the ointment on her collarbone.

  “Only via pictures. I haven’t been able to get away from work yet for a visit. She’s cute, though,” Conrad answered from the other room.

  “Yes, she is. Charlie and Neena do make pretty babies. How’s Benjamin?”

  “Growing like a weed. You know, I still can’t believe she named him that.”

  “That’s right…doesn’t Neena have an ex-boyfriend named Benjamin?”

  “Yes, Benjamin Carter. Apparently Charlie teased her once too often about almost marrying him.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Your sister looks sweet, but she can be rather mischievous.”

  “Maybe that’s why the two of you are friends,” Conrad suggested.

  “Be nice.” Rachel emerged from the bathroom, not at all surprised to find Conrad stretched across her bed. His long form filled the king-size mattress. She licked her lips, her mind racing for something intelligent to say.

  “Did you send them a gift? I know how averse you are to the propagation of the human race.”

  “Yes, I sent them a gift.” Rachel narrowed her eyes at him. “Just because I don’t want children doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for my friends.”

  “Admit it. Even shopping for babies gives you the heebie-jeebies.”

  “I’m actually excited about the gift I got them, thank you very much,” Rachel retorted hotly.

  “Really? Then I’m dying to know what it is.”

  “Something useful,” she hedged. “Now are you going to put this ointment on my back or not?”

  Conrad’s lip curled upward; he had the very devil in his eyes. “Sure,” he drawled, standing and motioning for her to climb in bed.

  She eyed him warily and he turned his back, allowing her the privacy to shed her robe and lie on her stomach. He surprised her by sitting with one knee on either side of her, lightly resting his weight on her legs. After so many nights of remembering his touch, she wasn’t prepared for the actuality of it. Fire shot through every fiber of her being when his large hands began to gently massage the ointment into her shoulders and arms.

  Rachel had to fight for every breath. Her eyes rolled back, and she stifled the urge to moan. The antihistamine was kicking in, tugging her toward drowsiness even while his touch stirred a volcano within her. It was a wholly surreal mix.

  “Feel better?” he leaned in and asked, his breath skittering across her shoulders.

  “Mmmm…” Rachel tried to answer.

  “Good.” She could hear the smile in his reply. “You never answered. What did you get Neena and Charlie for a baby gift?”

  “An intern,” Rachel admitted softly, hoping the pillow would muffle her words. Conrad threw his head back and laughed. It was a deep, rich sound. Warmth spread through Rachel. She couldn’t help but respond with a quiet laugh of her own.

  “Good choice,” he commended, once he’d regained his composure.

  “I thought so.” Rachel’s eyes fluttered closed. The lure of sleep was beginning to outweigh the urge to flip over and have her way with the man who’d stepped out of her fantasy and into flesh. Stupid antihistamines.

  “I think you are sufficiently medicated.” Conrad eased off the bed. Rachel turned to look over her shoulder, immediately feeling bereft at his absence. He crouched down so they were nose to nose and studied her for a moment. He reached out to wrap a deep golden tendril of hair around his finger. It was a gesture he’d done a thousand times before. She smiled at him in a sleepy haze. His voice rumbled low and deep, “Bonne nuit, mon amour.”

  Rachel hummed inside. She loved how French rolled off his tongue. He gently stroked her hair back before kissing her temple. And then he was gone.

  The next thing Rachel was aware of was an irritating rapping pulling her out of the blissful darkness. It took a moment for Rachel to register that someone was knocking at her door. She cracked her eyelids open, wincing at the sunlight now streaming through her window and unwilling to relinquish the dream that had pleasantly invaded her sleep. She peeked at her arms; they had returned to their normal honeyed tone.

  The knocking didn’t go away. Rachel begrudgingly rose and wrapped herself in the robe that still lay on the floor from the previous night. She struggled to separate dream from reality.

  One thing was certain: there was a very real Conrad Langston standing once again in her doorframe. This time he came bearing breakfast and a Diet Coke, and Rachel’s stomach grumbled in appreciation.

  He paused for a moment when she opened the door, his eyes seeming to devour her. Rachel self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair as he cleared his throat.

  “I came to check on my patient.”

  “I’m much better today, thank you.” She stood aside and motioned for him to come in.

  “You look…better.” His pause made her wonder what adjective he’d originally meant to use.

  “Thanks again for last night. You were a lifesaver.”

  “I am here to serve."

  Their eyes locked. Rachel felt she had something to say but couldn’t fathom what. He took a deep breath as if he too had something to say but merely released the breath heavily instead of the words.

  She broke the spell. “What did you bring me for breakfast?”

  “Who says it’s for you?” he teased, even as he began unpacking the eggs and bacon.

  “How have you been?” She ignored the ribbing and slid into a chair across from him.

  “About the same.” He shrugged. “How have you been?”

  “Good.
”

  “Your career seems to be really taking off.”

  “It is.” She nodded. “How do you like Jersey?”

  “It’s cold. But I like the ocean.”

  “You could always move somewhere warm with an ocean.”

  “Maybe.”

  Rachel wondered what she was supposed to make of the look in his eyes. What was he trying to tell her?

  “I’m surprised you haven’t found a Mrs. Langston. You seemed pretty set on marriage when we parted ways.”

  Conrad dropped his fork and gave her an incredulous look. “I didn’t want just any Mrs. Langston.”

  They fell silent. He was mad at her, and she had no clue what to say to him.

  “I think it’s going to snow today,” she finally spoke, appalled that weather was the best topic she could come up with.

  Conrad chuckled ruefully. “Looks that way.”

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t go home for Christmas.”

  “It’s okay. I volunteered to work last night.”

  “Why?” Rachel couldn’t imagine Conrad passing up a chance to celebrate the holiday with his family. Unlike her relatives, his liked one another. When his sister had been journeying through hell, he’d raised his niece for years. Even though Gabrielle now lived with her mom and stepfather, surely Conrad would want to see her.

  “Neena is painfully happy. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it this year.”

  “Given all she’s been through, I would think her happiness is a good thing.” Rachel studied him from across the table, not sure what she was seeing in Conrad’s eyes. Something had changed since she’d last seen him.

  “It is. I just didn’t want to ruin their celebration with my sour mood. Look, don’t make me regret bringing you breakfast.”

  “Why did you bring me breakfast?” Rachel didn’t mean for it to sound as harsh as it did but couldn’t take the words back once they were out.

  “Beats the hell out of me.” Conrad dropped his fork and rose, seeming suddenly dark and menacing. Rachel wanted to reach out to him—to apologize, to wipe away whatever hurt was gnawing at him. But the image of her mother throwing herself at the feet of man after man came to mind, stilling any movement Rachel might have made.