Conning for Keeps: A Novella

by Seleste deLaney

  Frankie frowned in a sympathetic way that said he wanted to be the one to help. Typical guy. But there was more than understanding there. Something flickered in his eyes, almost as if he’d recognized her. Had it been the other way around, and she’d gotten the expression from Evangeline, she’d have been worried.

  Too many faces had passed through juvie, and the last thing she needed was to trigger a memory in her mark. Regardless of any suspicions, they mainly seemed curious. A pointed glance and a few muttered words from Evangeline had Frankie shuffling through their door, though.

  Interesting.

  Evangeline sauntered over, flicking her long blond hair over a shoulder as she perched on the other end of the bench. She was a stark contrast to the deep walls—everything about her too shiny, too loud, too fake. Had Marissa really not seen this when she was under? Evangeline would have eaten Mari alive.

  “Guy troubles? Or just cold feet?”

  Real me. She’ll connect with the real me. “My toes are nice and toasty. My fiancé, on the other hand, is an ass of epic proportions.”

  A perfectly arched brow reached higher. “Well, that’s…unexpected.” Despite the bored tone of her words, Evangeline moved closer, one slender hip bumping against Marissa’s sneakers. “I took you for Suzie Homemaker. Figured you had the apron and sensible shoes tucked away at home.”

  “Yeah, well, if he’s going to be a jerk, why should I play nice and pretend to be his perfect, little wife? I’m over it. This is my wedding and, if I bother to marry his sorry ass, I’m going to do it as one-hundred percent me.” Marissa tried not to wince, worried she’d laid it on too thick.

  But Evangeline’s blue-green eyes caught the light, twinkling with mischief and more than a hint of the animosity Marissa remembered from girls at juvie. Evangeline hadn’t been there, though. Up close and personal like this, Marissa was certain of it.

  “I know exactly what you mean. And I like you—Mr. Mountain-of-Stoicism doesn’t know what he’s missing.” She draped an arm across the back of the bench and tapped Marissa’s knuckles, her nails scraping against the skin. “What do you say we ditch the boys and have our own kind of fun tonight?”

  Holy shit. This was actually going to work.

  “That sounds fantastic.”

  “Great. Let’s get you cleaned up and hit it.” She stood and reached a French manicured hand toward Marissa, pulling her to her feet. “You and I are going to become the best of friends.”

  Marissa forced a smile even as she resisted a shudder. Yep. Exactly like juvie.

  Chapter Four

  A Kiss Is a Terrible Thing to Waste

  Evangeline tossed back a shot, her face twisting as she swallowed. She slammed the glass on the table between them and tipped her head toward the one sitting in front of Marissa. “Game time. A shot per question, whoever asks.”

  Getting trashed at the hole-in-the wall bar across the street from the castle-like hotel hadn’t been what she’d expected for her outing with Evangeline, but Marissa could adapt. She’d grown up doing homework while sitting in booths not very different from this one. Plus, it was drinking, which she excelled at.

  She sniffed the glass. Whiskey, probably the best they had here considering her partner in drunken crime was buying. She took a tiny sip, making sure to wince at the taste before she chugged the rest of it. Better to convince Evangeline that she was drunk soon, so she shivered as she set the shot glass down. “Okay. Vile beverage consumed. Who goes first?”

  “Me. So I get that your guy – Travis, right? – wanted you to play all sweetness and sunshine, but why did you go along with it?”

  Oh boy.

  Marissa pinched the rim of the shot glass, twisted her wrist, and watched it spin for a minute before responding. It wasn’t like she could mention that he out-ranked her, much less that her surrogate older brother had ordered her onto the case…or any of the other whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth answers.

  Fortunately, a little truth could go a long way, as long as it was wrapped in a bundle of lies. “Trevor loves me, but he doesn’t like to rock the boat. I like to make him happy. I just didn’t expect his illusion to extend to our sex life.”

  Take that, Trevor.

  “Oh, this one’s getting a follow-up, but it’s your turn.” Evangeline slid another shot over and raised her own in a toast. “To men and their stupid ideas. May we remember that it’s okay to love one and hate the other.”

  After clinking glasses, Marissa drank. If they kept this speed up too long, there was going to be trouble of the staggering idiot variety. Good thing it tasted as if the bartender liked to water down the expensive stuff, but she was going to have to find a way to ditch the rest of her shots. “With that toast, I have to ask, what’s the plan you hate?”

  Snorting, Evangeline rolled her eyes. “Frankie wants to disappear after the wedding. Take off and give up his family’s fortune, his future, everything. I managed to draw the line at eloping, but we’re still fighting over this. His dad wants him in the family business, and I think he’d be a fool to walk away.”

  The reaction didn’t sit right. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but Evangeline wasn’t being completely honest, either. Too many years of reading people made it obvious. Marissa took a second to ponder the possibilities.

  Did she think they should stay because she feared repercussions from leaving, or did Evangeline have her fingers in the Canalis pie beyond having Frankie Canalis poking her pie? And why would Frankie want to bail? Sure, he looked like more brains than brawn, but there were definitely gears turning in that head of his. Things didn’t quite match up.

  Someone cranked up the music from the DJ booth in the far corner, and the bass started thumping through her veins.

  However, if Frankie really wanted to take off, maybe the cunning she’d seen in his eyes was worry that she might be a plant from his father. Which could peg him as a potential ally. She’d have to remember to discuss the possibility with Trevor.

  Evangeline, on the other hand, might be dangerous, deadly even. Time to start treading carefully. Marissa curled her lips into a smile as she passed out the next shot. “In that case…to being smarter and more conniving than our men.”

  “I will definitely drink to that.” More dark, gold liquid disappeared down Evangeline’s throat, and Marissa clandestinely poured her shot onto the already-filthy floor. “Back to you…so was the fight tonight over sex?”

  Time to move onto safe territory. Lucky for her, every question so far could be answered with a version of the truth. “Yeah. I tried to get my sexy on with Trevor, and he completely brushed me off. Wanted me to play virginal bride for the week or some such nonsense.”

  “He’s an idiot.” Evangeline stared at her, not reaching for another shot, and Marissa couldn’t help but feel like she’d screwed up somehow. Slipped in a way that garnered suspicion.

  Do not fill the silence. Do not fill the silence.

  Adopting an air of comfort, she leaned against the dark, sticky back of the booth and watched as a woman in a torn off jean skirt and stilettos dragged a burly redhead onto the dance floor.

  A few minutes later, a shot glass bumped her knuckles.

  Evangeline nodded. “Your turn.”

  “Sorry. Too much to drink already I guess.” She lifted the glass slowly, like she didn’t want anymore, which was pretty accurate as watered down booze, no matter how expensive, was still watered down booze. A noise from the kitchen snagged her friend’s attention, and Marissa dumped her drink. It was hard to tell if Evangeline was getting tipsy or not, but she needed her wits about her tonight.

  Drunk or not, there was no time like the present to press for real information. Especially since she might not get one-on-one time like this again.

  “Let’s move on to a less depressing topic. I majored in art history in college. Totally useless, I know, but the stuff fascinates me, especially pieces with stories attached. I heard a rumor that Frankie’s dad is giving you guys a major
piece of art for a wedding gift. Any idea if it’s true?”

  Slowly, Evangeline tilted her head to the right, examining Marissa from a new angle.

  Damn. Damn. Double damn.

  “Trying to figure out how that would become a rumor, but yeah, it’s true. The thing is ugly as sin, but you’ll probably love it for the story.”

  “Care to share?”

  Evangeline laughed, raising another shot glass. “Technically, that’s a second question, but I’ll let you get away with it as long as you drink. I should warn you, though, it’s the stupidest thing ever.”

  Trying not to act too excited, Marissa picked up her glass and toyed with it, not drinking. “Come on. Anything will be better than the death of my sex life.”

  “Whatever. Certain Laughter was painted by one of da Vinci’s students. One of his crappy students.”

  Marissa laughed, pretending like she hadn’t read all this in the mission file a few days ago. “Not some prodigy he picked out of the gutter then?”

  “Nope. The guy was supposedly very wealthy and powerful. The story says he was a practitioner of the dark arts and painted parts of the piece with the blood of his slaves’ children, filling it with magic that granted the owner protection from harm.”

  She threw back her shot, and Marissa managed to ditch hers again, nearly fumbling the glass as she tried to contain her excitement. “That goes beyond crazy, straight into the ‘sick and twisted’ category.”

  Evangeline nodded and gave an amused snort. “It gets better. They also say the magic allows the one who possesses the piece to use it to kill. Apparently, hundreds of years ago, some servants who’d cleaned the room where the painting was kept dropped dead unexpectedly. Totally nuts, right?”

  “Fascinating at the very least. I have a hard time believing anyone would ever buy that.” A couple mysteriously dead people in the sixteenth century did not a curse make. But the painting had gone missing for a long time and, if Canalis believed in the curse, or if he could make others believe he had that kind of power… either way, it was dangerous in his hands.

  Or in Evangeline’s judging from the manic gleam in her eyes. She still didn’t quite trust that’s why the government cared, but whatever. Her job wasn’t to judge, it was to get the thing out. Maybe that was the real reason behind “need to know.”

  Or maybe that was the whiskey talking.

  “If you’re interested, I might be able to get you in to see it.”

  Marissa’s heart leapt. One step closer to finishing the mission and getting out of this mess with Trevor. One step closer to putting the past behind her at last. A grin threatened to burst to life on her face, and she had to fight to keep it contained.

  “That would be fantastic.” See the painting, steal the painting, and then take it and turn it over to the authorities. She’d still get to hold her redemption in her hands, which would banish any niggling nostalgia for her old life and show Trevor she was one of the good guys, no matter what he thought.

  “Uh, oh. Daddy caught us. I have a feeling you’re about to get grounded.” Evangeline covered her mouth as she let out a throaty laugh.

  Marissa craned her neck around to find Trevor bearing down on their table, his lips set in a tight, angry line. “Great, and I’m definitely not going to get any now.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Evangeline grinned, but it was too late for Marissa to ask what she meant.

  Silence descended on their table until he stopped at the edge. “Let’s go, Mari.”

  She opened her mouth to give in. After all, she had new information and faced a greater likelihood of saying something stupid to Evangeline than she did getting more tonight.

  But Evangeline beat her to it. “Nope. She got two questions, so she owes me one, and I need to think about it for a while. Either that, or you could accept a challenge instead.” That ridiculous eyebrow shot up to taunt Trevor.

  He cursed under his breath in a language that sounded vaguely like Mandarin and flashed Marissa an angry glare. “I need to talk to my fiancée in private, so fine. What’s the challenge?”

  “You, Trevor, have a mouth made for sin and, since I can’t experience it for myself, I think you need to make out with my friend, Mari, here.” She winked at Marissa, like they were in on some secret sisterhood of scorned women.

  Crap. He was never going to go for it. Not if…

  Trevor leaned down, one hand on the table, the other on the back of the bench, penning Marissa in. Her breath caught as he moved in and brushed his lips across hers. Fire shot through her body, warming her to her core.

  And then he was gone, pulling back.

  “Satisfied?” He arched a brow, but Marissa could see the pulse jumping in his neck, hear the tightness in his voice. Either he wanted to kill her, or he wasn’t entirely satisfied with the kiss himself.

  “Hell no. I said make out, not kiss her like she’s your sister.”

  Marissa couldn’t glance her way, couldn’t send a message to Trevor, couldn’t do anything but stare at him. As much as she wanted this, wanted him, she now understood a piece of his earlier fear—she didn’t want him forced into it. But with the things she’d told Evangeline, she couldn’t back down now and say he didn’t have to. She’d come across as the meek and mild alter ego she’d claimed to have shed.

  Nope. This was his responsibility to clean up.

  He’d figure something out.

  What the hell had happened? Marissa was supposed to get in with the Sheppard woman, not spend the night drinking and leading them to this mess again. And judging by the liquor on her breath, she hadn’t faked the drinking.

  Marissa was too much of a damn wild card.

  She had confidence in spades and, even if she never jumped ship, her cockiness was going to get someone killed one of these days. And to think, he’d come hunting for her to keep himself from making a stupid move like tearing the hotel apart searching for the painting.

  Trevor braced his arms on either side of her, staring into those pale, green eyes. Clearly she’d put on one hell of a show for Evangeline, which meant he could easily do the caveman thing, scoop Marissa up, and haul her back to the room. It would probably play as well as anything else.

  It was what he should do but, standing there, not a single fiber of his being wanted to. He had the world’s most beautiful wildcat pinned beneath him, her lips glistening as she ran the tip of her tongue over them. He had to forcefully remind himself they were on a mission with the places his mind kept trying to go.

  But what had she said earlier? That they were supposed to act engaged no matter what it led to? That she’d signed on for it knowing how things could end up? The dare in her eyes now said it was time to test that theory, and the head he shouldn’t be thinking with tried to jump for joy.

  He wrapped his hand around her wrist, tugging her to her knees on the bench as he stood upright. With the way she gazed at him, her breasts rising with every tremulous breath, he could almost believe she was a woman in love.

  But she wasn’t “Mari”; she was completely Marissa now, and he was damn well going to kiss her properly, even if it only had meaning for him. He drew his fingers slowly up her arms, reaching one hand to comb through and fist in her hair. As she let out a gasp, he tugged her head back.

  Point of no return.

  He covered her mouth with his, sliding his tongue between her open and willing lips. Despite the liquor, she tasted of mint and honey. Sweet seduction. Her hands ran up his chest and she wriggled closer, pressing her body against his. She could probably feel how hard he was, but he ceased caring when her tongue touched his at last, tentatively at first but then with a hunger he hadn’t anticipated. He pulled her tighter, wanting more of her, all of her.

  Drawing away from her mouth, he trailed kisses down her neck, savoring the little gasp and tiny moans of pleasure that vibrated through her throat. More. He wanted more, wanted to hear her come.

  “Damn. Definite ‘A’ for effort there. I supp
ose that means I have to let you take her back.”

  Evangeline Sheppard’s voice yanked him from the moment, but he remembered to draw away from Marissa slowly, laying one last kiss on her collarbone. “That’s exactly what it means. We have…unfinished business back in our room.” He took Marissa’s hands in his and tugged her from the bench.

  “Good.” Evangeline winked at him.

  He tried not to bristle. She hadn’t made a jab at anything real. Her attitude was because he’d neglected his fiancé. She was poking at a ruse.

  The kiss hadn’t been real—none of this was real, no matter how it had felt. And it sure as hell had felt like Marissa meant it—but was she just such a good actress that even part of him had believed it? Only a few more minutes, and he’d have to give himself a stronger reminder that it was all a mission, a con. For now though, they needed to get out of here. “Point taken. Have a good night, Miss Sheppard.”

  “After the personal show, I think we’re all close enough that you can call me Evangeline.”

  He snorted in response, then scooped Marissa into his arms. No point in risking her being too drunk to walk. They were out the door without another word, followed by Evangeline’s laughter.

  Outside, Marissa snuggled in closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m completely okay to walk, but this is probably better.”

  “Agreed.” She didn’t need to know how much he liked the feeling of her close and, since she hadn’t argued, it was perfectly logical to pretend it was all part of the act. They didn’t speak again, and the lack of distraction made him all too aware of her. The musky floral notes of her perfume drew him back to the way their mouths and bodies had melded with each other.

  He wanted to taste more of her, all of her.

  By the time he shut their door with his foot, he was a walking ball of need.

  He tipped her toward the floor so she could stand, but instead, Marissa twisted in his embrace, pressing her lips to his again and setting his nerve endings ablaze.