Private Lies

by Wendy Etherington

  She kept waiting to hear Steele’s deep voice, feel his large hand on her arm, and she worried about him getting into trouble for losing her. But no one said anything to her. No one tried to stop her.

  A thrill unlike anything she’d ever felt before soared through her veins. She’d done it. She’d actually done it. Roxanne Lewis, CPA, a nice quiet girl from Metairie had just outfoxed a Secret Service agent and was on her way to tracking down another so she could help him bust up a mob counterfeit ring.

  As the gangplank met the sidewalk, she smiled, then held up her hand to signal a cab.

  10

  ROXANNE PAID the driver and alighted from the cab at the corner of Royal and St. Peter.

  Her nerves were back and her confidence waning. There was no sign of Toni. Had she really managed to follow Gage? Where was that woman?

  At least the street wasn’t deserted. Many of the art galleries would no doubt be closed this time of night. But a busy restaurant sat on the corner, and there were people walking down the block and window-shopping. The Quarter was notorious for having a posh restaurant in one spot, then, a mere half a block later, could sit a sleazy strip joint, or worse, a row of vacant shops. Drug dealers and pickpockets hung out in deserted areas, even as a wild party could be going on a few feet away.

  She started at the restaurant, describing Toni to the hostess. No luck there. She looked around for a bit, but saw no sign of her. Dear heaven, had she really followed Gage into the florist? There was only one way to find out.

  Outside, she fought against her fears. She rolled her shoulders back and slipped through the crowd outside the restaurant, stumbling a bit as she tried to gain her footing on the uneven sidewalk. These shoes were going to make prowling difficult.

  Be bold, Marina.

  If anyone questioned her, she was just a lost tourist. Simple. Direct. Innocent.

  She fell into step behind a young couple and peered into the same gallery window they did, then cast her glance sideways to count the number of shops between her and the florist. Three. Only three more doors.

  Looking around with a casual air, she clutched her purse to her side and continued down the block, making sure she stayed behind the couple. When she reached the gallery window next to the florist, she pretended fascination with an oil painting of a jazz musician playing a sax.

  She glanced to the side, noting the darkened window of the florist. Her heart hammered. She took two steps in that direction. She was really going to give Toni a piece of her—

  A hand closed over her mouth. Someone yanked her into the dark alley between the two buildings.

  She drew a breath to scream, realized how ineffective that would be and instinctively jabbed her elbow back instead. And encountered a hard wall of a stomach.

  “You should probably be aiming lower, babe,” a familiar voice said in her ear.

  She went limp in Gage’s arms. “You scared me to death!”

  He dragged her away from the street. When they reached a small, dimly lit courtyard at the back of the building, he spun her around to face him. He smiled, but not reassuringly. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

  She pressed her hand against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “Helping you. God, did you have to grab me like that?” She glanced up at him. His steady gaze was focused on her face. He wasn’t even breathing hard. “You don’t seem very surprised to see me.”

  “I’ve known you were coming for twenty minutes.”

  Huh? Toni hadn’t known she was coming either. Still… “Toni?”

  “Bumbled along behind me for about four steps before I saw her. I put her in a cab. Steele’s going to her house to make sure she gets home.”

  Whew. One thing off her conscience, and obviously she hadn’t caused Gage any real trouble. Still, how had he known she’d show up? “Steele called you,” she decided.

  “He did. But I expect I knew even before he did.”

  She creased her forehead, knowing she must be missing something but at a loss to figure out where she’d gone wrong.

  Gage lifted her diamond and emerald pendant, rubbing his thumb over the jewels. “At least I know I was right not to tell you, or this lovely piece would have no doubt wound up at the bottom of the Mississippi.”

  “Will you stop talking in riddles and just tell me what the devil you’re talking about?”

  He tapped the pendant with his finger, then released it and her. “Your necklace, my dear, is a tracking device.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You bugged me?” She held up the jeweled pendant, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to spot something out of place.

  “I worried you might try exactly what you did, and though I gave little chance of you succeeding, it seems my instincts for backup were justified. Wish I’d thought to do the same to Toni. By the way, you’re lucky I grabbed you before the muggers who hang out on this street did.”

  “You bugged me?” she repeated, her temper spiking as her pride sank. She thought she’d been so clever to get away from Steele, and yet Gage knew where she was the whole time. She’d wanted to help him, show him she could handle herself.

  “You’re also lucky I got you before Steele did. He’s not pleased with your little scam. He told me to tell you that lady you spoke to in the bathroom smacked him with her big straw bag, and he barely escaped the casino before she called the police.”

  With her own pride bruised handily, she could understand Steele’s frustration. “It’s your fault, you know.” She pointed her finger at him. “If you hadn’t abandoned me, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic measures.”

  He slid his hands in his pants pockets and sighed. “This is no place for you, Rox.”

  “I still want to know why you bugged me, why you thought it necessary to violate my civil rights.” Fury roared through her body. She stood toe-to-toe with him. “I’m not a dog to be tracked. You don’t have any hold on me, or any right to know what I do or who I do it with. I want to know why, Gage. Why?”

  “So I’d never lose you,” he said quietly.

  Well, hell. She dropped her head forward, resting her cheek on his chest. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why couldn’t she just wrap her arms around him, hold him until the world just fell away, until nothing mattered but touching him, keeping him close to her heart? “The fact that I now think this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done should tell you how out of sorts I am.”

  He wrapped his arms tight around her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Rox, and you scared me to death. What were you thinking about, coming here and—”

  “You what?” She grabbed the front of his shirt. “What did you just say?”

  “I—” Confusion slid into his eyes. Then he went still, obviously realizing the words he’d let escape. He cupped her face in his palms, his gaze penetrating hers with an emotion she’d only let herself wonder and dream about. There was honesty and raw emotion behind those dark eyes, and her heart pounded with the implications. “I love you, Roxanne. I want to spend my life with you. Always. Forever.”

  “You do?” she said inanely.

  “I know I don’t say the words often.”

  “No, Gage, you never say them. Never.” Her voice grew in strength as she recalled the insecurities that had always plagued her. “When I tell you I love you after making love, you just kiss my forehead. Like you’re placating me. Like you understand my devotion but can’t return it in kind. I’m never really sure how you feel. You mumbled about love. You avoided it.”

  He looked up and around. “Why are we having this conversation in a courtyard behind a mob-owned florist?”

  She gripped his jaw, bringing his face back toward hers. “Oh, no, you don’t. Tell me. Tell me, dammit! What do I really mean to you other than an intelligent dinner companion, a decent cook and a good lay?”

  He pushed her away and bit out a few choice cusswords—in Italian, she thought. He speared his hand
through his hair. He muttered to the dark, star-filled sky about his case, the timing, the bad guys who might be looming. Finally, he faced her. His eyes, though brown instead of the silver of the real man, were fierce with determination. “Yes, I love you. More than’s probably wise for a man like me. Most of the time I don’t understand it.” He took a deep breath, then pushed on. “When my mother left us, my father said we didn’t need her. We could make our own life. I wrote her letters. I begged her to come back. I told her how much I loved her and wanted her part of my life.” His breath shuddered out. “She never answered.”

  Roxanne’s knees buckled, but she kept herself upright because she didn’t want him to know how much she pitied the boy he’d been. She’d given her heart to a man who’d lied, kept secrets and had a dark side, but he also had vulnerabilities. The fact that he was finally sharing them with her brought harsh tears to her eyes.

  “I swore I’d never give that much of myself to anyone again,” he practically shouted at her. “Then you came along. And, hell, I just…I forgot all those vows.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. His gaze held her transfixed. “I more than love you. I need you. Without you, I can’t seem to make anything else matter.”

  “Gage, I—” She took two, halting steps toward him, then threw her arms around his neck. The feel of his strong, hard body next to hers, of his arms holding her as if he’d never let her go, reassured her of the future. Could they really work through their differences? Could she find a place in his world and him in hers? “I love you. I need you. I just—”

  He laid his finger against her lips. “Stop.”

  She kissed his jaw. “I know we still have a lot to work out. I don’t know how this whole cop thing is going to work. I can’t imagine living with—”

  “Shut up, Rox.”

  She glared at him. “Hey, you got to pour your heart out. I need my turn.”

  He reached into his pants pocket. “My phone’s vibrating.”

  “Well, damn, I told Steele—” She stopped, realizing explaining her idea of contacting him via phone was a moot point now.

  “Yeah,” Gage said into the phone. Then he swore. “How the hell did that happen?” He paced away from her. “Hey, man, you’re the one who has to explain that to the Secretary.” He flipped the phone closed, returning it to his pocket.

  There was no way that could have been good. “What?”

  “Stephano ditched our tail. The other agents figure we’ve got an hour.”

  “An hour for what?”

  “To search that florist and confirm the evidence we need is inside.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

  Before she’d done more than process the turn in events, he’d stalked down the alley. Then, outside the florist, with her body hiding his actions, he disarmed the security system, and they slipped inside.

  She stood silently as he prowled around for a few minutes, checking the back door and access to the courtyard, then opening a door on the right side of the shop. It was a small storeroom. Metal shelving containing boxes and paper lined one wall, a mop and bucket rested in the corner, more boxes in the other, ribbons and bows were scattered across a bulletin board on the back wall.

  As he laid his hand on top of one of the boxes, they heard the sound of approaching voices.

  Gage went dead still. Roxanne’s heart hammered. The voices grew louder.

  She glanced out of the room in time to see two shadows moving in front of the shop.

  Gage pointed to the corner. “Behind those boxes.”

  He flipped off the overhead light and shut the door.

  A second later, he crouched next to her, and she tuned her ears to any sound besides the rapid beat of her heart. She’d come to help him and Toni, but she’d only disrupted the investigation, slowed things down, distracted him.

  Was that a scrape? A key turning in a lock?

  Then a voice said, “That girl at the club wanted you, man.”

  Roxanne sucked in a breath. Good grief. She’d been asking Gage for heartfelt confessions, and their lives were in imminent danger. Why hadn’t she just stayed at the casino with Steele?

  Gage kissed her temple. “It’s okay.”

  Roxanne held her breath and fought to keep her emotions under control.

  “By the way,” Gage whispered in her ear, his warm breath at least confirming they were alive for the moment. “You’re a great lay.”

  Roxanne sunk lower behind the rows of boxes as she heard the two men talking in the outer room. Super. My dad can inscribe that on my tombstone.

  GAGE REACHED alongside his calf for his gun. It wasn’t much. A small revolver, but risking his government-issue 9 mm wasn’t an option with the concealment he needed.

  On impulse, he also drew out his backup revolver from his other calf holster and handed the gun to Roxanne. “Just in case,” he whispered.

  Wrinkling her nose, she held the butt between her thumb and index finger. “In case what? I don’t know anything about guns.”

  Gage huffed out a breath and peered over the boxes, his gaze locked on the door. “How do you grow up in a houseful of cops and not know how to fire a gun?”

  “On purpose.”

  “Aim midbody and keep pulling the trigger until somebody falls down.”

  This is where love gets you—trapped in a storeroom with six bullets and an accountant for backup.

  He tuned his ears to the sounds coming from the shop. He only heard muttering and something sliding across the floor. A box or crate maybe? How long did these guys plan to hang around? Before Roxanne showed up, he’d only had time to check the cabinets and coolers in the main part of the shop. He’d just started on a locked door behind the counter when his tracking device had signaled her impending arrival. He had work to do. He didn’t want his attention divided between Roxanne and his job. Yet, he should have known she wouldn’t stay put.

  Maybe you should have taken the time to explain why you needed to investigate alone. Talk to her instead of ordering her around.

  He’d be lousy at marriage. Why had he ever thought he could really have her? He’d been alone a long time and wasn’t sure he could change, be the kind of man she needed.

  Yet, despite everything they’d been through in the last two days, despite his lies and mistakes, she loved him. Still. The cynical side of him—well, actually, in his case a “side” was more like three-fourths—didn’t believe that would be enough. But an odd kind of hope and wonder also moved through his veins. A feeling he couldn’t shove aside or deny.

  The doorknob rattled. “We need that other box?” a voice asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Gage ducked completely behind the boxes. His muscles tensed. He slid his finger to the trigger.

  He could hear Roxanne’s shallow breathing behind him. Hang on, baby.

  The door creaked. “Hey, Theodore, think I ought to get two?”

  “Whatever” came the gruff answer from the outer room.

  Ridiculously, all Gage could think was Theodore? What kind of name was Theodore for a mobster?

  The door creaked again and shuffling footsteps entered the storeroom. Gage willed his breathing to slow. His heart pounded so loud he was certain the sound echoed around the room. He kept his hand steady on his revolver and braced himself for potential confrontation.

  The shuffling stopped. The intruder was standing on the right, in front of the metal shelves, Gage thought. Something slid, then a grunt, like a man lifting a heavy box, then the shuffling footsteps faded. The footsteps returned seconds later, followed by what Gage supposed was the man lifting the second heavy item.

  It was several long minutes before the man returned to the storeroom again. Beads of sweat rolled down Gage’s back. The guy paused in the center of the room. Gage held his breath. Then the light cord was pulled, plunging the room again into darkness as the measured footsteps faded toward the door. The lock in the doorknob clicked; the door closed.

  Gage reached back and grabbed Roxanne’s
hand, finding her skin cold. “Wait,” he whispered.

  She squeezed his hand in return, and he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. They’d gotten lucky. But he also knew they were far from safe. Panic tried to bust through his tension, but from long experience he stifled the weakness. His tenacity was vital to their survival.

  As the pulse in Roxanne’s wrist beat in time with his, he realized he could also draw strength from her. He hadn’t relied on anyone in a long, long time. It was a wonder, and a relief, that he knew he could do so now. He could trust her. And really, wasn’t that what love and marriage was all about?

  “Boss want ’em in back?”

  Gage shook aside his distracted musings and tuned in to the voice of the guy who’d come into the storeroom.

  “Yeah,” returned Theodore. “The Boy Wonder needs ’em for tomorrow.”

  The Boy Wonder? Mettles? Or maybe nephew Stephano.

  Someone unlocked another door—the one behind the counter, or the one down the hall leading to the alley, since the sound came from the right, and the front door was on Gage’s left.

  “What’s going on?” Roxanne whispered next to his ear.

  Despite their dire situation, Gage’s sensual nerve endings stood at attention. The warmth of her breath, the closeness of her body devoured his concentration, and all the more enticing because of the complete darkness of their surroundings.

  “They’re moving something into the back,” he said. “Or maybe into a car in the alley.”

  “But what—”

  “Shh.”

  Several minutes passed in silence. Then more shuffling steps. Another door opened, then closed seconds later.

  Gage rolled his shoulders back. His ankles felt tingly, on the verge of going to sleep, so he shifted his stance. Roxanne squeezed his hand, then let go, as if sensing his need for freedom of movement.