Crossing Double (A Heartbreaker Novel Book 3)

by Tamra Baumann

  After a few minutes and some rustling around under his seat, Brent cranked up the groaning window. “Stay down, but you can take all that crap off you. The backup of cars got so bad that they flagged us by and the car behind us too.”

  “Thank God.” Sara flung the material off her face. Mittens mewed and then snuggled on the floor beside her. “Look for a pay phone. I need to call Jake. My heart can’t take much more of this.”

  “Will do.”

  Sara threw the rest of the things that had been covering her into the back and then crawled up on the backseat to lie with her cat on something more comfortable. After her heart rate returned to normal, she said, “While I was lying under all that stuff, freaking out, my mind raced with all sorts of dark thoughts.”

  Brent reached back through the seats and gave her thigh a quick pat. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

  Hopefully. “I was thinking earlier that if I died today, I’d never be able to fulfill my dreams. No one wants to die without some sort of legacy.” She scooted over so she could see his eyes in the rearview mirror.

  His reflected gaze cut to hers. “You mean like both your parents? So famous, their legacy will live on years after they’re gone?”

  She hadn’t thought about it like that. “Fame is a plague I can’t wait to shed. My parents pay an even bigger price for theirs. Especially my mom. I just want to privately help people. Even though I’ll never get rich doing that. You’re not going to believe this, but money doesn’t matter to me.”

  Brent’s right brow arched in the reflection. “Says the girl who has always had plenty of it. Not having it sucks.”

  She nodded. “My work at the homeless shelter made me acutely aware of how fortunate I’ve been so far. And how hard your life must have been at times. But the satisfaction of knowing I’ve helped people who struggled to care for themselves or their kids makes me feel…”

  His gaze switched from the road to hers again. “Like a benevolent rich person? It took lots of money for you to save that shelter. It takes money to have security.”

  “I was going to say it made me feel like I’d made a difference. That maybe I helped a kid like you were to know that there’s hope for him or her too.”

  Brent shook his head. “I never sat around hoping someone like you would save me. I always knew I couldn’t depend on anyone but myself.”

  “Of course. But didn’t anyone have a positive influence on your life growing up?”

  He shifted gears as he prepared to pass a slow-moving truck on the two-lane road. “One of my professors, Zach Walters, who saw my gift of seeing trends in numbers, challenged me to learn how to invest money. He promised he’d sell me his house on the ocean if I could save five million by the time he’s ready to go live on his boat and sail the world. The house has got to be worth ten times that.”

  “Sounds like a great investment.” She scooted closer with interest. “What would you buy with the money you made after you sold it?”

  “I’d never sell it.” He shook his head. “My mother once dated a rich guy who had a house on a lake. We lived with him for a year or so, and it was the best year of my life. I swore then that I’d have a house like that. Paid for in full so no one could ever take it away from me.”

  She hated that he still feared losing another home. “Why do you think Zach offered you that opportunity?”

  Brent shrugged. “I guess because he didn’t want the house in Malibu anyway. He inherited it from his parents. He’s from a rich family like yours.”

  “I think it’s because he saw potential in you and wanted to give you hope for the future. Zach helped you see that you have a gift, and by using it, you’ll never go hungry or be homeless again. Sometimes having people believe in us gives us the courage to try new things.”

  “Maybe.” A small grin tugged at his lips. “But I’d pay big money to see you try to live on forty K a year.”

  She poked him in the arm. “Maybe I’ll hire that freaky brain of yours. You can invest my measly savings for me, and we can both have a house in Malibu.”

  Brent smiled. “If you’re still talking to me after all this is over, you’ve got a deal.”

  A little pang struck her heart at the thought of never seeing Brent again. He’d definitely grown on her. “You’re sort of bossy sometimes, but you’re an interesting guy. Why wouldn’t I talk to you?” Something was wrong. She could feel it and found herself holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

  His smile slowly faded in the reflection of the mirror. “Because I’m an undercover FBI agent.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “And I’ve just gone dark because Miller and his FBI cohort, whoever that might be, have stolen my evidence against them and changed it to look like you and I are guilty of money laundering. We need help. Call Jake on this burner phone.”

  Gut punch.

  With a capital G!

  It was hard to breathe as she accepted the phone. “You’re an agent. And had a phone all this time?”

  “Yes.” Brent’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel tighter. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you. I’d never hurt you on purpose, Sara.”

  An FBI agent? Brent? Not her bodyguard.

  Her mother’s words when they spoke last started to make sense. The money in her account was dirty money. Her father managed it and was friends with Miller, so that made her dad guilty by association? “You’ve been spying on my family for weeks.” Her stomach roiled at the violation. Like that time she found a paparazzi’s hidden camera in her hotel bathroom. But worse. Because it was Brent. And she’d come to care for him.

  “Just doing my job, Sara. Trying to keep you safe.”

  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She would not cry. “You don’t think my father is guilty, do you?” Her dad could be insensitive and uninterested in her life, but who the hell would use their daughter to launder money? Then it dawned on her. “It was my account with all the money. You’ve been investigating me too.”

  He nodded.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then why run to your mom’s house? Not take me up on my offer to go to the FBI?” His eyes begged her for an answer she couldn’t fully give him. People would never believe her mother could see things in the future with her dreams.

  “Because I knew we’d be safe at my mother’s house. With the police commissioner trying to kill us, it made the most sense to be with someone the media gives a voice to like no other. She could shine light on Miller’s corruption.”

  “But how did your mother know to warn you?”

  Tears burned her eyes. “My mother has nothing to do with this. It was just her motherly sixth sense thing like I told you. Nothing more.” That was all she could say without betraying her mom.

  Brent’s jaw clenched. “That’s the part that’s hard to believe.”

  “Oh, I see. So you only kissed the suspected criminal to keep your cover intact?” Just when she’d thought she’d found a decent guy, he’d been lying to her like all the rest.

  “The first time. In the RV. Yes.” He huffed out a breath. “I kissed you the other times because I wanted to kiss you. I shouldn’t have. Technically, you’re still a suspect.”

  Anger instantly replaced betrayal. “Even better. You kissed me, maybe planned to sleep with me, and then you were going to arrest me?” How had she been so stupid to fall for a guy who could lie right to her face? Again.

  “I know you’re not guilty.” He found a pullout and stopped the car. Then he got out of the Jeep and yanked the front seat up to make room for him to slide in the small backseat beside her. “Let me explain. Please.”

  When he reached for her hand, she crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter. This is where we part ways, pal.” It hurt even worse to think that he was just with her to gain evidence against her parents.

  “If you try to escape, I’ll have to arrest you. For your own safety.”

  Not if she
was quicker than him. She was smaller, could jump into the front easier. “I’ll give you two minutes to explain. Starting now,” she said, even as she planned how to catch him off guard.

  But he caught her off guard first by scooping her up and placing her on his lap, trapping her against his hard chest, and forcing her to look him in the eye.

  Sadness and remorse swam in his gaze. It softened her urge to hit him. Slightly. “Please just let me go, Brent. You go your way, and I’ll go mine.”

  “I can’t. We’re both in danger.” He closed his eyes and winced as if in pain. “Besides that, I don’t want to let you go, Sara. I have feelings for you I’ve never felt before.” He slowly opened his eyes and met her gaze again. “I would have never slept with you under false pretenses.”

  He cared for her too? But how could she trust what he was saying?

  Thinking back to their many conversations, Brent had insisted she’d been off-limits. He’d told her that more than once. And she was the one who chose to kiss him in the camper. But was he still lying to her? Telling her things just to make her stay with him? “Tell me the part about how much you care for me again. But with your eyes open this time.”

  Please let that part be real. Please.

  He slid his rough hands along the sides of her face, staring intensely into her eyes. “I care for you more than I have ever cared for anyone. Please let me protect you. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  Brent was a trained liar. She’d seen how easily he’d lied to the RV people. But not with the sincerity his eyes currently held. And she couldn’t deny her body’s physical reaction to Brent. No other man’s smile had warmed her heart as Brent’s did.

  She should hate him for lying to her, but apparently in his case, she was incapable of it.

  It was so damned hard to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that. With nervous expectation in his eyes, as if she rejected him, he’d die right on the spot. No one could fake that. Not even her Oscar award-winning parents, some of the best thespians in the world.

  She laid her forehead on his shoulder and whispered, “I have an overwhelming urge to punch you, but at the same time, I still want to kiss you. It makes no sense. What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. Punch me as hard as you’d like.” His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. “Then kiss me as long as you want.”

  She shook her head. “I’d never hit you, but I’m still too hurt to kiss you.”

  “Fair enough.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “Maybe one day, you’ll forgive me.”

  “Maybe. But only after you invest my whopping thousand bucks in savings so I can have a house in Malibu next to yours. It’ll be the only way I’d ever be able to afford it on a counselor’s salary.”

  He released his hold on her and smiled, thawing the coating of ice around her heart a bit more. “You actually have almost eleven hundred. And forty thousand a year won’t even pay the taxes and upkeep on a house in Malibu, so I’ll make you plenty more. We need to keep moving. Will you please call Jake now?”

  “Geez. Do you know my bra size too, Mr. Nosey?”

  “I’d be happy to gues—”

  She gave him a look that cut off his almost stupid answer, then lifted the phone still clutched in her hand and dialed Jake’s number. Her freaky ability to recall anything written was even better than having a contact list in her cell. Numbers got lost when system updates occurred on her phone, but never in her head.

  While the phone rang, she asked, “Is Brent even your real name?” She found the speaker button so Brent or whatever his name was could hear too.

  “Yes. But my last name is Keiser, not Jackson.”

  “And all the stuff about your childhood and mom? Is any of that real?”

  “All of it. I avoided lying to you as much as I could.”

  At least he’d told the truth about his family. “And this Jeep filled with condoms?”

  Brent smiled. “That was Rick’s idea. You twisted his ear while you danced with him at the wedding. He’s an agent too. That was his form of torture. Reminding me I couldn’t be with you.”

  “Rick deserved to have his ear twisted. His hands were all over me.” After the fourth ring, she said, “Jake won’t recognize the number. He’ll probably let it go to voicemail.”

  Then a gravelly “Morris” sounded.

  “Jake? It’s, Sara.”

  “Hey, kid. ’Bout time you checked in. Your mom is about to lose her mind. Where are you and the kidnapper now?”

  Kidnapper? She chuckled. Jake was the best. He’d be sure they were safe. Without lying to her. “Heading toward Show Low.”

  “That works. But you can’t come here. The place is swarming with cops. Mario’s got a plane on standby. I’ll call you back with the details in a few.”

  “Thanks, Jake. Maybe you’re not such a bad guy after all,” she teased. She’d always love Jake like a brother even though he wasn’t married to her sister anymore.

  “You can buy me a beer and tell me all about it later.” He hung up.

  Brent asked, “Who is Mario?”

  “Mario Giovanni. He owns a casino in Las Vegas. He’s also my sister’s father, but Dani didn’t know that until recently.”

  Brent’s brows shot up. “The Giovannis are mobsters, Sara. His family is one of the most notorious there is.”

  “Mario isn’t a mobster… Anymore. He’s a legitimate businessman now.”

  “Perfect.” Brent ran a hand down his face. “Crooked police, bankers, FBI agents, Russians, and now mobsters? It can’t get much more complicated than this.”

  Sara smiled inwardly. Brent hadn’t met the Botelli women yet, or he’d know that wasn’t true. Things would definitely get a lot more complicated than Brent could even imagine once her mother and sister with their dreams and visions got involved. If her grandmother joined them too, it’d officially be chaos.

  With Mittens tucked under his arm, Brent followed Sara into the mobster’s luxurious Gulfstream jet. Luckily, Show Low had a medium-sized airport. He’d leave the Jeep in long-term parking and hope no one noticed it for a bit. When the FBI found the Jeep, it’d be doubtful they’d make the connection between them and the mob guy’s plane right away. Maybe it’d buy them some time. He really needed to talk to Zach. He’d know what to do. They couldn’t trust anyone in law enforcement.

  Even more, he hoped Sara would smile at him again. She’d been quiet the whole drive.

  A man with olive skin and with a touch of gray at the temples folded Sara up in his arms, blocking the aisle. Brent had no choice but to wait behind them.

  Mario said, “Bella. Your mother is just sick with worry. She’s on her way back from London. I’ll keep you safe now.”

  “Thank you for coming for us, Mario.” Sara closed her eyes and hung on to the man as if he were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. The relieved tears that slid down her cheeks revealed Sara wasn’t as tough as she liked him to think.

  It hurt a little that she didn’t feel as safe with him as she did with the mob guy. But then, maybe she didn’t feel the same for him as he did for her. She’d never said how she felt after he’d spilled his guts all over the backseat of that damned Jeep. Other than how much she wanted to hit him.

  Maybe he’d been an idiot to confess his feelings for her. He’d said things to her he’d never told anyone else.

  Sara, as if suddenly realizing Brent was there, said, “Oh. Sorry.” She wiped away her tears and held out a hand. “Mario, I’d like you to meet my very own personal undercover FBI agent, Brent. And Mittens, our stowaway cat.”

  He appreciated she’d left his last name out of the intros but wasn’t as happy about revealing his FBI status. It could get him kicked off the plane, or worse. And even though he was tempted, he refused to read more into Sara’s comment about the cat being “ours” and not “hers.”

  He stuck his hand out. “Appreciate the ride.”

  The mob guy’s eyes
gleamed with amusement. “I suspect you’ll be the first and only FBI agent I ever welcome on my plane. Especially one holding a cat.”

  Brent forced a smile at the little dig. “Sara loves the cat. I think we can both agree that Sara’s safety and happiness is the first priority here?”

  “Well said.” Mario shook Brent’s hand. “Shall we get going, then? You two can take a seat here, next to me.” Mario motioned to the flight attendant to close the hatch and then took a seat in a big club chair.

  Relieved at not being kicked to the curb, he sat beside her in one of the club chairs and settled in. Four other seats in the rear were occupied with men who looked like “muscle.” All wearing dark suits. Scowling at him as if he had the plague. Their massive shoulders were all wider than the seats they sat in. The nonverbal vibes they sent out said they’d be happy to shoot him for sport.

  Could he and Sara trust the mob guy, or was he committing career suicide by conspiring with possible felons? Or maybe he’d end up swimming with the fishes in cement shoes.

  Chapter 14

  Sara stood with her arms crossed in Mario’s penthouse atop his old Chicago-themed casino, staring at the Vegas skyline. The hotels were decked out for Christmas, with gold and silver everywhere, but things were too shiny, too gold, and lacked that homey charm the diner in Arizona had with its silly elves and sweet hand-painted window displays.

  The setting sun outside cast long shadows across the busy street below. Tourists in colorful tops, scantily dressed women handing out fliers for burlesque shows, and men in suits swarmed the sidewalks. Like race cars battling for pole positions, eager to get on with all the fun Vegas had to offer. Fun she and Brent weren’t allowed to partake in or risk being arrested.

  Still a little hurt because of Brent’s “necessary” lies, and with her mom for not telling her who Brent really was, and mostly with her father for dragging her into his mess, she reminded herself that she couldn’t choose whom she loved. She had to accept the ones she loved for who they were, flaws and all. Even the stubborn Agent Keiser, with whom she was currently having a frustrating conversation.