by Beth Rhodes
She’d just never found stability with him. Lessons in disguise. Lessons in role playing. Lessons in cold, hard cash. Yes. Jack Slate made sure she could survive, no matter what or who came knocking. The funny thing was…there’d never been anything to knock on. But then there had been, and he’d lost it. To Dominic freaking Foster.
If she was completely honest with herself, she blamed her father, too. Live by the sword. Die by the sword. And then Jack Slate been gone.
Her dad had gotten himself into more than he could handle. Bitten off more than he could chew. Maybe, if she hadn’t been on her yearly trip to the Keys, she could’ve stopped it. Her fist clenched. So much blame to go around, even some for herself.
A warm, wet tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “Stiff upper lip, Slate,” Heather whispered to herself, hearing her father’s voice in her own. “Always keep moving. Look ahead to the next job, even if I’m not there.”
And, by God, she planned to do just that. It was the least she could do for her dad’s memory. She wasn’t sure where or how, but she wouldn’t quit, not after all her dad had taught her.
She opened the truck door and stepped out.
The back door opened with the key from the box, and she made a slow perusal of the main floor—outdated kitchen reminiscent of the early eighties followed by a dining room done in pastels. As she moved through, she checked behind walls, looking for any signs of substandard materials. The house was sturdier than she’d expected. It had good bones, as her dad would say. They’d flipped more houses than she could count. Her dad had known the people to target. He’d known how to cover up the worst of any trouble.
There’d even been a time she’d felt guilty. One couple in particular. The husband had been hesitant to buy from them. It was as if he’d seen through their charade. But he hadn’t been able to say no to the wife. In the end, he had been too weak.
She’d known that day that the lines between right and wrong were blurred. T.S.T.L. Too stupid to Live. What kind of weak-ass man couldn’t say no to a woman? Sheesh.
They’d gone beyond the housing market shortly after that… those lines had blurred as well. Insurance scams, from car insurance claims to life insurance claims. She planned to make her next mark a big one, get some money, and just take a break. Maybe she’d get a job right here in this little town. There’d been a bar just south of Main with a for sale sign in the grungy, broken glass of the front window. She might buy it up and try her hand as a business owner.
Near the front of the house, she found a set of double doors off the hallway. Dark wood panels that could disappear into the walls on either side. Carefully, she slid the right side, but it caught on the track halfway back. She jiggled the panel, trying again, and moved the door an inch until it stuck. She shoved, hard, and yelped when the door finally gave.
Dust clung to every crevice, every bevel on the wood, onto the baseboards, and beyond. “Good Lord,” she breathed, fanning her face as a month’s worth of allergens settled around her.
Aside from the dust, the room was tidy as if the owners had expected to come back. Large desk in front of the window. Book shelves on the wall to the right. Two big, wingback chairs off to the left in a sitting area that had a little coffee table centered there with two teacups on it. “Like the freaking Titanic,” she whispered. “Just come on in and sit down for tea.”
Dominic had been back three times in the last year, but never bothered to clean it? He’d been shoveling money into a bank here, too. Every three months, an amount more than enough to hold off foreclosure would be automatically transferred to the First National Bank on Main Street.
As a matter of fact, everything she’d been able to deduce only spoke of one thing: Dominic wanted this house. The kernel of doubt stuck against a crevice in her conscience. Maybe he’d had a change of heart since the incident at her father’s home.
Maybe you’re wrong about him.
Heather crossed to the desk and pulled on the drawer handle. A few pencils, paperclips, and post-it notes cluttered the space. Left of the center drawer was a deep file drawer…and locked. Heather removed the pin from the inside pocket of her jacket and worked the key hole until the lock mechanism turned and the files were liberated.
She blew out a breath.
“Freeze, Dirtbag!”
She froze, cursing herself for her carelessness, and turned slowly, hands raised to find him in the doorway. “Dominic Foster, we meet again.”
Chapter Two
“I’ve always wanted to say that.” Dominic grinned and waved his empty hand her way in casual disregard…and holy moly, she was even more beautiful up close. They hadn’t made a connection in the four months since her dad’s insurance scam. Heather was always a step ahead, avoiding him. It hadn’t seemed right, letting the facts go for so long. She’d deserved to know. He’d finally had to mail her the letter from Jack. But even when she knew all the details afterward, she still wasn’t willing to share.
She studied him suspiciously, accusation coloring her pale skin and amusement sparking in her eyes. “Freeze, dirtbag?”
There was a tiny mole at the top of her cheekbone. Sleek blonde hair framed her face and fell down her back almost to her waist. He’d thought her eyes were blue, but now he could see they were more of a gray. Some might say plain, but he’d call them all fools.
“Yeah. Never had a chance before.” He liked that she was off balance. “Can I get you something to drink? Water?” She hesitated as if uncertain what to do. He’d decided as soon as he saw her break into his house that he was going to play along with her rouse. If she wanted to hog the shares, it’s no wonder her dad wanted to quit. “You are here to case the joint, right?”
“No. I—I don’t—”
“I’m your man. Seriously. I know this place like the back of my hand.” Dominic stepped into her space, sensed her jolt, and smothered his grin. He grabbed her arm. “Come on. You have to see the kitchen. It hasn’t been updated in twenty years. It’s perfect. I swear my parents should have burned the place down years ago.”
She frowned, trying to pull away before finally giving in with a roll of her eyes. “Look, Nic—”
“Hey, I like that. Is that how you distance yourself from the target?” He patted her shoulder. “Nicknames. It’s good.”
“You’re not a target.”
“I’m not?” Too bad. He wouldn’t mind having her focused on him, have all that tension aimed his way. She was doing crazy things to his libido, something he’d let go dormant in the last year.
Frustration rolled from her in great big Point Break waves, and when she struggled to get free again, he let her go. Her arm came out to whack him in the shoulder. “No.”
“Hmm.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“Of course not,” he admitted. Not only did he not believe her, he didn’t trust her, either. She was obviously considering some kind of con. “You are the daughter of Jack Slate, are you not?”
She stiffened and turned with a shrug. “Don’t talk about my father.”
Her eyes were taking in the room. And he wanted to get inside her head, know what she was thinking. Had she changed since those days, years ago, when he’d been a desperate, angry boy looking to make a quick dollar? They’d played cards. Her skill at poker had rivaled his own. And that had been saying something because he’d spent the first two years of college, gambling his way for tuition.
He hadn’t been smart enough for the scholarships. Not like his sister and brother.
“What can I say? I like the guy. There wasn’t a con he couldn’t pull. I respect that. Maybe he got out of the game too soon.”
Heather nailed him with those eyes again. “Thanks to you.”
“No, but I understand how a man might want to call it quits.”
“Oh, really?” Her face was turning a beautiful shade of angry red.
“Well, sure.” He approached her and frowned as he traced a finger down her cheek t
o the rapid pulse in her neck. Beautiful was an understatement. Even gorgeous didn’t seem to fit the bill. “Don’t you think this is a hard life? When was the last time you enjoyed a cup of coffee without looking over your shoulder? Or got a new library card without using an alias? Some days, I forget who I’m supposed to be.”
She slapped at his hand. “I’m so glad you approve, you— you— you jerk!”
She turned and fled toward the back door but found it locked. It took her three tries before it opened and she raced to her truck.
He wasn’t exactly sure what just happened. He’d hit a sore spot, though. With a sigh, Dominic followed her out. “Hey!” he called as she stepped up onto the running board.
She stopped short, looked at him, every muscle vibrating with tension as her small hand gripped the door. He remembered her special friend tucked away under her arm and lifted his hands as a sign of peace. He couldn’t figure out why she’d be so upset. Maybe she’d had a big project planned and Jack had backed out at the last minute. Either way, she was just too damn pretty to get in an accident. “Don’t drive angry.”
She growled, actually growled, before slamming the door shut and spitting gravel as she turned and sped down the drive.
Dominic threw his head back and laughed. He didn’t want to like this feisty woman. His money was still in her possession, and it was high time she gave it up. He didn’t mind helping a friend, and he’d have done what he did for a lot less…
But a promise was a promise. Jack promised, and if Dominic could finally get his share of the money, he could buy his parents’ house and settle down. There was a bar on the south side of Main that was going up for sale. Jones had gotten married and was moving to the city. Dominic planned to be his buyer.
As he turned to go back in the house, he noticed dark clouds forming on the horizon. He sighed. Looked like they were in for a doozy.
~*~
“Dad!” The house burned hotter than her temper in that moment. Sirens screamed down the street. It was too late. She knew it, and her chest hurt to even breathe. “Dad!”
But then she saw him in the corner of her eye. A familiar face, one she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Her mind was playing tricks on her even as her heart welled up. Maybe he was here to help.
She waved. “Dominic!” But he didn’t see her or hear her through the noise of the fire. He glanced back at the hose, his phone to his ear. When he saw the emergency vehicles coming toward them, he put his head down and walked to a little car parked near the end of the street.
Heather shook off the memory and drove back into town with her stomach rumbling from hunger. Noon. Just enough time to grab a bite then maybe she could relax, head over to the library and find a book. Tomorrow, was win time, and she’d show him. He might walk in like he owned the place, but not for long.
Heather Slate was going to kick Nic out on his very fine rear. She shook the thought away. He didn’t deserve any of her admiration. The gall! The man was actually proud of the fact that her dad was dead. As if her dad would commit suicide or something…getting out of the game. No way.
Her throat closed at the unexpected swell of regret that filled her. “Damn, damn, damn. What a jerk.”
But she couldn’t help remembering him from fifteen years ago and her crush. He’d been ten years her senior; she a shy eleven-year-old. He’d drawn her out and been kind. Dad had lots of friends, not all of them decent. In every town across most states, they’d been welcomed by some old buddy of his. Dominic had been decent to her when others had looked at her with calculating and leering eyes.
“Heather?”
Heather turned at the sound of the familiar voice, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Craig. How are you?”
“I’m doing well. How’s your truck running?”
She’d conned Craig her first day in town. “Oh, that.” Yes, she’d loosened a few bolts and stabbed the radiator, but even so, the remorse that clung to her conscience was completely atypical. “Works like new since you fixed it.”
The fix had given her an excuse to stick around and get a feel for her surroundings. Would the town be open to a stranger dropping in?
Yes. As a matter of fact, so open she’d had three job offers before the day was out. When he’d finished the job, Craig had found her at the diner, and they’d talked over her meal and then coffee, too. He’d been sweet. A little shy, but friendly and confident.
And when the Foster house burnt to the ground, she would be standing around with everyone else, sad as can be, supportive and sympathetic with no one the wiser. No one would even consider she had anything to do with it. Except Dominic.
“You’re still here.”
Heather cocked her head and studied him. He was an honest to God, straight-flying, nice guy. Too polite to outright ask her what the hell she was up to.
“I left. Came back,” she answered, staying as close to the truth as possible. He deserved it. “Thought I’d check out the real estate, and see what was available. I found the Foster house and wanted to get a look at it.”
“Small town life seems tame, but it can really bite. Like a dog with a bone. Once it gets ya; it doesn’t let go.”
“Oh, well. I’m not sure about all that.” Wasn’t she? Hadn’t she made nice with Sandra already? Not to mention Craig and Sky over at the diner. People liked her…and damn it, she liked the people. “Maybe I’ll just flip it and head back out.”
“Sure,” Craig said, a smile tugging on his lips. “I gotta run. I’ll see you around.”
But Heather frowned as he strode down the sidewalk toward his garage.
“Damn it,” she whispered. He was right. She was getting in too deep. If she was smart like her dad, she’d quit while she was ahead. Every man had a limit. She was starting to wonder if she’d met hers. It wouldn’t work to get in with the locals so they remembered her later, when the police started talking.
…if the police started talking.
She had to be very careful that every detail was perfectly planned. No mistakes. An accident. But that house was going to burn if it was the last thing she did.
“Heather!”
As a warm feeling of happiness flooded through her at the sound of her name, she groaned. Her dad would be thoroughly disgusted with her.
“Heather, over here!”
Heather turned to the entry of the diner as a cold wind whipped through, and she saw Sky waving a towel over her head. When her stomach rumbled, she gave in and followed the impulse to eat. “Hiya, Sky.”
Sky dragged her through the door. “You will not believe it. Guess who’s back in town to stay?”
“Gregory?” She remembered Sky going on about her old high school beau and how he’d left to attend college several years ago. She so wanted to advise the poor woman to move on, but Sky seemed the eternal optimist, and part of Heather didn’t want to mess with that.
“No, silly.” Sky grinned and fairly skipped around to the other side of the counter to pour Heather a cup of coffee. A menu appeared in front of her, followed by a glass of water. “Order something. Meatloaf is the special today. Don’t bother with the mashed potatoes. Randy is the cook and he always adds too much milk.”
Heather perused the menu. “The B.L.T. with a side of fries.” She set the menu down and took a sip of the mediocre coffee. “So, tell me what’s new.”
The woman leaned in and lifted the menu to create a wall of secrecy. “I heard from Derrick who heard from Patty who’s friends with Barbara Foster that Dominic plans to buy up his parents’ old place. He is here to stay.”
Her mouth fell open a little, but she quickly regained her composure and carefully set the mug on the saucer. She was being charmed by the town. She was being charmed by the town’s version of Dominic. And he was coming home? To stay? She’d had her suspicions, now confirmed.
“Yup. I saw him speaking with Joe over at the bank two days ago.” Sky she looked up and waved at another customer. “Mark will be out with your order
in a jiffy and I’ll be right back. You eat, get some meat on those bones, girl. You know a man wants something he can hold on to!”
Heather laughed. Lord, what was she doing here?
She needed to get to the bank and talk to Joe again, make sure the auction was still on for tomorrow. A glance out the diner’s front window showed the bank two doors down on the opposite side of the street. The parking lot was empty.
She merely had to put off any of Dominic’s plans. How had he been here two days ago? Without her knowing it?
People claimed that nothing went down in a small town without everyone knowing.
She checked her watch. Twelve forty-five. What if he swooped into town with a large payment to save his parents from foreclosure before the auction? She couldn’t think it. It had to be too late for heroics, right?
With hours until the bank closed, that was a lot of time to have to distract a man from coming to town to do business, but she had to try. Failing this close to the end wasn’t an option. Her mind went to the man in question--charming, friendly, a tad sarcastic… and attractive.
Maybe she could seduce him. Keep him busy for a few hours until the day ended.
“One B.L.T. and a side of fries.” Mark set the plate on the counter, adding a grin and a friendly slap against the Formica as well. “That’ll be five seventy-six.”
Heather grimaced, realizing her mistake to sit and eat, and rose from her seat. “I need that to go, Mark. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was.” She dug through her purse and pulled out cash and set it on the counter.
Mark moved to box up her food, and she sighed in relief when he handed over the Styrofoam container.
“Thank you. Thank you.”
“No problem. Any friend of Dominic’s is a friend of mine.”
Heather paused. “Now, how in hell— wait, I never— how the hell do you know that I know Dominic?”
Mark hesitated as a flush rose on his neck. “Did I say Dominic?”