by Beth Rhodes
“Yes,” she answered, the word long and drawn out, lifting her brow.
“Word gets around in a small town.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
“You visited the bank, been asking questions about the old place. And you just came from the same place Dominic drove out to after eating brunch in that very same stool not three hours ago.”
Her hand automatically reached for the seat in front of her and she snatched it back. “Dominic is no friend of mine.”
Mark just grinned with a nod as if they were sharing a secret.
“No worries. His secret is safe with me.”
She sputtered, the words not coming at first. “You mean his secret that he’s a lying, conniving bastard?”
Mark whipped the towel in his hand over his shoulder and leaned in with a wink. “You be good now, hear? And be careful out there. Radio says there’s a blizzard coming this way.”
She swiped her container off the counter and headed for the door. Did everyone in this town know that Dominic Foster was a con man? Did they actually embrace his way of life? Or was Mark referring to some other secret? “I’ll be careful, all right.”
A ball of frustration burned in her chest.
“See ya later, Sky!” she called out before the door slammed behind her. The words made her stop, made the muscles in her shoulders tighten, and her eyes squeeze shut. “Shut the hell up, Heather,” she muttered to herself. “These people are not your friends. They are not going to be happy with you after you break Dominic’s heart. Con man or not, he is a hometown boy, and the town protects their own.”
Chapter Three
Dominic walked the rooms of the old house. At the base of the stairs, he planted a palm on the banister and slid his hand up, taking each step with care. For the first time in a good ten years, he was doing a job he cared about. Aside from the promised money, Jack had been a mentor once and then a friend. Seeing Heather reminded him of that and the fact that Jack had asked him to check up on her.
For some reason, Jack was worried about his daughter being out on her own.
And though he couldn’t be sure of her intentions, she was showing great interest in his family home. For the first time since he’d decided to settle down, he was nervous. She could outbid him, no doubt. He’d lost almost everything in the con with Richards, and she had all that insurance money…including his share.
He was going to have to broach the topic, bring up her dad and the money. He felt weird about it. Part of him wondered if he’d really earned it. Didn’t take much to light a match. But still, a promise was a promise, and he was determined to settle down here, quit the lifestyle.
For a moment, he imagined she’d join him. If she was so interested in the house, they could share it. Hell, he could imagine a lot of things--some of them completely inappropriate for his old friend’s daughter--to do with Heather. And it was that inserted thought that had him putting his imagination back in its place.
His phone rang at his waist, and he took it off the clip and settled it on his ear. “Yello.”
“Dominic. We have to postpone the auction.”
“What happened?”
“Storm’s coming in. We’ve got a few people coming down from the city. State department is closing the roads at five tonight.”
“That’s no good.”
“Now, Dominic. I know you want the house and are looking to come up with some cash—”
“This will give me more time to…fundraise.” He gazed out the window at the landing on the stairwell and saw the dark clouds moving in from the northwest. Typical plains weather system. Sunny and bright one minute, dark and threatening the next. No warning.
“Auctions are on the first Saturday of the month. You have four weeks to do your thing.”
He wanted to be in Las Vegas on Tuesday for his last con. He loved Vegas. Not for living in, but for that quick getaway. Plus, he liked sitting at the Blackjack tables. What could he say? Life was a gamble and he was about to settle in one of the most boring towns in the country.
Hell, he might even have to get a job. He swallowed hard. “Thanks, Joe. I appreciate the update.”
With Heather disappeared to town, his chances of getting his money before Tuesday were looking slim. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She’d been as slippery as an eel for months. In one town and out before he could even blink. He’d been following her career, and she was good, probably as good as her dad, maybe even better. During a trip to Charleston to visit his brother a few years ago, and he’d seen her. Just a chance encounter. Right away, he could tell she was doing a job—sales, pig in a poke. All day, she’d made money selling trinkets worth not much more than the dirt she was standing on. And then this small girl had approached her, talked to her, and they’d hit it off, chatting about only God knows what for a good fifteen minutes before Heather had dug under into her bag and pulled out a small box. Almost identical to the product she’d been selling all day—almost.
But he knew, she had the real thing deep inside that bag of hers. Any good con would see a cop coming from a mile away. She’d had that piece to throw off a suspecting customer. He bet she even had papers to validate the value.
Minutes after the girl left, Heather split. He followed her, even after she boarded the city bus that took her across town. And then she’d stopped in front of the women’s shelter.
A few subtle questions the next day revealed an anonymous donor. A regular who would come in a few times a year and leave ten grand. He looked for the scam, looked for the loophole, but he hadn’t found one—not even for tax purposes. Shaken by the discovery, he’d left town, and left her behind.
It was then that he’d started thinking about getting out of the game, finding an honest job…settling down. Years later, she was still dead center of everything surrounding that decision.
With a quick glance to the second floor, Dominic left his nostalgic perusing for later. It was definitely time for her to cough up that money.
The rumble of a big engine came up the drive, and he crossed the foyer to the door and watched through the side window as Heather came to a stop in the driveway. She was truly a mystery to come all the way back out here, in this weather, when she’d left in such a huff.
His heart gave a ridiculous flutter at the sight of her. “Jackass,” he muttered as a grin escaped.
The sun was gone now, and the snow came down like a heavy curtain against the backdrop of the hills. Even the trees had that shimmer of frozen moisture on their branches. He went to the thermostat at the bottom of the stairs and turned it up a notch then turned to watch her climb down from the truck with a carry-out container from Sky’s diner. Her gaze swept the front porch and out to the surrounding property. Still on edge, he’d guess.
She took the steps, and he opened the door. “Hey—”
Her foot landed on the second to last stair and came completely out from under her. Her eyes widened and she yelped.
Dominic hurried across the porch and reached for her flailing arms as she fell back. Her fingers slipped through his, and she landed flat on her back. His heart about stopped, seeing her head smack the cement.
“Heather.” He took the steps two at a time and knelt next to her lifeless form. Cradling her head, he carefully touched the back. His hand came away covered in blood. “Shit.” His heart rate sped up at the sight. The shiver that raced over his skin was only partly from the frigid and dropping temperatures. He gently placed an arm under her legs and lifted her from the ground.
Wind whipped over them as he took the few steps onto the porch and into the house. He kicked the door shut behind him and carried her into the living room where he laid her on the old, dusty sofa. The one where he’d spent long winter days with his siblings, John and Moira, watching movies or playing cards.
He brushed the stray hairs from her face. Earlier, she’d been all piss and vinegar, feisty and ready to fight. Right now she looked fragile. He wouldn’t say she looked
innocent. Far from it. Even in her sleep, she could make him believe anything.
His heart squeezed a little. Damn it. She was a con artist, alive and kicking.
That meant one thing, she couldn’t be trusted.
~*~
She moaned, coming back to consciousness. “Nic? Oh, God.” She rolled over, nausea filling her stomach and making her head swim. “Bathroom. Toilet.”
Her feet wouldn’t stay under her as she scrambled to get out of the living room.
“Whoa,” Dominic’s hands were on her, holding her up and then dragging her into the foyer and back toward the kitchen. He opened a door on the right, under the stairs. And she practically crawled to the toilet.
He never left her side, though, and when things got worse, he held her hair back.
Her head pounded, her eyes hurt. She rinsed her mouth at the sink and wished for a toothbrush.
“You’ve cut your head open. It’s bleeding.” Dominic moved around her in the too-small space and flushed the toilet. He helped her sit on the lid. “I’ve got a first aid kit upstairs.”
She hummed a response but kept her eyes shut.
“You okay?”
Biting back a laugh, she shook her head. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Just don’t move,” he said as he left, taking with him the comfort he never should’ve offered in the first place.
The cool air surrounded her, a healthy reminder that he wasn’t who he seemed. She wasn’t supposed to like him. Sure, she’d had a crush on him years ago, but he was responsible for her dad’s death. She was here for revenge. He was supposed to be a hardened criminal, not a freaking boy scout. First aid kit. Sheesh.
“Turn around.” She looked up at him in the doorway. As an adolescent, she’d been taken by his good looks, his easy-going manner, his charm. Now, she couldn’t help notice…everything else. He was well-cut, broad in the shoulders and slim in the waist. His face had changed and was more chiseled, but his eyes were the same blue, so sharp and interested.
When she fell off the porch, she’d killed her plan for seduction and distraction. Too bad, too. Seduction would’ve been a far better distraction than making a complete fool of herself by being a klutz.
He lifted the kit up and twirled his finger in a ‘turn around’ gesture. She did as he requested, swallowing at the feel of wet in her hair. “How bad is it?”
“Not as bad as it looks.” He turned the water on and then cleaned the back of her head. When he was done, he tossed the hand towel on the floor next to her.
She sighed. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“Don’t feel bad. That step has always been a trouble-maker. It bows in the middle and moisture puddles on it, freezing first. You might want to borrow this. Your shirt is…bloody.” He handed her a shirt. “For as long as we lived here, my dad said he was going to fix it.”
“He didn’t.”
“Nope,” Dominic agreed, giving her shoulders a squeeze.
“I should sue you.”
It rankled that he actually laughed, but he was right about one thing. She needed to change her shirt. Her hands fumbled on the buttons under her chin. “Damn it.”
He stepped in front of her. All of his six foot three, broad-shouldered, muscled yumminess undressing her, shortening her breath and making her lightheaded. She should fight him off probably, on principle alone, but her hands just wouldn’t cooperate so she dropped them into her lap. “Just do it.”
First he took off her leather jacket and hung it on a hook behind the door. He made little work of her buttons, never quite looking her in the eye.
“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
He chuckled as he hung her blouse on the towel bar and slipped the t-shirt over her head, being careful not to brush the wound, then helped her put her arms through the sleeves. “There, all done. That wasn’t bad, was it?”
Dominic flipped the light switch, plunging them into darkness.
“Hey!”
At a small click, light shone from a stick in his hand. “Look at me.”
She pursed her lips. “You could’ve told me what you were going to do.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
She shrugged but gave him her attention. He flashed the light into her eyes, first from one side then from the other. “What? Are you a doctor now?”
“Nah, I see them do this on television all the time.” He clicked the flashlight back off and turned the overhead light on. “Looks even.”
“Even?”
“Yeah. You know. Pupils getting smaller at the same time.” His face got all serious. “You should take it easy for a while. Concussions can be very serious. I’ve had enough to know. Come on. I’ll set you up in the living room.”
Her heart stuttered again, betraying her with its affection. But he was helping her when he had no right to. Certainly no obligation. “Thank you,” she whispered.
As natural as if they’d known each other their whole lives, he took her hand and guided her to the living room. “We used to put a tree in that corner over there,” he said, pointing to the big, green, overstuffed chair. “And at Easter, my mom decorated our baskets and line them up on the mantel.”
“How nice.” Immediately, she regretted her snide tone.
He just chuckled, though. “Rough upbringing?”
“No. I had a great father. We never lacked for anything,” she lied, a white lie. Clearing her throat, she sat on the couch.
“You’d be interested to know that the foreclosure auction has been put off until next month.”
“What did you do?” she asked, unable to hide the suspicious edge.
“I’d love to claim some kind of trickery. Mother Nature’s to blame this time.”
Through the front window just opposite the couch, snow was so thick she couldn’t even see her truck. Big balls of cotton. Wet and moist and thick. “Oh, it’s so pretty.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind being stuck here.”
Heather rested her head back and pain shot through to the back of her eyes. “Oh!” Quickly, she sat up, steadied herself, and reached for the throw pillow, so she could lie down on her side. “I think I’m just going to close my eyes for a few.”
“I’ll see if I can find some Tylenol.”
She wanted to say thank you, but even that seemed like too much effort. She heard his footsteps coming toward her, and when he laid a hand on the top of her head, she smiled…like the sentimental ninny she didn’t believe she could be after twenty-five years of hard-core conning.
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