by Cora Kenborn
Angel opened the door before I could knock this morning, dressed to kill in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a camouflaged shirt with criss-cross ties half-way down her chest. On anyone else it would look basic, but on her it looks effortlessly sexy.
Angel clears her throat again, her hands locked tight around her cup. “You were saying?”
I study her, saying nothing. There’s wisdom in silence most people don’t take the time to hear. After all, humans have two ears and one mouth for a reason, a fact that seems to escape most of Los Angeles. While the loudest voice usually gets the most attention, sometimes, it’s the most subtle things that make the most noise.
And Angel’s noise is literally a noise. Every time she’s uncomfortable she clears her throat. I don’t even think she’s aware she’s doing it. And I’m sure as hell not going to tell her.
“I was going to say thank you for hearing me out,” I say.
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
“Have you thought about my offer?”
As usual, she makes me wait for an answer as she takes a thoughtful sip from her cup. The corners of her mouth turn down as she studies the sugary liquid. “Haven’t thought about much else.”
“And?”
There’s a loud clink as she settles her cup back into its saucer. Turning, she digs through a faded canvas bag and pulls out a newspaper, those smoky green eyes flashing as she holds it up to my face. “Have you read this?”
“Is that a serious question? That’s like asking Bill Gates if he follows the stock market.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. My point is, the public is tearing all these girls coming forward to shreds, Dominic.” She clears her throat again as she points to the bottom of the page. “This poll alone claims seventy-two percent of the country thinks she’s dead. This is a bad idea. We’re going to crash and burn.”
We’re going to.
Her wording doesn’t escape me. “Does that mean you accept?”
“I’m speaking hypothetically.” The words fall flat, her attention settling on something over my shoulder. Whatever it is causes her to lean forward. When she tilts her chin up and peers even closer, I see the moment aggression and petulance give way to curiosity and intrigue.
Curious, I twist around to find a woman sitting at a table behind us. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about that, but it’s what she’s holding that catches my attention.
I watch as she shakes her head at the same paper Angel’s holding, muttering to herself. “Fifteen years later, and they still haven’t found her. Maybe she’s the only smart one in the bunch.”
“Excuse me.” I flash a smile so bright it belongs in a toothpaste commercial. “Are you talking about the Romanov murders?”
Fact number one: a polished smile will hide a lot of rust.
The woman smiles back. “Yes, why?”
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m intrigued with your insightful analysis.”
Fact number two: flattery will get you everywhere.
She blushes and beams and whatever other shit women do when falling for a cheap line. I’m almost insulted. She could at least make me work for it.
Stifling a smile, I turn cock my head to the side. “So, have you heard about the reward?”
I can’t see Angel’s face, but there’s no mistaking the subtle fury rippling off her in waves. I’ve caught her off-guard, which was what I wanted. She’s too rigid. Too planned. Too wrapped up in that bullet-proof vest she wears like a shield.
The woman’s eyes flicker. I don’t know her, but I can see dollar signs spinning like a slot machine in her eyes.
“Well, who hasn’t?” She taps the paper in her hands then motions around us. “We’re in the mecca where opportunity is king, are we not?”
Not, considering we’re sitting in a cafe outside Chula Vista, but I let that one go. “True, and I believe that phrase is ‘crap is king’. Much like a reward dependent on producing a body that’s been shark bait for a decade and a half.”
Her lips part in shock. She wasn’t expecting that. “Are you telling me you believe she’s dead? That the killer took the time to take one body out of the house and dump it in the Pacific?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Well, there were rumors, you know.” Folding her arms in front of her, she leans forward. “Drugs, sex, vendettas. I mean even royalty can’t screw people over without eventually getting screwed themselves.”
“What does that have to do with Alexandra?”
Both of us turn to see Angel, her lips pressed in a tight line, and her eyebrows drawn together in concentration. She’s invested. It’s not just words on a page anymore. It’s real.
And it’s about to be payday.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.
“The girl was eight years old,” the woman blurts out. “Some people claim seeing that stuff day in and day out really did a number on her. Messed with her mind.” She taps her finger against her temple and shakes her head.
Behind me, Angel clears her throat. “They think she’s crazy?”
Setting the newspaper down, the woman reaches for her coffee. “I think that girl is out there getting a good laugh at the media frenzy she’s caused.”
Mic-fucking-drop.
I couldn’t have set it up any better if I’d planned it.
Tipping my chin to the side, I hold Angel’s conflicted stare. “And what if she came forward?”
The woman takes another sip of coffee. “I’d say it proves my point.” Nodding toward Angel, she lets out a huff. “Crazy? More like crazy like a fox.”
I can’t hold back the smirk any longer. Shifting back around in my chair, I soak in the sight of Angel, mouth open, eyes blazing, and fists clenched.
I’ll pay for this. But it’s worth every dime.
Angel’s mouth snaps shut. Heat radiates off her. It starts at the base of her neck, and spreads like an erupting volcano up her throat, painting her face the color of lava. I’m getting ready to get my ass handed to me, and sick son of a bitch that I am, the thought makes me hard as fucking stone.
Bring it, baby.
She cocks her chin. “What the hell is that smirk all about?”
“Nothing.” Nothing but me reading you like a book, cupcake. “It’s nothing. So, did that answer your question?”
Glancing down, she runs her thumb along the edge of the newspaper. “You think one woman in a cafe is an accurate representation of popular opinion?”
“Jesus Christ,” I groan, slumping back into my chair. “What more do you want from me?”
She shrugs, those full, sinful lips curling in an amused smirk. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Yes.
No!
Fuck.
This meeting has gone so off the rails it’s barreling into oncoming traffic. Damn this woman and her evasive bullshit. “So, let’s discuss the logistics of how this will play out.”
“Let’s not,” she growls, her flirtatious tone hitting an acidic note.
I’m not surprised. It’s the response I expected. She’s been more than uncooperative and somewhat hostile all morning. “Angel, come on, this is ridiculous. Most people would jump at the opportunity for this kind of fame.”
“And how should I do that, Dominic?” she hisses.
“Telling Alexandra’s story in her own words. Your words,” I add.
“My own words, right.” She snorts, throwing the phrase back in my face. “So, if I refuse, you’ll let this whole thing go?”
“No, I’ll eventually find a more cooperative and less argumentative girl to accept my offer. But it will be a lot more work and take a lot more effort on my part.”
“And why is that?”
Because you’re an impassive time suck, that’s why.
“She won’t have your talent. She won’t have your natural ability or charm.” I play games with people. I stir the pot and watch it boil. And y
es, I use words as weapons, but I’ve never been more honest than when I lock eyes with her and admit, “You could sell water to a drowning man.”
Her cheeks flush. “I thought you said I was uncooperative and argumentative?”
I wink. “Only to me.” When she scowls, I spread my palms on the table. “You heard that woman. The public wants your words. They need your words. Where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. How you ended up in Chula-fucking-Vista for God’s sake.”
“You.”
“What?”
“You keep saying ‘you’ instead of Alexandra.”
“That’s because as of right now you are Alexandra. Forget Last First Kiss. This is the role of your life, Angel. Play it well enough and you’ll leave this world a legend.”
“After a lifetime of lies.” Angel’s face tightens, and I can’t explain it, but she just looks sad. Exhausted. As if she’s lost in the struggle of her own web.
I don’t know what makes me do it. Raw instinct? Lingering lust? Satan and his sick sense of humor? Whatever the reason, I reach across the table and grasp her hand. “Living a lifetime of lies is better than suffering one more day of your truth.”
“Says the man who hides his face behind a computer screen.”
I give her an irritated look. “Okay, cut the shit. If you don’t plan to cooperate, why agree to meet me today?”
She stares down at our still joined hands. “To ask you to let this go.”
“Are you insane?” I yell, a bit too loudly, because half of the tables turn around and give me a dirty look, which I return. Fuck ‘em. If they wanted silence they should’ve stayed at home. Jerking my hand away from Angel’s, I lean close. “There’s a million dollars on the line. You can’t seriously think I’m going to drop a goldmine like this just because you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asks, arching a brow.
“Like all you have to do is give me bedroom eyes, and I’ll fall at your feet. Maybe that tactic works for you most of the time, but I assure you, I’m not like most of the men you date.”
First, Angel’s jaw ticks, then her teeth grind together as if she’s sawing razors. But it’s her eyes that warn me of the impending explosion. The muted green darkens as the storm rolls in. An unforgiving, catastrophic, bitch of a storm intent on leveling anything in its path.
She raises her middle finger, the chair scraping across the concrete slab as she shoves it back. “Fuck you.” Without another word, she stomps off, finger still in the air, and disappears inside the main part of the café.
“Goddamn it!” Jerking my wallet out of my pants, I grab a handful of bills and throw them on the table before taking off after her. Angel couldn’t have had more than a thirty second head start, but I’ll give it to her, the girl is fast.
After all-but-running out the front door, I find her standing next to the passenger’s side of my rental car, with her back toward me. I smile knowing she has her arms crossed over her chest, cursing my name because she stomped her ass all the way out here only to realize I’m her ride home.
“You’re wrong,” she says quietly.
Taking a risk, I move closer until I’m a few inches behind her. “Angel…”
“I don’t date.” She spins around, her simmering gaze dipping from my eyes to my chest. “You were wrong about me back then, and you’re wrong about me now.”
What do I say to that? That I’m sorry? Because I’m not.
I’m sorry she got buried in the avalanche I created, but I’m not sorry I sent a sexual terrorist to jail. A man who preyed on the fresh-faced innocent girls who came to Hollywood with stars in their eyes. He deserved everything he got.
But Jade Saxton? She deserved better.
“Angel, I’m…” The word sorry is right there on my lips, but instead of saying it, I slam them against hers before either of us can react. Angel’s muffled protest is trapped between our mouths, and her palms fly to my chest as if to push me away. Only she doesn’t. Her fingers curl into my shirt, those sharp nails digging into my skin.
My control breaks. I take, sliding my tongue into her mouth without the slightest restraint. My hand dives into her hair, twisting it around my fingers. We kiss harder, ignoring the fact we’re in a public parking lot. And when she moans into my mouth, I fucking lose it and push her against the car.
“Stop.” Angel breaks the kiss, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths as she pulls away. Her fingers press against her swollen lips as if they will somehow erase the feel of mine.
They won’t.
Because like it or not, this town sucks my dick. When I want something, I get it. I wanted out of this shithole of a mess, so I made her an offer that would make history.
But now...
We’re going to rewrite it.
But Angel has to be handled carefully, so I play the apologetic asshole role with gusto. Stepping back, I rake a hand through my hair. “That was out of line.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You think?”
Sighing, I press my thumb against my temple. “Look, I didn’t mean to imply you use men to get what you want. What I meant to say was that you have a way about you, Angel. A very alluring way that naturally makes men want to do whatever you want.”
“Really? Because I want to be left alone, but you can’t seem to naturally grasp that.”
“What do you have to lose?” I ask, throwing out a final Hail Mary. “A shitty apartment and a shitty job?”
For some reason, that seems to get to her, and she relaxes the grip her arms have on her chest. “What’s in it for you? And be straight with me this time. No more of this half-answer crap. I want the truth.”
“A story.”
Angel raises her eyebrows and glares at me.
I roll my eyes. “And money. Look, I don’t care how much a man has, five-hundred-k is five-hundred-k.” It’s the truth, something I didn’t mean to throw out there, but my master plan is going down in flames pretty fast.
“That’s another half-answer,” she accuses, and then twists around to walk away, but I catch her arm and spin her back around.
“Fine, you want the truth? You don’t get to where I am in life and not step on a lot of toes along the way, sweetheart. Some were by accident, and others were very much on purpose. Somebody didn’t like what he saw in the mirror I shoved in front of his face and decided to take it out on my ass.” I almost tell her about the lawsuit but pull back at the last minute. “BTN is operating in the red, and if I don’t get some cash flow soon, I’m going to lose everything.”
An awkward second of silence quickly turns into five. Then ten. Just as I’m about to do something drastic like speak the name of a man who should never be used as a bargaining tool, she sighs.
“Fine.”
Wait, what?
“Fine?”
“I know I’ll live to regret this, but I can’t argue that half a million would change my life. Not to mention Violet’s. With that kind of money—” Stopping mid-sentence, she shakes her head. “It’s not important, facts are facts. I’d be saving her, too.”
“So, that’s a yes?” I ask, slowly. “You’ll do it?”
“Yes. Provided you guarantee the DNA test will prove I’m Alexandra Romanov, you’ve got a deal.” Nodding, she spins around and taps on the car window. “Now, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“To the G-Spot so I can say goodbye to Violet. I don’t have much to pack, so that shouldn’t take long. On our way to LA, you can start teaching me everything I need to know about Alexandra Romanov. One thing you’ll learn is I do nothing half-assed, Mr. McCallum.”
Chapter Twelve
Angel
I blink back tears as the seconds of my life tick away. “You’ll come see me, right?”
“Babe, you know I can’t.” A tear escapes down my cheek, and Violet grabs my hand. “It’s better this way. You know I’m a shitty liar.”
“What does that have to do with any
thing?” I ask, swiping the back of my hand across my face.
“You’ll have a million reporters following you around twenty-four seven,” she says gently, giving my hand a squeeze before dropping it. “I don’t want to risk blowing your cover.”
I nod. It’s all I can do because words seem so hollow. She’s right. I have a story to stick to. I have lies to tell, and a whole world of people to fool. If opportunity is the friend who knocks, greed is the jilted ex-lover who kicks the door in.
I twist my fingers, glancing around the bar one last time. “What am I going to do without you, Vi? You’re my glue.”
She scrunches her face. “Your what?”
“My glue. Whenever I break, you always pick up the pieces and put me back together. I’m still cracked, but you’re the glue keeping everything intact. Without you…” I clear my throat and stare at my feet, letting my words trail off.
Clenching her jaw, Violet lands a heavy hand on both my shoulders. “You listen to me. Angel Smith may chip, but she does not break.” Letting go of me, she steps back and tips her chin toward the door. “Now, go on, before I do something stupid like cry.”
I wish she would. I wish she’d fall down on her knees and beg me not to go. I wish she’d tell me this whole thing is an impending disaster, and I’m a fool for falling for Dominic McCallum’s convincing words and intoxicating kisses.
If she did, I’d stay. But she doesn’t, so I don’t.
“Well, I guess that’s it.” I’m not good at goodbyes, so I give her a tight smile. “See ya.”
She nods. “See ya.”
I turn to leave when Violet throws her arms around me in a hug so fierce, I can barely breathe. “Be careful, Ang,” she whispers into my hair. “Remember, he’s made a living out of playing people.”
I have to blink a few times to absorb her words. Detangling her hold, I grasp her shoulders and choke out a nervous laugh. “Whoa, you’re the one who set this in motion. Now you’re warning me?”
“Just watch your back. A man like that has two faces, and you never see the ugly one until it’s too late.” Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she manages a half-hearted smile. “As long as you don’t fall blindly in love with the pretty one and forget that, you’ll be okay.”