SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (9 page)

“I need your help.” I’d be as upfront as possible
, and if that didn’t work I’d play the guilt card. After all, I had taken a bullet for her. “I want you to come to Grand Cayman with me.”

“You’re going after Jack’s money?”

She was blonde, but not stupid. “Yes. I want you to help me get it.”

“How?”

“Pretend to be Bev,” I told her. She looked at me like I was the dumb one. “We go in with fake passports and the account number, and walk out with twelve million. Piece of cake.”

“
That’s crazy.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is not going to be that easy. For one thing, we’ll need Jack’s password.”

That was true, but I had Andy. If anyone could
get the password… “I’ll have the code. What I need is a Bev. Are you in or not?” It sounded cold even to my own ears.

“You
can be a real bastard, can’t you?”

I nodded.

She stared at me, eyes calculating. “Twelve million, huh?” I nodded again. Biting her lip, she said, “Okay. I’m in.”

R
elief washed through me. “Great. One more thing.” I paused, my eyes locked on hers. “You have to keep this quiet. Nobody can know. Not Zoë or Colin.” I glanced to Frankie, who was busy yelling at Drew. “Or anyone else.”

“
She doesn’t know?” Clair gestured to Frankie.

“No, and I want to keep it that way.”

“I won’t say a word.” Her expression turned questioning. “Don’t you trust her?”

“With my
life.”

Clair winced
. “Ian, I—” I waved off her apology. If things went according to plan I’d forgive just about anything. Money can do that. Make a person’s sins much easier to swallow. She nodded, her gaze filled with regret. “When do we leave?”

“One
week.” I took her hand. “If you don’t want to do this…it’s okay.”

“I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me a thing.” I tried for sincerity, but missed the mark.

“That must have been hard to say.”

“Even harder to mean.” I grinned.

She laughed, back
on familiar ground. I helped her from the car and led her into the bar. Her face fell as we entered the room. Five of our regulars sat watching highlights from the day’s sporting events. They sipped lukewarm beers and smelled like rotting flesh. One guy belched out a welcoming hello.

“Nice place,”
she lied, glancing around.

I shru
gged, irritation obvious in the set of my shoulders. What did I care what she thought of the bar anyway? O’Malley’s had character. Frankie came up behind me, and amusement replaced my annoyance. “I had Drew put her luggage in your room,” Frankie said, in a tone meant to question my mental ability. The sleeping arrangements had yet to be discussed, but leave it to Frankie to cut to the chase.

Clair glanced at her, lips creased into an awkward smile.
“The couch will do.”

“Guess
you’re homeless, Frankie,” Drew teased, lifting a beer from the cooler. The pop of the cap echoed in the silence that followed his comment. Fucking Drew. Frankie’s eyes moved to mine. Before I could say anything Drew spoke, “You can crash at my place Frankie. I only have the one bed but I’m sure we can make do.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“I’d rather sle
ep in the alley,” she responded, heading toward the staircase. I smacked Drew in the back of the head.

With Clair next to me, we
followed Frankie up the steps. “Did I say something wrong?” Clair asked with concern.

“No.” I shrugged. “Frankie’s
been staying with me.” Clair’s eyebrows rose and I quickly added, “On the couch. She sleeps on the couch.”

Clair stopped Frankie before she could
go into the apartment. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, touching Frankie’s arm.

Frankie
turned her head away. “No biggie.”

“Why don’t
we share the bed and Ian can sleep on the couch?” Clair looked so sincere like she’d solved all our problems. I glared at Frankie. This wasn’t what I had in mind. It wasn’t like I expected Clair to fall into my arms, but I wouldn’t have turned down an invitation to share her bed. I hated that lumpy couch.

Frankie’s smile filled
with mischief, enjoying herself at my expense. “That sounds wonderful. We can have pillow fights and stay up late talking about boys...”

“Enough
smartass,” I warned, but Clair just laughed.

“What’s it going to take to make you like me?”
she questioned, brushing a lock of bleach blonde hair from her eyes.

Frankie sobered. “I
don’t like to see Ian hurt. He’s a good man.”

“
He’s also standing right here,” I complained.

“
I won’t hurt him. Not ever again.”

I sighed
loudly, trying to gain their attention. But it didn’t work. Frankie stared at Clair for a long minute and nodded. Apparently whatever she saw in Clair’s gaze had convinced her that Clair wasn’t out to get me. Too bad too, I could have used a little ‘getting’. “Now that that’s settled…” I stood talking to myself as they walked into my bedroom. Damn. Things were not going according to plan.

“That’s her?” Mickey’s eyes widened the next afternoon as Clair came into the backroom of the bar dressed in tight jeans and a tank top. The black cotton hugged her curves, mocking me. Mickey continued, “It’s no wonder you got shot. I wouldn’t have been paying attention either.”

I glared at
him. “I was paying attention.” But he was right. I’d let Clair distract me and it had nearly gotten us killed. I should have expected and prepared for an ambush. I titled back my beer and drank deeply before I picked up the cards in front of me and called Mickey’s bluff.

He
grinned, throwing his cards down. “Don’t you ever lose?”

“Nope,
some of us are born winners, while others….” I trailed off.

Clair came toward
us. “Hi.”

“All settled then?”
I tipped back in the chair and glanced up at her. My tone conveyed just what I thought about the living arrangements. Last night I spent hours tossing on the couch while Frankie and Clair bonded over hairstyles and tampons. And to make matters worse, this morning I found two sets of panties hanging over the shower curtain. The two women appeared united in the mission of driving me crazy.

“The bed’s real comfortable.”
Clair winked at me and then turned to Mickey with interest. He straightened in his chair and patted down a wayward tuff of hair that struck out from the brim of his baseball cap.

“
Clair.” I gestured to Mickey. “This is Frankie’s brother and the ass you’re saving.”

“
Your name’s not really plonker, is it?” she asked, laughing. I smiled at the Irish slang for idiot and Frankie’s favorite nickname for her dumbass brother. Sadly, it fit him to a tee.

Mickey laughed.
“Kid sister. You know how it is.” He took a drink of his beer and glanced at me. “Ian probably didn’t say it, but thanks.”

She blushed, a slow red heat rising up her cheeks. “Don’t thank me yet.
I’m not sure I can pull this off.”

“You’ll do fine,” I said, but was having some do
ubts. Clair was gorgeous, but she lacked the cold classiness of a high society dame like Bev. I hoped Neil could teacher her. Otherwise we’d be shit out of luck and it was onto Plan B. The problem was I didn’t have a Plan B.

Just then,
Neil opened the back door and the bright glare of sunlight from the street blinded me. Once my eyes adjusted to the brightness I glanced at him. Neil dressed in black—pants, shirt, glasses and boots. His face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered it. His eyes were clouded with pain. My heart gave a small squeeze. I introduced him to Clair.

He stepped back
and looked her over carefully. “Well, aren’t you lovely,” he said to her after a few seconds. “So Ian’s filled you in?”

“Yes.” She grinned.
“You’re here to make me a cold-blooded bitch. Where do you want to start?”

He
looked at me with question. I shrugged. This was his turf. “Why don’t we start with speech?” he drew out each word with chipped precision.

“Sounds good,” Clair mimicked
his tone.

“Keep it down
.” I nodded to Frankie who was a few feet away wiping down the bar with a yellowed towel. She glanced up, glaring at us with suspicion. “The less she suspects the better.” Neil shot me a look that said: ‘You’re an idiot’. I grinned. Yeah, I guess I was.

“
Let’s go to Lombardo’s for a slice,” Neil said to Clair. Lombardo’s was a legend in the neighborhood. It severed cheap New York style pie with mountains of cheese and thick tomato paste.

“
I’d kill for some anchovies and a diet coke.” Clair’s face softened in ecstasy, making my mouth water thinking of the last time I saw that kind of excitement in her eyes.

“Girl
after my own heart. Anchovies and diet coke it is.” Neil took her arm, and led her out the back door. After they left Frankie came over to the table where Mickey and I sat, her eyebrow raised in question. Mickey caught my eye and winced. When it came to Frankie he was a pushover, so lying and keeping secrets from her fell on me. I went on the offensive. “Did you call Sam about halving the Coors order?” I motioned to the cases of beer stacked around us. Yep, that’s me—the master of distraction.

She looked at me
like I was stupid. An expression I was getting used to seeing on more and more people’s faces. “I’m taking the afternoon off,” she said, tossing the grimy bar rag on the poker table.

“
Oh. Okay,” I said slowly, looking to Mickey for help. He shrugged. I spread my hands wide. “Big plans?” She was up to something. I could tell by the twist of her lips.

“N
ot that it matters, but I have a date.” She patted her ponytail.

That was news to me.
Frankie didn’t date, or at least I hadn’t seen her with anyone since I got paroled. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Why?
” Her hand went to her hip. “You and Mickey gonna scare him off?”

Mickey grinned. “Well, if you’d
stop dating losers I wouldn’t need to.” He turned to me. “You should have seen the last guy. He was some sort of professor at NYU. Came to pick her up and acted like we were diseased.”

“Which you are,” Frankie said under her breath.

Mickey ignored her. “A week later I found out the dude’s married, and not all that smart since he was lying about it. Bastard wasn’t good enough for Frankie.”

“Who should
I date then?” she sneered, “Someone like you, or Ian?”

I pushed back in my chair.
“I’m a good catch. Have all my teeth—”

M
ickey interrupted my assessment, “You’ve done worse.” When she glared at him, he quickly added, “I want to see you settle down and have a family. I want you to be happy.”

Taking a deep breath, she
mouthed a countdown to five before speaking. “I love you and appreciate your concern, but I’m tired of you budding into my life. I can date who I want when I want. I’m not a virgin in need of your protection.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Far from it.”

“Too much information.” I closed
my eyes against the picture of her in the throes of an orgasm.

Mickey grinned. “Of course you can date whoever you want.”
She shook her head and turned away. “When I’m dead and buried,” he finished under his breath.

“Wait up,”
I called to her as she walked toward the door. She spun around, her hands on hips and fire in her eyes. I wanted her. No doubt about it. The look she gave me sent a spark of heat down my spine. If she’d been anyone else I’d have begged her to play the role of Bev.

She blew out an exaggerated sigh. “What? I’ll be back before dark.
I’m wearing clean underwear, and I have fifty cents in case I need to use the pay phone.”

Smartass.
“Have a good time,” I said to throw her off balance.

“What is that supposed to mean?”
              

“N
othing,” I smiled, “you should get out more. Broaden your horizons. Meet new people. You’re in a rut.”

Her
face tightened with each syllable. “Rut?”

“Have you tried speed dating?”

“I hate you.” She turned toward the door muttering under her breath.

“And here I thought we had something special.”
My laughter followed her to the street.

“Ian?” Clair shook me, the couch creaking in protest. “Are you awake?”

I hate
d to admit it, but my response was something like, “Umhmmmaman.”

“C’mon, Ian, wake up.”
She tugged at the thin white sheet wrapped around my waist. I opened an eyelid. She stood above me, blonde hair hanging loose down her back. An almost transparent nightgown covered her considerable attributes. My body woke up all right and I took a steadying breath. “What time is it?” I glanced at the clock in the kitchen. 4:00 a.m.