The Bliss Factor (34 page)

She felt around in the crotch of the first row of branches, then the next highest level. Nothing. She climbed down and moved on to another beech, not far from the first, Conn boosting her up this time. His hands lingered on her waist, slipping down to her thighs to steady her once she found her footing on a low branch.

Rae scrambled up out of reach, before she forgot that Conn’s objective was solving the case so he could put her into his past, before she let herself slide down, into his arms, before she begged him to love her back, just for a moment, even if it was a lie.

“Are the plates up there?”

She smiled a little, darkly amused by her own stupidity, mooning over a man who saw her, at best, as an unwelcome burden. For as short a time as possible, which brought her full circle and gave her a swift kick in the pride. Conn didn’t want her around, the hell with him.

She searched the branches above her head, grinning when she felt plastic-covered cloth wrapped around something hard and rectangular.

She almost bobbled it when Conn wrapped his hands around her hips to help her down, and since her focus shifted from finding the plates to getting his hands off her she tossed him the bundle. “Good news. You’re one step closer to getting rid of me.”

Conn took out a pocket knife and slit the wrappings along one side, peeling them back far enough to reveal a pair of metal plates taped together. “You’d make a pretty good detective,” he said.

“I’m just an accountant with an interesting background. And I’ve had enough of the FBI.”

“And I could do without the hostility.”

“Then you’re in the wrong line of work.”

“You sure?”

“We overheard him talking to the woman he’s with.” There was silence from the other end of the phone, as Harry’s boss digested that news, then said, “What else?”

Harry did a preemptive grimace and said, “He has the plates,” rushing to add, “the printer spilled, but by the time we got back to the nutfest, Larkin was already there.”

“Get the plates, then deal with the witnesses.”

“Deal?”

“Who’s going to take care of your family if you go to jail?”

Harry didn’t voice an answer, but he was shrieking, “No,” into the silence in his own head.
He just wanted a job, for Christ’s sake, a normal job with a normal pay-check and a list of functions that did not include car chases, torture, or breaking federal laws. Not to mention murder. Jesus, how would he look his wife and kids in the eyes after that?

“If you’re done whining—”

“Watch it, or I might decide to leave everyone else alone and
deal
with you.”

“Don’t be an idiot. If anything happens to me, I’ve made sure your name will come up in the murder investigation.”

“I never agreed to kill anyone.”

“But you will.”

Yeah, he would, Harry decided. His heart was heavy, so was his conscience, but jail wasn’t an option Going to the feds and turning informant crossed his mind, but that would probably certainly end in jail time, and worse, his family would find out he was a criminal. He just couldn’t face that. “I want a larger share, or you do your own dirty work.”

“It always comes down to money,” Morris Greenblatt said with a papery accountant’s chuckle.

“Keep laughing,” Harry shot back, “but don’t forget you’re no better than me.”

“I’m the one who put this whole operation together. Without me you’d be panhandling on a street corner.”

That didn’t sound as bad to Harry as it had a few months ago. Too bad he’d opted to put his nuts in a wringer. “Okay, Einstein, explain to me how we’re going to get those plates?”

“Use your imagination.”

“In my imagination this guy is still built like a truck, and now that he has his memory back, he’ll be ready for us.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Greenblatt said, “I have a secret weapon.”

 

 

CONN TOOK ANNIE’S CELL AND COPIED A NUMBER into his. “I’ll call Harry in the morning, let him know we have the plates, and set up a meet. The three of you are going to—”

“Have your back,” Rae said.

Conn cut his eyes skyward, but God wasn’t in a facilitating mood. Conn knew that, because it was the fourth time he’d tried to convince the Blisses—father, mother, and daughter—to stay somewhere safe while his negotiations with Harry and the Stooges played out. And it was the fourth time they’d refused to listen to reason. As if he hadn’t done this sort of thing dozens of times before.

“I’ve done this sort of thing dozens of times before,” he said—out loud this time. It had more effect that way, or it would have if he’d been dealing with reasonable people. “I’m still here.”

“There are three of them and one of you,” Annie said. “Remind you of anything? Now that you’ve got your memory back, I mean.”

“There’s no call for sarcasm.”

“How about food?” Nelson set a tray of hamburgers and hot dogs on the table, alongside Annie’s potato salad and the corn he’d taken off the grill a few minutes before.

“Will you be more agreeable once you’ve had dinner?”

“No.” Rae took a hamburger, dumped some ketchup on it, and then ignored it altogether, along with the rest of the food she put on her plate.

“There’s nothing you can do to help,” Conn said, sliding her plate over in front of him.

“Hey!”

“You’re not going to eat it anyway.”

She pulled her plate away from him and took a bite of the burger, just to spite him. She raised her eyes to his as she finished chewing and swallowed, the corners of her mouth lifting in reluctant amusement.

Conn felt something shift inside him, like a puzzle piece settling softly into place and completing a picture that was a complete revelation, but at the same time somehow familiar. He wanted to stay in that moment, even as he told himself no good could come of it.

So what if they connected on levels he didn’t want to explore? So what if he saw something in Rae’s eyes in unguarded moments? She didn’t trust him, and she was right not to. He wasn’t suited for anything but what he was doing, and even if she would’ve been willing to go with him, he’d never ask her to walk away from the home and life she’d worked so hard to create just so he had a warm place to land between missions.

“We were talking about this death wish you have,” Rae said, not about to be sidetracked.

“I don’t take unnecessary risks, but I can’t watch your back and mine at the same time. With you hanging around my chances of coming through this in one piece drop drastically.”

Rae pushed her plate away again. “Don’t spare my feelings.”

“I’m the expert, remember?”

“You said it yourself, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Rae said, still holding Conn’s eyes. “I guess that means you and Dad are going to make yourselves scarce, too.”

“Oh, well . . .”

Rae’s phone went off. Even if Conn hadn’t recognized the money song she used for her bosses, the look on her face would have given it away. She flipped the phone open and put it to her ear, her expression changing to one of cautious relief. “Mr. Greenblatt?”

Her gaze shifted to Conn’s, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and he almost forgot what he was trying to do. Almost. Possible death was pretty hard to lose sight of.

“Can you hold on a minute?” she said into the phone, then put her finger over the mouthpiece. “There’s a new client coming in for a meeting tomorrow. The governor is giving big tax breaks to film companies that open studios in Michigan.”

“Tell him you’ll be there.”

“But—”

“You still want to make partner, right? He’s giving you a sign of confidence.”

She started to shake her head.

Damn her and her stubbornness. “The debate is over. I don’t work with a partner, and I sure as hell don’t work with a team.”

Rae lifted her chin, putting the phone up to her ear. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Greenblatt,” she said, getting to her feet and keeping her eyes on Conn’s until she turned and walked away.

“Well, son,” Nelson said, “you got what you wanted.” Yeah, Conn thought, he’d gotten what he wanted. Rae wouldn’t be around to split his attention tomorrow. Now all he had to do was figure out how to stop thinking about how pissed off she was.

 

 

JUST AFTER DARK A HUGE BONFIRE WAS LIT IN THE center of camp. Lawn chairs, camp stools, and hollow logs ringed the fire, occupied by the members of the Bliss’s traveling group, most of them still in costume. If not for the various motor vehicles and somewhat modern campers parked in the gloom beyond the firelight, it might have been the sixteenth century. Conn’s attitude certainly fit the picture.

“Still mad at me?” he said, parking himself on the ground beside her low beach chair.

“You’re a jerk.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“You don’t deserve my best.”

“C’mon, take a couple of cheap shots. It’ll make you feel better.”

It would make her feel better. The question was, what was Conn getting out of it? “I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“I want to work alone,” he said.

“The two sort of go together.”

“That would have a lot more oomph if you tacked
jerk
on the end.”

She gave him a dirty look. “We done here?”

“Not until you get your head out of your ass. This is getting serious, Rae. Harry and his friends may come off as Stooges, but they’ll kill for those plates.”

“And I don’t have the necessary training. I got that earlier. When you told me you didn’t want a partner anymore. And yet here you are.”

He blew out a breath, staring into the fire for a minute.

“What do you want?”

“It would be easier for me to concentrate on what I have to do if you weren’t mad at me.”

“Fine. Or as you so charmingly put it, my head is out of my ass. Harry and his friends are all yours. Hell, take on the whole mafia for all I care.” Rae kept her voice down; she even managed to sound like she’d come to terms with his high-handed, obnoxious, insulting ultimatum. Then she tried to cap it off with a dramatic exit, but the low beach chair tripped her up and she fell back into it, crossing her arms and not caring if Conn knew she was actually fuming.

“Need some help?” he said, not making much of an effort to hide his amusement.

“I’d say yes, but I know you have a problem with teamwork.”

She boosted herself out of the chair, temper taking her to her feet in one jack-in-the-box move. Temper took her out of the circle of firelight and into the blessed darkness beyond. Stubbornness kept her from doing anything rash. She stayed in the shadows at the edge of the fire, watching the re-enactors quietly celebrate another successful weekend, and refusing to give Connor Larkin the satisfaction of knowing he’d sent her running again—and really, he hadn’t. She was hurt and angry, but taking it out on Conn wasn’t going to change that any more than distance from him would.

Besides, it wasn’t any more his fault that it was hers. Sure, he was an undercover agent, but he hadn’t known that a week ago. And sure, he’d gotten his memory back and kept it from her, and yeah, it ticked her off, but she wouldn’t appreciate him interfering in her work if she was in the midst of an accounting emergency . . . Okay, accounting wasn’t exactly a life-or-death career path, but it was the principle of the thing. Her job was to sit at a desk and protect people from the IRS, his was to carry a gun and protect democracy, or at least capitalism. Both their lives were on the line, and in both cases failure meant unemployment, but she would only lose her job, and maybe her house. Conn might be moving to a much smaller piece of real estate. Six feet under.

The Renaissance folk were as exhausted as any so-called normal person after a long couple of days of work. Considering the week Rae had just been through, she could identify. Her problem, however, was with tomorrow.

Her parents had already gone off to bed, others trailing out of the firelight in ones and twos, including Conn. He’d pitched his tent outside the entrance to the Airstream. Rae hesitated between the two, torn. She wanted to clear the air with Conn, just in case, but she was pretty sure that wasn’t her only motivation

Conn took the decision out of her hands. “I’m not asleep,” he said, flipping open the front flap.

The moon was nearly full, enough light leaking through the trees to see his expression, including the surprise when she said, “I owe you an apology.”

“For?”

“You’re doing what you think is right.”

“But you still don’t agree with it.”

“I still think you’re being an idiot. But it’s your life to gamble with.”

“Then the apology is really about your conscience. That and you have no confidence in my job skills.”

“Well, you’re being a
jerk
, and I think that’s about you pushing me away in case something goes wrong tomorrow.”

“Why would I do that?”

She crawled into the tent, shoved him onto his back, and laid her body on his. “This is why,” she said, taking his mouth but not letting him deepen the kiss. “You can pretend—” No, she wouldn’t be that woman who asked for reassurances, even obliquely. Her feelings were her feelings; they didn’t give her the right to push him into an emotional corner. She could show him how she felt, though. She couldn’t help it, really, pouring herself into another kiss, offering him more than her body. Offering him everything she was.

And Conn accepted, without hesitation and without words. It stung, made the joy a little bittersweet until she gave herself to sensation, to the slide of his hands over her skin as they slipped clothing off, the feel of him against her, strong and sure, the pull of his mouth at her breast as his fingers slipped between her legs and entered her, and the building of pleasure, layer on layer, drawing her into a knot of coiled need, winding tighter and tighter until his mouth replaced his fingers and she unraveled, Conn drawing the orgasm out to an impossible length that left her spent, but wanting to curl into herself so she could hold on to that magic just a little longer.