True Lies (13 page)

“I think removing the telephones will be sufficient for the moment, but I'll keep your suggestion in mind, Miss Duprey.”

She clenched her fists and spun around, muttering something under her breath.

Bruce followed her back to the main room and stuffed the phones into the large bag that he’d brought in from his car. Cutting off the communications was only temporary—he’d need to reconnect at least one of the phones in the morning so that McQuaig could contact her about this week’s run.

His hand shook as he zipped the bag closed, and he paused to take a calming breath. His anger wasn’t yet under control. It had been building since the moment he’d walked across that warehouse floor and had seen Emma through the office window. With her hair styled sedately and her feminine body subdued by that severely tailored power suit, she had looked every inch the cool professional. And that’s exactly what she was, a professional businesswoman making a deal.

Xavier had been right about her all along. It had been nothing but mindless chemistry that had drawn Bruce to this woman, and like a fool he had been blinded by it. He’d mistaken his hormones for his conscience, and he had allowed dangerous doubts to disorder his thinking. From this point on, things were going to get back on track. No more confusing himself with his personas. No more questions about the morality of his job or the right and wrong of his duty. He wasn’t going to let his professional detachment slip again.

He stored his bag under the rolltop desk and walked over to throw the bolt on the front door. “I think we’d better get a few things straight.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then I’d like you to leave.”

“I'm not leaving until I'm finished with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He moved to one of the overstuffed chairs and perched on the arm. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to the couch.

She glared at him defiantly, then raised her hand and wiggled her middle finger.

“Emma, you can make this as difficult as you want. It’s up to you. Don’t you want to know my plans?”

“Oh, yes, please, Mr. Police—”

“Dammit, you keep that up and I'll gag you after all.”

She didn’t sit on the couch. She pulled one of the ladder-back chairs from the table by the window and set it in the middle of the floor. With the poise of a princess presiding over a garden party, she sat down, pinched her slim skirt and crossed her legs demurely. Clasping her hands together on her lap, she looked at him expectantly.

God help him, he didn’t want to cover her mouth with a gag, he wanted to cover it with his lips. Even now that he knew the worst about her, he still found some uncontrollable part of him responding to the challenge she presented. Ruthlessly he forced himself to concentrate on the plan he had just hammered out with Xavier. “I know you're using your plane to transport cocaine for McQuaig’s group, Emma. You're not going to waste our time by denying it, are you?”

She lifted a palm regally, motioning for him to continue.

“When I started this investigation, I was after the people at the top. I still am.”

“The big ones,” she said. “I remember you telling me that when I asked you what kind of fish you were after. What was that, a little cop humor?”

“I can make things easier for you if you cooperate. I want nothing to interfere with the next shipment that comes in. When McQuaig gives you the time and place, I want you to make the pickup and the delivery just the way you always do.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“I already told you. I'm after the people at the top.”

“And you want me to lead you to them.”

“Put simply, yes.”

“You know where the warehouse is. You've met McQuaig and Harvey. Why don’t you arrest them?”

“I need proof that will stand up in court.”

“Ah, yes. The law and our wonderful justice system.” She shifted, recrossing her legs with a whisper of nylon. “You want to catch them with the goods. That’s why you demanded to test the merchandise. That’s why you took on this latest masquerade. Let’s see, what was it you said? We all have good reasons for the masquerades we choose to employ? Another very fitting comment, now that I know who you are.”

“Whatever your reasons are for running those drugs, whether it’s the money or the thrill or some inner need to defy authority, I'm going to shut you down. But not before I make use of what you're doing. When you get the call from McQuaig, you're going to do exactly what he tells you.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have let you stop me.”

“I won’t stop you, I'll be right beside you.”

She waited, letting a tense silence spin out between them. “So you get what you want, but what about me?”

“Xavier authorized me to offer you a deal. A lighter sentence if you cooperate.”

Another silence stretched out. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her clasped hands. “That’s not acceptable. I want full immunity and time to collect the payoff McQuaig promised. You give me one hour after I deliver the cocaine before you move in.”

“That’s out of the question.”

“Without me, you've got nothing. Take it or leave it.”

“Why? What are they offering you?”

“That’s my business.”

“I'll have to think about it.”

“There’s more. You leave my brother out of this. He hasn’t done anything. You were right before. I got him involved in the drug smuggling and then had second thoughts. Immunity for me, an hour to collect my payoff, and no charges against Simon. Those are the conditions that will guarantee my cooperation.”

“Why should I give you an hour before we make our move? That would be suicidal. With that much warning everyone in the entire ring would have enough time to—”

“I wouldn’t warn anyone. I have no loyalty to those people. This is a business deal to me, nothing more. If the whole mob ended up in prison I wouldn’t mind. I’d welcome it. As long as you're using me to get what you want, I might as well use you. My only concern is my brother and myself.” She rose to her feet, her fingers twining restlessly in the first outward show of nerves she had so far allowed. “Forget the hour. The second you see Simon and me leave the drop-off point, you can move in.”

“Why would your brother be at the drop-off?”

“He’s staying with them temporarily, and I want to be sure there won’t be any retaliation against him when your people move in.”

“So as long as you and your brother go free, you'll give us what we need to nail everyone else?”

“Yes. I'll fly you to the pickup, I'll lead you to the drop-off, everything you want, as long as you don’t move in until you see Simon and me walk out.”

It was all he could hope for, if he could believe her. “Give me a minute to think about it.”

Emma turned away and dragged her chair back to the table, braced her hands against the edge and gazed blankly at the polished wood. Her body was shaking from the emotions she struggled to suppress. This was a deal, just like the one she’d been forced into with the criminals. She had to think. And she couldn’t do that while she was looking at Bruce. There was no warmth in his spellbindingly beautiful blue eyes, no compassion in his hard, uncompromisingly masculine face. The lips that had once molded to hers were carved into a stony slash. He hadn’t needed to rip her phones out of the wall to demonstrate his lack of trust. It was written in every line of his body.

She raised her head and looked past the reflection on the window to the blackness outside, forcing herself to assess the situation. Things might not be as bad as she had feared. She was still going to make the smuggling run that would free her brother. She hadn’t had a plan of her own for what to do afterward, but if the cops moved in and arrested the entire drug ring, her problem would be solved. She didn’t care what Bruce thought of her, as long as she got what she wanted.

Tell him the truth.

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the weakness she felt. For Simon’s sake, she couldn’t explain her situation. Her ingrained, instinctive protectiveness toward her brother wouldn’t let her risk the possibility of prison for him simply to clear her name. She’d been through this before, and it had worked out all right. She was in a good position to negotiate. This deal would get her brother out of danger as well as keep him out of prison. She wouldn’t settle for anything less than full immunity for herself, so it didn’t matter what Bruce thought of her. He was a cop, part of the unfeeling system that had destroyed her family. Why should she care what he thought?

At the sound of movement behind her, she shifted her focus to the reflection in the window. It still jarred her perception of reality each time she saw Bruce move that lithe, powerful body. In the soft light from the lamp behind the couch she could see the subtle play of shifting muscles in his arms and shoulders as he lounged against the back of the chair. She had no control over the quick tightening of her stomach as she looked at him. With those black jeans clinging to his slim hips and that skimpy undershirt leaving half his torso bare, he was simply magnificent, a sleek male animal in his prime.

Her anger rekindled. He had lied to her and used her and made her like him. She’d been a fool, a lonely, trusting fool.

“I'll take your deal,” he said, staring straight into her eyes through his reflection. “You give me your employers, and I'll let you and your brother walk.”

She pushed away from the table and turned to face him. “Fine. I'll hold you to it.”

“I guess this just goes to prove the old saying.”

“What saying?”

“The one about no honor among thieves,” he said, contempt plain in his deep voice.

“Honor?” she repeated, taking a step toward him. “You, of all people, dare to mention honor?” The iron control she had kept on her feelings throughout this endless evening was crumbling. Business deals were one thing, but what he had done to her as Prendergast wasn’t business, it was personal. “Tell me something, Mr. Honorable Policeman. Do you get paid overtime for having to kiss your suspects?”

“Of course not.”

“What about listening while they unload their family problems? Did you get yesterday afternoon’s conversation on tape? I hope so, especially that part where I tried to convince you that you were actually handsome. You might get a bonus for that if you played it around the station house.”

Bruce thought he heard a trace of pain beneath her angry words, but he wouldn’t let himself be affected by it. This woman had made a fool of him too many times. He crossed his arms tightly and leaned toward her. “I don’t get extra pay, and I don’t get bonuses. And if I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to take our relationship beyond friendship, not me.”

“Friendship? You have a twisted definition of the word. You were using me from the start. Very skillful, weren’t you? Play on my sympathy with that clumsy tourist routine, manufacture just enough phony sensitivity to make me lower my guard, pretend to be sweet and shy and interested in my feelings. Is that what they're teaching at the police academy these days? You must have been at the top of your disguise class.” She strode forward and reached out to flick his dangling earring with her index finger. “How did you do it, Bruce? How did you manage to hide all this macho stuff under Prendergast’s baggy coat?”

“Padding. And contact lenses.”

She bent to bring her face level with his. “Today your eyes are blue. Very spectacular, much more interesting than the mud brown you wore before. Is it real this time?”

“Yes. The color is real.”

“My compliments. Are these muscles real?” She poked her finger against his bare shoulder. “Oh, my, they certainly are. And I had thought that you were too self-conscious about your extra weight to dress in fitted clothes.”

Her touch, her proximity, even her unraveling temper was sparking a response despite his tight control. “That’s enough, Emma.”

Deliberately she ran the back of her knuckles across his cheek. He recognized the gesture. It was the same one he had used in the warehouse office. “Getting rid of the beard was a definite improvement,” she continued, her tone furious. She was no longer concealing her rage. It crackled around her like an electric haze. “And combing your hair back into that punk ponytail was an inspired idea. Did you have to practice the swagger and the sneer? The walk was very effective. You moved like a jungle cat.”

“Stop it, Emma,” he warned. He slipped from the chair arm and rose quickly to his feet.

“No, you had your fun. Now it’s my turn.” She propped her hands on her hips and tipped her head to do a long, slow appraisal of his body. “You're what, six-one, six-two? You must have had a sore back from all that slouching you were doing under your baggy coat. Now I understand why you wouldn’t let me touch you. That would have blown your cover completely, wouldn’t it? Poor Prendergast. No wonder he vacations alone.”

He could sense the approaching danger. He knew what would happen if either of them let their temper explode. He tried once more to turn things back to a safer tack. “It’s late. You’d better get some rest.”

“You want to know something funny? I was actually starting to like Prendergast, even though he hid his features under that damn baseball cap and the stupid, bland expression. When he kissed me, I thought he cared. His appearance didn’t matter.” She clenched her jaw and raked him with a gaze that could have scorched steel. “But he doesn’t even exist. And as far as this strutting hunk-of-the-month I see in front of me goes, I sure as hell don’t like him.”

He had wondered what she would think if she saw him as he really was. He had stood half-naked in front of the bathroom mirror in the motel and wished that she could have known he wasn’t the overweight klutz he seemed. Now she did know. And now he saw the hate in her eyes. He fought against the regret that stabbed him by letting his own anger rise. “While we're on the subject of humor, how about this one? I made good use of the connection Prendergast had established with you. I could have kept pushing and really taken advantage of you, but I pulled out and became Primeau. Because of you, I almost ruined the entire investigation. It’s just as well that you don’t like me, because at this point I don’t like you very much, either.”