Wicked Game (34 page)

“So did that man’s children.”

“Stop it.”

“Ciara, we do what we have to do.” He comes over and sits on the arm of my chair. “That man was greedy, like all marks. He wanted to get rich quick. He was cheating on his wife, for heaven’s sake. He deserved everything you did to him.” Dad sighs and rests his hands on his knees in a posture of defeat. “I only wish you hadn’t compromised your virtue to make the score. Your mother and I raised you to be decent.”

I lean away from him and scoff. “What does sex have to do with decency?”

He doesn’t answer, just cocks his head as if I’m speaking Swahili.

I glare at him. “I spent my childhood watching you steal from people who weren’t greedy, just gullible. How is that raising me to be decent?”

He stands and moves away, waving his hand dismissively
. “Regardless, I don’t think you should be dating a vampire.”

My brain goggles at the rapid change in subject. “What?”

“I’ve lived with them for two years. They only care about feeding their needs.”

“Shane’s different.”

“Maybe now he is. But it’s just a matter of time before he decays into a monster.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“And you can’t.”

I won’t have this argument with him. “I’m only twenty-four. I’m not looking for a husband.”

“And one day when you hurt him, he won’t crawl away quietly like your last boyfriend did.”

“This isn’t about the mark, and it’s not about Shane.” I stand and face him. “Say it, Dad. I betrayed you. But you just did the same thing to your own family.”

He eyes me up and down, coldly. “Yes, I learned about loyalty from the master.”

My chest tightens. I shouldn’t let him do this to me. I shouldn’t feel guilty. I shouldn’t care how much I’ve hurt this lying, scheming sociopath.

The tears come anyway. Immediately my father’s at my side, his arms around me.

“Ciara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He strokes my back in soothing circles. “Angel, please don’t cry.” His voice is rough around the edges, like he’ll break down himself any moment. “It’s not your fault I’m a crook. You just did what you thought was right.”

“I didn’t know they’d send you away.” I pull back and wipe my face. “I thought you’d get a fine or maybe a few
days in the local jail. I just wanted you and Mom to stop so we could have a normal life.”

“I know. You didn’t realize you were knocking down such a big house of cards.” He picks up a tissue box from the side table and hands it to me. “You didn’t know about the rest of it: the insurance fraud, the phony investment schemes, the identity thefts.”

His last words stop the flow of my tears. I drag the tissue over my eyes, so hard it pulls my lashes. Time to wrestle my brain back to business.

I glance at the clock. “I’d better get to bed. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Ciara, have a seat for just a minute longer.”

I sit, this time next to him on the couch, though not close enough to touch.

He folds his hands. “I want to help you.”

“Help me what?”

“I know why you and your friends were at that apartment.”

My face stays straight, even as my mind is screaming
Oh shit
! “We were just cleaning up.”

“And gathering her papers so you could pose as her.”

“We weren’t.” I remember the bugs. “And keep your voice down.”

“The Control knows about your plan, and they don’t care. It’s not their jurisdiction.”

“They wouldn’t care if I impersonated one of their agents? Not that I am.”

“In the short term, all they care about is getting Gideon. I’ve given them enough evidence against him to ensure my freedom—and yours—for a long time.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Photos. Documentation.” He tugs on the end of his sleeve and looks away. “Physical evidence.”

I wince. “Were you bitten a lot?”

“The usual two-week rotation. I’d feel sick and tired the day after, but the rest of the time it wasn’t half-bad.”

I decide not to undergo the does-being-bitten-feel-good discussion with my father.

“So tell me your scheme,” he says. “Friday’s the big day, huh?”

“How do you know all this?”

“Elizabeth’s office is bugged. So are her phone lines. And no, David doesn’t know.”

I hesitate. He already knows about the scam, so I wouldn’t jeopardize it by telling him. And I could use his help. I’m sure I haven’t thought of all the angles. Saving the station is more important than my pride.

Speaking of pride, the criminal’s kryptonite, a not-so-small part of me wants to flaunt my work, to show my father what I’ve learned. Show him what I’ve become.

“All right.” I pick up my sandwich, suddenly hungry again. “Here’s the deal.”

August 2

8:00 a.m.

An anonymous Control agent drives us to the station. It feels odd planning a crime under the watchful eye of a man in uniform, but what my dad said makes sense: out-maneuvering a communications conglomerate is small potatoes next to capturing Gideon. Actually, the scam is big potatoes, but the Control doesn’t eat potatoes. Anyway ...

The station’s front door is locked as always. I knock.

“Go around,” says a voice I recognize as Shane’s.

I lead Dad to the cellar door at the back of the building, the door that connects via a closed corridor to the downstairs lounge. “So they don’t fry,” I explain.

We come upstairs to find Travis at my desk with his laptop, color printer, and binding machine. Shane and
David stand behind him, and Franklin sits at his own desk with a cache of sharpened pencils within reach.

Shane steps forward. “Ciara, what’s he doing here?”

I walk over to him. “Dad’s going to help us with the con.”

“You told him?”

“He already knew.” I look at David. “The Control bugged Elizabeth’s office and phones.”

David grimaces and lets out a sharp exhale. “What about my office? What about downstairs?”

“I don’t know,” my dad says, “but I could check if you like.”

David’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thank you. Let’s start in the lounge.”

When they’re downstairs out of hearing, I turn to Shane. “You could be a little friendlier to my dad.”

“He looks at me like I’m a circus lion about to turn on my tamer.”

“Ooh, I’m your tamer?” I tug his shirt collar to bring his mouth to mine. “Let me get my whip and chair.”

Travis clears his throat. “When y’all get your tongues off each other’s tonsils, I’ll show you the file.” With a few swift mouse moves, he displays a two-page print preview. One page contains a surreptitious photo of the real Elizabeth, followed by a list of fun facts about her. “All we gotta do is replace the information with disinformation.”

I pull his digital camera out of my lower drawer and turn to Franklin. “I’m ready for my close-up, Mister DeMille.”

In the parking lot, Franklin shoots me doing mundane things like walking to my—I mean, Elizabeth’s— Mercedes. To simulate candidness, I pick my teeth in the rearview mirror.

Soon David and my father join us. Franklin starts snapping shots of David. I scan the woods for the Control agents I know are patrolling, but even in the morning light I can’t see them in their mottled green daytime uniforms. I doubt Gideon would send a human to do his work, anyway, so we’re probably safe until dark.

Dad stands next to me, chin in hand, examining David.

“Hold everything,” he says suddenly. “I have an idea.”

David stops his charade of casualness and turns to my dad as if awaiting orders from General Patton.

“I know what this con is missing.” Dad takes a dramatic pause. “Emotion.”

I ask him to explain, knowing I’ll regret it.

“These Skywave folks,” he says, “won’t believe Elizabeth has changed her mind just for the money. After all, the whole reason she was improving the station was so she could sell it.” He points at David. “What if she has a better reason to keep it?”

“I don’t get it,” I say, though I actually do. I just don’t want to be the one to explain it to my boss.

“Hear me out.” Dad slips into sales mode—not that he was ever much out of it. “A relationship gives Elizabeth a plausible motive for keeping the station. After all, she wouldn’t put her ever-lovin’ honey out of work.”

David looks at him, then me, with more than a touch of trepidation. “So we pretend we’re going out.”

I gasp. “No, more than that.” I reach into my—I mean, Elizabeth’s—purse and pull out the tiny black jewelry box.

David advances on me. “You stole the ring?”

“I was going to give it to you, once you’d wised up enough to take it.”

He snatches the box from me and opens it, looking relieved it’s not empty.

“A good con is all in the details.” I reach forward and pull out the ring, then slip it on my finger. “We get a picture of me wearing this and maybe us holding hands.”

“That’s brilliant, Pumpkin.” Dad beams at me. I feel my face flush with pride. “But better yet, wait until the meeting tomorrow to show the ring and announce the engagement. It’ll create a distraction.” He waves a hand between me and David. “You two should kiss for the photo.”

My smile fades. “But he’s my boss.”

“No, you’re his boss, in our new reality.”

“
0«r
reality? When did this become your con?”

“When I improved it.” He tilts his head toward the station. “I’m sure the corpse will understand.”

My jaw drops as I realize he’s referring to Shane. For a moment I can’t find my voice.

Finally I raise a trembling hand and point to the station. “Go.”

“Honey, I didn’t mean—”

“Now.” I turn my back. I can’t even look at him.

The sound of crunching driveway pebbles fades as he walks away. I look up at David. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

“For what he suggested. I know why he did it. He doesn’t want me with Shane, so he thinks he can push me into another man’s arms. I’m not some gypsy wench who’ll let Mum and Da choose her husband.”

“I’m sure your father just wants you to be happy.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “So how do we do this?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss.”

I snort. “We don’t. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not. You said, ‘It’s all in the details.’ A sneaky candid of us kissing will make the engagement a lot more credible. It’ll already be established in their minds that we’re a couple—that Elizabeth and I are a couple—so it won’t come out of the blue.”

I rub my temples and wish he were wrong. I should have figured it out myself, and probably would have if I weren’t so pissed at my dad.

“You’re right.” Determined to be a professional, I move to stand beside Elizabeth’s car. “Let’s get it over with.”

David joins me, and we stand there looking like idiots for a few moments. “I’ll ask again,” he says. “How do we do this?”

I shrug. “Close our eyes and think of England?”

“Are we done yet?” Franklin yells from the other end of the parking lot.

“Keep shooting until we tell you to stop,” I call to him, then turn back to David. “Pretend I’m Elizabeth.”

His dark green eyes droop at the corners.

“But don’t look sad,” I add. “Remember, we just got engaged.”

I hold my hand up to display the ring. He takes my fingers and runs his thumb over the diamond, a dozen emotions playing over his face. The breeze suddenly drops to nothing. Along with the distant
click-whir
of the camera, I swear I can hear my own pounding pulse.

“I really loved her,” he murmurs.

“I know you did.” I stop myself from asking why.

“But it’s time to put away the past.” He covers the ring with his palm, then shifts his gaze to meet mine. “Can you help me?”

I want to look away, break the connection our all-too-human eyes are forming. “Depends what you mean by ‘help.’“ I pull him closer with the hand he’s holding. “If you mean, can I give you one last moment with her, one chance to say good-bye the way you wanted to, then yes.”

He draws the back of his fingertips over my cheek, then leans in close. “Good-bye,” he whispers.

I expect the kiss to be tentative, awkward. Instead, David’s mouth meets mine with a familiar conviction, as if we’ve done this a thousand times. As the kiss deepens, his longing makes me dizzy, a wave pulling me under. It feels like it could drown me.

He pulls me tight against him. I can’t push him away, can’t even wedge a hand between our bodies, so I respond the way Elizabeth should have, returning his passion and making him feel, for a moment, that he’s not a heartsick fool. As he presses me against the car and his fingers tangle in my hair, I find myself hoping—and fearing—that I’ll never be the object of such a love, one that could bring a man to his knees and never let him stand again.

His mouth tenses suddenly, and he draws in a sharp breath through his nose. He pulls away, eyes glistening.

“Okay? “I whisper.

“Yeah.” He passes a hand over his mouth, then clears his throat. “I think that went well.”

“Me, too,” I try to chirp, hoping to ease the terrible weight of the moment. My face feels like it’s been in a sauna.

I signal to Franklin, promising myself I’ll never think about the kiss again.

David says, “Um ...”

“No.” I put up a palm between us. “No ‘um.’ Let’s just—leave it.”

He nods quickly. “Good idea.”

A car is rumbling toward us down the gravel driveway, sending a cloud of dust into the trees.

Lori.

She doesn’t even pull into a parking spot, just shuts off the engine in front of me and leaps out.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for three days.” She slams the car door. “I went to your apartment and some goonie-looking guy told me to mind my own business. What the hell’s going on?” She steps back and scans me. “And why are you wearing a suit?”

I take her hands. “I’m so sorry about the phone. I was held hostage, and then the battery ran out and I didn’t have time to charge it.”

“Hostage? Are you okay? And again, what’s with the suit?”

I hesitate. She knows about the vamps, but nothing about my past. “I have a big meeting tomorrow.”