Breach of Trust

by DiAnn Mills

  “Sure. What’s the problem? You sick?”

  The teen closed the door. He moistened his lips—twice. “I . . . I wanted to tell you what I told my dad last night. It’s kinda important, and I . . . I think you should know.”

  Miles sat on the corner of his desk. Did this mean the revenge against Walt was over? “Okay. You have my full attention. This is my free planning period.”

  “I don’t want to play college ball. I’ve thought about it a lot and, like, I can’t do it. My back hurts all the time, and four more years of football isn’t what I want to do.”

  “Have you been to a doctor?”

  “Remember when I was in that car wreck a year ago? Well, I totaled my car and walked away from it, but my back didn’t heal right.”

  “I’m sorry, Chris. I had no idea.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I fake it when I’m on the field. But my dad is real mad.”

  “I think I understand.” Miles saw the torment in Chris’s eyes, the pain inflicted by the scars of time. “Chris, he loves you. Wants the best. And telling your dad about not wanting to play college ball took a lot of guts.”

  “He read me the riot act: letting everyone down . . . passing up the golden ticket . . . not fulfilling my potential.”

  “You’ll be good at whatever you set your mind to. I’ll pray your dad supports you.”

  “Thanks. He and Mom haven’t been . . .” Chris paused. “Never mind.”

  Miles read into what Chris didn’t say about his parents. The gossip in the teacher’s lounge had a steady hum. Ty Dalton had gotten into an argument with his wife after last week’s game, and Sheriff George’s deputy had to settle him down. “Life doesn’t always make sense, but it does work out, even when we’re confused.”

  Chris took in a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the fights and junk I caused. All about a game I didn’t really want to play and a position I stunk at. I know my dad can be cold, and it probably isn’t over with.” He shrugged. “Still don’t care for Walt. Just being honest.”

  “Being honest can be tough—either with your parents or admitting you don’t get along with another player. Walt’s a good kid. If you’d give him a chance, you two could be friends.” Miles shook Chris’s hand. “You’re a good man.”

  “Thanks. No one’s ever called me a man before.”

  “Glad I’m the first. Can you handle the pain of finishing out the season?”

  “Sure. I want to. I wouldn’t quit in the middle of the season, no matter how I felt.”

  “I’m counting on you to let me know when you’re hurting.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Miles understood male pride. He’d have to keep an eye on Chris. Miles wished he had the same confidence in every aspect of his life as he did with coaching. His focus twisted and turned from the problem with Paige, to his school responsibilities, to the school board, and to trying to figure out what in the world God was up to with all of it.

  * * *

  Paige tapped her credit card on the counter to let the cashier know she was ready to pay for her gas. She despised technology that didn’t work—like a gas pump with a broken credit card scanner. Having to come inside the gas station to pay was an irritation she didn’t need right now. As if irritation ever arrived at a good time.

  “I see you got rid of that cast.” A bald man wearing a dirty T-shirt stood beside her.

  She recognized the self-proclaimed coach and referee who sat beside her and Voleta at the games. She glanced down at her foot stuffed into a tennis shoe. “Thought I was going to have to wear it forever.”

  He pointed to the cigarettes behind the clerk. “Pack of Marlboros, please.” Then he glanced back at Paige. “I understand. The kid and your friend were real upset.”

  “Well, it’s all over with, and my ankle is nearly good as new.”

  “Glad to hear it. Say, your coach friend sure is doing a fine job with our boys this year.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be sure to tell him.” And this was from the guy who trashed every coach and player on the field.

  He smiled his good-bye and waddled off to his truck, carrying a twelve-pack of Bud Light in one hand and a gallon of milk and a banana in the other. At least he was balanced on the food pyramid.

  She laughed despite the mess of her life. Paige slipped back into her car and headed toward Oklahoma City, where Palmer had arranged a car rental. It had been a long time since she’d worked in disguise, and she was looking forward to Mikaela Olsson stepping into a role. This was a good time to call Nathan. She soon had him on the line.

  “Hi, sweetie, this is Paige.”

  “Hi. Miss Paige, when are you coming to see me?” The despair in the boy’s voice shook her to the core.

  “Soon. I’m working very hard to finish this job.”

  “Are we going to live with Mr. Raif and Miss Anissa?”

  “No, someplace different. Someplace all our own. Are you still having bad dreams?”

  Silence.

  “Nathan?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I miss my mommy.”

  And I so much want to be there for you. “Is the special lady talking to you about those dreams?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I’d rather talk to you.”

  Paige reveled in the fact that Nathan had formed an attachment to her so quickly, but danger often did that. “Are some of the dreams about our fast car ride?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He started to cry. “I want to see you.”

  Paige’s heart sank to the ground. “Let me see if I can arrange it.”

  After talking to Anissa, Paige learned that Nathan’s counselor had suggested an antidepressant to help him, along with the counseling. Paige didn’t want to medicate her baby, but he’d been through so much and the counseling alone was not ending his nightmares. She must believe that God would soon end her precious son’s nighttime trauma.

  Once at the Will Rogers airport in Oklahoma City, she picked up a rental car—a silver BMW convertible—and drove to a hotel downtown, where she checked in under an assumed name. Inside the trunk of the rental were a change of clothes and a few other items she’d need for tonight. She read through Zuriel’s dossier one more time to make sure she had it all memorized: his vulnerabilities and the characteristics she would use to gather information. He liked women with reddish hair and green eyes. That she could do. And tonight she’d wear real big-girl shoes and not one tennis shoe or a pink croc.

  Zuriel’s choice of entertainment on Wednesday nights was a piano bar on the third floor of the hotel. Paige imagined his type would much prefer some of the hot spots that she once frequented in other parts of the world, everywhere from New York to Singapore.

  After a quick shower, she removed her light brown colored contacts and replaced them with emerald green ones. The wig—auburn with lighter highlights—lay about her shoulders in curls. Layers of eye shadow, three coats of black-black mascara, and a deep shade of copper lipstick with lots of gloss, and she was ready to slip into her dress—short, black, and snug.

  Paige took a head-to-toe look at herself in the full-length mirror. Her ankle still felt a little weak. Good thing her work tonight would be sitting and not on her feet. She laughed at the ridiculous image before her, one guaranteed to entice and lure Joel Zuriel into spilling his guts in anticipation of personal entertainment. After inserting a small bug into her bra, she wrapped her fingers around her room key and slipped it into a tiny black bag that held nothing but a twenty-dollar bill. Too much was riding on this clandestine event to risk carrying anything personal.

  God, I’ve never done anything like this with You. I feel a little strange—this walking the thin line between right and wrong.

  Her cell phone rang.

  “He’s there,” the woman said.

  Paige pasted on a charming smile and adopted the walk of a woman on the prowl before heading to the elevator. As soon as she stepped onto the third floor, her senses went into overdrive—operative mode. Ten people gathered
around tables circling the piano, and two sat at the bar. A suited man played “Hey Jude,” but it didn’t sound like the original Beatles’ version. At a table in the middle of all that was happening, which wasn’t much, sat a couple—Joel Zuriel and a blonde. Paige strolled by his table on her way to the bar and bumped his shoulder.

  “Excuse me.” She moistened her lips and smiled.

  She slid onto a padded barstool that faced the blonde’s back and crossed her legs. Two seconds later the Latino bartender, a young man who was too good-looking for his own good, asked for her order. “Grey Goose, please, and on the rocks.”

  The piano player finished his tune and began a Whitney Houston song—“I Will Always Love You.” Paige turned slightly to view the piano and watch Zuriel from her peripheral vision. Sensing his attention, she touched her hair and briefly glanced his way. Ten minutes later, Zuriel made his way to the bar beside her. He’d loosened the top button of his white silk shirt, and his gray tailored suit had a West Coast cut. He placed his order and waited.

  “Are you alone?” he whispered.

  “Depends.”

  “Working?”

  “On what?” She cast her gaze toward the piano. “I’m relaxing.”

  “Need some company?”

  Paige nodded toward the blonde’s back. “You’re occupied.”

  “Things can change.”

  She shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Eva.”

  “I’m Joel.”

  Zuriel gathered up his drinks and walked back to his table. He picked up the blonde’s hand and kissed her cheek. Tilting his head, he said something and offered a sad smile. A moment later, the two left. Paige lifted her drink from the bar and headed to the entrance.

  “Leaving us so early?” the bartender asked.

  “I’ll be right back. Do I need to pay you now?”

  “Are you staying here?”

  He was interested too. “Yes.”

  “No problem.”

  Paige gave him her best smile before swishing into the hallway and the lady’s room. Inside she dumped her drink and filled the glass with water. Then she resumed her perch on the barstool and flirted with the bartender.

  In less than twenty minutes, Zuriel touched her shoulder. She inhaled his cologne, rich and woodsy. If she had been a woman on the prowl, he’d have definitely captured her attention. But she knew nothing but oil and diamonds ran through his veins.

  “How about a table?” he asked.

  Paige swung around to face him and pasted on her best bring-it-on look. “Sure. All I want to do tonight is talk. Okay?” She arched her back. “Been a rough week, and I still have a full day tomorrow.”

  He lifted his palms and took a step backward. “Fine with me. I’ve had a hard week too.”

  Where had she heard that voice? “Maybe we can help each other relax.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  At a remote table, Zuriel sat across from her and began with the right lead-in. “Tell me why your week’s been rough.”

  “I’m a sales rep for a diamond company, and I haven’t met my quota.” Paige crossed her legs and noted that his gaze traveled from her toes to her thighs. Good.

  He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought with the holidays coming up, I’d reach a bonus, but . . .” She took a sip of her wannabe Grey Goose and leaned toward him. A memory from an obscure part of her mind struggled to surface. “Never mind. I always make my quota. And I will again.”

  “Sounds like you have the stuff that makes for a successful businesswoman. You certainly have what I’d look for.”

  She read straight through his concerned tone. “Thanks. I’d like to think so. What keeps you afloat?”

  His eyes sparkled, even in the dim lighting. “I’m in oil. VP for WorldMarc.”

  “I’ve heard of them. They’re about to go public, right?” She kept her voice husky and low.

  “Right, and we’re going to make a ton of money.”

  At the expense of whose blood? “So what’s your role there?”

  He picked up his glass and swirled his drink. She noted the showy diamond ring on his right hand. A snapshot of something flickered again in her mind. The ring . . . where had she seen that ring and heard his voice?

  “Oh, my.” She gasped and leaned forward. “Before you tell me about your job, can I see your ring?”

  He held out his hand. Paige touched his ring but found herself repulsed at the thought of touching his skin. Come on, girl. You can do this.

  “Yes, you are in the diamond business.” Zuriel chuckled. “I have a few investments in them myself.”

  “Really.” Paige widened her eyes and deliberately touched her tongue to her lower lip. Buy it, baby.

  “Overseas. Africa, actually.” He took a sip of his drink. “You have beautiful hair and eyes.”

  “Thanks. So you’ve traveled to Africa?” She brushed across his ring finger, knowing that hand had sent far too many people to their deaths, and rested in the thought that his arrogance would send him to prison, where pretty boys were the target.

  “Yes. Strictly business. Oil and diamonds.”

  “I’m impressed.” She pulled her hand back into her lap.

  “You should be.”

  Don’t make me sick.

  “WorldMarc would be nothing without my contacts. The CEO consults me before he makes any moves. I actually put them in a position to go public with my latest oil deal in Angola.”

  Paige lifted her chest. “So, are you an attorney too?”

  He offered a half smile and leaned in to her. “No, but I’m tight with Daniel Keary.”

  “The guy who’s running for governor?”

  “The same.”

  She lifted the corners of her mouth. “You must be indispensable to your company.”

  “I’d like to think so.” Seduction oozed from every muscle bent in her direction.

  She propped her hand under her chin. “Tell me more. I like what I see—a man who knows how to run the show.”

  “Trust me. I know how to make it all happen.”

  Paige already knew his expertise. “I could use some tips, especially when it comes to diamonds. I’m not even wearing any.” She touched her neck with her left hand, then slid it across the table.

  “That could change.” He lightly stroked her fingers. Paige slowly withdrew her hand and reached for her drink.

  “I’m interested.” She met his gaze. “Which came first, the oil or the diamonds?”

  “Oil. I invested in the diamonds while scouting out a drilling sight.”

  “I bet nothing gets in your way.” She lured him in with every syllable.

  “Not when I want something.”

  She laughed softly. “Tell me how you became acquainted with Daniel Keary.”

  “He approached me about brokering a deal in Angola. We traveled over there long before the deal was finalized. You know, paved the way, so to speak.”

  You murderer. I know how Keary operates.

  “Then we worked together about a year ago on another site.”

  “I hope he remembers you when he’s elected,” she said. “This state owes you, since you initiated the oil deal.”

  “Yeah, Keary and I made the maiden voyage.” Zuriel nodded. “And he will take care of me. Has no choice. Say, enough of this. Why don’t you and I—”

  Paige managed a pout. “No, Joel. I . . . I broke up with a guy a couple of weeks ago, and I don’t want to get involved again so soon.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe all you need is a change.”

  She sighed. “I’m tempted. I haven’t met a nice guy with a head on his shoulders for a long time. But I . . . don’t think so.”

  “I understand. A woman as attractive as you must run into a lot of jerks. Can I see you again? tomorrow?”

  She reached across the table and brushed her finger across the top of his hand. “I’m staying here at the
hotel.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Great. I need to head to my room. Still got to meet my quota.” She opened her purse for the twenty.

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “I don’t like to owe people.” And you are at the bottom of the list.

  “Consider it a beginning.”

  She forced a promising gaze into her eyes. “I already do.”

  Paige stood and made her way to the elevators. She had what she’d come for and had no intentions of sticking around. Inside her room, she changed clothes and resumed the identity of Paige Rogers, librarian. Palmer would be pleased with what she’d extracted from Zuriel. Within the hour, she was en route to the airport to return the car and drive back to Split Creek. And as always, she wrestled with tonight and how God viewed it. Uncertainty slammed against her heart. How could God be a part of deceit? Could she continue to take Him with her on missions like this? Of course He’d be there. What was she thinking?

  God, I need answers. First I’m convinced this is what You want me to do; then I feel like I’ve let You down.

  A thought rooted in her mind: she was a soldier. And just as in the military, some things needed to be done to protect the masses. People had been murdered. More were in line if she didn’t succeed. She had the skills and contacts others lacked in this kind of mission while . . .

  Paige gasped. The ring . . . the voice in her flashback. It was Zuriel. He’d been with Keary after the bombing when she’d been blown from the building.

  * * *

  Paige exited the interstate a few miles from Split Creek. It had been a long night, and even though her mind shuffled through the cards of all that surrounded Keary, she needed sleep. Her cell phone rang. Who could be calling at this hour?

  “Good morning, Mikaela. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  What a nightcap. “Actually you did. What do you want, Keary?”

  “I have sad news to report. Your friend Bobbie just died.”

  “And you called to tell me that?”

  “She had help—you know, with the suffering and all.”

  Paige’s car veered right and onto the shoulder. She gripped the steering wheel and swung it back onto the road. Not another vehicle was in sight. Only blackness.