No Good Truth (Bad To Be Good, Book 2)

by Dana Volney

  That information definitely provided some angles to think about.

  “The club,” Sabene continued, “and companies tied to it that Padarn’s cleaning money through are all in his name, as well as the bank account.”

  “That seems standard. No surprises there.” Samson’s gaze roamed down her body and back up, sending chills down her spine, before he turned, stole her cup of coffee, and headed into the couch area.

  She put another K-Cup in the machine and pressed the blinking blue button before turning around and resting her butt on the counter.

  The door chimed and Milo appeared at the top of the stairs with his perfectly quaffed hair and in his tailored suit.

  “It might be something we can use to our advantage.” Sabene put accounts up on the screen. “The big-wig uncle himself is coming to visit in a couple of days.”

  “That we can definitely use.” Milo joined in like he knew exactly what they were talking about. But he wasn’t wrong.

  Rife ran his palm down his face. “Let me guess. The plan is not to eliminate either of them.”

  Claire pushed off the counter. “I think we can get them to do that to themselves without implicating ourselves.” The trick was not only to save the day but to do it so that people didn’t figure out they’d been had later and want revenge.

  She glanced at Milo. He was a great thief. He knew how to work a mark.

  People at the top of any organization, maybe even more so in a criminal enterprise, were always suspicious. That untrusting nature always gave her an in. One she’d gladly take full advantage of. Padarn was going to rue the day he fell into her line of sight.

  A phone rang. They all looked at each other. No one went for their cells.

  “Whose phone is that?” Samson asked and stood.

  Head shakes and nos came from the group. How odd. Able never said anything about hooking up a landline to the office. She rubbed the gloss around on her lips as she walked back toward the row of doors to investigate. The ringing got louder. She opened the first door. The room was empty. She moved to the next. There was a desk covered with papers. And a cradle with a cordless phone.

  “M Interior Designs,” she repeated the name on the office sign.

  “I’m calling for Claire Citare and her friend.” The smooth voice on the other end sent a chill up her spine.

  “Who’s this?” She took the cordless into the living room and hit the speaker button.

  “The person you owe dozens of girls to.”

  Claire whipped her head up and locked eyes with Samson. His eyes darkened and his dimple showed. Padarn himself was calling her.

  “You’ll have to be more specific.” She kept an air about her voice.

  “I know who you are, and I want my product back.”

  “You are clearly out of your depth.” Her skin heated and she clenched her teeth.

  “Let me make this easy for you, Ms. Citare.” His slimy voice turned cutting. “Get me my women or I will go to high schools to find their replacements. You and your friend will live long enough to know how many lives you’ve ruined.”

  Okay, the prick was full of himself. She could work with that. She took a silent, deep breath and let it out slowly. He was not getting the best of her. Not today.

  She pushed the speaker button again and held the receiver tightly to her ear. “Padarn—may I call you Padarn?” She smiled a little as she slipped into grifter mode. “You’re new to town, so I’m going to let your naïveté slide. Once. I have my own system in place and product moved through that port. I do not need a businessman such as yourself being sloppy and bringing heat down on me.”

  “Slop—”

  “Yes. Sloppy. My insiders informed me of a raid about to take place. I simply let your girls go and steered the investigation elsewhere. You’re welcome.”

  “And what about the dock workers and Madam Susan?”

  “The dock workers could no longer be trusted. As for your madam and the rest of your girls, that was your penalty for being sloppy.” She let the last word glide off her tongue.

  “What type of business do you have?”

  “One that your sources aren’t good enough to find.” She wanted to gag.

  “I’m tempted to respect your iron fist or call you on your bullshit.”

  “I’m tempted to let you live through the night.” That was untrue. She wasn’t tempted at all.

  “This conversation is not what I expected.” There was a laugh to his tone.

  “Let’s meet.” She added her own thick sweetness to her voice. A tone that had never failed her.

  “Come to my club.” Padarn’s voice turned to liquid again.

  “Tomorrow.” She needed to give Sabene time to get everything in place.

  “I look forward to meeting you in person, Ms. Citare.”

  “One more thing, Padarn. If you send men after me again, your club will burn.” With you in it.

  She clicked off the phone, slammed it down on the table, and braced her palms on the wood, dropping her head. She had to get it together if this was going to work.

  “Tell me again why we couldn’t just kill that bastard.” She looked up and found Samson’s gaze next to her.

  “I can’t remember at the moment.” He crossed his arms. “How did he know Claire’s name and not Sabene’s?”

  “I scrub my information on a daily basis. If he had my name, someone would’ve had to name me personally.” Sabene shrugged. “My peeps know better.”

  “What is the play here?” Samson turned back to her.

  “The uncle comes when?” Milo rubbed his thumb over his chin.

  “In a couple of days,” Sabene answered.

  “That’s enough time.” Claire nodded.

  “What is? Can someone fill me in here?” Samson put his hands in his pockets.

  “I needed to buy us time until the uncle arrives. We need to get into Padarn’s world to pull the rug out from underneath him.” Her gaze jumped around the room as she put all of the pieces together.

  “We’ll set up the nephew to look like he’s betraying the cause,” Milo finished the explanation. “The uncle will have no choice but to cast him out.”

  “Or not care if Padarn is found dead in a dumpster.” Rife sat on the couch.

  “I like it.” Sabene started tapping away on her keyboard.

  “Get into Padarn’s accounts and set up new ones. We’ll need to be able to take the money out to make it look like he’s stealing.” There wasn’t time to set up a more elaborate plan. They had to put things in place and then hope it all came together and that a gangster’s paranoia won out.

  “The dummy account should be something like his initials,” Milo broke in and paced leisurely with one hand in his pocket. “Nothing too flashy. This needs to be believable.”

  “You think the uncle”—Samson eyed Sabene—“what’s his name?”

  “Diego Hernandez.”

  “Uncle Diego is just going to buy that his blood is betraying him like this?” Samson’s brows knitted together.

  “You said that Padarn has his own history of issues, correct?” Claire skimmed her palm over Samson’s chest as she walked past him to where Sabene sat. “What were they?”

  “He goes for the ladies. Always rich.” Documents scrolled on the screen for Claire to study. “And the drugs.”

  It might be too far-reaching to assume Diego Hernandez would immediately think his nephew was betraying him, but if the right evidence was put in front of him, he’d jump to his own conclusion. And that, of course, would be the one she wanted him to have about Padarn. Uncle Diego was the head of the SL-40 gang. He wasn’t stupid. She was going to lay out the pieces and let him put the puzzle together.

  “Find out which flight the uncle is on.” Milo sported a shit-eating grin. “We’ll need to get to him and plant the seed before he even sees Padarn. That’ll be you and me, Rife.”

  “Let’s set up a family to self-destroy.” Rife clapped his hands together
and stood. “Sounds like a good afternoon.”

  “That part will take place in two days.” They couldn’t oversell the betrayal. They were walking a fine line on this con. “We need to set up everything for the meet tomorrow. Sabene, you’ll have to take a picture of me with Padarn tomorrow. A good one that could make it look like we’re lovers.”

  “Excuse me?” Samson’s voice boomed from behind her.

  She whirled around and closed the gap between them. “I said look. I know what we agreed to.”

  They were never putting each other in the awkward position of posing as another’s significant other again. She didn’t care about stealing for personal gain or the fun of it anymore. She was totally into helping people, with Samson by her side.

  Until he realized it was all based on a lie.

  * * *

  Claire batted her lashes and his breath came easier. It shouldn’t have, because he knew she was going to be in the club with Padarn, close enough to get his fragrance on her. Samson’s gut started to tangle and he did his best to stop it.

  “What do we need to do right now?” he asked.

  “Sabene is setting up the new company and getting his account numbers. Milo, you’ll help her get all that into place?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Then there really isn’t much to do until tomorrow.”

  He grabbed for her waist and pulled her in. Perfect. More alone time with Claire sounded like a sexy way to spend the day before they took down a gang. He pulled her soft curves in closer and kissed her temple.

  The others were huddled around the computer screens, watching and learning everything Sabene could pull up on Padarn and the uncle.

  It was nice, being able to touch Claire in front of the group, not constantly fight with her.

  Her rich scent seeped into his lungs and his shoulders eased.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered into her ear.

  “And do what?”

  “I think you need a fancy dinner.”

  * * *

  A noise brought Samson out of a dead sleep. He reached for his gun on the nightstand and sat up, pointing it straight ahead. No one was in the room.

  Claire sat up next to him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Thought I heard something.”

  “You’re jumpy.” Sleep made her voice deep and thick. She grabbed at his shoulder as she lay back down, taking him with her.

  He set his gun back on the table and turned on his side to face her as she turned into him.

  “How’s your head? Any other pain?” he asked and brushed a curl from her cheek.

  “Some more memories have surfaced.” Claire yawned, but he was pretty sure the act was just to cover any feelings she had toward the memories. He didn’t know all of her activities in the past couple of years. But, if it was anything like what he’d been doing, it hadn’t been satisfying and was almost downright depressing. Life hadn’t had the same exhilaration since Claire had walked out of his.

  “Which ones?” he asked.

  “Mostly random. A job, the office.”

  “You remember our first job?” He reached over and rested his hand on her arm, needing to feel connected to her.

  “I think so. In bits and pieces. It’s weird. I don’t know what I do and don’t remember, you know?” Her nose squished for a second.

  “Yeah, I supposed that would be tricky.”

  “I still don’t remember anything about us.” Her words were slow and deliberate.

  That didn’t hurt his feelings at all. In fact, it was nice that somehow she’d erased all of the bad stuff between them.

  “If you don’t, it doesn’t really matter. We aren’t living in the past.”

  “No, we certainly aren’t.” She leaned in and kissed him.

  Glad that was settled.

  “I can think of something to do that is in the here and now.” He kissed her again and ran his fingers over the silhouette of her curve down to her hip.

  A groan started in the back of his throat. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.

  “I’m in.” She moved in to him as he leaned into her. Her breast pressed up against his bare chest.

  “I think that’s my line.” He chuckled as he kissed her bottom lip and trailed kisses up her jawline. He moved his hand down to her thigh and pulled it up, wrapping her leg around his. “I’m really happy to be in this present,” he whispered into her ear before he bit at her lobe.

  He was hard already. Hard all the time around her. He fucking ached to be inside her slick pussy that brought him over any height of satisfaction he thought possible. Every time.

  He shifted his boxers to free his dick before he came in his shorts.

  She pinched his nipple and the zing of pain went right to his cock and hardened it more. He’d never experienced the dichotomy with anyone else. She was the only one who brought the two together in his world. She bit at his neck and then started to suck on the thin skin.

  He moved her hips closer and shifted his knee between her legs to get a good angle as he rubbed the tip of his cock over her wet folds. So fucking wet.

  She sucked harder. She was leaving him one hell of a hickey. But, God, he loved it.

  He opened his mouth to her and swirled his tongue with hers.

  He shifted his hips and eased himself into her. He wanted to enjoy her. Get his fill. His length slid inside of her. All the way in.

  She moved her hips with him, back and forth, like they were moving to the slowest, sexiest song in the world. She grabbed for his back then his ass, pulling him in closer. Her skin rubbed against his, hers soft and creamy.

  She was quickening the pace, moaning, soaking up their connection. They shuddered together holding tightly on to each other. God, he never wanted to leave their bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Samson growled as he put his ear comm in.

  “I’ll be fine, lover.” She adjusted her red, sparkly dress in the back seat of the Mercedes Samson had gotten his hands on.

  “I can go in with you.” He got out and opened her door.

  “You can’t. Remember?” She gave him her hand so he could help her to the curb.

  Apparently he and Rife had not behaved well when they’d come back looking for Grace. She didn’t blame him. But his actions didn’t make for a good con. They couldn’t risk him being spotted. They’d left one of them alive—he could ID Samson or Rife. Maybe even Claire, but that was less of a risk because it had been dark in the alley. Milo was dealing with the money side while Sabene was already in the club to get the pictures.

  “I’ll be right outside.” He caught her eye, the chocolate of his irises darker.

  “I can take care of myself.” She patted his shoulder and strode to the club entrance like she owned the place.

  She heard the car door slam behind her.

  A bouncer stepped in her way.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Gonzales.” She leveled the guard with her stare.

  “Name?”

  “Claire.”

  Recognition crossed his eyes. The front staff had been warned.

  “Right this way, ma’am.”

  She followed the burly man into the hopping club that was full of drunk customers and smelled of strong, flowery perfume. The guard led her to the open, spiral staircase to the left. The red background was exaggerated by the flashing lights and pumping bass.

  She faltered on the third stair as her vision blurred.

  Dammit, that hit to her head was leaving some lasting problems. Maybe Samson was right and she should get checked out again.

  At the last step she pushed the hem of her dress down slightly and pushed her shoulders back, tucking her black bag under her arm.

  “Everything okay in there?” Samson’s voice was loud and clear in her ear.

  “Mmm.” She smiled as the guard opened the door to Padarn’s office.

  “Claire.” The Enrique look-alike, who sported a slick bla
ck suit and white button-up with a shiny sheen, welcomed her with open arms, kissing both of her cheeks.

  “Padarn! It’s nice to meet face to face.”

  “Have a seat, please.” He motioned to red leather chairs set up around a glass coffee table on a black rug. “Drink?”

  “Please.” She took a seat that faced the door. She didn’t want any surprises tonight.

  She’d already had enough.

  She had all of her memories and could recall the end of her and Samson’s relationship in France. The betrayal. His guilt by not trying to convince her otherwise. Their selfish actions and carelessness toward each other’s feelings.

  But the memories of the last few days were also front and center.

  She didn’t know what to do. It was all a jumbled mess that she didn’t want to run away from this time. This was her life. She wanted to help people. Wanted to stay in Arlington with the team. She also wanted to try again with Samson. She was going to have to come clean with him, and that notion gave her full body nausea. He wouldn’t understand. If she kept this lie going, if she somehow phased out of the amnesia and never had to tell him the truth, could she live with that? Could she build a life with someone, even if she loved them, because of a lie?

  Padarn took a seat in the leather chair across from her. He watched her with black eyes, and her skin crawled.

  “No bodyguards?” He sipped from his stubby glass.

  “None needed.” She had her baton in her purse and a big man waiting outside to put a bullet in anyone who got too close. “This time.”

  “What is it that you do in Arlington?”

  “Nothing that I need your help with.” She chuckled and swirled the liquid in her glass around. She couldn’t seem too eager to make a deal with him or he may get suspicious. “You, however, needed my help. Still might.”

  “I assure you, my business is doing quite well.”

  “Already?”

  “Yes, who doesn’t love beautiful women?” His eyes glittered with more than just joy for his club. He had definitely done some hard drugs already tonight.

  “One of the finer things in life.” She crossed her legs, leaving most of her thigh showing.

  “This guy is unbelievable. He sells them. He isn’t even a man.” Samson voiced her internal frustrations aloud in her ear.