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

by Dana Volney

  They’d tried twice now and hadn’t been very successful. It was time to call it a day on this relationship. Plus, her amnesia ruse had been a dick move.

  Maybe they were only meant to love each other in the past.

  “Got him,” Rife whispered and it came through on the sound system Sabene had wired up around the living room.

  Rife and Milo were at the airport to greet Hernandez and plant the first doubt about his nephew, Padarn.

  “Go get ’em, boys.” Sabene put the video feed up on the screen. She’d insisted on using her new gadget along with the audio from the earbuds.

  “Excuse me, Diego Hernandez?” Milo asked as he approached the aging Latino male and flipped open a suspiciously real-looking police badge.

  Rife followed suit.

  “Yes, officer?” Diego stopped and clasped his hands in front.

  “We have a question about Padarn Gonzales and his recent activity.” Milo faced Diego while Rife stood off to the side and produced a picture. “Do you know this woman?”

  Rife held up the picture Sabene took of Claire and Padarn in the club last night. It sure looked like they were a happy pair laughing the night away. She had a knack for lulling one into a false confidence.

  Samson reached for popcorn without looking. He touched skin and glanced over. Claire took a couple of kernels out of the bowl and their eyes locked. Uncertainty stared back at him. He looked away and focused back on the screen. Did she have to sit right next to him? Normally, she sat by Sabene.

  “Gentlemen, I do not know what my nephew has been doing lately. That is why I’m here visiting. To catch up. And I have no idea who this woman is,” Diego answered.

  “I suggest you ask him. She’s bad news.” Milo stuck to the plan of planting the seeds of doubt about Padarn.

  “He’s a big boy who can handle a woman.” Diego was cool and collected. Not fazed at all.

  “Not this one.” Milo turned to Rife as he pointed to Claire in the picture. “What’s the business equivalent of a black widow?”

  “Bad news.”

  “I’d tell Padarn to watch that new company of his. Once she gets her hands on all that money, he’ll be out a girlfriend and broke.”

  “She can’t touch the club funds, I assure you. Thank you for the concern, officer.”

  “No, this has nothing to do with the club. This is his own business. A new one.”

  Hernandez didn’t say anything to that, but the information had landed.

  “Why do you come to me with this information?” Hernandez asked.

  “Just doing our job, trying to catch a criminal.” Milo folded the picture and stuck it in his inside jacket pocket. They walked away.

  “I’d say that went perfectly.” Milo was full of himself. But, yeah, the kid did good.

  The plan was a good one, but he wasn’t sure the uncle was really going to bite.

  “I’m not sure how I ever did this sort of stuff before. It’s painstakingly slow.” Samson rubbed his neck and sat forward. He was losing patience for all things. Burning down the club with Padarn and his lackeys stuck inside was sounding really good about now. So was leaving and never coming back.

  He’d not said anything to the team about Claire’s fake amnesia. They needed to trust her tonight or things could go sideways quickly if they all started second-guessing each other. He’d let her tell them on her own. And she would if she wanted to stick around.

  “Because it’s all about the chase. The hunter and the prey. It’s the adrenaline of the game.”

  “Not everything is a game, Claire.” He stood and walked to the back of the room for some literal distance from Claire because he wasn’t getting it psychologically. She was still all up in his mind playing tricks. He was going to have to get his shit together.

  She looked back to him and raised her brows. The glance held infinite meaning. But no, he didn’t forgive her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “We all set?” Samson put in his ear comm as he spoke to Milo.

  Milo had hired actresses to dress up like the women Claire and Sabene had described to play the role of sex slaves. The idea was to make it look like Padarn had lied to his uncle about the missing shipment. Then Diego could put that knowledge together with the information about Claire being a gold-digging user, Padarn’s new company, and the gang’s drained bank accounts to start making his own assumptions about the no-good his nephew was up to.

  Then either Padarn died or he didn’t, but in any event the goal was to shut down the local operation. Samson was feeling a little trigger happy, whichever way this went he wasn’t going to lose sleep.

  Claire wore another tight dress, this time a deep emerald shade that brought out the green of her eyes, along with nude pumps and her hair loosely curled. She was a vision to behold all right. One he’d never hold in his arms again. Fuck, that woman could just crawl under his skin and make herself at home whenever she wanted. The real bitch of it was, he didn’t know if he was really mad. The whole situation sucked, granted, but he was more hurt than anything. He had wanted her back. He had started to see a future with her again. At first he’d thought she was completely using him, but as he reflected on their time together, it had been more for her, too. It had to have been. Even Claire Citare wasn’t that good of a liar. And her orgasms had been fucking real, that was for sure.

  “You ready?” He glanced in Claire’s direction but didn’t make much eye contact. While his revelation was a step in the healing process, it still didn’t exactly put them on good terms.

  “Yes.” Her short answer was one of focus. She took her earbud from Sabene. This was her moment. The one she’d conned her friends for. He knew without a doubt Claire was getting the closure she needed.

  Samson had rented a U-Haul truck to load the actors into. It wasn’t his first choice to transport these lovely ladies, but they had to make it look like Claire didn’t give two shits about the women’s lives.

  “Load up.” Rife opened the rollup back door of the twenty-foot truck and helped the ladies into the bed. “There are straps. Make sure to hold on.”

  They weren’t going to put the girls in much danger and they were paying them very well. The idea was to parade them in front of Padarn and his men as if Claire had brought them back and then get them out of the building post haste.

  “The new bank accounts and Padarn’s new company are set up.” Sabene sat in the front seat of Rife’s blue truck with the passenger door open.

  “I’ll have a clear shot into his office from the building across the way.” Rife piled into his new Ford truck. “You go to the dance floor and I won’t have any line of sight.”

  “Get going. We’ll play it by ear.” Samson hauled himself into the driver’s seat of the rental truck. He caught Rife’s eye from across the way. “You take the shot.”

  This job had already cost the team a lot; he didn’t need anything else happening.

  Rife nodded and was off with Sabene and Milo to set up.

  Claire stepped up into the truck, her creamy thigh in full display, nearly showing her ass. His gaze dropped before he jammed the key into the ignition.

  He stepped on the gas as much as he could with the ladies in the back. The sooner he got them to the club, the better. It was late and the club would be full. A crowd was ideal for a covert mission but not for wiping out a group of people. Padarn was lucky that their goal wasn’t to kill him tonight.

  The silence in the cab droned on. Shit. He had no idea how to talk to the woman. They had no middle ground. They fought or they loved. Or they just didn’t talk. There might not be much teamwork in his future if he couldn’t even talk to one of the members. He rocked his jaw back and forth. This week had been full of highs and lows.

  “How was your night?” Her curls swayed as her head crooked toward him.

  “Good.” He’d had a couple of beers, ignored Brooklyn’s two calls, and fell asleep on the couch. He had no interest in sleeping in his bed.

 
; It smelled like Claire.

  He was screwed. He was going to miss her forever now.

  “Ready?” He parked in front of the club.

  “As ever.”

  She didn’t look back at him as she opened her door and stepped out.

  “I’m set up.” The unmistakable cycling rack of the bolt action loading the round into the chamber was distant on Rife’s end.

  Samson got out and went to the back to open the door. The women filed out the same way they went in.

  “The uncle is there. Has been all night,” Sabene checked in. “I’m ready to send the update of the bank account to Diego.”

  A text from the “bank” would alert Diego that the account for the club had been zeroed. That should start the party off right.

  “Roger.” Samson closed the door as the last woman in ratty clothes jumped to the pavement.

  He glanced to Claire and the women looked to her for guidance. He searched her eyes but why he didn’t know. She stepped closer to him and leaned in so that her lips brushed the ear without a comm, sending a shot of heat down his spine.

  “I know I fucked things up. But, wild horses, lover.” She backed up so that he could see her green eyes. Eyes that pleaded with him. “Wild horses.” She whirled on her heels and any insecurities she’d shown him melted away, turned into strength as her other persona for the con took over.

  She swayed her hips through the club doors and his dick tingled. It was always ready to stand at attention for her. She was fucked up and probably he was just as mental for finding that attractive.

  “I’m ready to get the girls out.” Milo was in place in the alley.

  Claire led the girls up the stairs and Samson brought up the rear.

  The bodyguard at the top of the stairs knocked then opened the boss’s door.

  Claire peeked her head in. “I have your girls,” she sang out. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”

  “What?” The asshole they were taking down tonight had been caught off guard.

  Claire pointed to the conference room to the right—a bigger space that also contained an exit. The girls all went into the room and Samson closed the door.

  “You’re up,” Samson said under his breath to alert Milo.

  “Baby doll.” Claire sauntered back into Padarn’s office and Samson followed.

  A guard stepped in front of Samson and held up his hand. “Weapons?”

  Samson shook his head once and held out his arms to be checked. He wasn’t worried they’d find his gun. But he applauded the amateur’s effort.

  “Who’s this?” Claire reached out for Padarn and ran her hand down his arm while Samson endured the unwanted patdown of his own.

  Padarn’s forehead wrinkled for a second. “This is my Uncle Diego Hernandez.”

  “A pleasure, I’m sure.” She stuck her hand out, ready for a kiss and not a shake.

  The uncle did as expected. “Have I seen you before?”

  “I don’t think so.” Claire was right at home—walking a fine line in a con got her blood pumping. This was her sport.

  “Your girls were missing?” The uncle turned to Padarn.

  “No, they were…”

  “Padarn was just making a new business deal,” Claire interrupted. “He’s quite the entrepreneur.”

  “So I hear.” The uncle’s phone beeped.

  “Just sent it.” Sabene referred to the banking text.

  Diego pulled out his phone, looked at the screen, then eyed his nephew. “What are you doing, sobrino?”

  “What?” Padarn asked.

  “Where’s the money?” Uncle Diego’s voice boomed.

  That didn’t take long. The leader of a power gang had a short fuse. Who would’ve guessed? Samson was tempted to roll his eyes.

  “Where it’s supposed to be.” Padarn stepped toward his uncle.

  The one bodyguard standing behind the uncle moved forward, his hand going for his hidden sidearm.

  He could take out all three if he picked up the statue of some saint to his right and threw it at the bodyguard, took out Padarn with a punch to the jaw then a knee to the gut, and saved the old uncle for last. He eyed the 9mm the guard held. Shit. That’s not why they’d devised this entire plan. They could’ve killed these jokers anytime they wanted. The point of this whole fucking situation was to have them take each other out so no one was looking for the team later. It was a win-win for Samson’s group. And a win for the uncle because, most likely, he was going to make it to dawn.

  There was a knock at the door. Fuck, he did not want to add more to this party. He side-glanced to the window. Rife could take out one of them. This was getting a little too dicey to keep Claire in the mix. Whether she liked it or not, he didn’t like actively putting her in harm’s way. A male with a banged-up face entered. He glanced around the room as he started for Padarn and then stopped and eyed Samson.

  Well, wasn’t he just getting dry fucked all over the place this week. The guy with the bruised face and bandaged hand pointed at Samson.

  “He’s the guy from the alley.” The one fucker left standing of the entire group from the night when Claire had been hit now stood in the office.

  “He’s my bodyguard.” She raised a brow. “And a damn good one.”

  Samson moved to his left to be closer to Claire. She either didn’t remember him, was staying in character, or both.

  “Uncle, I did not steal money.” The fear in Padarn’s voice was instant as he ignored the asshole that still had his finger pointed at Samson.

  “Shut up,” Diego spat. He looked to his bodyguard, who holstered his weapon. “Find out where that money went.”

  “I’m intercepting that call.” Sabene was working her magic on all fronts.

  He could hear her do her best impression of a phone teller who hated her job while he kept his eyes on the men in the room. There wasn’t a relaxed person in the small space.

  The call ended and the bodyguard whispered the results to Diego. Diego said something back, the bodyguard nodded, opened the door, and, walking out to the balcony area, discharged his weapon before returning.

  Samson reached back behind his neck and drew the gun he’d makeshift taped below his shirt collar. Claire’s arm bumped up against his as they stood side by side—the men between them and the door.

  People on the dance floor started screaming and scattered every which way looking for an exit. The girls they’d trucked in were already to safety, and with all other innocents out of the way he wasn’t going to have to worry about hostages.

  “This is a set up.” Padarn waved his gun around, his drug addled gaze jumping around the area, not landing on anything specific.

  Claire was next to Samson, but she hadn’t grabbed her gun out of her purse yet. Samson held his HK close to his chest and at the ready.

  “I’m back in.” Milo’s entrance had been calculated to be through the kitchen.

  “I’m rerouting. Need a minute,” Rife came through.

  “I’ve got the cameras rolling and recording,” Sabene checked in. The footage of tonight’s festivities would be icing on the cake. If everything else went wrong, they could always give Teddy a human trafficking case.

  “You best have a better explanation than that. Where’s my money, Padarn?”

  “I’ll let you gentlemen sort this out.” Claire started for the door.

  “I don’t think so.” Padarn pointed his gun directly at Claire’s head.

  Samson put his own crosshairs right on the prick’s forehead and clenched his teeth. He had to focus his rage.

  “Did you move out here and forget where you came from?” Diego asked with a scathing censure.

  “No. I am doing everything you said to.” Padarn shook his gun enough to make Samson put his finger on the trigger a little firmer.

  “He’s been quite forward thinking.” Claire smiled at Diego.

  How in the world her smile looked genuine and not forced was beyond him. The woman was terrifying.
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  “He’s going in a new direction. Into something much more profitable.” Claire was vague. Always better to let people fill in their own dots in a way it made sense to them. Also, she’d never told Padarn exactly what kind of business she wanted to do with him.

  “And leaving your family behind,” Diego seethed.

  “I’m in. Coming up the stairs.” Rife was with Milo now. Rife’s coverage from across the street was a great start for the night. But if they were going to come to blows, it was always better to have back-up right next to you.

  “I’ve done a lot for this family,” Padarn’s voice cracked.

  “You’ve screwed up a lot as well. That’s why you got sent out here.” Diego tilted his head toward his bodyguard. The burly man grabbed his gun again and this time pointed it at Padarn. “You had one shot left to make something of yourself. To redeem yourself. And this is how you used it? To betray me?”

  “I’ve used it properly, Tio,. I swear. The club is booming. We’re making money hand over fist.”

  “I wouldn’t know, now would I? The money is gone.” Diego’s words were clipped.

  Padarn shook the end of his gun at Claire. “You did this.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Claire raised her palms.

  “Everything was fine until you stole my cargo and killed Madam Susan,” Padarn shouted and steadied his gun, a look of death fixed on Claire.

  Without hesitation, Samson dove in front of her.

  * * *

  In the blink of an eye her world crumbled. A shot rang out just as Samson’s big body covered hers and pushed her out of the way. She fell to the ground with him. More shots zinged, but she didn’t feel any pain. No. No. No. Her gaze landed on Samson and she scrambled to him—red ran onto the ground and covered her hand as she reached out for him.

  Not you, please don’t be shot. She should’ve been the one to take the bullet. She’d mis-stepped and underestimated how unstable Padarn was.

  “Samson.” She placed her hand over the side of his chest where the blood looked to be coming from. “Sabene, we need an ambulance!”