Catch Me if You Can
Christine Bell
Sadie Leighton might spend her days slinging hash, but she spends her nights in disguise, conning the rich and undeserving, taking what she needs from the worst of the lot to make ends meet. This last job will be the mother lode…the one to get her out of the biz altogether, if only she can get past the infuriatingly gorgeous stranger intent on foiling her plans and haunting her dreams...
Jake Callahan has one thing on his mind, and that’s revenge. After years of preparation, he’s finally got all the pieces in place to destroy the man who cost his father his career and, ultimately, his life. Now that the end is in sight, he won’t let anything get in his way. Especially not some fake Countess trying to steal his mark, no matter how sexy she is.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Sadie engages Jake in a battle of wits, but winning it just might put her in danger of losing her heart…
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
The End
Excerpt
Chapter One
That was one solid hunk a’ man.
Sadie Leighton stood at her station eyeing table number eight while ladling strawberry balsamic vinaigrette over the tray of frisée salads in front of her.
“You're looking at the guy like you wish he was your lunch,” Monica murmured as she sidled up next to Sadie, arms laden with baskets of fresh rolls. “Now I know why you wanted that table so bad.”
Sadie glanced back to the table where the focus of her attention had been. He was cute. No question. And if she wasn't in the middle of a job and someone served him on one of those crusty rolls with a side of chips, she wouldn't have turned it down. But right now, she only had one thing on her mind and that was work. Men were a distraction she couldn’t afford.
She tucked a loose strand of her dishwater blond wig back into the bun atop her head and squeezed out the shy smile she kept in reserve especially for her co-workers here at Roberto’s Italian Bistro.
Monica was her favorite so far. She’d spent three weeks training Sadie, was always there to answer questions or to lend a hand, and had even given up table number eight tonight without asking for a thing in return. As much as Sadie appreciated it, her conscience didn’t. Even now, after all this time in her line of work, she still had a hard time lying to people she liked, and she vowed to find a way to repay the woman for all her kindness ASAP. Because, just like with every other job in the past eight years, she was probably going to have to leave in a hurry and wouldn’t be able to thank her on the way out.
“Cute, but not my type. Too dangerous looking. I like ‘em nerdy,” Sadie said with a forced, self-conscious chuckle. “I was just thinking he looked familiar.”
She hoisted the tray onto her shoulder and crossed the room, stopping at the table in question. She set the tray on a stand and began doling out the salads, moving as slowly as she possibly could without calling attention to herself.
Four men sat around the white-clothed table, all dressed in Italian suits and all of them rich. Even if she hadn't created a dossier on each of them, she'd have known it just by the way they smelled. Cologne from Gucci, Tom Ford and Burberry all mixed in the air around them, along with some other scent her keen nose hadn’t yet identified…wait…Irish Spring soap?
That gave her pause and she took another quick look around the table, wondering idly who the culprit was. Not that it mattered. All four guys in the party were clearly all cut from the same snooty, entitled cloth—-even the super hot one. One of them probably just didn’t like cologne or he’d forgotten to douse himself before coming to lunch. She actually appreciated it, because the cloying smell of the rest of them all at once was making her hella-queasy.
“Another scotch, sir?” she asked, making sure to keep up the Midwest accent she'd selected for Sadie the waitress. The man she was speaking to --a slick blond with ice-blue eyes-- didn't look up, which was exactly how she liked it. Instead, he gave her a curt nod before returning to his conversation.
He was Alistair Hannigan, forty-seven years old, originally from London, but had come to the States when he was a boy. Head of Hannigan International. He'd long professed that he was nothing more than an importer/exporter of goods. His company had offices in almost every major city in Europe, four in the States, and did more than fifty million dollars in legitimate business each year. But the rest of the time, they specialized in forgeries and the dealing of stolen, priceless antiquities.
There was nothing concrete on him to this point so he’d never done any time, but Sadie was convinced it was only because of his connections. Recently, a lesser-known Rodin sculpture had gone missing and the buzz was that Alistair was the culprit. He was a bad apple, no question about it, and she couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into him.
She turned her attention to the two men across the table from him for a moment and then dismissed them. From what she’d found in researching them after their visit the previous Thursday, both were business men with longtime family money, but weren’t wealthy enough or dirty enough that she felt entitled to any of it. They ignored her too as she made her way around the table.
She’d almost gotten her hopes up that she’d go four for four when the guy sitting directly next to Hannigan --AKA the hot one-- broke the trend, raising his head to acknowledge her. And when he did, she found herself looking back, brain instantly accessing her mental file on him.
Jake Callahan. Twenty-nine years old, and one of the newest, albeit wealthiest, venture capitalists in the city. He was already growing into a big fish in the veritable shark tank of Manhattan and certainly met her personal wealth threshold. She also knew he’d spent his early twenties in London. The weird thing though? Up until seven years ago, it was like he hadn’t even existed. There were no school files on him, no police records, nada.
He was a question mark, and of all the punctuation marks, that was her least favorite. It put her on edge. She still wasn’t sure whether he was one of the bad guys or not. He’d come to Roberto’s once before with Hannigan when she was still behind the scenes training, and, judging by the amount of time Alistair spent talking to him today, he seemed to be the one closest to him. And what was that saying about lying with dogs?
She was still checking him out when his perceptive gray eyes caught hers again. Then? He smiled at her.
Shit.
Her biggest asset was the ability to blend into the background. Play the chameleon. People seeing her --truly seeing her-- was a job hazard she couldn’t afford. Especially not when she was so close to the end game.
Jake Callahan held up a finger to shush Hannigan’s seemingly ceaseless babble and turned his attention fully her way. “That martini was delicious…Sadie, is it?”
Ireland dripped from his every syllable and she resisted the urge to lean closer and find out if he was the soap guy.
“Perfectly dry, icy cold. Please give the bartender my regards. I'd love another.”
As much as she was kicking herself for engaging, it was still hard not to stare at him. He was gorgeous, and whatever nonsense she’d been spitting at Monica in order to stay in character, he was definitely her type.
His black hair was unruly and thick in a way that made her fingers itch to dig in. His eyes were the color of granite and should've been cold, but they were lively, like he was a man who knew how to laugh. His nose was straight and mascul
ine, his jaw lean and square, and it all came together for quite the picture.
But it was the smile that did it.
Wide, capped off by a dimple on one side, and genuine. Not the practiced, smooth smile of a man used to getting his way. This smile made her want to smile back.
Which made her not want to smile at all.
Because there might be a time when she would have to use him, and if and when that time came, she couldn’t hesitate. There was no place for friendship…or anything else in her line of work.
She swallowed hard and nodded, squeezing out a weak grin. “Certainly. Be right back with that, sir.” Feeling flustered, she broke eye contact and walked briskly to the bar.
“Martini, same as the last,” she called to the bartender. Her pulse was skittering like mad and she needed a second to pull herself together. It wasn’t like she’d never been around a guy with a sexy accent or a quick smile, so what gave?
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s literally the best looking man you’ve ever seen, the not so helpful voice of her subconscious added.
Whatever the case, she needed to nip that in the bud. She hadn’t spent sixteen weeks setting up this job and the past month busting her ass waiting on snobby rich folks just so she could blow it all over a cute guy. A few more days waiting tables, and then she was out. And if she played her cards right, it might be for good this time.
The bartender handed her a chilled glass and she headed back into the dining room, her resolve renewed. She used her free hand to snag a silver water pitcher from a station in the corner and made her way back to the table. Eyes averted and in full-on stealth mode, she set down the martini silently at Jake’s elbow and quickly rounded the other side of the table to top off the other men’s water glasses.
“I'm going out of town on the fifteenth to Berlin for five days,” Hannigan was saying to Jake. “But I'll be hosting games tomorrow and the following Friday, if you'd like to join us.”
Sadie’s ear perked up at that, and a rush of adrenaline drowned out the nerves that had cropped up. This was what she'd been waiting for, and here it was, falling into her lap like a ripe peach.
Hannigan would be out of town on the fifteenth. Yet another option if things didn’t go well on Saturday. She committed the date to memory and quickly ran through the other information she’d managed to gather in the past few weeks.
Monday through Thursday, he was in Manhattan splitting time between his office and his penthouse. Thursdays he had lunch at Roberto’s, and then it was poker every Friday night during the summer at his estate in Long Island. Last but not least, he spent Sunday nights with a pair of prostitutes, although they didn't stay long.
As Sadie scraped flecks of bread from the table with her little metal crumb-remover, she wondered if high-priced call girls charged by the hour or by the minute. If the former, those girls were doing pretty well for themselves on the deal, because they weren’t in there very long. Although, even twenty minutes alone with Alistair Hannigan would be a chore, never mind twenty naked minutes. There wasn’t enough money in the world…
“I love a good poker game as much as the next guy,” Jake was saying. He paused to thank her for the drink before returning his attention back to Alistair. “But I’ll have to check with my secretary and make sure I don't have a prior engagement.”
Alistair nodded, looking slightly miffed, and leaned in after a quick look around to ensure no one was listening. Lucky for her, in his world, mousy little waitresses didn’t count.
“It's a pretty high stakes game, fifty thousand dollar buy-in to start, so make sure you crack open the piggy bank, eh, Callahan?” He laughed heartily at his own joke and the other two men laughed along with him while Jake just smiled. “Also, my harpy of a party planner is insisting on a head count for Saturday night. Will you be joining us then, at least? I promise, I won't let anyone hard-sell you to donate.”
Saturday night. D-day. The big charity gala. Sadie’s heart pounded at the very mention of it.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” Jake replied, voice tinged with regret.
That was good. Great, really. The man was unsettling, and far too perceptive. Better if she never saw him again. Still, a tiny part of her couldn’t help but wish, for just a second, that her life was simpler. Normal. Would she have had the nerve to ask Jake Callahan out for a drink? She shoved the thought away and made herself busy clearing salad plates.
“I apologize, but I have plans,” Jake added, not sounding apologetic in the least.
Interesting. Unlike most of Alistair’s companions, this guy didn’t defer to him at all, and it was clear Hannigan didn’t appreciate it one bit.
His mouth tightened into a line of irritation. “I’m sorry to hear it. If you change your mind or finish up early, stop by. Lots of fine young tail to be had at Casa de Hannigan.” His shark-like eyes gleamed with something that sent a chill through her. “Deals going down left and right, too. Shame you won’t be there, I'm expecting big things to come out of it.” He took a sip from his fresh glass of water before leaning in toward Jake. “Speaking of big things, you’re putting together that outline for me soonish, yes?”
Jake shrugged his broad shoulders, his non-committal hum even less decisive. “We haven’t decided how many investors we’re going to take on for this one.”
“What's the matter, my money not good enough for you now?” Alistair snapped the napkin on his lap once before tossing it onto the table. His lips were smiling, but his body language was stiff, his tone sharp and a little anxious.
She was dying to hear the rest of the exchange, but she'd already gotten the information she needed. She’d been at the table longer than was necessary, and hanging around just to satisfy her curiosity was foolhardy. After a short pause, she drifted away. Maybe if she milled around close enough, she’d get the gist, so long as they didn't whisper.
She straightened the linens on a nearby table and held her breath, straining to hear their words.
“That’s not it,” Jake was saying. “I just want to be sure this is airtight. And right now? This is a gamble if there ever was one.”
Sadie looked up then, risking a glance at Alistair to see his reaction. Sure enough, he lit up, all traces of discomfort swept away by the excitement blazing in his eyes.
“What's that old saying? Greater risk, greater reward?” He slapped both hands on the tabletop, making the other two men jump, and grinned at Jake. “Everyone and their mother is going to want in once it's a sure thing.”
Jake ran an index finger around the rim of his glass before inclining his head. “Duly noted. I'll talk to my partners and see what I can do to get you in, but I'm not making any promises. I've only gotten this far in business by trusting my instincts, and right now, they're eerily quiet.” He straightened and sat back in his seat. “Whatever the case, I'll keep you posted.”
As the men started talking about the stock market, she slipped into the kitchen, brain humming. Today had been the third mention of the poker game in as many weeks, which was good. She had both a plan A and a plan B firmly established, and now with him leaving town on the fifteenth, she had a tentative plan C. The good old last resort, Hail Mary her dad had always insisted on, gave her the trifecta for success.
Yup, if all went accordingly, this time next week Alistair Hannigan would be left holding his ankles and she’d be one step closer to changing her life and starting fresh.
Then, just maybe, she could find a cute guy with a quick smile to call her own…
***
Fuck all.
Another Friday night down the shitter. He hadn’t committed to anything yet, but that was all part of the plan, wasn’t it? To keep Alistair on his toes and guessing. Too bad he really had no choice. If he hoped to get the job done, he’d have to play ball --or in this case, poker-- whether he wanted to or not.
Jake bit back a growl and took a sip of his martini, wishing it was a pint of Guinness. The last thing he w
anted to do was spend more time in Alistair Hannigan’s company. He’d tried for months to work this through professional channels. To have his people approach Alistair with a sweet deal from another like-minded, savvy investor, but he’d insisted on meeting in person.
Best first step to setting up a good con? Find the mark’s weaknesses. He'd thought Hannigan's were women and the love of money. That misread had cost him months. Turned out he was way off. Sure, Alistair liked beautiful women and he definitely enjoyed being surrounded by the finer things in life, but they were just symbols of the thing he truly craved.
Validation.
Deep down, Alistair Hannigan was nothing more than a pathetic, self-loathing man who wanted to prove he was good enough. For other people to see just how important he was, at all times, to boost his ego. That meant there would be no deal without some face time. It had been a stroke of pure luck that, during that face time, Alistair had revealed another weakness Jake couldn’t wait to exploit.
He loved to gamble. Got off on risk.
So Jake had adjusted, and now, rather than trying to sell Alistair on a rock solid investment deal, he’d flipped it, forcing Alistair to do the wooing. Just the thought that Jake was trying to shut him out made him want in, and the intimation that it was a risky proposition? Only made it sexier to a gambling man like that. If Jake had to go to a couple poker games to close the deal, so be it. He’d come too far to back out now.
But that didn't mean he had to like it.
He squeezed his eyes closed and listened with one ear to yet another story about Alistair Hannigan's threesome with Swiss twins the night before. God, he was a wanker. The guy never stopped talking about himself. It made him both the most annoying lunch companion in history and the most forthcoming mark ever.
“So one of them asks me if I like the rough stuff, and I say-”
Jake tuned out the other ear and looked around the room again, taking in the decor. Five star restaurants were the same in almost every country. Understated elegance, unobtrusive staff. They'd been flitting around on silent feet like aproned ghosts, quick and invisible.
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