Peter squinted and she reached out, grasped his wrists. “That’s why Courtney keeps telling me the decision has been made. All the pregnant girls? The OB office in the basement? He probably has a doctor come in and pays all of the medical expenses out of the fees he collects for the babies.”
Sickness swelled in her throat, and she stepped away in case she vomited. “I read about a black market baby ring in one of my law journals. The babies can go for up to a hundred thousand dollars.”
“And he’s got five of them on the way.”
“Courtney and the other girl came here from that counseling center. Maybe they’re in on it.”
And…No. Isabelle stretched her arms and fingers wide in front of her as paralyzing thoughts banged around inside her skull. “The prison you followed Seth’s lunch date to,” she croaked. “Maybe Sampson can find out how many pregnant women have been there and gave their babies up for adoption.”
“Oh, Christ,” Peter said. “That can’t be.”
She shook her head to free her brain from badgering thoughts of prisons and counseling centers and defeated young women. “I need to get into Seth’s computer. Fast. There must be something on there.” She turned and started up the path. “I’m going up to check my email. Maybe that message from your office came.”
She’d see if she could borrow Seth’s computer to check her email…and forward him a corrupt file.
Seth stood in front of the filing cabinet reading a report. He wore that same basic outfit of chinos and a collared shirt and Isabelle was absolutely sick of him. He turned to her and his gaze locked onto her chest.
Sick of that too.
But she needed to get onto his computer and forward him that file.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I check my email?”
He glanced at the computer. “Of course.”
“I’ll just be a second.” She scooted by him, felt the brush of his hand against her leg and bit down to keep from screaming at him. Her own fault for flirting and encouraging his behavior.
That would end soon. For now, she looked over her shoulder and forced a smile.
She logged into her email account. Lots there, but nothing from Peter’s office. She gritted her teeth while closing her email. Where the hell was that corrupted message? Now, more than ever, she needed to see what was on Seth’s hard drive. If this man was demoralizing women and selling their babies, she wanted to obliterate him. She wanted to watch the FBI handcuff the bastard and lock him up. She wanted to watch Seth Donner, disgusting, vile human being that he was, lose the life he knew.
“Problem?” Seth asked.
She slowly spun the chair. He stared at her a minute. She stared back. Oh, she knew what he wanted. If only she could trade what he wanted for what she wanted. If slimy bartering would get her into that computer and help find a missing girl, she’d call it a done deal.
Even she wasn’t twisted enough to believe Seth would give her the passwords in exchange for sex. And if Peter knew she was even thinking it, he’d go crazy.
But she needed answers and those answers were somewhere in this house.
Maybe the computer wasn’t the answer.
Hadn’t Kendrick come to her seeking legal advice? Perhaps Seth still needed that advice and, lucky him, here she was. All she needed was for him to tell her why Kendrick sought her out. It would be a start.
This could be a plan. She’d seduce him, get some pillow talk going and who knew, maybe she’d walk away with a nugget that would lead to answers.
Besides, Creepy Izzy could take the wheel. Her skills were more than adequate in that department.
Hang on. Could she really be thinking this?
Seth inched closer. He wanted her. Yes, she was really thinking this. She could work him until he was so crazy with need he’d confide in her. That, combined with the email to copy his files, could be all they needed. Maybe she’d find out whose panties Peter found in the basement.
“I have a lot to do,” she said, answering his question and loading him up on eye contact.
And there it was. That casual stance coupled with the lusting focus on her. She’d seen this predatory hunger in men for years now. Here we go.
“You are an exceptional creature, Isabelle.”
The chaos in her mind began to tick and she closed her eyes.
You can do this.
Creepy Izzy. Thank you. She opened her eyes—Peter called them man killers—and gazed up at Seth.
She’d make this quick and simple. Just shut the door behind her, confess her deep longing to screw his brains out, blah, blah, blah. She’d tell him how much she’d been enjoying her stay and would, after all, like to spend some time with him.
Alone.
At which point, he’d look at her tits again, and she’d step closer instead of drawing away.
Then she’d kiss him. Let him pull her shirt off and…a sour taste flooded her mouth.
No. Don’t think.
This could work. With Peter still down at the cabins the whole thing would be easier.
Forget him. Find Nicole. Help Courtney. That’s all she had to do. Sex was nothing for Creepy Izzy.
She stood and took the few steps toward Seth.
“Did you need something?” he asked.
“If you’re not busy, I thought we could spend some time together.”
His ruddy cheeks bunched with a knowing grin, and Isabelle swallowed hard at the vision of Peter’s strong face flashing in front of her.
Don’t think about him.
Seth reached behind her and closed the door. “I’d like that.”
Wait. She was supposed to close the door. This was her plan. Not his. No. She needed to control this situation.
Instead of walking to his desk, he motioned Isabelle to the black leather sofa and sat next to her. Seth was having no problem with her I-want-to-screw-you signals because he scooched closer and draped his arm behind her head.
A skittering angst shot up her arms at the personal space invasion. You can do this. She shifted sideways, crossed one leg over the other and let her top leg rub his knee. “I wanted to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed it here.”
He dropped his hand on her leg, his stubby, sweaty fingers rubbing and working up…up…up. Too fast. He inched closer and with her heart pounding, she found herself backing away. Something felt…off. She placed her hand over his to stop its movement.
Stick to your script. She needed to kiss him first.
He took a long, analyzing perusal of her legs and half grinned as he squeezed the inside of her thigh and nudged his hand up. “I think you know I’ve enjoyed having you here. And I think we’re both going to enjoy you staying a little longer.”
This is it. She licked her bottom lip, saw the shock of pleasure in his smile and leaned forward. He met her halfway and kissed her, gently at first and the feel of his dry, nasty lips against hers sent her stomach into a full-blown churn.
She squeezed her eyes closed, prayed for Creepy Izzy to stay put. Seth opened his mouth wider, jammed his tongue into her mouth and leaned over her, his bigger body pressing her backward.
Sickness devoured her, filled every pore, and she squeezed her eyes even tighter. The tears were building, coming too fast.
Nothing about this felt right. When Peter kissed her, she felt happy and light. This kiss, the aggression, that disgusting tongue in her mouth, invading her, caused bile to pool in her throat.
Peter would never kiss her this way.
She retreated, pressing on Seth’s chest to give herself some room and take a breath. To organize her plan and get Peter out of her head. Bad enough she’d have to face him when this was over. She’d have to look into those beautiful eyes and know she’d destroyed him. Thrown away every decent thing he’d given her.
For what? She wanted to find a missing girl, but to what end? How many lives would she obliterate to get there? No, she couldn’t do this. Even as Creepy Izzy, it was more than she could handle. Peter would be too
much of a sacrifice.
Isabelle turned away, her back almost to Seth, but he knew what he wanted and grabbed her hip, digging his fingers in to hold her in place.
He laughed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Back him off.
She hooked her fingers around the arm of the chair to pull herself from his grasp just as the door slowly opened.
Peter. A swelling panic submerged her, its violence stealing her breath. His face held a harshness she’d never seen. His gaze traveled to Seth’s hand as it landed on her ass. You’ve lost him now.
“Don’t you knock?” Seth asked, his hands still on her.
No reaction from Peter.
But the shame she’d been hording for so long surged, and her mind went back to the day her uncle walked into his study and discovered his son’s ugly secret. She pushed the thought away. Control this. She glanced up to Peter, who stood impossibly still.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.
Immediately, she understood. Peter didn’t know what he’d walked into. Was she being attacked or was this part of her game?
He waited for her to answer. If she said no—not a complete lie because at this moment she was far from okay—he’d haul her out of there. She’d convince him it wasn’t her fault. With the way Seth was hanging on to her, she could let Peter think she hadn’t willingly used her body to get information. Even if it hurt him, she could do it.
Or she could be one hundred percent truthful and answer yes because she’d never lied to Peter. That honesty would cost her and she would suffer his derision. The loss of him.
“Are you okay?” he repeated.
And Seth laughed. “Oh, she’s just fine, aren’t you, honey?”
She had to say something because Peter, being Peter, wouldn’t stand there forever. He didn’t have it in him to be idle. Not with Seth taunting him. No, if his wiggling fingers were any indication, in a few seconds he would take control of the situation.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
He straightened and took a step backward. His expression hadn’t changed—not much anyway—but for a brief second he pinched his lips tight and the hurt and anger reached her.
“Peter—”
“I need to borrow your car.”
Isabelle scrambled to her feet, spotted Seth’s smug grin of satisfaction and almost slapped him. But she blocked Peter’s view because the last thing she needed was more tension thrown into this mess.
“Next time knock,” Seth said.
Peter winced. Isabelle waved him out the door before he did major damage. “My keys are in the bedroom.”
Spinning away from her, he marched down the hall and she hurried after him. “Peter—”
“Outside,” he said. “Get your keys and meet me outside.”
She ducked into the room, wrapped her hands around the keys and stopped. Deep breath. She needed to make him understand. That’s all. If she explained it to him, he’d understand.
Maybe.
She raced down the stairs and out the front door where she found Peter standing on the lawn out of earshot. Seth would be watching from somewhere. She knew it, but to him, it would seem like a lover’s quarrel. He’d most likely find pleasure in it.
“Not here,” Peter said. “Side of the house. I don’t need an audience.”
“It’s not what you think.”
When they reached privacy, Peter folded his arms, his fingers digging into his skin. “Enlighten me.”
He knew.
She held her hands palm up. “Peter.”
The need to make him understand balled inside her. She had to make him see the logic. “It wasn’t me. I flipped the switch. It was Creepy Izzy. The email from Janet hadn’t come and I was frustrated. I thought if I could get him to relax maybe he’d give me information that’ll move us along. That’s all. I was just trying to get him to confide in me.”
Peter’s jaw dropped and hung there for a few seconds while he absorbed what she’d said. He began stomping around, back and forth, back and forth, his face transforming to nothing but hard angles.
“And what?” he said, keeping his voice low. “You think he’ll scream the passwords while you’re blowing him? Are you out of your mind?”
“Peter—”
“No!” He gaped at her as if she’d become a vile whore. Some piece of trash stuck to his shoe. “I can’t believe you did this.”
She had to make him understand. “It wasn’t about the passwords. I thought it would get me closer to him, and that’s where we need to be.”
Peter stopped moving—just halted right there. “Is that where we need to be, Iz? You prostituting yourself? That’s so goddamned far from where we need to be we’re not even on the same planet anymore.” He threw the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fucking insanity.”
When he bent forward and rested his hands on his knees, she put a hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away. The lightning-quick rejection tore into her and she snatched her hand back. She held her breath a second too long and the air suddenly burst free. His repulsion to her touch had been a natural response, and the sudden fear washed over her.
Wait it out. Don’t panic. Maybe he’ll accept it.
But she knew better. Caveman Peter would never accept her using sex as a tool.
After several moments he stood and faced her. The tightness around his mouth forced her to realize she pushed him too far.
“I need to get out of here and think about this. I’m too wound up now.”
But she didn’t want him leaving the house.
Leaving her.
Flip the damn switch.
“Isabelle, I can’t believe you would want to get with this guy.”
The sound of her given name coming from his lips made her ears ring, and she fought to keep her feet under her. He just didn’t get it. She fisted her hands and shook them at him. “I didn’t want him. You’ve seen Creepy Izzy in action. You know, without a doubt, there is nothing emotional about Creepy Izzy. Don’t make this about you, Peter.”
His head lolled forward.
“No. I didn’t mean that.”
But he snatched the keys from her hand and started toward her car.
She grunted. Dammit. How could she, a highly educated twenty-six-year-old criminal lawyer, be so painfully awful at relationships? Maybe because she’d never had a good one. Or at least one she wanted to fight for.
She ran to catch up with him. “Peter—”
But when he stopped moving he didn’t face her. Not even a glance. No. He looked down at her hand on his elbow and curled his lip. She made him sick. What else should she expect?
A tiny piece of her heart, the one she’d let him thaw out, shattered and a whimpering sound erupted in her throat until she forced it back.
Flip the switch! Don’t let him hurt you.
“Guess what, sweetheart?” he said. “You’ve finally pushed me away.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
He charged around the side of the house and she closed her eyes. Flip the switch. No hurt. No pain. Nothing.
Her mind wandered to her cottage on the beach, the smell of the salty air and the sunrises she watched from her deck. All of nature’s beauty for her to enjoy. After a few deep breaths she imagined all the pain from Peter’s rejection being stuffed into the tiniest box she could find. Crammed it down as far as it would go. She slammed the lid on the box and locked it.
There.
All better.
She opened her eyes, but the image of Peter walking away from her blew the lid right off the damn box and she came apart as if someone had hacked at her with a meat cleaver. Whack, whack, whack.
Her lungs strained with the need for air and she dropped to her knees. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him she couldn’t go through with it. That he’d demolished Creepy Izzy.
The gravel path dug into her skin and she sucked air, but the tears still came, shooting down her face and she shoved them away.
&nb
sp; No.
Flip the switch.
She could handle this. Had been handling it all her life. People she loved had been disappointing her for years. This would be no different than every other time. She’d just bury the pain. Even if it was still alive and screaming.
No. She imagined a bigger box this time. Steel plated. Nothing could escape this box. She shoved everything inside. Her tears, her broken heart, this house that made her think about Kendrick and his sick ways, she pushed it all in the box.
Now the lock. A big one. Industrial sized. A mental image formed of her snapping the lock closed.
There. Just try to get out.
She focused on a tiny rock on the ground and her fingers dug into the gravel, the dirt piling under her nails. Deep breath. She released her fingers, let them rest against the loose dirt. Relax. A chirping bird and the sudden flapping of its wings drew her attention. She glanced up, watched him fly away. Calm. Time to move forward.
Rising to her feet, she used the backs of her hands to wipe away the tears and started toward the front door. Peter could do what he needed to and so would she. When this was all over, maybe they’d find their way back to what could have been, but right now, Nicole Pratt was still missing. Along with Kendrick’s murderer.
She watched her car turn out of the driveway. She’d have to let Peter go. Her emotional issues would not keep her from getting this job done and getting home. If she was right about this baby-brokering scheme, she had to break it up.
Before Courtney gave birth.
Peter pulled into the motel parking lot, jammed the car into park and banged his palm against the steering wheel. The rampant fury licked at him and scalded his skin.
Son of a bitch.
He could have called Billy on the phone—as he’d intended—but after walking in on Izzy about to offer her body to that scumbag, he had to get his head together. What a moron he’d been to think he could handle working with her.
Wasn’t that the number one rule? Don’t get emotionally involved. Well, he was taking it up the ass on this one. And worse, he’d have to put it aside until they figured this baby thing out.
A Just Deception Page 26
