Taken by the Con

by C. J. Miller

  “I didn’t jump out of the car. I stepped out,” Cash said.

  “Going from being locked in a cell to walking around on the street is a big change. But it’s a good change.”

  He realized she knew where his thoughts had gone. He added intuitive and considerate to his list of her good attributes. He’d liked Lucia from day one, even if she was strung a little tight, but the more time he spent with her the more he saw her best qualities were buried beneath her icy facade. “I’m not free and not much has changed. I’m monitored around the clock. I live in a dump. I eat crappy food.” Benjamin had made it clear he wanted to know if Cash was in touch with anyone from his past. Cash half expected him to demand Cash keep a log of everyone he spoke to.

  “Living in a motel isn’t ideal and I know your budget is tight.” She pressed her lips together. She was uncomfortable talking about money.

  Was it because she had financial problems, too? The place where she lived was at least three thousand square feet and she had a number of decorative items he’d price high on the open market. She was either living above her means, on the take or the FBI was paying better than he’d thought.

  “I’m grateful to Benjamin for what he did for me.” Even if the other man had a lot to gain by capturing Clifton Anderson, like a huge promotion and a raise, he’d put himself out to help Cash.

  “You don’t sound ungrateful, but you sound like you’re coming unhinged. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you while we’re together,” Lucia said.

  That’s what he needed to dissolve the anxiety, someone else watching him. “I have the tracker. You don’t have to worry about me skipping town.”

  “I’m not worried about you skipping town. At the moment, I’m just worried about you.”

  Compassion and an olive branch. Cash hadn’t realized how isolated he’d felt until she spoke the words. He had the urge to reach back, to connect with someone in a real way. Not to manipulate her or get on her good side for any other reason than needing a friend. “I can’t go back there.”

  Empathy touched the corners of her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “We’ll get this guy, and as long as you keep your head down and work hard, prison stays off the table. Now, please come back to the car. We’ll head to the office and sit on the rooftop and review our case notes, okay? And then you have the team’s happy hour.”

  “Aren’t you going?” he asked.

  “I have paperwork to finish up,” she said.

  He let her lead him to the car. Lucia was looking left and right.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing her unease.

  “I have the strangest feeling we’re being watched.”

  Not one to ignore instincts, Cash looked around. He didn’t notice anyone watching. They were surrounded by tall buildings. Anyone could be watching from those windows. Someone on the street? Another driver? He’d made a scene. He could have drawn the curiosity of a passerby or a people watcher with nothing better to do.

  Or someone from his past had already caught up to him.

  * * *

  As people brushed past on the busy sidewalk, Lucia reached for her gun, unsnapping her holster. The atmosphere had tensed and shifted. If someone approached her or Cash, she would defend them.

  Before her transfer to Benjamin’s white-collar crime team, Lucia had worked in the violent-crime division on a complex murder-for-hire case. Her contributions to breaking up a ring of Egyptian nationals selling their services as assassins had led to fifteen arrests and fourteen convictions. Unfortunately, several of the well-known assassins who were part of the ring remained out of reach.

  Her old team leader had let her know that the assassins still at large could seek revenge and target the team who had broken up their lucrative business. A few months had passed without any whisper of a threat. Lucia had been lulled into a sense of security that shattered the moment her instincts pricked that something was wrong.

  Her instincts had served her well at the Bureau. She couldn’t have explained why or how she knew trouble was near. Just as she had known by their treatment of her as the only female member of the violent-crime division that they were looking for a reason to kick her off the team.

  In the end, it hadn’t been something she’d done or hadn’t done. It had been her success that gave her boss a reason to request a promotion for her. A promotion to a better-paying, higher-ranking open position in another unit.

  She and Cash returned to her vehicle. They got in and she turned the key. The eerie sensation of being watched wouldn’t subside.

  The car didn’t start. She paused a moment and heard the sound of the battery whining. “Get out of the car! Run!” she yelled.

  Lucia opened the driver’s-side door and rolled, covering her face and head. Car horns blared at her and she narrowly avoided being struck by oncoming traffic. Cash had heeded her warning and was standing on the street looking at her strangely. Maybe the car was old and needed a new ignition. Maybe the engine needed a tune-up. Maybe that first faulty turn was driver error.

  Then Cash was next to her, lifting her to her feet. “Lucia, what is—”

  The car exploded, the boom echoing against the tall buildings around her, a blast of heat hitting them and knocking them to the ground. Heat burned up Lucia’s side. Cash covered her, shielding her. Something hit her leg hard enough to send pain radiating up her body.

  Lucia had been in the line of fire before, but she hadn’t experienced the impersonal coldness of an assassination attempt. Her follow-up thought was just as terrifying. It hadn’t blown the first or second time she had started the car that day. Either someone had put the bomb in the car while she had been on the sidewalk talking to Cash or someone had been watching her and waiting to detonate the bomb. Either way, a killer was close.

  Chapter 3

  A moment of stillness, and Lucia only saw darkness and heard silence. In a flash, the world around her came into focus. People crying and screaming, and car horns honking assaulted her ears. She forced open her eyes. Around her, complete panic ensued. People were running and cars were smashed into each other and run up on the sidewalk.

  She had to help. Lucia pushed Cash away.

  Cash grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet. “Lucia, we need to take cover.”

  Cash hauled her to the sidewalk, shoving her behind a row of metal newspaper dispensers.

  She peered around the corner. The car was consumed by flames. Traffic around her had stopped and several vehicles had veered into each other and into the curb trying to avoid the flaming ball.

  If an assassin had a bull’s-eye pinned on her, she was dead.

  “Give me your badge,” Cash said.

  “What? No!”

  He ripped it from her pants. “Stay here. Do not get up.”

  Cash charged into the street, holding up her badge. People were running and screaming, but some passersby were staring open-mouthed. “I’m with the FBI. Stay away from the car. Help is coming. Clear this area.”

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?” A delivery woman on a bicycle was staring at Lucia. “Are you okay?”

  Lightheaded, Lucia struggled to focus. The pain in her leg was intense. “Can I use your phone?” She needed to call for help.

  “You’re bleeding. I’m calling 911,” the woman said.

  Lucia nodded her agreement and another wave of dizziness hit her. She couldn’t lose consciousness. Cash was in the open. If the bomber was watching, he knew they’d escaped the blast. He could have a backup plan.

  “Cash!” She called his name, needing to warn him. He couldn’t hear her over the chaos. She tried to get up, but her leg wasn’t working. She slammed against the ground.

  “Cash!” He was moving people away from the scene and helping people out of their cars. He was in the line of fire.

&nbs
p; Was this the man she had judged as selfish, manipulative and a bold-faced liar? Shame hit her. Actions were far more telling than words. Seeing his response to a crisis, she was in awe.

  She waved at him and, finally, he turned in her direction. He jogged to her and squatted next to her. “Help is coming.”

  He swore.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Stay calm and stay with me.” He removed his suit jacket and pressed it over her leg hard. “Lucia? Lucia!”

  Her vision blurred and then darkness again swallowed her.

  * * *

  “When you didn’t show up for happy hour, I thought you might have killed each other. I didn’t think someone had tried to kill both of you,” Benjamin said, sitting between Lucia’s hospital bed and Cash.

  Cash had called Benjamin when he’d borrowed a phone, after he was sure Lucia had received medical attention.

  Lucia’s leg injury had required twenty stitches and she was being monitored for a concussion. Cash had a few scratches and had been admitted to the hospital for observation.

  Benjamin appeared frayed, his hair a mess, his tie loose around his neck and his pants rumpled. “If you want off this case while we figure out who’s targeting you, I understand.”

  Benjamin hadn’t made the same offer to Cash. Cash was tied in regardless of the danger.

  Lucia’s expression turned stony. “If this is about the Holmes and White case, I won’t let someone scare me off. I know people who lost money at Holmes and White. They’re counting on me and I won’t let them down.”

  “I understand,” Benjamin said sounding relieved she hadn’t accepted his offer. “I have my best guys trying to track down what happened. But I don’t want you worrying about the investigation. I want you to rest and heal. I’ve briefed hospital security on the situation and they’re keeping an eye on your rooms,” Benjamin said. “You have my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything.”

  They said their goodbyes and Benjamin left the room. Cash had a semiprivate room across the hall, but he wanted to stay and watch over Lucia. The bombing wasn’t an isolated incident. Something about it spoke to professionalism. A bomb was more complex than other forms of murder.

  “You heard the man,” Lucia said. “Get some rest. I’m fine. My whole leg is numb. I’m not in any pain.”

  That also meant she couldn’t run or defend herself. Cash came to her bedside. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?”

  Lucia pointed to the nurse call button. “If I need anything, I have this. Thanks, though, Cash. You were a hero today.” She set her hand over his and gave him a light squeeze.

  He had never been called a hero. He had never felt like a hero. But hearing her say the words, he suddenly felt as if anything was possible.

  * * *

  Cash got up from his hospital bed several times and paced the hallway, keeping an eye on Lucia’s room. He stretched. He watched. He couldn’t stay in his bed and have a good view of her room, so he took up a post in the visitor’s lounge, a small, bright space on the hospital floor. Bright he liked. Small bothered him immensely.

  He concentrated on his objective: keeping Lucia safe. He could sleep later.

  Around 3:00 a.m., the door marked Staff Only on the far end of the floor opened, squeaking on its hinges. A man in dark clothes slipped out. Cash rose to his feet, adrenaline firing and chasing off exhaustion. The man moved closer to Lucia’s room, circling around the nurses’ station.

  The man kept his head down. Cash stepped forward, placing himself in front of Lucia’s room. The man jumped as if startled.

  “Can I help you?” Cash asked.

  “Going to see my sister,” the man mumbled, keeping his head down, pulling his red ball cap low over his eyes.

  “At three in the morning?” Cash asked. Cash didn’t move. The man stepped toward Lucia’s room. Cash saw a flash of silver under his coat. A gun? A knife? Cash was unarmed, but that wouldn’t stop him from protecting Lucia.

  The man froze, then lunged for a desk chair outside the empty nurses’ station and hurled it in Cash’s direction. Cash dodged the chair, taking several steps back. The man ran, throwing anything behind him to slow Cash down: paperwork, a wheelchair and a rolling TV tray. He whipped a hypodermic needle disposal bin at Cash. Cash ducked. The plastic can hit the floor, and needles broke and skidded in every direction.

  Cash chased after him down the hallway to the stairwell on the far side of the building.

  The man slammed the metal door behind him. Cash pursued. Entering the stairwell, he heard sneakers squeaking against the floor and then a metal door closing.

  Cash looked up and then down over the bannister. Where had the man gone? He’d been a second, maybe two behind him. He couldn’t have dropped over the side of the bannister. It was a five-story fall to the ground.

  He’d gotten a good look at the side of the man’s face. It wasn’t enough to make a positive ID, but maybe Cash could catch him.

  The man seemed to have disappeared, but he couldn’t have gotten far.

  If Cash pursued, the man could loop around and return to Lucia’s room via the elevator or other stairwell. As much as he wanted to find the man, Cash couldn’t track anyone through a hospital on his own. He needed to call Benjamin and the police for help.

  The man stalking Lucia wouldn’t give up. He’d attempted to hurt her twice in one day and he’d try again.

  That the man hadn’t come after him told Cash that he wasn’t necessarily the target of the attack as he’d initially feared. He had skeletons in his closet, but Lucia must have some powerful enemies, as well.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you tell me what you need and I’ll get it?” Cash asked.

  Lucia walked through her place feeling as though her leg muscles were cramped. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue. She had slept little in the hospital. The monitors beeping and bright lights and interruptions had been bad enough. Someone trying to kill her had made sleep impossible.

  The extra security precautions were a small comfort. A uniformed police officer was keeping watch over her place. She had enabled her rarely used home-security system. How determined was her would-be murderer?

  Benjamin was assuming the bombing had to do with the Clifton Anderson case and she’d let him believe it. Until she did some investigating on her own, she wouldn’t sound a false alarm.

  “I don’t need you to do anything. I have it covered. You’re here because you saved my life and I owe you at least a hot shower. I promise my shower isn’t disgusting,” Lucia said. Based on his reaction any time someone mentioned it, Cash hated the Hideaway and she didn’t blame him. She wanted to do something, anything, however small, to help him and thank him for what he’d done for her at the scene of the bombing and at the hospital.

  She walked to the linen closet and pulled out a pink towel. She handed it to him. “Go ahead. One hot shower, as long as you’d like it. Use whatever you need.”

  She had seen a different side of Cash, a protective side, a warm side, and it had melted some of her resentment and irritation with him. It was hard to imagine him being the same person who had run a con to defraud a senator.

  Cash took the towel. Their fingers brushed and Lucia ignored the shower of sparks between them. She was on medication. She was imagining things.

  “Thank you, Lucia. I appreciate it.”

  Cash was in her bathroom, in her shower, all bare broad shoulders and sinewy arms, tight abdominals and muscular legs. Lucia refused to fixate on what he might look like naked.

  He was proving to be loyal and an asset to the team. He’d looked out for her after the car bombing. He’d saved her life then and again in the hospital.

  She had been bent on seeing him as an interloper on the Anderson case. Now, she d
idn’t know what to make of him.

  Her gratitude for what he’d done was mixed with anxiety. She wanted to stay far, far away from Cash. It had only been a few days and already he was naked in her condo. Cash was a difficult man to say no to. Would he break down her resistance totally? She reassured herself she wouldn’t get into bed with a colleague, even a temporary one. If anyone found out, it would damage her reputation and her career, which had suffered enough in the past year. Besides, she wasn’t looking for a quick screw and Cash wasn’t a man she wanted to spend her life with. A felon and an FBI agent didn’t mix at work, much less in a relationship.

  A relationship her parents would have to approve of and they would not approve of Cash. If she brought home one more unsuitable man, one more man who her family found inappropriate, she wouldn’t hear the end of it. She’d made it clear to her family she wanted to pick who she dated. The problem was that she had the hardest time finding the right person. She wasn’t looking to actively rebel against her parents’ wishes. She wanted her parents to understand she needed something more than an Ivy League degree and a six-figure salary to fall in love.

  She wanted passion and heat. She wanted excitement. Qualities she’d found in Cash.

  She hadn’t been able to find everything she wanted in one man. Something important was always missing. Bradley, her former fiancé, had been missing fidelity. Every relationship before and since had been much of the same.

  Her pain medication was wearing off so Lucia took another pill with half a glass of water. Her muscles were sore from tensing before the explosion and the injury to her leg throbbed. Planning to return to work on Monday, she needed to rest now.

  Lucia closed a shade in her bedroom, leaving the other four open. It was too much effort to close them. She lay on her bed and propped a pillow under her foot to elevate her leg. A list of who might have been targeting her ran through her head.

  Among the first suspects were criminals she had caught followed by anyone from her personal life who had a problem with her. The first list was far longer than the second.