by C. J. Miller
“What’s going on with you and Lucia?” she asked, setting her hand on her hip.
He chose to explain it the easiest way he knew how. “She doesn’t want me in her life. We’re working together, but she’s drawn a line in the sand.”
Audrey frowned. “She said that? She doesn’t want you around?”
“In so many words,” he said.
“She’s a complicated woman.”
“All women are complicated. If I think they aren’t, then I haven’t gotten to know them well enough yet,” Cash said.
Audrey smirked. “Fair enough. I’ve known Lucia a long time and I know she’s a good person who’s had some rotten luck. I don’t want to be part of anything that would hurt her. Have fun, but don’t do anything you’ll regret. These women are fierce. They’ll strip you, ride you and kick you out before you have time to get dressed.”
Her frankness was unexpected. His interactions with Audrey’s friends wouldn’t go that far. Understanding the warning, Cash returned to the group. As the night wore on, the alcohol flowed more freely and Cash had the urge to walk across the hall and lay it on the table for Lucia. To tell her everything he felt and why he felt it and force her to listen. She had to be home by now and if she understood the extent of his feelings, she might change her mind about keeping him away.
Pride, coupled with the knowledge that he’d been drinking and might not be thinking clearly, stopped him. He wouldn’t throw himself at her feet in a drunken, pathetic stupor. Lucia had some control over his time with the FBI and therefore he couldn’t screw up and put his future with his son in jeopardy.
Cash took another swig of his drink. Audrey was serving some strong stuff. No fifty-cent bottles of beer in this place. It had been a long time since he’d had much to drink and the alcohol hit him hard, leaving him feeling as though his head was being held underwater.
He needed to get back to the motel. He stood and one of the women, Lexie, set her hand over his chest to stop him. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go. It’s late.” If he missed curfew, he was in violation of his agreement with the FBI and they could throw him in prison.
She pouted. “Please stay. A few more minutes.”
“I can’t. It’s a long walk.” He needed fresh air and exercise. At least the alcohol dulled his senses, enough that he could make it through a night at the Hideaway without being as aware of the stink, the loudness and the general unpleasantness.
“Stay and I’ll drive you.”
Lexie didn’t belong on that side of town even if Audrey had implied her friends could handle themselves. “I live in a rough area.”
She giggled and moved closer to him. “Sounds dangerous. You can keep me safe.”
Lexie was probably interested in him because he was different from the men in her social circle, the same men Lucia’s parents wanted her to marry. He was poor, he had no lucrative job prospects and he didn’t come from a long line of well-bred men.
Lexie was flirting with him and beckoning to him to kiss her. Cash wanted to prove that he wasn’t wrapped up in Lucia. He could forget about her and kiss other women and be happy about it. He had no reason to feel guilty. Lucia wasn’t his girlfriend. She had made it clear she wouldn’t be. Maybe this was a distraction he needed. Audrey had said her friends were looking for a night of fun.
How long had it been since he’d behaved like a carefree bachelor?
Her lips were hovering near his and she was leaning against him, but nothing about this felt right and it highlighted the fact he’d been attempting to disprove. Lucia made his blood run hot. Another woman couldn’t replace her.
A surge of nausea hit him. He hadn’t drunk like this in a long time. His tolerance was nil. He closed his eyes to center himself and Lucia’s voice screamed into his mind.
When he opened them, Lucia was standing over him looking royally peeved. She pointed over his head. “Forget something?”
Lexie grabbed his shirt territorially, pressing her hands into his chest. “Who are you?”
He’d made a mess. Again. He wasn’t sure how to clean it up. Why was Lucia screaming at him?
Lucia ignored Lexie and stared at him. “Benjamin called. You’re past curfew and he traced you to my building. I told him you were with me. I covered for you only to find you here partying with Audrey’s friends.” She bit her lip and folded her arms.
Cash stood and reached for Lucia. She stepped away from him.
“You don’t understand.” He had been thinking of her all night. Why did it feel as if he’d betrayed her?
Lucia looked around the room. “We’re not doing this here.”
“Doing what? Having a conversation?” he asked. “You never want to have a conversation. You’re always running away.”
“Are you drunk?” she asked, sounding outraged.
His head was swimming. “I had some to drink, first drink I’ve had since prison.”
Lucia spun on her heel and left the condo. Cash followed her across the hall to hers. He hated that he’d upset her and hated even more that his brain wasn’t working fast enough to diffuse her anger. This was one of the reasons he hadn’t drank much.
When they got inside, she whirled on him. “I can’t believe you decided to get drunk.”
It hadn’t been his intention. “I didn’t decide to do anything.”
“What were you doing with that woman?” she asked.
“Talking,” he said, sticking to few words. If he let his mouth run, he would say something he regretted. His tongue felt slow and heavy.
“You said you were stopping by my condo to pick up your things. I assumed that meant you were going home,” Lucia said.
Was she mad that he’d missed his curfew? That was his price to pay, not hers. “That place is not my home. Imagine not wanting to return to the dump where I live. I was invited somewhere and I went.”
Lucia glared at him.
Anger and frustration took hold of him. “Why do you care?” He wanted her to care, to say she had been worried about him or that she was having second thoughts about shutting down their relationship. She hadn’t even given it a chance, either being too scared to risk being hurt or because she knew how it would end.
“I care because I covered for you with Benjamin so you wouldn’t get into trouble. If you do something stupid while you’re drunk, I’m liable for that.”
She’d put herself on the line for him. “I didn’t ask you to cover for me. I’m a big boy. I’ll take whatever knocks come my way.”
“Like you did by going to prison?” she asked.
Was she implying he’d wormed out of his sentence? Anger filled him. “My prison time is your favorite whip. Yes, Lucia, I went to prison. I accepted responsibility for running a con. I didn’t rat anyone else out. I kept my mouth shut and took the punishment I was given.” Anderson had helped set him up with the con. He’d introduced Cash to the senator Cash had defrauded and to the crew involved in the embezzlement.
Lucia stared at him. “You were working with someone else on the con.”
No point in lying about it now. “Yes.”
“Who?”
“I can’t discuss that.” Wouldn’t.
“Why not?”
Because it didn’t matter if others were involved. “It doesn’t make a difference. What someone else did doesn’t change that I committed a crime. I have criminal connections. I’m using those connections to help you now.” Thanks to his father, he’d been born into a world of lying and deceit where trickery and games were part of the lifestyle.
“You were with another woman,” Lucia said.
Lucia’s thoughts ricocheted and she was hard to follow, harder in his current state. “Why do you care who I’m with?” She had no right to demand an explanation from him. He
wasn’t in prison anymore.
Lucia folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but pull it together. I won’t cover for you again. You can sleep off your drunkenness, but tomorrow, find another place to stay. I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”
* * *
Lucia couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t scrub the image of Cash and Lexie from her thoughts. Lexie was a good friend of Audrey’s. She was sophisticated and cultured and beautiful and fun. She didn’t have a full-time job taking up her time and she spent her nights and weekends staying out and partying. Lexie was a woman who’d show Cash a good time and he deserved to have a good time.
Lucia had no hold over Cash. She shouldn’t have unloaded on him. Lucia kicked at her sheets in frustration, wincing when pain shot across her leg. She shifted, trying to stretch her leg and find a more comfortable position.
Nothing about her current situation was comfortable.
She let out a grunt of frustration. Why Cash? Of all the men for Benjamin to spring from prison and use to help in the investigation, why did it have to be someone Lucia felt a blazing-hot attraction to?
Cash appeared in the doorway, his big body filling the space. “You okay? I’m hearing some moaning.” His voice had lost the slurring from earlier in the night. He was more sober.
“I’m stretching,” she said.
“In the middle of the night?”
“My leg hurts. I’m trying to resolve that without medication.”
He stepped into the room and her heart shot to her throat. She grabbed her sheet, feeling exposed.
“Let me rub your leg. It might help. When I was in high school, a buddy and I took a massage class. We thought it would impress girls.”
“Did it?” she asked.
“No. We were too young and stupid to have any moves,” Cash said.
She hadn’t decided if she would agree. If he touched her, she knew how her body would react and her emotions were still in upheaval. Her emotional state and Cash in her bedroom were a potent and potentially volatile combination. Cash crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached for her and used his powerful hands to rub her muscles.
“You feel tense,” he said.
No mystery why. “Rough day.”
“I’m sorry about what happened at Audrey’s,” he said.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said. Cash wasn’t her boyfriend. They weren’t even dating.
“I was trying to forget you,” he said.
He had flirted with Lexie to forget her? “Hard to do when we work together,” she said.
“Sometimes I want to forget everything.”
“You don’t mean that,” Lucia said. “What about your son?”
Cash froze and he pulled his hands away. “I didn’t mean him. He’s impossible to forget. But it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. Maybe it would be better for him if I wasn’t around.”
She hadn’t seen Cash this low. To suggest that his son was better off without him spoke to the depth of his sadness. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
Cash stood from the bed. “I’m fine. I’m taking steps to improve my life.” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Tonight being the exception.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong except miss your curfew and make me jealous.”
“Jealous of a felon?”
“Of Lexie,” Lucia said.
“Why? She can’t measure up to you.”
Insecurities she’d been clinging to drifted out of reach. “She’s everything I was supposed to be.”
“You are who you are. ‘Supposed to be’ is for people who don’t have direction or dreams.”
“Try telling my family that. Why can’t I go along with what they want? It would make things easier.”
“Because when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s hard to make a compromise.”
He had that right. “Maybe I’m also a little jealous of you. You seem to know what you want. You open up to people easily. You connect.”
“I have to connect to people or they won’t talk to me. If I don’t get the information, I’m useless to the FBI.”
The words shook her. “You are not useless.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why did you cover for me tonight?”
Why? It had been an impulse. Confusion about where Cash had been had mixed with worry. The lie had slipped out of her mouth. “I knew what was at stake.” His son. Jail time. Her shaky status with the Bureau had seemed secondary to that.
“Thank you,” he said.
She couldn’t leave him like this and she wasn’t good with words. A tremble rose through her accompanied by a rush of emotion. She knelt on the bed and reached for him. He took two steps and she grabbed the sides of Cash’s shirt and drew him to her.
“I don’t like being wrong, but I was wrong to think you were nothing more than a felon,” she said.
Then she kissed him. Hard. He opened his mouth and returned the kiss. Ignoring her leg, she pulled him onto the bed beside her. She crawled into his lap, straddling him, pressing her body against his. His arms wrapped around her.
“Don’t jerk me around, Lucia, and don’t do this if you’re trying to cheer me up,” Cash said, breathing hard.
Lucia rose up on her knees over him. This man, this sensitive, sweet man who had been through so much and remained loyal to the people around him was better than most men in her life. “I am not jerking you around.” She wasn’t doing this to cheer him up. It was more than that. Much more.
He touched her hair at her temples and ran his fingers through it. “What is this about? You said this afternoon we had nothing.”
She had been wrong then, on the defensive. “I shouldn’t have said something I didn’t mean.” Her impulsiveness was a trait her family had ruthlessly criticized while she was growing up and that she’d worked hard to control. Too hard.
He shifted away and moved her off his lap.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
His flirtation had led her to believe he’d wanted to sleep with her. Had she thoroughly misread the signs? Was he rejecting her?
“I’m preventing you from making a mistake you’ll regret in the morning.”
“I won’t have regrets.”
Cash kissed the top of her head. “This is one of the hardest things I’ve walked away from, but I won’t let you hate me in the morning. I’m a man women regret being with. I know you’ll never trust me, but you can trust me on that.”
* * *
For someone who’d slept off a night of drinking, Cash appeared rested and together. His suit was crisp and he worked at his desk, head down, talking with his criminal contacts or doing research or whatever Benjamin had assigned him.
Lucia caught him looking at her several times, but she avoided making direct eye contact. Everyone on the team would know something had happened between them if she turned red. Much to her sexual frustration, Cash seemed fine with the unconsummated state of their relationship.
Lucia wondered about Cash. He’d rejected her. Lucia had been rejected before, so it wasn’t new, but she’d been sure Cash was feeling the chemistry between them. What was it about him that made her instincts perpetually off-kilter?
Her internal instant messenger flashed on her screen. She had a message from Cash.
I’m meeting a contact at the Smithsonian American Art Museum at noon. Come with me as backup and we’ll have lunch. My treat.
An olive branch to smooth over some of the awkwardness between them? He didn’t have to treat her to lunch. She could buy her own meal. When they had work to do, what had happened—or hadn’t happened—in her bedroom was irrelevant.
I’ll work backup. We’ll buy our own lunches. I’ll let Benjamin know.
Whatever you say, boss.
Lucia tried not to read too much into it. Was he trying to keep their personal and professional lives separate, as she was? Was he finding it easy to not let their chemistry cause trouble for them?
Lucia informed Benjamin of their plans so he could inform museum security that an armed agent would be working on site. She checked her weapon and left the building with enough time to reach the museum ahead of schedule.
Lucia and Cash entered the art museum separately. It was a strange place to meet a contact. Security guards were posted everywhere and video cameras captured visitors coming and going.
Lucia sat on a bench with a sketchpad open on her lap and a fedora pulled over her face, her hair twisted into it. She watched Cash through her phony eyeglasses. He was standing in front of The Knight of the Holy Grail, a painting by Frederick J. Waugh of a knight kneeling in a boat before two angels. Cash’s hands were in his pockets and he stared at the painting.
The man they’d run into on the street when leaving Preston Hammer’s house—the man Cash had called Boots—ambled toward the painting and stood next to Cash, almost shoulder to shoulder. Boots was wider and taller than Cash and his clothes were more casual.
The two men were speaking, but Lucia couldn’t hear what they were saying.
She touched the gun at her hip. She was a good shot. No one would hurt him, not while she was watching. Her protective instincts surprised her. Cash was fast becoming her partner on the team and that was a title she was slow to give to anyone.
* * *
“How much you think it’s worth on the market?” Boots asked, nodding at the Waugh painting in front of Cash.
Forgeries and the sale of stolen artwork had been Cash’s father’s area of expertise. Growing up, Cash had learned quite a bit about the world’s greatest masterpieces. In a high school art class, he’d learned to paint by copying the masters. His father had been proud, but later disappointed when Cash didn’t express an interest in marketing his skills to sell fraudulent copies as originals. “Immediately after the theft, without papers and with the authorities looking for it? A couple hundred thousand. With papers, the sale to a legitimate private collector could go for five million.”
