Survival Instinct

by Doranna Durgin

  He stood in front of the stove for a long moment, his back turned to her. His long, deep breath showed clearly in the rise and fall of his shoulders. Abruptly, he flicked the gas burner on. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re doing this.”

  She didn’t respond right away. She let him dump a pat of butter into the pan and push it around the bottom, and meanwhile she weighed the risks. The long con…all in the details. And like it or not, he was an important detail. His demeanor could make or break this game. “You’d better mean it,” she said. “If we’re blown, I’m the one who’s going to pay.” She’d be revealed to the authorities. She’d end up back in California, vulnerable to her stepfather’s legal contacts, charged with whatever bogus crimes he’d had pinned on her.

  “That’d be a change, wouldn’t it?” He looked at her then, a meaningful side glance as he reached for the eggs.

  Flash point. “You let me know when you’re done being a bastard,” she told him, cold anger spilling into temper. “And while you’re at it, you might think about who you would be if you’d had my stepfather controlling your life. If you’d gone to your first-grade teacher for help and been scolded for lying. If your teacher had gone to your stepfather about it. What do you think happened then, Mr. Perfect-Family Hunter? Do you think you might possibly have discovered the best way to survive was to play the game? Do you think you might have decided the best way to avoid collecting more scars was to be good at it?”

  The eggs sizzled quietly in an otherwise quiet kitchen. Eventually, he said, “I don’t know.”

  “You just think about it,” she told him, anger still hard in her chest. “I’ll be upstairs. I picked up a good paperback yesterday and it’s fine with me if I spend the day in bed reading.”

  She left him there and went upstairs, the jazz gone and the sadness twisted into hurt. I don’t know.

  She thought it was probably as good as she’d get.

  She didn’t head for the bed. Or at least, not for long. She picked up the book, she sat down…and she stood right back up again. Then she sat one more time, forcing herself to think through the impulse that gripped her.

  I can do this alone. I should do this alone.

  She’d be better off doing it alone than doing it with someone who wouldn’t trust her. Someone who questioned her. Not about whether she could do it, but about whether he wanted to be part of it. Not a courage issue…an honor issue. He had courage to spare, she’d no doubt of that. Problem was, he had honor to spare, too.

  That kind of hesitation could break a long con. Especially a rushed job like this, when the mark had to have no doubt at all. And she could all too easily imagine Dave balking at a crucial moment.

  She could do it alone. And it still had to be done. For Ellen, for Terry Williams, for Rashawn…

  It had to be done.

  And that left the details, all of which needed quick revisions. It’d be more money, of which she had not nearly enough. And she’d be on her own…no backup. She could hire someone, but that would be hit or miss in this area in which she had no connections. Nor did she have a fix in with any of the local cops.

  Yeah, she’d have to be careful.

  But she could do it.

  This time when she stood up, she went into action. She dug into her courier bag and pulled out the leather wallet that held Brooke Ellington’s ID. Brooke would have been best for this, but Dave already knew about her. So she’d use Maia Brenner. Maia had been created to live in Nebraska but traveled often for her bank job. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.

  And then there was the money. She could pull easy con games along the way—Rock in a Box, the Ketchup Squirt, phoney C.O.D. scams—but she didn’t want to increase her chances of getting caught. Not when Dave would already be on her tail the whole time. Picking pockets or trading briefcases was as far as she wanted to go.

  Do what you have to do.

  Except this past year, do what you have to do had turned into getting up early for chores, harvesting food she’d grown herself, trading the excess for the venison that filled the freezer she’d left behind, and shearing her own damned sheep. It had meant a different kind of jazz…a quiet jazz. Sitting up in the dormer office writing to Ellen, letting her know how things were going.

  Stop it. She’d sabotage herself if she wasn’t careful. If she was going to do this, she’d have to focus on her needs and her solutions. Need: money. Solution?

  She stood in the doorway to her bedroom and cocked an ear at the stairs. The splash of water came to her ear; the clatter of the fry pan in the sink. As good as it gets.

  She moved swiftly to Dave’s room, bypassing the closed laptop to reach for his overnight bag. She knew much of the contents were in the bathroom, but she was willing to bet—

  Ah, yes. Her hand closed around cold metal. His Ruger DAO. Very nice. It wasn’t what she’d come for, but she didn’t hesitate to take it or his extra magazines. She rifled his laptop case and headed for the small dresser.

  Oh yeah.

  His wallet looked back up at her from the top drawer, ripe for the taking. And she might have done it, had she not wanted to keep him off balance. She wanted him wondering what she was up to and wondering what he should do about it, not raging after her in a fury. So she grabbed a few twenties to help cover immediate cash expenses and then hesitated over his credit cards. Yes. It’s what you came for. No time to get flinchy about it. She pulled them out of their little card slots, assessing them, knowing which company was more likely to call immediately about what they felt were unusual purchases and which wasn’t. Karin tapped a finger on the one he’d used to buy their clothes the previous day and almost plucked it from the batch.

  And then she saw the card behind it. Oh ho! This time, she didn’t hesitate. The card bore not only Dave’s name, but the imprint of the Hunter Agency. The family business credit card. She’d bet anything he hardly ever used it; he might not miss it at all. And an agency like Hunter had expenses pouring in all the time. A few more would hardly be noticed—at least, not until it was too late.

  She pulled the card, tucked it away in her jeans pocket and replaced it with another of his second-layer cards. He might not notice if a different card sat behind his preferred AmEx, but he’d sure notice if there wasn’t anything there at all.

  That done, she gave the room a quick look to make sure she hadn’t left anything out of place, and returned to her bedroom with silent steps.

  It could have been nice, the two of them working this job together. She already knew they partnered well; she’d been looking forward to riding the jazz with him beside her. And all for a good cause—the best of causes. No beating that.

  But looking back meant she wasn’t looking ahead. Karin dumped her thoughts at the threshold to her room and quickly packed what little she’d pulled from her snazzy von Furstenberg carry-on. She wasn’t quite through when she heard bumping-around noises that could only mean Dave was on his way up. She stashed the case and sat on the bed, pulling out her journal as she followed his progress.

  By the time he made it upstairs, she was writing to her sister. Dear Ellen, you’re gonna love this…

  I’m sorry. Dave said the words in his head one more time. He hoped they sounded better out loud. The truth was, learning about Karin’s life…about her stepfather…about her warrant…

  It had done a number on his head.

  He told himself—again—that a warrant wasn’t the same as a conviction. He told himself she’d come here to help. That she’d started a new life in her sister’s name, working that little homestead with dedication. He reminded himself how he had been the one to shove her back into the middle of things, and of how he’d admired her grit the night she’d gone over the cliff. He recalled the shivery feeling of locking gazes with her, from his nape all the way down his spine to tingle through his—

  Halfway up the stairs he stopped short, closed his eyes to tell himself what an idiot he was and moved forward with a determination to forget that
part.

  No, not to forget it. Some things…you couldn’t. But to put it aside long enough to get through the next moments, the next days.

  To catch Longsford.

  He found her sitting cross-legged on the bed, writing in her leather-bound journal. Small, precise writing. “Still more than just a diary,” he commented, leaning in the doorway.

  “Letters to my sister.” She spoke without looking up, her tone so matter-of-fact that Dave was taken aback. She’d been so private about it before….

  Of course, at that point she’d been calling herself Ellen.

  Karin straightened her shoulders, still looking down at the book. “Dear Ellen,” she read. “You won’t believe where I am. Or what I’m about to do.” She looked up at him for the first time since his arrival in her space and he blinked at what he saw in her eyes. He couldn’t quite name it, but it struck him deeply. Those smoky gray eyes had a confident intensity that momentarily left him without words.

  “What would she say?” he asked her.

  “She’d worry. She’d say to tell her about it when it was over. But she’d be glad I was doing it,” Karin answered easily, and then laughed a little at his surprise. “I’ve been having daily conversations with her for over a year. You think I don’t give her a chance to talk back?”

  Not much to say about that. But plenty left to say. “About what happened downstairs—”

  She looked straight at him. “You mean, when you were snide and rude to me?”

  Ouch. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Things have gotten…complicated.”

  “You don’t say.” She didn’t seem in the mood to be forgiving. He supposed things had gotten complicated for her since he’d arrived in her driveway. But there was no anger in her voice, seemed to be none on her face. Just determination.

  “We okay?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Sure.”

  He didn’t quite believe it. But he figured he’d pushed her as far as she’d go for one day. “I’ll go change. You wanted the suit?”

  “What I’d really like are the codes you use to get outside.”

  That took him by surprise. “The point is that you don’t go outside. It’s a safe house.”

  “Right,” she said. “But if someone’s out there watching us, we’re blown either way, don’t you think? And I’d rather not feel like a prisoner. Unless maybe I am?”

  “If you wanted to get out,” he told her drily, “I’m sure you’d find a way.”

  “Ah. Another dig?”

  “I just meant you don’t give up easily. And I’m doubly sorry about this morning if it means you’ll hear everything I say to you through a snide filter.”

  She was quiet on the bed. Quiet in body, quiet in voice. “It’s easier to put that particular filter on than it is to take it off. And I’d really rather just use the alarm code.”

  So he gave it to her, and she closed the book and set it aside. “I’ll get dressed,” she said. “Go do something with your hair.” And as his hand went up to check his hair, she grinned. A small grin, but better than no grin at all, and much better than a snide filter. “It’s fine,” she told him. “It just needs to be a little more conservative for the morning’s work.”

  “Can do,” he said, and went off to see to it. Her door was shut as he passed by on the way back, and he went on to his own room to dress the part of the boy-toy chauffeur. When he came back out the door was still shut and he knocked; no answer.

  The knob turned under his hand, and the door opened wide to an empty room.

  Chapter 16

  Karin moved quickly, cutting through a manicured yard to reach the next street over, heading south to reach Duke Street and then west toward the small business center. There she found a public phone, a phone book from which to tear a few key Yellow Pages and a place to lurk out of sight until the taxi she’d called arrived. Dave’s unmistakable Maxima drove by twice.

  Too bad it worked out this way. I’d have liked to see you in that suit again.

  But she’d done the right thing. He was too conflicted to pull off this scam. When she’d gathered enough information to sink Longsford, then maybe she’d see Dave again.

  Or maybe not. Maybe she’d take her new nest egg and head off to Alaska. Or maybe to one of the little Caribbean islands that didn’t have extradition. They had plenty of jobs for a woman who knew how to work people, how to keep them happy. For that was what it was all about—that was what a good long con did. Kept the mark happy. Some of them never did realize they’d been taken at all…just chalked it up to bad luck when their big opportunity didn’t come through.

  This was one opportunity that Karin would make come through. Look out, Longsford.

  When the taxi arrived she directed it to her new destination, the Embassy Suites in Old Town. Maia Brenner checked into a room on the first floor at the end of the hall. Easy to come and go unseen. The place had everything she needed—the fridge, the microwave, the coffeemaker, a complimentary breakfast.

  And the phones. She hadn’t had a chance to check in with Amy Lynn since leaving home the second time. Later she’d get herself a prepaid cell phone, but for now she’d eat the hotel long-distance charges. She flopped onto the suite’s sofa and pulled the phone close, dialing Amy Lynn’s number from memory.

  “Be there,” she said to the phone after it rang three times. “Just be there.”

  She was composing a voice-mail message in her head when the phone was snatched up, fumbled, and finally made it to someone’s ear. Amy Lynn’s breathless voice said, “Hello?”

  “Thought I was going to miss you,” Karin told her.

  “Ellen! Thank goodness. Are you okay?”

  The question surprised her. She’d been okay when she left; Amy Lynn hadn’t known a thing about the night on the cliff. “I’m fine,” she said. “Is everything okay there?”

  Amy Lynn hastened to reassure her with the understanding of a woman who also owned a bevy of farm animals. “The animals are fine,” she said. “Agatha’s milk is wonderful—you really should have me start it on cheese.”

  “Drink it or sell it,” Karin said. No need to think twice about that one. Amy Lynn might think Karin was off wrapping up old business from before her move with plans to return imminently, but Karin herself no longer assumed she could pick up where she’d left off. “What about Dewey?”

  “He’s fine.” Amy Lynn had caught her breath; her voice sounded more casual. “I adore him, as ever.”

  Good thing. Karin knew he’d have a good home if she couldn’t get back to him. But she suddenly missed him, a great big unexpected wave of longing for a canine friend who’d at first been wary of her but now watched over her as if he’d always been hers, his tail wagging at every glance she gave him.

  It wasn’t enough to deter her from what she’d first heard in her friend’s voice. “Something’s up,” she said. “Out with it.”

  “Never could hide anything from you,” Amy Lynn grumbled. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. First you leave, then you’re back and you’ve hurt your wrist, and then you’re off again. And I saw that car in your driveway.”

  They’d had this talk before. The one where Karin made it clear that “Ellen” would gently decline to talk about the past she was trying to leave behind. “Amy Lynn—”

  “Okay, okay. I’m not asking. I’m just telling you I’m not blind. Anyhow, this morning I went in to water plants and your answering machine had a message. I checked it—I thought it might be important.”

  Sudden dread replaced the lingering homesickness. “Who was it?”

  “Really weird, that’s what it was. Some guy named Gregg. Said he’d had some inquiries about you, and the attention would be a problem for him, and if it didn’t stop he’d come out to talk about it in person.”

  Karin’s hand clenched on the phone. Cree-ap. Rumsey.

  Longsford must have dug into Ellen’s past, probably even while they were dating. Might even have been why he stayed with he
r. Not only was she a nonconfrontational and unwitting ally in his disgusting personal pursuits, he probably felt he had the means to control her if she got out of hand. He probably didn’t realize that Ellen was the only one with nothing hanging over her head.

  And now Longsford was looking for Ellen, so he’d gone to Rumsey. Karin could only imagine Rumsey’s rage—no con man wanted a spotlight shining his way. And the man was perfectly capable of turning down a finder’s fee if it meant he might gain that unwanted attention in the local community, just as he was perfectly capable of showing up at Ellen’s farm if he thought it would put an end to the inquiries.

  “Ellen?” Amy Lynn sounded worried again. “Does the message mean anything to you? Do you know who it was?”

  She kept her voice casual. “Just a strange little man from too many years ago,” she said. “No telling what got into his head. Don’t worry about it. He lives on the West Coast. There’s no chance he’ll just show up at your place.”

  “Hmm,” Amy Lynn said. Then she offered, “That was my unconvinced noise. But the animals are all fine and the weather here is perfect. You’re gonna be sorry you missed it.”

  “I’m already sorry I’m missing it,” Karin told her, somewhat more fervently than she’d planned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. No doubt after I miss most of the spring planting.” She glanced at her watch and winced. The day would get away from her if she wasn’t careful. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll check in again as soon as I can. I should have a cell number for you the next time.”

  “Alrighty. You’re gonna owe me for this one, you know.”

  “Already do,” Karin said. “Tell your hubby ‘hey’ for me.”

  “Will do. And Ellen…whatever’s going on, be careful, okay?”

  “Nothing like that,” Karin said, putting the breeze back in her voice. “But I will.”