Hustled To The Altar

by Dani Collins

  “I think a camera would tip off Felix that he’s being set up,” Renny said.

  “Sarcasm. That must mean we’re becoming friends.”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell Con.” Renny glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Good grief, Jacob’s not back yet either.”

  “Who is Jacob?”

  “My fiancé.”

  “I thought you and Con—”

  “That’s the stuff we have to come back to. Nothing to do with Felix.”

  “Okay. I’ll go find my cameraman.”

  “Laila, I don’t think a camera—”

  Laila was already out the door.

  * * *

  Laila checked for messages as soon as she reached her suite. Nothing from Murphy. She dialed his cell.

  “I couldn’t call. I didn’t have the number,” he said.

  “Where are you?”

  “In the van.”

  “In the frigging parking lot? Honestly, Murphy.” Laila rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What did you get earlier, when you said I was interrupting?”

  “Our con artist talking to a couple of roughnecks. Then Conroy Burke showed up with that woman we saw at the health mine. Wanna see?”

  She didn’t worry right now about his getting Con on tape. She’d see what else she got of Felix before she decided whether to fight that fight with Con or leave him on the editing room floor.

  “Later,” she answered Murphy. “Right now, I want you to set up the camera here in the hotel.”

  “Surveillance, huh? Cool. What’s the room number?”

  She gave him Renny’s suite number, hung up and went back to Renny’s suite. Renny let her in but soon voiced her misgivings about letting Laila film the exchange.

  “Either that or I sit in the bedroom and take notes on what I hear,” Laila said, jittery because she was pushing for something that wasn’t part of their agreement.

  “You’ll let it be used as evidence if necessary?”

  “The cops help themselves if they want it badly enough.”

  Renny was still hesitating when Murphy arrived.

  He paused two steps past the door and took in the plush surroundings. “I see why they call it a sweet.”

  “You’ve got thirty minutes, Murphy. Can you hide it so well she can’t see it?” Laila thumbed toward Renny.

  “No sweat. You going to move the lamps?”

  “Why?”

  “‘The difference between pornography and erotica is lighting.’ Gloria Leonard.”

  “We’re not making a porno, Murph.”

  “Damn.”

  7:55 p.m.

  Spencer pushed both Spitfire and helicopter to their limits and returned to the hotel in the kind of time that justified the inflated salary Con paid him.

  The lobby was full of men in suits and women in little black dresses. They stood in lines waiting for entrance to the dining room and lounge and, outside, waiting for cabs. As he strode through the lobby, Spencer saw Con come out through a door labeled Concierge. He was carrying a bulky paper bag. A bellman followed. The men were laughing as if someone—Con, most likely—had cracked a joke.

  “Did I make it in time?” Spencer handed the gray case to his boss with only a trace of sweat on the handle and only a trace of coolness in his tone.

  “Right on time,” Con said with a grin.

  Good. If he’d gone through all this and then been too late to help Gran, he would have had to ask Con to oversee his harakiri attempt.

  Murphy strolled from the elevators, veering toward Spencer when he saw him.

  “Con, this is Laila’s cameraman, Murphy,” Spencer said.

  “Yeah? This is my bellman, Perry.” Con was glowing like an expectant mother. Spencer knew this mood. It meant Con was on top of his game, about to sprint to the finish line and do a victory dance.

  Good. Maybe he was too caught up in his caper to want to dig into Spencer’s involvement with Laila.

  “Were you with Renny?” Con asked Murphy.

  “Yeah, and she’s pissed with men in general. Are you one of the ones who’s late?”

  “Yeah, and the no-shows are my fault, too. Figured she’d be cranky. That’s why I’m still down here.” He lifted his brows in a know what I mean? expression. There was no shame in hiding from a nagging woman; it was a survival tactic every man understood and respected.

  “Well, I’d get up there soon, ’cause she’s going to come looking for you. And the way she was talking, you don’t want her doing that to you here in the lobby.”

  “Perry, you’ll call me when Felix arrives?”

  “The minute he walks in, sir.”

  “When do you knock off?”

  “When you tell me to, sir.”

  “After you call me, then.” Con slipped him a bill.

  “Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening.” Perry took up his position behind the concierge desk, looking like a private about to salute a worshipped senior officer.

  Spencer knew the feeling. Being dragged into Con’s adventures might cause him some anxiety, but sometimes it was worth it to feel like 007.

  “Hang on a sec,” Murphy said before Spencer and Con could proceed to the elevators. “Laila’s sent an email to print. Can you get it?” Murphy asked Perry.

  Perry fetched a folder of papers from a back room and Murphy relayed it to Spencer. “Tell her I’m going to hang out in the van,” Murphy said.

  Most of the guests in the hotel were coming downstairs to eat or go out, so the elevator going up was empty when Spencer and Con entered it.

  The doors had shut and they’d gone up three floors in silence before Con said, “Gotta say I’m shocked, Spence.”

  Spencer sighed. He had really hoped to avoid this. But he and Con had a standing no-bullshit clause in their friendship. It was a surprisingly strong friendship, considering they were such opposite personalities, but what Spencer liked about Con was the same thing he liked about Laila. They both drew attention away from him while allowing him to stay close to the action. He figured Con liked hanging with him because he appreciated someone who knew how to keep his mouth shut. Unfortunately, there were times when keeping his mouth shut got Spencer into more trouble than he would have seen if he’d opened up a little. This was one of them.

  “Laila and I go back,” he admitted.

  “Before the Prince of Play?”

  “Way before,” he admitted, sorry again he hadn’t intervened when he’d had the chance. “But the way she broke the story, I figured I didn’t know her very well anymore, and I was more interested in keeping my job than in getting involved.”

  Con took a moment to digest that. “You avoid getting involved as a rule, don’t you?”

  Spencer accepted the remark with a nod.

  “You’re involved now.” It wasn’t exactly a question.

  “Maybe.”

  Con chuckled. “Like you’ve got a choice.” They passed two more floors before Con added, “Well, you can’t stay on the bench forever. Gotta hit the field eventually.”

  “Yeah, so says every guy in your position.”

  “What position is that?”

  The doors opened.

  Renny waited on the other side, looking like she was going to pinch Con’s ear and give him a curfew lecture. “Where have you been? I’m meeting Felix downstairs in thirty seconds. Did you see him?”

  “No.” Con stepped out of the elevator.

  Spencer followed and hung around to watch the two of them play off each other, always amused by it.

  Con invited her into the empty elevator with a wave of his hand. “Go. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “The sheriff hasn’t shown up,” Renny told Con.

  “No call from the police station?”

  “No, and if—”

  “I’ll look into it. I have to fix something in the room before Felix gets there. Take your time.” Con nudged her into the elevator and leaned in to push the button.

  “Wait,” she said, holdin
g the door.

  “I’ve covered everything,” he assured her. “Except the good-luck kiss.”

  She backed deeper into the elevator. “I want to know how we’re playing this.”

  “Looks to me like you’re playing it Hard To Get.”

  “I am hard to get,” she said as the doors drifted shut.

  “I noticed,” Con said, chuckling at the closing doors. “I am never bored around that woman.”

  “That’s what I meant by a guy in your position—that position,” Spencer said, jerking his chin at the closed elevator. “You’re way beyond involved.”

  “Oh, hell, it’s obvious?”

  “Subtle’s not your strong suit.”

  “Damn.”

  They shared a look of male resignation.

  “Subtle’s usually your signature color,” Con finally said.

  Spencer laughed, nodded, then looked away.

  “Keep your girlfriend out of our suite for the next half hour,” Con said.

  “Roger that.” His girlfriend. If only.

  8:10 p.m.

  Felix took a few minutes to scope out the exterior of the hotel and peer through the windows, relaxing when he didn’t see any cops.

  After collecting his cash from his locker, Felix had shown it to Tyrone, and Tyrone had given him the nod to invest it with Burke. Felix had never been in on an investment game but figured Burke had done enough of it that he’d lead. Felix could fake his way through anything, so giving Burke Tyrone’s money, and leaving with Renny’s, ought to be a cakewalk.

  With Sergio still casting a shadow over his left shoulder, he entered the hotel.

  * * *

  Renny had hoped to brief the police before the exchange. If they showed up in the middle of it, she supposed that would be okay. Tricky, but workable. Failing that, she would have to follow Felix when he left. The uncertainty put a scowl on her face. She erased it when she saw Felix enter the hotel.

  Tingles of anticipation brought all her senses to full alert. The sell is more important than the con, she reminded herself. Setting up Felix for arrest wasn’t as important as reinforcing his expectation of getting away clean with a big score.

  “Finally, we have a chance to finish our business,” she said, greeting him with an air kiss near his left cheek.

  A giant hovered head and shoulders above Felix. “And this gentleman is . . . ?” Hagrid from Harry Potter perhaps?

  “Sergio. An associate of mine.”

  “Oh.” Okay, she could see why Con had thought leaving town might be a sensible option.

  “How was dinner on the glacier?” Felix asked.

  Behind Felix she saw Murphy talking to the bellman—Perry, she thought his name was. Perry pointed at Felix’s back, Murphy nodded, and Perry picked up the telephone. She couldn’t hear him but guessed he was reporting to an over-protective Con, and it unnerved her.

  “Lovely,” she answered Felix, guiding the men into an elevator and lowering her voice so the big guy wouldn’t overhear. “And thank you for saying nothing to Con about my attraction to you. He’s extremely jealous right now. Are you planning to invest with him?” She nodded at the briefcase he held.

  The hard-sided briefcase, tan leather with gold clasps, was new enough to have a string price tag still dangling from the handle.

  “It’s certainly worth discussing,” he said.

  The elevator came to a rest and she led him to the suite. Felix said, “Sergio, wait here,” like he was commanding a mongrel to sit outside the general store. Well-trained pit bull that he was, Sergio stood at attention to the left of the door.

  Once inside the suite, Renny said, “Darling, look who I found in the lobby.” She stepped out of her shoes as she crossed to kiss Con. “Go ahead and set up on the desk there,” she invited Felix, pointing to where Con had pulled the desk away from the wall and turned it at an angle nearer the window.

  “Did the jeweler give you a fair deal?” Felix asked.

  “You’ll never believe what happened!” It was a stock phrase straight from Mom’s How to Think on Your Feet primer. Renny used it to give herself time to work up a story, building in the possibility that Jacob could walk in at any moment. “The jeweler went home while we were at dinner. He promised to bring it by, but we haven’t seen him yet. But it’s okay. Con said I could take a loan from his stash. And he’s thinking of buying a policy, too. Aren’t you, darling?”

  “I don’t remember saying that.” Con kept his expression impassive while his stare held a challenge.

  Felix sent her a sharp glance.

  She looked back at Con, trying to gauge his purpose. Maybe he didn’t like the way she was playing this, but if he had wanted to lead, he should have come upstairs with more time to spare than the length of an elevator ride. She was uneasy until she saw him scratch his upper lip. He was hiding a smile, the big, dumb ass. Playing hard to get.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, calling his bluff. She turned to Felix with a smile. “Looks like it’s only me.”

  “Well, no point in trying to talk him into something he doesn’t want.” Felix dealt with the setback like a seasoned fake. “Pity, though. This is a limited opportunity.”

  Renny urged Felix toward the desk.

  Tiny beads of sweat collected on Felix’s upper lip, barely visible. He edged around the desk and set his briefcase at his feet, opening it enough to remove a folder. He handed her a brochure and began outlining options.

  “It covers sexual dysfunction,” Renny told Con.

  “Really,” he said dryly.

  After smiling confidently at Felix, she hooked her arm over the back of her chair so she faced Con again. This was fun. Meryl Streep on her best day didn’t pull off this kind of acting. “You can get counseling, too, to help deal with the trauma of failure.”

  Con dipped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “You’re letting your bitterness rule your life, you know,” she continued. “Don’t skip this opportunity because you feel weak. Remember, not every man has the means to make a decision like this and act on it immediately. Gosh, hon, a purchase like this reeks of potency.”

  “Is that right?” Con lifted his head.

  She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

  Con made a choking noise and moved to the window behind Felix’s right shoulder, forcing her to face Felix.

  “I brought two sets of paperwork, if you want to change your mind,” Felix said, his tone persuasive.

  Renny’s gaze clashed with Con’s over Felix’s head.

  “Two sets? I guess a backup is always handy, just in case.” Con adjusted the drapes.

  Felix attempted to close the deal. “Full name?”

  “Renatta Jane O’Laughlin.”

  Felix wrote on the form in front of him. “I recommend the deluxe option. You pay a bit more, but it covers every contingency. You know, I could offer a better price if you both signed today.”

  “A better price than what? We haven’t heard the original price yet,” Con said.

  Vexing man. He knew he should be cooperating. Felix couldn’t leave this room without writing up the papers and taking all the money, or they’d have nothing to prove he was a swindler.

  “Quit arguing about the cost. I need the coverage.” She coughed, tried to look brave.

  Behind Felix, Con rolled his eyes. “If you’re in such a hurry, you’d better get the money. It’s on the bed.”

  Her heart pounded as she went into the darkened bedroom and found the case Con had been carrying when he had stepped off the elevator with Spencer. It was set apart from the other briefcases she’d trucked in there with Laila. She lugged the heavy case back to the sitting room.

  Con was leaning over the corner of the desk and must have asked a question about the policy.

  “It’s simple to understand,” Felix answered with a hint of annoyance, shifting his weight to the left, obviously uncomfortable with Con’s closeness. “And it’s online.”

&
nbsp; “I prefer thick booklets that really spell out the policy.”

  Renny set the briefcase on the desk. “Sweetie, size doesn’t matter. I’ve told you that before. It’s the coverage that counts—right, Felix?”

  “That’s right.” Felix, forehead shiny, asked for her mailing address.

  Her own forehead was probably shiny enough to guide air traffic. They were so close, so very close, but where was the sheriff?

  While she continued feeding Felix information, Con found her bottle of water from this afternoon on the windowsill and asked Felix to move his feet so he could put it in the wastebasket. Felix did, without pausing in his writing.

  “Now,” Felix said. “Have you decided how much you’re prepared to spend?”

  “About thirteen thousand—right, Con?” Renny popped open the case and showed Felix the money Spencer had fetched.

  Felix almost salivated.

  Where is the sheriff? Renny wondered.

  She balanced on a knife’s edge. Close the deal or call it off? Risk letting Felix walk with the money, or play it safe and keep it? They were being filmed. That had to be worth something. She would let the game play out for another minute, in hopes the cops showed up.

  “Let’s call it thirty—right, Con? You need the benefits now that you’re no longer with Performance.” They needed to kill more time with another form. “Conroy Everett Burke,” she prompted Felix.

  The phone rang.

  Con grabbed it off the corner of the desk.

  “Hello? Oh, hello, Jake. ’Bout time we heard from you. I was getting worried. What? No, kidding. Hang on, I’ll give you to Renny. Jake’s been arrested.” He handed her the phone.

  Felix dropped his pen.

  Panic zinged through her as she reached for the receiver. “Jacob?”

  “Hello, Renny,” he said uneasily. “There was a problem with the jewelry. Could you come to the police station and tell them I didn’t steal it?”

  “Um . . . ”

  Con snapped the gray case shut and handed it to her. “Here, use my money for bail.”

  Felix stuffed his papers into his leather folder.

  “Felix, wait!” He was going to get away.