Tell Me What You Need

by Susan Sheehey

Vaughn grinned. He loved the way her hair draped over her shoulder in cute little tangles. The morning-after look suited her. It wasn’t even morning yet.

  Cora studied the page with her photo, scowling.

  His was on the opposite side, in his letterman jacket. He still had that in the closet.

  He remembered her picture well. She’d worn black-rimmed glasses, and her frizzy hair was completely untamable. Back then she was outspoken, smart, and always had something to say. Very much like now. There was one major difference. In high school, she was as easily forgettable as she was attractive, but both qualities were ruined when she opened her opinionated mouth.

  Now, the woman lying before him…he’d never forget.

  He hovered over her, and stared at their pictures. Her sandalwood and nutmeg perfume made it hard to concentrate. “Castillo. Spanish for castle.”

  “Are you going to give me some cheesy line that you just stormed mine?”

  Vaughn kissed her neck. “That would be juvenile.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Castillo is your father’s name?”

  “No, my mother’s.”

  He tilted his head. “Why don’t you have your father’s name?”

  “He said it was to keep me safe.”

  “Safe?”

  Cora bit her lip, and her face paled. Which she hid behind another sip of alcohol.

  “You were in danger?”

  “No.” She set the glass on the counter. “His old job. Made a few enemies, and he figured this was another layer of protection for the rest of our family. My mother never changed her last name, either.”

  “What was his old job?”

  The dimple in her cheek when she smirked at him nearly drove him wild. “My job.”

  “He was a recovery specialist, too?”

  “The recovery specialist. Best in the business, until he retired.”

  “What was his name?”

  She eyed him.

  “You have a really hard time trusting people, don’t you?”

  “It’s less messy.”

  “And lonely.”

  Cora pressed her lips together, and took another sip. “Calev. Calev Cohen.”

  “The family business, huh?”

  She shook her head. “Actually, I was told not to involve family or friends. Which means, I’ve already told you too much.”

  Vaughn caressed her arm, and watched the goosebumps rise on her skin. “Does that mean you have to kill me?”

  Her lip twitched, like she had the urge to lick it, but instead stared straight at him. “How do you know I haven’t slipped something into your drink by now?”

  He grinned. “Because I’ve been all over every inch of your body the second you walked in. You didn’t sneak in anything.”

  This time, she did bite her lip.

  He was so jealous of her teeth.

  “What’s with all the sand jars on your shelf?”

  Vaughn chuckled. “Various beaches I’ve been to. My souvenirs…”

  “Did you like the cruise ship life?”

  “Loved it.” One of my only options, since my father had kicked me out of college. And all for telling the truth. He brushed a stray hair back from her face. “But I won’t fall for your subject change.”

  “I was just trying to learn more about you. Like you’re so inquisitive of my history.” She winked.

  “It’s hard to imagine, doing that role all by yourself. The risk…what if you needed help?”

  “I have help. A…staff, so to speak.”

  “You’re the boss?”

  “More like a project manager.”

  “Are they all based out of Dallas, too?”

  Her stare held his for a long moment, her expression faltering a bit. “Actually, none of us are.”

  He leaned back on his hands, the covers cool under his touch, and let the distance speak to his surprise. If Cora wasn’t local, where did she call home? How long would she stay in Texas? “You’re only here temporarily?”

  “I was supposed to finish the job with Conway, and head out. I never stay in one place too long. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I need to stay a bit longer. For another job.” Cora took another sip of brandy.

  She was still trying to decide whether or not to tell him the truth. Figure out if she could trust him enough to share what she really wanted to say. The truth about this next con. It was all over her face.

  “When this job is over, will you stay?”

  She sighed. Her expression softened. “I uncovered a lot more items that have been missing for decades. Incredibly large scores. Too big to ignore. Too…personal.”

  Vaughn listened intently. This was information she hadn’t intended on sharing. At least she was finally learning to trust him. He considered that a win. “Are those scores here? In Dallas?”

  Her next sigh felt like an anchor in the air. “That’s what I need to find out.”

  Cora

  “I could use your help with this one.” She stretched her legs across the foot of the bed, and mirroring his relaxed posture. Which inadvertently accentuated her cleavage. She’d need him to be distracted just a bit for this request.

  “With a job?” Vaughn asked, his eyebrows lowering, just like they did right before he climaxed.

  This time, she could tell he wasn’t quite comfortable. Which meant the next part he’d be completely uncomfortable with.

  “With Portia Conway.”

  He eyed her. “You said to stay clear of her.”

  She had. Because that was normally the best course of action after a mark realized they’d been jacked. The second he’d asked her if she was staying in Texas, that was when a solution had popped in her mind like a busted balloon.

  Whether from being surrounded by her first night of relaxation and pleasure, or staring at the naked chest she’d spent the last few hours feasting on, the distraction worked.

  Vaughn could give her the in she needed to complete her career’s greatest work.

  “Unfortunately, I need you to approach her.”

  “What for? To use me as another diversion?”

  “Kind of.”

  “So you can steal from her again.”

  Cora swallowed, but didn’t respond. Hated that term. The way she viewed her role was returning things back to their rightful owners. Things that’d been stolen from innocent victims in one of the worst atrocities in human history. That mentality was an unavoidable truth of her job. There would always be doubters, critics.

  Normally, she had no problems ignoring them and continuing with her work. This time, Vaughn’s disapproval hit hard.

  “As much as I enjoy our time together,” he continued. “I won’t be your accomplice.”

  “This is different.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I don’t care what she did or what justice this would serve. I’m not a thief. I won’t become one to help you.”

  “I’m not asking you to. Just talk to her.”

  “And say what?”

  “The truth.”

  The blank expression on his face proved this was her chance.

  “Admit you had nothing to do with the other night. That you were conned, just as she was. That you’re not even in antiquities. You’re a Knight.”

  “To what end? Offer her my services?” Vaughn snorted.

  “Exactly.”

  His jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  She sat up, loving her idea the more she spoke. “Knowing her, she’ll drool over the invitation. And she has another formal event coming up. A masquerade, actually.”

  “The one where she asked me to be in the bachelor auction? Or do you want me to be her date?”

  “Maybe. Let’s see what she says.”

  He frowned and started to get up from the bed. “I don’t know about this.”

  Cora grabbed his hand, and pulled him toward her. “All I’m asking is to make the approach. Or, more specifically, give her the oppor
tunity to approach you. By chance.”

  “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

  “I know where her favorite coffee shop is. And when she’ll be there.”

  “How would you know—wait. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “I’ve been tailing her for months. I know her routine. That’s how.”

  “All of this is for some major score? What did you mean by too personal?”

  An angry confidence burst in her gut. She surged from the bed and grabbed her cellphone from the nightstand. After a few taps, she found the photos she took in the bank vault.

  The ones of her great-uncle’s artwork from the Holocaust. A self-righteous defiance flamed in her heart, against the woman who had stolen her family’s legacy, and hid behind the law.

  Not just her family’s legacy, but the priceless art from dozens of families and foundations, searching for these gems for decades.

  Vaughn flipped through a few photos of the artwork. “Those are nice.”

  “Those were painted by my father’s great uncle.”

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no reason for Portia Conway to have these. They aren’t collectibles, or catalogued anywhere. She has these, along with millions of dollars worth in priceless art and antiques, that are known Holocaust stolen items. Things that’ve been on every major search list since the 1950’s. Which means she bought all of these either together in one lump sum lot, or she collected them individually over the years. Both prove she knew all of these were stolen items from the Holocaust. She’s hiding these somewhere. Because she knows their illegally obtained.”

  He shook his head, and set her phone on the bed. “What about the necklace?”

  “The necklace?”

  “The one you took right off her neck?”

  “What about it?”

  “That took some balls. Shoving an old lady to the ground, and ripping the sucker off. You’re telling me you did that out of this self-righteous kick, and just doing your job? Or is there something else behind it?”

  Cora blinked. “I didn’t shove her.”

  Vaughn scoffed. “I felt something push her down.”

  “She tripped over my foot. As planned.”

  “Sleight of hand.” He watched her with an expression of half predatory, half indignation. “Something tells me that’s what you’re in that job for. The thrill of it.”

  She clenched her teeth. That wasn’t the first time she’d heard that bunch of garbage. Even Tom had accused her of that before.

  “You don’t get that good at what you do without enjoying the tactics you’ve used,” Vaugn said.

  “I’d much rather these war criminals turn over the items, without getting me involved.”

  “Cora…” His voice softened, along with his face.

  “What?” she snapped back.

  “It’s okay to enjoy your job. As long as you aren’t fooling yourself with your motivations.”

  She bit her tongue. No matter how hard she bit down, there was no keeping the words from coming out of her mouth. “I’m not the fool in this room.”

  Any sympathy or understanding in his face vanished. His lips parted, as if he were about to spit something back, but the words evaporated.

  Spinning on her heel, she yanked off his shirt, and started getting dressed. Her motions were fast, jerky, and nearly ripped her skirt as she shoved in her leg. “I’m doing the job my father taught me. Continuing his work, because no one else will. At least, no one with honorable intentions.” Cora searched the room for her bra, but she couldn’t find it. Her heels lay in the corner, and she swooped them up in her hand. Then she faced him full on. “I’ll admit, I get a kick out of the look on their face when they’re outed. When they realize they’ve been jacked. That’s the thrill for me. Everything else are just skills of the trade.”

  His gaze moved down to her bare breasts, and his eyes darkened to a deep indigo.

  Which made her stop and swallow.

  “You still have a vicious temper.” Vaughn’s voice was low, husky…to the point of seduction.

  How in the world can he feel like sex when I just insulted him?

  She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant to insult him. He was far from a fool. When rage flared up inside her, it tended to take over her mouth. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Heat flushed her face.

  “No sense back-pedaling on my account. I’ll still help you.”

  His statement nearly made her drop her heels.

  “Why?”

  He rolled off the bed, and stalked up to her in just his boxer briefs. His ab muscles moved with each step, and her mouth watered.

  “To prove you wrong.”

  He was so close, his chest not six inches from her chin, and his height intimidating.

  Which was why she always wore high heels. Cora hated how short she was. She also hated the way his cologne drifted over her like a blanket, mixed with a touch of her own perfume, which had rubbed off on him overnight.

  “I’m rarely wrong,” she managed to breathe out.

  “You are about me.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his, and her heart nearly stopped.

  Does that mean he’s going to turn me in?

  Vaughn dipped down and grazed his lips against her cheek, and stopped just over her mouth. “I’m no fool. I know exactly what my motivations are. And yours.”

  Her gasp was quiet, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his lips. Those lips that knew all of her body too well.

  He brushed a light kiss along her mouth, teasing, soft, and intoxicating. Stirring another wanton desire in her gut that had dominated her every time he drew close.

  Oh, to hell with it.

  She dropped her heels and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, crushing against him for another round.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Vaughn

  Vaughn tripped, and spilled half his coffee on the table in front of him.

  The woman in the wooden chair gasped. Her gaze lifted and met his.

  “I’m so sorry.” He tilted his head. “Ms. Conway?”

  Her eyes widened, and she closed her magazine in front of her latte. “Vaughn Ayers.”

  He blinked, and feigned shock. Then grabbed a bunch of napkins from the counter to clean up the mess. “I didn’t get any on you, did I?”

  Portia sighed, and a slight smile crossed her face. “No, dear man. I’m fine.” She helped him clean up the rest.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten any of the coffee on her black pants and Gucci cream blouse, which matched her purse on the chair.

  “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

  “Not too far,” Vaughn lied. He tossed the napkins in the trash can, and lingered by her table. “I want to apologize for the misunderstanding the other night.”

  Her eyes fell to her ring-covered, knobby knuckles.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not Caroline’s associate.”

  The magazine dropped to the table when she looked at him with surprise.

  “She hired me to be her date. I’m a Knight.”

  Her brow furrowed, but still alight with mischief. “A Knight? From that escort agency?”

  Of course she knows about us.

  “Yes.” He smiled. “When she made the booking, I had no idea—”

  The older woman waved her hand. “It’s all right, Vaughn. In fact, I should apologize to you. Accusing you with no proof…poor form on my part. The police informed me you had nothing to do with it. Will you forgive me?”

  Vaughn chuckled. “Certainly. May I?” He gestured to the open chair in front of him.

  “Of course.”

  He gave himself an invisible pat on the back for the ruse reaching this far. He’d half expected her to kick his shins and dump her coffee all over him. “You took quite a spill that night, too. Are you all right?
”

  Her eyes gleamed across the table. “Takes far more than that to thwart me.”

  That’s what I heard.

  “But, you say you’re really a Knight. Is that true?”

  The bait worked.

  “I am.”

  “How long have you been in the business?”

  “Just over a year.”

  “Are you good at your job?” Portia’s tone conveyed she already knew the answer.

  “I’ve never had any complaints.”

  She grinned. “Modest, too.”

  He hid a smile behind a sip of what was left of his coffee. The rules of discretion were still in play. This was just another potential client. So, Vaughn had to turn up the flirt. “Do you have a date for your next event?”

  “I have no problems finding dates for my events.”

  “Of course not. A woman like you?”

  “However…” She batted her eyelashes. “You’re still invited as my guest, despite all that horrid business from Thursday.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you consider donating your services for the bachelor auction?”

  “That depends.”

  Portia raised a brow. “On?”

  “Will you be bidding?”

  She laughed, catching the attention of a few other patrons.

  Vaughn smiled back at them.

  “You’re such a flirt.”

  “That’s what I do.” He took another sip of coffee. “However, in all seriousness, we don’t flaunt our roles as Knights in that manner. Draws too much attention. We try to remain discreet.”

  Her smile fell slightly. “I understand.” She cupped her mug. “Then perhaps I could ask you to attend in another capacity.”

  Here we go.

  “Such as?”

  “This event is a masquerade. Much heavier on the dancing, and I could use some facilitators. Entice people onto the floor and keep up the energy. Make the music…irresistible.”

  He gave her knowing smile.

  “I’m sure someone in your industry knows how to accomplish that.” The woman winked.

  “How many guests do you expect?”

  “Around a hundred.”

  “Then you’ll need several more than just me, to keep them going all night.”

  She cocked her head. “Do you have friends in mind?”