Tell Me What You Need

by Susan Sheehey

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Vaughn

  “There’s no way I can do that,” Wade Mesa said into the phone after he explained what he needed. His old fraternity brother’s voice sounded rough and aged. Like he’d woken the guy up, after a long night of drinking.

  Vaughn swallowed back a frustrated sigh. “I know I’m asking a lot.” His pre-law buddy from Miami had ended up moving to Texas after law school, where his wife’s family lived. The well-respected attorney had a promising future, much like when he was in college.

  They’d spent their fair share of parties with their heads over toilets.

  “You have no idea,” Wade continued. “This Portia Conway woman is vicious, and carries a heavy bat with her sphere of influence.”

  “I bet. But I also know Conway isn’t all innocent here, either.”

  There was a long silence on the end of the phone. “Vaughn, if you have information regarding criminal activity on Conway and her empire, you have to tell me.”

  He swallowed. Nothing he had was definitive. All heresy, so it wouldn’t be helpful to his attorney friend anyway. “Criminal? Probably not. Unethical, absolutely. But I’m not calling to dish dirt on Conway. I need your help with Cora Castillo.”

  “She broke into the woman’s home.”

  “But Conway hasn’t told you what’s missing, has she?” The woman would never dare admit what she had in her possession to authorities, because she’d be signing her own death certificate.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Wild guess. The worst you have on Cora is a B&E, at most. I can’t tell you why, but I can say her intentions were in the right place.”

  “It doesn’t matter what her intentions were.”

  “Wade…”

  Silence.

  “She had a very good reason. I’ll owe you.”

  His old friend’s sigh crackled the line. “It’s not that simple. I have a boss who will roll heads over this. Probably mine, too. What does this woman mean to you, to try so hard for this?”

  Vaughn scraped his hand down his face. She means everything. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything about her had changed his perspective. Everything about him needed her. He threw up his hand, as if Wade could see him. “She’s my North Star.”

  The guy chuckled, and he could hear the smile. “It’s about time, brother. Does that mean you’re turning in your cufflinks?”

  Wade knew about his profession, and was one of his few long-time friends that didn’t give him shit for it. He’d even helped bury a few hotline tips claiming the Knights of Texas were prostitutes. It helped to have a man on the inside of the system, watching his back.

  “That’s something I need to talk to her about, first.”

  “Look, I can’t promise anything. Let me look into it. But if I have to stick my nose out for this, then I can’t protect you and your colleagues on future incidents. I won’t have the pull. I probably won’t have a job anymore.”

  I probably won’t either.

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Shit, Vaughn.” He heard a car door slam shut.

  “I’m giving you a phone number.” Tom had passed along this information, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. But if this card would save both Cora’s neck and his friend’s job, he’d share it.

  “What phone number is this?”

  “Someone who can verify who Cora is, and will tell you as much as they are legally allowed.”

  “Jesus, are we talking about a government agent?”

  “Not quite. You’ll find out. Do yourself a favor and don’t let Conway know.”

  Another silence fell between them.

  Vaughn pressed the phone tighter to his ear, hoping his friend hadn’t hung up on him. “Wade?”

  “You should’ve finished school, man.”

  “I should’ve done a lot of things. But I don’t regret my choices.”

  “If you had, you could’ve been in a better position to help this woman.”

  “If I had finished school, I wouldn’t have met her. Things always have a way of working out.”

  “You’re still using that line, huh?”

  “Hasn’t failed me yet.”

  Cora

  “My tactics haven’t failed me yet,” the detective spouted from across the sterile table in the interrogation room. From his scruffy chin, and bags under his vomit-green eyes, they’d woken him early for this one. “One way or another, you’ll start talking.”

  Cora crossed her ankles in front of her. She hadn’t said a word, apart from the one phone call she’d made two hours ago. A message on a voicemail to the agency, hoping they’d still be willing to help, even though she had no favor cards left.

  At least the stash would be safe with Tom.

  The police hadn’t caught him, otherwise they’d be playing a different card than a breaking-and-entering. No matter what tactics this detective used.

  Although, she had to give it to the guy, being in his position wasn’t easy. He had so little evidence to go on.

  What had her insides twisting more than anything was the image of Vaughn staring while she was slapped in handcuffs. In all her years on the job, she’d never been detected, let alone caught. She’d played a risky hand on this one, diverted from her original plans, and lost.

  With Vaughn watching.

  He’d never want to see her again. Which ripped her up even more.

  “Your silence isn’t doing you any favors.” The man opened a thin file. “Mrs. Conway wants us to throw the book at you. In this town, she gets what she wants. You picked the wrong lady’s house to break into.”

  Actually, I picked the holy grail.

  He sighed. “Look. You don’t have any other arrests on your record. The prosecutor would be willing to take it easy on you, if you give him a little more information. The name of your accomplice. Because we know you couldn’t have gotten through Conway’s security system on your own.”

  He’s getting desperate if he’s switched to the good cop routine so quickly.

  If she kept silent a little while longer, they’d end the interrogation, and she could go back to her cell. Finish thinking this predicament through.

  With any luck, Tom had already contacted the agency, and informed them of the recovery. The items would be returned to the original families, and maybe—just maybe—they’d agree to this last favor.

  A knock on the door stopped the detective’s questions. He left the room.

  Cora didn’t dare sigh. No sign to show these men she was wearing down. Because despite the empty room, they were watching her from the double-sided glass. Also from the camera in the corner.

  Muffled words came through the wall, including a few that were raised and angry.

  Probably Conway’s attorney. She smiled. She’d love to hear the man stammer and dodge the question of what exactly the socialite was missing among her prized possessions.

  The door opened again, and this time a Hispanic man in a very expensive suit came in. French cuff shirt and leather soled shoes. His smile was genuine, but tired. Bags under his eyes accentuated his five-o-clock shadow.

  Has to be a lawyer.

  “I’m Wade Mesa. Assistant D.A.” He sat in the opposite chair, and folded his hands in his lap. He stared, studying her. Waiting for her to say something, or react to his title, as if he deigned to show his presence at a mere interrogation.

  She stared back, silently.

  “You have one extremely loyal friend.”

  Cora kept her face blank.

  Which friend?

  “I can see why he’s asked this favor. Cora Castillo, you’re free to go.”

  She blinked. Then raised her eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”

  “Nope.” He stood. “I strongly advise you to stay away from Portia Conway. This morning is going to be vicious with her. I’ll be eating shit for months off this, but you owe your friend one massive favor.” He extended a hand, which she cautiously shook. Then he
left.

  There’s no way Tom had this much clout to pull this off.

  What the hell just happened?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Cora

  She descended the county jail’s steps, the hot air stifling and oh-so-welcome. The same steps she’d watched Vaughn stroll down less than a week before.

  Cora and Tom had managed to pull off the recovery of a lifetime, came out Scot-free, with a decent payday in the works, and would no doubt be the talk of the art world for years. One for actual history books.

  She stood on the curb alone. Empty handed.

  The job was finished.

  Tom’s rental was no doubt cleared out by now. He had strict instructions to pack up and bail before anyone could catch on to his involvement.

  If she dared show up at Vaughn’s apartment, he’d probably slam the door in her face. But…she had to try. Had no choice. At least give him a final explanation, before she skipped town. Before he threw her actions in her face.

  She walked a few blocks over, and tried to hail a cab. None pulled over. The sun beat down on her neck, and her spirits faded. Dampening her bravery at facing the man to whom she’d finally let down her guard. Who’d given her the best time she’d ever had.

  Cora’s sore feet carried her a few more blocks, until she recognized the gray van parked in front of a coffee shop. With the license plates from their bail vehicle.

  What the hell is Tom still doing in town?

  She glanced around. The police were probably tailing her. Or at least a private investigator from Portia Conway. It didn’t look like anyone followed her.

  Cora strolled into the coffee shop, and gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the indoor lighting. She hadn’t been wearing sunglasses when they arrested her last night.

  Only a few patrons sat in the store. No Tom.

  She strolled up to the counter and ordered a water.

  “Do you consider us even now?”

  Her heart stammered. She held her breath and turned.

  Vaughn stood behind her with a set of car keys in his hand, and a slanted smile. His husky cologne was the same he’d worn the night they’d gone dancing. And had completely swept her off her feet. The sangria T-shirt matched the subtle red tinges in his hair, and his stubble just started to show. So damn sexy.

  “You dropped these last night.” He handed her the keys. His light touch was so warm.

  “Thank you. I didn’t realize… What are you doing here?”

  “Wanted to make sure they let you go.” He smirked. “Tom told me to wait here.”

  “Tom?” She couldn’t hide the shock in her voice. “How do you—”

  “He asked for my help last night.”

  Cora bit her tongue. The keys dug into her palm. “He shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “But he was right. You needed help.”

  She took several sips of water, and swallowed. “The whole point was to keep him safe, so he could leave. Where is he?”

  “Say thank you first.”

  “I did.”

  “For the keys you have, but not for getting you out.”

  Her jaw dropped. “That was you?”

  His silence and simple smile confirmed it.

  Her head started to spin. “How?”

  “Called a friend.”

  “That Wade Mesa guy? How do you know him?”

  “Old fraternity brother.”

  A door slammed, and Tom came out of the bathroom, talking on the phone. His relieved smile made him look even younger.

  She wanted to punch him. For breaking the rules of involving outsiders. Cora crossed her arms to keep her hands from doing something stupid.

  “Mornin’, jailbird.” He grinned. “Did they strip search you?”

  “You’re one to talk,” she growled. “You were supposed to bounce.”

  “Excuse me, I think you mean, ‘thank you, Tom. For saving my arrogant ass.’”

  “Arrogant? Who saved who’s ass?”

  “Easy, children.” Vaughn stepped in, and gently held her shoulder, the touch warm, soft, and equally infuriating. “I don’t have any favor cards left either, so let’s not get busted for disturbing the peace.”

  She pursed her lips, and lowered her voice. “Please tell me everything is still not sitting in that van. With no eyes on it.”

  Tom scowled. “Do you really think I’m that useless? We have one hour to the hand-off. Across town, too, so we need to get going. Something I arranged, thank you.”

  “Can I have a minute alone with her?” Vaughn kept his intense gaze on hers.

  Her friend complied, and strolled out to the van.

  Cora’s insides swirled and she wrung her fingers together. This is where he would cut all ties.

  It was probably better that way. She couldn’t stay. Not with her cover completely blown.

  “Thank you, for all your help.” Her mouth went dry, and she could barely get any words out. “Especially when you didn’t have to.”

  “I didn’t?”

  His smile actually made her chest ache. The debonair face, just as handsome as in high school. With just that one look, she was back to her adolescence, standing in front of her crush and too scared to admit it.

  “Why?” was all she could muster.

  “I wanted to.” His voice lowered, turned soft and husky. Vaughn suddenly took up too much room in front of her, breathed in too much of her air. Without her heels, he stood at least four inches taller, and she had to look up into those eyes. Eyes that clearly wanted more.

  Cut it off now, before he does.

  “We wouldn’t have worked out, Vaughn. I can’t stay. This thing between us was so…incredible. Thank you for that. But…” Cora swallowed the lump in her throat. “I think we’re better off…just…”

  His intent stare cut through all of her excuses, literally stealing the words from her mouth. His hot hands glided up her arms, and slowly pulled her closer.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. His mouth became hypnotizing, and all she could see was his face, slowly coming closer. Her breasts pushed up against his chest, and they started to throb.

  Dammit, why does he have this effect on me?

  “Because I wanted to ask for another night of dancing.”

  “Okay,” she breathed, staring at his succulent lips. “Wait, I’m leaving. I can’t.” Her stomach twisted once again. “I’m sorry.”

  “How about in Miami then?”

  “Miami?”

  “Or D.C. Wherever you’re going. I’m sure they have some kind of club where we can dance.”

  Cora blinked, and took a few seconds to register what he asked. What he implied. What he offered.

  “Seriously? You aren’t just being cute?”

  “I hope I’m a hell of a lot more than just cute.”

  I’d say so.

  Her heart hammered at full speed, and the butterflies in her stomach must’ve been on crack. It really was hard to breathe now. She hadn’t dared entertain thoughts of a serious relationship with Vaughn, with her job alone being too risky. Although, now with the recent recovery, she was too high profile.

  She wrapped her fingers around his bicep. So strong, and memory-inducing. The way they moved across her body…

  Her face heated.

  “You’re thinking way too hard, as usual.”

  “Have you thought through what you’re asking? I mean, your job, your lifestyle…”

  Vaughn’s hands slowly moved to her back, and down to her waist. “I’ve been thinking about a career change anyway. Now’s probably the best time to make a move.”

  “To what, exactly?”

  “You.”

  Her tongue swelled, and her hands started to tingle. Among other sensitive places in her body.

  “If you can handle a few more dances and late night lessons.”

  She raised a playful eyebrow. “I can handle whatever you dish out, Vaug
hn Ayers.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Vaughn

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Dorian cast a doubtful stare from across the table.

  The bar was packed for a Monday Happy Hour, but they’d found a fairly secluded spot toward the back.

  He and Riggs had lost their carefree smiles the second Vaughn broke the news.

  “This was a blast, don’t get me wrong. But it’s time to move on.”

  “I’m not talking about leaving the Knights. This role could only go on for so long.” D swirled the beer in the bottle. “I’m referring to Cora. She’s the one you want to leave for.”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my life.”

  “Back to Miami, huh?” Riggs crushed a peanut between his fingers.

  “For the interim. Not sure where we’ll end up, but this is my new start. For both of us.”

  “Texas won’t be the same without you.” Riggs tapped the bottom of his bottle against Vaughn’s Shiner Bock.

  “When do you head out?” Dorian failed to hide the disappointment on his face.

  “A few weeks. Cora has to finish the interviews with a few federal agencies regarding the latest recovery.”

  “The one she pulled off while we were eye candy for Conway?”

  Vaughn grimaced. “Who wasn’t what she pretended to be. She’ll probably be under federal investigation by the time we finish these beers.”

  “Black market arts dealer?” Dorian shook his head. “All that artwork just sitting in her study?”

  “All stolen by Nazi’s, mostly from Holocaust victims.”

  His tattooed friend reclined in his chair. “I’ll admit when I’m wrong. And I was wrong about her. She’s the real deal.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to do any clean up this time around.” He smirked.

  Vaughn chuckled. “Not anymore. We’ve come a long way since that cruise ship.”

  “There’s one more fight you have to have, which I won’t have anything to do with.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, I know.”