Private Lies

by Wendy Etherington

  Good grief, she was getting hysterical.

  The waiter left, and Roxanne concentrated on scanning the room—the dark, elegant attire of the customers, the quiet conversations, the muted lighting, the quiet strains of the piano.

  “He’d like this.”

  “A bit stuffy for me,” Toni said, wrinkling her nose.

  Roxanne cast a sideways glance at her friend, wondering, incredulously, when this had become a girls’ night out.

  “Uh, right.” Toni cleared her throat. “Gage.”

  “He’s the reason we’re here.”

  “Of course.” Craning her neck, Toni deduced, “He’s not here.”

  “I’m beginning to agree.”

  Roxanne studied each customer in turn. Though the bar boasted several dark-haired men in conservative suits, none of them were Gage. None had his stark masculinity, his controlled coolness, his sexy—

  Whoa. What’s this?

  A man at one end of the bar had turned. He lifted a dark amber drink to his lips. Sparkles of gold and diamonds winked at his wrist. Broad shoulders filled a black suit jacket. His manner was smooth, confident. Unsmiling, he nodded at his young male companion.

  Gage.

  Her heart hammered; her mouth went dry. Her gaze locked on his sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw. “He’s there,” Roxanne said to Toni, even more certain as she said the words aloud.

  Toni’s head bobbed. “Where?”

  “The left side of the bar.”

  “He’s too young.”

  “The one next to him.”

  “He’s got a—”

  “Ponytail, I know.”

  “He’s smoking.”

  Roxanne had noticed that, too. Her whole body grew numb. Her heart sank. “I was kind of expecting a svelte blond lover,” Toni said.

  “Let’s hope it’s not the kid sitting next to him.”

  Toni pursed her lips. “No way.”

  “That was a joke.” Roxanne watched Gage drum his fingers on the bar. He scowled and shook his head, his ponytail sliding against the collar of his jacket. The sophisticated surface she saw every day had been wiped away, replaced by a dark seediness she’d never before associated with Gage. As if the charming man she knew, the man she lived with, was an act, and this dangerous stranger had risen to take his place.

  No woman, but a disguise? Tangled emotions assaulted her—relief, confusion, worry, anger. What the hell was going on?

  She’d heard of people having a nervous breakdown. She’d heard from her family many times about crimes of passion, people snapped and hurt the ones closest to them. She’d heard on talk shows about defining moments in a person’s life.

  So in that moment of watching Gage frown at the man next to him, of watching her fiancé act like someone else, appear as someone else…something inside her shifted. Changed.

  Snapped.

  GAGE GLARED at his young, would-be counterfeiter.

  “So where is he, Mettles?”

  Mettles swallowed, his protruding Adam’s apple shaking. “He said he’d be here.” He glanced around. “But he didn’t sound pleased.”

  Gage bit back a nasty remark about waiting for this kid to find his balls. It wouldn’t help to lose his cool. He needed all his nerves to confront Stephano. They’d retired to this more private bar on top of the hotel after a cell phone request by Mettles’s boss, and though the view of the river and city lights was beautiful, the hairs at Gage’s nape twitched.

  He turned, expecting to finally come face-to-face with Mettles’s boss, but he only saw other patrons, sipping drinks and talking quietly.

  Then he saw her.

  At a corner table sat a busty, exotic-looking woman with long, curly dark hair. Gage’s first impulse was hooker. But as he watched her lift her drink to her deep red lips, he saw a gracefulness and sense of style usually not found in ladies of the night.

  A rich tourist trolling for excitement, he amended, though something about the woman and her companion struck him as familiar. Had he seen them before? Maybe they’d been in the lobby bar earlier.

  Her blond-haired friend noticed his appraisal and gestured at him. The dark beauty glanced at him, then averted her face, for which Gage was glad. He couldn’t afford to attract too much attention. Especially from the type of woman who found the danger emanating from Gage Angelini irresistible.

  As nothing seemed to be going right all night, he wasn’t surprised to see, out of the corner of his eye, the two women rising. They laid money on the table, then, after a brief discussion, they parted, the blonde heading out of the bar and the exotic beauty heading straight for him.

  “Hell.” He sipped his drink and waited for her approach. Six months working this stupid case, and it was about to be spoiled by some lonely heart.

  Her perfume reached him first. Spicy and mysterious, it stirred him more than he’d anticipated.

  “Gage?” she said in a smoky voice.

  Startled, Gage’s hand jerked. Ice clanged against the crystal.

  He turned and met her gaze squarely. Her eyes were a bright emerald green, her skin dark gold, her black jumpsuit filled out with generous curves. He didn’t know her, yet something about her was familiar. Was it the shape of her face? Her expression?

  Her mouth pursed in irritation. “What are you doing here?”

  The itch on the back of his neck intensified, but he somehow remembered his role. He smiled. “Havin’ a drink, bella. Join me.”

  Mettles shifted on his stool.

  Gage knew what was going through his mind. My boss isn’t going to like this.

  “Move down for the lady, Mettles.”

  Mettles moved, and Gage took the beauty’s hand and assisted her onto the stool. The view of her well-endowed cleavage was impressive, but Gage’s brain was too busy spinning a way out of the situation to fully appreciate her body.

  “Drink?” he asked her.

  She nodded at his glass. “What are you having?”

  “Black Jack.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “You don’t—” She stopped and smiled seductively. “That’s good for me.”

  What was with people tonight? This stuff ate away your stomach lining.

  He made the order, but continued to stare at the woman. Something doesn’t click. Something’s off here.

  For the first time he wondered if he was being set up. Certainly not by Mettles, but maybe Stephano was testing Gage, looking for a trap himself.

  Gage pulled his cigarette case from his inside pocket and offered a smoke to the lady.

  Her lip curled disdainfully. “No, thanks.”

  He lit the cigarette and expertly pressed a concealed button on the side of the case as he returned it to his pocket. The case doubled as a camera, and he intended to run his lovely lady’s face through the federal criminal database.

  He took a drag of the cigarette, fighting the urge to cough. He leaned toward her, speaking so only she could hear. “So, are you going to tell me where I know you from?”

  Her full red lips flattened. She practically snarled at him, then she whispered in his ear, “Well, the other night the sex was pretty interesting, even if it was a bit rushed.”

  Her voice was different this time, less husky. And he knew it. He knew it very well.

  Oh, hell.

  3

  FOR AN INSTANT, Gage’s whole body stilled, his heart stopped pumping, his brain froze. Leaning back, he stared at his fiancée. “It can’t be,” he muttered.

  “Oh, but it is.” She shoved her chest out and dropped her gaze.

  Gage, noting she had much more than usual, stared down. There, between the beautiful breasts he’d nipped and tasted a few nights ago, rested the round sapphire pendant he’d given her for her birthday. His gaze jolted back to hers. “Rox—”

  She laid her finger over his lips.

  “Angelini.”

  Gage turned. A tall, slender, silver-haired man—who looked more like a bank executive than a mobster, yet one Gag
e recognized from surveillance photos—stood at Mettles’s quivering side.

  Gage pulled Roxanne off her stool and swept her behind him at the same time he gestured to the man. “Mr…?”

  His mouth tipped up on one side. “Stephano,” he said smoothly as he sat, his cold blue gaze straying to sweep over Roxanne and her formfitting pantsuit.

  Gage found it difficult to keep anger out of his voice. “What’s your drink?”

  “Scotch, neat.” He nodded his head at Roxanne. “I didn’t realize we’d arranged a double date. Though Mettles doesn’t hold a candle to your lady.”

  His heart hammering, Gage remembered his role and smiled. “True, but she’s more expensive.”

  The mobster chuckled, and Roxanne gasped in outrage.

  “Why, you—” she began.

  Gage yanked her arm, so she landed with a plop on the bar stool behind him. He faced her, all but grinding his teeth to stay calm and in control.

  Her eyes, normally a comforting shade of brown, spit green fire.

  She’s in danger. I’ve put her in danger.

  Guilt and fear strengthened his resolve. He glided his hand beneath her jaw and pulled his room card from his pocket with the other. “Go down to my suite, baby. I’ll be along later.” He brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered, “Please. I can explain. Please go.”

  Stephano clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, let her stay. A beautiful woman is always a welcome addition to the party.” He smiled lasciviously at Roxanne.

  Gage growled low in his throat.

  “Don’t like sharing, huh, Angelini?” Stephano threw back most of the contents of his drink, his eyes glowing as he stared at Roxanne. “I could make it worth your while.”

  With every ounce of control and experience he possessed, Gage held his cover. Quickly, he assessed all that had occurred since Roxanne had literally walked into this mess, including his surprise at her appearance, which Mettles had no doubt witnessed. “She can be trouble. She was supposed to stay in the room.”

  Stephano’s eyes gleamed. “I like trouble.”

  Gage raised one eyebrow, as if he was actually considering the disgusting idea of sharing. “Really?”

  Roxanne gasped. She raised her hand—to slap him, Gage presumed, but he caught it and kissed the underside of her wrist. “It’d have to be substantial. She’s very good.”

  Roxanne tried to yank her hand away, but Gage held tight. She could hit him later, though he couldn’t imagine Roxanne actually going through with the blow.

  Stephano threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, I think we’ll work well together, Angelini.”

  And, just like that, Gage was in.

  While Stephano ordered another drink, Gage slid his hand behind Roxanne’s head, feeling the edge of the wig she wore. He couldn’t help but admire her guts in finding him. He’d known she’d been suspicious of him at lunch, but he’d never dreamed she’d pull something this bold. Remembering her blond companion, he pinned the idea of the disguises on Toni.

  And an excellent disguise it was. Fooling him—a ten-year undercover veteran. As if she knew the skills of a pro, she’d altered her appearance significantly, but also latched on to the secret of change—the attitude. Looks alone didn’t complete a deception. The transformation had him hard as a rock.

  Roxanne always stirred his lust, but this daring, dark beauty was such a contrast from his normally agreeable, elegant fiancée that he found himself even more aroused than usual. Couples had engaged in role-playing games for centuries, he supposed, though he’d never before seen the interest. Now he had a different view. He longed for the moment he could send her anger over into passion, uncovering her body, cementing his hold on her heart.

  It would no doubt take all the finesse he had. But he would hold on to her. She’ll know your secret before the night’s out. She’ll leave you. She’ll hate you.

  Maybe. If they lived that long.

  He pulled her close, ignoring the panicked racing of his own heart. He’d get her out of there. Safe. Away from the danger and slime he waded in.

  Her dusky face turned nearly purple with rage. She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Come on, baby. You know I was just kidding.” He brushed a light kiss across her lips. Her mouth remained cold and her lower lip trembled.

  Oh, damn, he thought as her eyes filled with tears.

  “Hang on,” he whispered. “Just play along, Rox. You can do it. Please. We’re in big danger here.”

  She sniffed and offered him a barely perceptible nod. That small measure of trust gave him more hope than he probably deserved. Damn him. He never should have involved her in his risky life.

  “How about some champagne, baby?” He snapped his fingers at the bartender. “I’ve got some business, then I’ll take you out.”

  “Bring the bottle,” Stephano ordered the bartender. “Mettles likes the stuff, too.” Stephano nudged his employee none too gently. “Right?”

  Mettles held on to the bar so he wouldn’t fall off the stool. “Yes, sir.”

  Stephano frowned as the waiter popped the cork, then poured two glasses. “Too sweet for me.”

  Gage held up his hand. “I’ll stick with Black Jack.”

  Stephano nodded in approval. “Now, that’s a drink. It’ll put hair on your chest, Mettles.”

  “If you say so, sir.”

  “Let’s toast.” Stephano raised his glass. The other three held up their drinks. “To success and rolling in the dough.”

  “Cheers,” they said as one.

  Gage watched Roxanne knock back more than half her glass in one swallow. Roxanne rarely drank. She polished off the rest and held out her flute for more. The bartender obliged, and the wheels in Gage’s brain churned frantically. This was going to go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes if he didn’t get them out of the bar.

  But Stephano jumped in. “Mettles, go sit by the lady—” he paused “—hey, Angelini, you never introduced me to your lady.”

  “This is—”

  “Marina.” Roxanne’s slim arm shot across Gage. She held out her hand, and Stephano kissed the back of it. “Charmed to meet you.”

  The tears in her eyes had been replaced by a dreamy glaze. Oh, boy.

  “Lovely.” Stephano released her hand. Reluctantly, Gage thought. “Mettles, go entertain the lovely Marina while Gage and I discuss some business.”

  Mettles leaped off his stool, and they all slid down to make room for him to sit by Roxanne.

  Gage had no idea what she would say to an MIT computer-engineering graduate who programmed mob counterfeiting equipment, but Mettles started off by complimenting her outfit. Counterfeiting and fashion, oh there was an interesting combination.

  “Why don’t we meet later for dinner?” he said to Stephano, probably too eagerly, but having Roxanne exposed to these people had every muscle in his body clenched. He couldn’t let them touch her. He couldn’t let this side of his life compromise his future. She deserved much more.

  “To celebrate our deal?” Stephano tapped the rim of his glass, looking suddenly like the shrewd mobster Gage knew him to be. “If there is a deal.”

  “Of course.” Gage had set up his cover very well. He’d check out, and Stephano would let him in. He just needed to get Roxanne away from the sleaze and danger. “But Marina isn’t much of a party girl. I’ll leave her here.”

  Stephano gestured behind Gage, and he turned to see Mettles filling Roxanne’s glass yet again. “She looks like she’s havin’ a good time to me.”

  “Mr. Stephano doesn’t like to be disappointed,” Mettles put in nervously.

  Stephano smiled. “Yeah. Tell Mr. Angelini what happens to guys who disappoint me.”

  Mettles swallowed, glancing around nervously. “They die,” he whispered.

  Roxanne knocked over her champagne glass, which Mettles righted just as quickly. She stared at Gage, her eyes wide with horror.

  Stephano, of course, laughed.

  “Marina would lo
ve to join us for dinner,” Gage made himself say, though he had no intention of having Roxanne hang around this investigation. He listened carefully as Stephano turned the conversation back to their deal, his possible percentage, the money he wanted transferred if he decided to let Gage “invest.” Gage activated the recorder concealed in his watch, but didn’t expect to get much. The gangster was careful to use code words and euphemisms, never saying money or plates. The key to the investigation was finding the place where everything was being manufactured, tracing the operation to Stephano, so warrants could be issued and arrests made.

  Roxanne tossed her head back, a giggle escaping her mouth. Gage fought to focus on Stephano, wondering how quickly they could escape, and fighting an intensified arousal at her laughter. She had a beautiful mouth, soft, full bottom lip, and when she kissed her way to his ear and bit down…

  Oh, man. He shifted on his stool, the tightness of his groin growing uncomfortable.

  “How soon do we start?” he asked Stephano, desperate to stay focused.

  Stephano’s cagey smile appeared. “Soon.”

  Gage thought about his groin. And Roxanne’s lips.

  They’d never actually met, but Gage had dreamed. Probably more often than he should. But Roxanne was shy, caring and sweet. Encouraging her to…explore him that way always seemed too…wild. But he still thought about it—a lot.

  “I’ve got several deals cooking at the moment,” Stephano went on.

  Gage fought for professional detachment. Gambling? Drugs? Prostitution? All of it sickened him. At some point, would he become sick with himself? “I’m sure,” he said, striving for a bored, jaded tone.

  “You know I’m particular about business.”

  Gage met the man’s chilling eyes. “Yes.”

  “I know you only by reputation.”

  Gage nodded.

  “I’m definitely considering moving on this deal, but don’t screw with me.” He paused. “As Mettles said, I can be…difficult.”

  Recognizing the warning, the cold-bloodedness not even vaguely disguised, Gage clenched his glass. His head spun, though not from alcohol. He’d poured most of his drinks with Mettles into a nearby plant. The implications of the last few minutes had rattled his thoughts. His personal life and his professional life had merged. His worst nightmare.