The Bliss Factor

by Penny McCall

  “Why are you so mad?” he asked her.

  She whipped around, picking her way across the muddy ground to retrieve her shoes from where Greenblatt had stashed them behind the catapult.

  Conn caught up to her, took her by the arm. “You’re alive, Morris isn’t going anywhere, neither is Harry. Kemp is already in custody, and it won’t be a problem to pick up Joe.”

  “Well,” she snapped, tugging her arm free. “Everything worked out fine for you. All you have to do is arrest my parents and the others who were coerced into committing the actual crime, and you’re all set.” And off she went, muddy feet jammed into the Italian leather pumps she must have been wearing a week ago at work, making a sucking sound with every step she took.

  She should have looked comical, hell, she should have been steaming, she was so hot. Conn couldn’t find it in himself to so much as crack a smile—at the mental picture or the actual one.

  “Rae,” he called after her with no idea what he could possibly say.

  She stopped, looked over her shoulder. “You can’t help who you are, Conn, I always knew that.” She searched his face, and he knew she was waiting for him to say something.

  He closed the distance between them, held her gaze even when he wanted to look away from the pain he saw there. “A lot happened in a short period of time,” he began, still searching for the right words. “We were under a lot of pressure, in danger, those things can color your feelings.”

  “Color your feelings? What feelings are you talking about, exactly?”

  “That’s what we both need to find out.”

  “I’m not having any problem identifying my feelings.”

  “Yeah, neither am I.”

  A tide of red rushed up her neck and into her face, except for the skin beneath her eyes, which was still bruised-looking. For the first time, he thought about something besides his own fear and frustration, the sense of impotence that had gripped him for the last five days. She must have felt all of that and more, must have wondered when he was going to come for her, and even when he hadn’t until it was almost too late, there’d been no recriminations. She’d told him she loved him. And she trusted him. She hadn’t put that into words, but her actions said it all.

  And what did he do? He laughed at her, ignored her feelings, and then trivialized them. He wanted to fix it, to make her understand that it wasn’t as simple as saying the words. He just didn’t know how.

  “I’m only saying we should both take some time, make sure it wasn’t just the danger before we make any big decisions.”

  She huffed out a soft laugh, but there was no humor in the slight smile on her face. What he saw was pity, and not for her own sake. “If you don’t know what you’re feeling for me, the answer is nothing.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Nothing strong enough to build a relationship on.”

  “Is that what you want?” he demanded, angry at the way she was looking at him, the sorrow and finality in her voice. “Are you moving to D.C. so you can wait for me between missions?”

  “If that was an invitation, you need to work on the delivery.”

  Conn pressed his lips together, damned if he spoke and damned if he didn’t.

  “And just for the record, I’m not angling for an invitation. I’m not that pathetic.”

  Annie stepped between them. “This is silly,” she said to Rae. “I know you hate it when I interfere. Conn doesn’t like it either, but you need to know how he spent the last week.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re being an ass, too,” Annie told him. “You worked around the clock, barely slept, ate nothing, all you thought about was finding Rae.”

  “It’s my job to make sure nobody gets hurt.”

  “And I’m just another civilian.”

  He met her eyes. There was a long moment where she thought he would speak, where she knew he’d tell her she was wrong. She could see it in his eyes, she told herself, all but read it on his thoughts.

  He only nodded.

  So much for being in tune with Connor Larkin, she thought as the pain crashed over her in a wave so intense she nearly doubled over and retched.

  “He put his life at risk for you, Sunny.”

  “Mom, please.”

  Annie stepped back.

  Rae pushed down the irritation, took a breath that was like swallowing razor blades. The pain steadied her enough to lift her gaze to Conn’s. “Thank you for rescuing me. I’m glad you’re all right, and I hope—” She swallowed before her voice broke and humiliated her. “—I hope everything works out for you.”

  “That sounds final.”

  “Final is what you want.”

  “I want some time—”

  “To convince yourself there’s nothing between us. Let me spare you the agonizing. Good-bye.”

  She stepped back, Annie and Nelson moving to flank her. She could see it pissed Conn off, but she needed the support so she didn’t throw herself into his arms and beg him not to leave. In a day filled with humiliations that would be the biggest one of all.

  chapter 32

  INSTEAD OF GOING TO COLORADO SPRINGS, THEIR usual winter camp, Rae’s parents had been living with her while the rest of the case played out—compliments of the federal court system that prohibited them from leaving the state. It wasn’t as horrible as she thought it would be. It was horrible in a whole different way. They were finally giving her some space, but there was an unfortunate trade-off.

  The federal court was in Flint, once a General Motors boomtown, now fallen on hard times. It wasn’t bad enough that they were on their way to her parents’ sentencing hearing . . . the shuttered plants and air of quiet dejection never failed to affect them when they drove through the city. Rae, for her part, always thought about what she’d survived and counted her blessings. Her parents took a trip down memory lane, too. Invariably they arrived at a different mental destination.

  “I’m sorry, Rae,” Annie said. Nelson didn’t weigh in verbally, but Rae could feel him radiating guilt.

  After six months of mea culpas and silent regret, she’d had enough. “I wish you’d stop apologizing, Mom. And Dad . . . It’s not like you did any of this on purpose.”

  “But we asked you to take Conn in, and then we—I—pushed you at him.”

  “And I don’t have a mind of my own, right? I can’t be trusted to make decisions, but if I do make a decision and it turns out to be wrong, I need you to take the blame.”

  “Rae—”

  “No, Dad, just listen. I know you feel responsible for what happened—”

  “We are responsible.”

  “And I had nothing to do with it? Greenblatt hatched this plan after he found out about you and the rest of your group. Because of me, because I took a job with his firm.”

  That had come out within hours of Morris Greenblatt’s arrest, how he’d worked for Putnam and Ibold all those years, not really getting anywhere, even after he’d made partner. How he’d grown more and more disgusted, and more hopeless because, at his age, he was stuck at P.I.G. Morris had already known a guy at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, a guy with a line on the paper and a fondness for playing the ponies, if not the skill or luck to come out ahead. And then Morris had found out about Rae’s parents.

  He’d only been spitballing, Morris had said, tossing around what-ifs with his friend. The paper was the hardest part of any counterfeit operation because of the security strip. Get that wrong and the whole thing fell apart, but once that hurdle was crossed it had all fallen into place. Such a pretty picture he hadn’t seen how it could go wrong.

  “Greenblatt already had that friend at the Treasury—” Nelson began.

  “And no way to come up with a set of plates, or get his hands on the dye, until he hired me. And you only agreed to participate after you were threatened.”

  “Getting you tangled up with Conn—”

  “Sure, you’re responsible for asking me to take Co
nn in. But you didn’t have all the facts. You were only trying to do what was right. And I could have said no.” She caught her mother’s eye in the rearview and nearly smiled over her expression. “I could have said no,” she repeated. “I didn’t, and every time you take responsibility for my decision,” her weakness, “to get involved with Conn, you put me on the level of a child. It’s time for that to stop. I love you, and you’ll always be my parents, but I’m nearly thirty years old. I’ve been on my own for almost half my life and if you can’t treat me as a rational, self-sufficient adult—”

  “We can,” Nelson said, shooting his wife a look over his shoulder. “We will.”

  “You can’t ask us not to worry,” Annie said.

  Rae did smile then, over the sullen tone of her mother’s voice and the touch of warmth it gave her to know they would worry, that they’d never stop caring, and sure, there would be times they’d cross the line between caring and interfering, but that was what family meant, and you took the good with the irritating. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but it would even be nice if you called me Sunny again. I kind of miss it.”

  Annie laughed softly. “Well then, Sunny, let’s go find out what kind of punishment the federal government has in store for your father and me.”

  “Nothing if I have anything to say about it.” She’d gone to a lot of trouble to get them as much leniency as she could, working with the prosecutor to help close the jail-cell door on Morris Greenblatt in the hope her efforts would gain her parents some consideration. But she wasn’t going to say as much and get their hopes up, only to have them destroyed. She knew how that felt.

  AS SOON AS THEY WALKED IN THE DOOR, THE FEDERAL prosecutor, Johnson DeWitt, drew her aside. Tall, handsome, distinguished, and a very fit late thirties, Rae guessed, he’d been a rock to her over the past weeks, both in giving her a task that allowed her to feel like she was helping her parents, and keeping her informed so the waiting was easier. He’d also made it clear he wouldn’t mind providing more of a distraction than work, but he hadn’t pushed when Rae kept their relationship strictly business.

  And if he stood a bit too close, well, it was flattering, if not a little depressing that she couldn’t muster up some sort of nonprofessional interest in such a man. But then, Connor Larkin was a hard act to follow.

  “I wanted to thank you again for your help in deciphering Morris Greenblatt’s finances,” Johnson said. “We would never have gotten the case put together so fast without you.”

  “I’d been through the records already, that made it easier for me.”

  “And easier for the forensic accountants. They said you have a real knack for this kind of work.”

  “I’m just grateful I was allowed to be involved.”

  “You sort of insisted,” he said, but with a smile. “You refused to turn over the files you’d copied unless you could be a part of the investigation into the ring’s finances.”

  “It helped having something useful to do. And you could have made it harder for me, so thank you.” Even though the FBI had met her terms, it would have been problematic for DeWitt’s case to rely on her assessment of Greenblatt’s finances since she had such a personal stake in making him out to be the bad guy. But the FBI’s forensic accountants had verified all her findings, and they were the ones who’d testified against Greenblatt and the rest of the conspirators.

  Conn appeared a few feet behind DeWitt, and her system took a punch that turned her muscles to jelly and fuzzed her mind, if only for a second or two before irritation put some iron back into her spine. It had been months, but her love for him only seemed to get stronger. His feelings for her, however, seemed to be . . . less intense. He met her eyes, shifted his gaze to the lawyer, then looked away as if they were nothing more than complete strangers.

  “Rae? Did you hear me?”

  She took a minute to replay the prosecutor’s words, thankful when she didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself. “Yes, I heard you.”

  “I hope you’ll give it some real consideration.”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Her eyes shifted over DeWitt’s shoulder again, and this time he turned around as well, and saw Conn lurking down the hall.

  “You know, he went to bat for your parents.”

  “I expected as much. He said he would, and he’s a man who keeps his word.”

  “Yes, well . . .” Johnson looked around at Conn again. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

  “How about right now?” she said, making a split-second decision. It felt right, though, and she was learning to go with her gut once in a while, not hold back so much.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s a yes.”

  “Wonderful.” His phone rang, he checked the display, and said, “I’ll give you a call with the details,” turning away to take the call—and leaving her face-to-face with Conn.

  He stood there a second, as surprised as she was, and then he pulled his cop face on, his eyes going as flat as his expression. “Big day,” he said, shooting a look at her parents. “Greenblatt and his friend at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing have already been sent to jail, along with Lockner and Cornelius. Joe, Kemp, and Harry are being sentenced later this week.”

  “I heard,” she said. “I’m up to speed.”

  Within hours of their short flight and frigid splash-down, Conn had turned Morris and the plates over to the Secret Service. They’d dispatched agents to pick up the other conspirators and to set a guard on Lockner’s hospital room. And they’d arrested her parents. It had been the worst moment of her life, watching them get handcuffed and taken away. Conn had made sure it was done discreetly, but there wasn’t enough discretion in the world to erase that picture from her brain.

  She’d gone off to change, determined to do whatever it took to bail them out, but the agents had knocked on the door of her parents’ Airstream before she was finished. She’d given her statement—abridged—told them about the files she’d copied onto her work computer, and promised to turn them over if it would help her parents. Not that she’d had a choice.

  “They’re getting probation,” Conn said.

  Rae realized she’d been staring at her parents. It wouldn’t have taken much for Conn to guess her thoughts.

  “The clerk told me,” he added.

  The very pretty, young clerk who sighed and mooned every time Conn showed up in the courtroom—at least all the times Rae had been there.

  “I guess it’s all okay then—the arrest, the interrogation, the imprisonment.”

  “You’re determined to see this in the least positive light.”

  “Isn’t that what happened?”

  “It’s what had to happen.”

  “Well then.” She turned to go tell her parents, looking instead at the hand he rested on her arm, then up into his face.

  The cop was gone, and it wasn’t slacker calm on his face, either. There was intensity there, raw emotion she couldn’t bear to see with her own emotions so raw.

  “I’d like to go tell my parents they aren’t going to federal prison.”

  “They already know.”

  Her eyes flew to his, and she could see the chagrin there, the understanding that he hadn’t even left her that much.

  “I told them while you were talking to DeWitt,” he said, looking uncertain. It was another emotion she’d never seen on his face before.

  “He was thanking me for my help in deciphering Greenblatt’s books and finding the money.”

  “Which you did in exchange for leniency for your parents.”

  “I helped you for nothing.” She started to walk away, turned back. “You already know all this, Conn. You’ve been following the case closer than I have, so why are you asking me . . .” And then it hit her. “You want to know if I accepted a position with the FBI.”

  “Did you?”

  “Why do you want to know? The FBI is a big agency. It’s not like we’ll ever run into each other.”<
br />
  “What if I want to run into you?”

  “Between missions?” She shook her head. “You said it yourself: I’m not that kind of woman.”

  “What if I wasn’t doing fieldwork anymore?”

  She snorted softly, amused at the idea of Conn giving up his lifestyle. But she crossed her arms, too, a defensive gesture that wasn’t lost on her. She still wasn’t over him; she didn’t dare add a layer of hope to a solid base of unrequited love. And yet she couldn’t help herself. “What if you just say what you have to say, Conn?”

  “I’m giving up fieldwork.”

  That stopped her for a second, but only a second. “Not trying to make up for past sins anymore?”

  “I’m staying on as a handler,” he said, and the hope she’d been unable to prevent jumped up another notch. “I won’t say I’ve come to terms with what happened, Rae, I probably never will, completely. But even if I forgave myself, this is what I do, and who I am. I like knowing I’m making a difference.”

  “Why tell me? I mean, I’m glad for your sake, but what do I have to do with it?”

  “I love you.”

  He said it so simply, so sincerely she had to believe him. And the hope in her heart blossomed into love so deep and so strong that what she’d felt before paled by comparison. Music played, angels sang, the sun came out, and all the anger and hurt, the weeks of battling her own heart, disappeared because he loved her. There had to be something wrong with that, but she just didn’t give a damn. Common sense would no doubt sap the glow out of being loved at some future point, decisions would have to be made, and they’d need to be tempered with caution, but she was giving this moment everything she had.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, taking a step closer. “If we weren’t in the hallway outside the federal courtroom where my parents are being sentenced—”

  “The hell with where we are.” He gathered her into his arms and kissed her, just long enough to make her want more before he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. “If we weren’t in the hallway outside the federal courtroom where your parents are being sentenced . . .” he said. “Although I don’t think it’s going to take long.”