by Nana Malone
Michael’s face grew redder and redder, and she was sure he'd explode. “I love your mother.”
“So I keep hearing. The funny thing I’m learning about love is that you’d be willing to give it up if it meant making the other person happy in the long run.”
“Jessica, is that you darling?”
Jessica scowled at Michael and followed the sound of her mother's voice into the kitchen. “Yeah, it's me, Mom.”
“You’re not out there fighting with Michael again, are you? I really want you two to try and get along.”
Jessica hated waiting for Eli's friends to find something to pin on the guy. That could take months and months and months. “No, Mom, that's actually why I’m here.”
Her mother's brows went up. “Oh?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
Her mother frowned.
“For being a brat. For acting out when Daddy died. For making your life hell.”
“My life was a lot of things, baby girl, but it was never hell.” She cocked her head. “What prompted this?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”
“When you're protecting something you love, it's understandable if you get a little unreasonable.”
“So you’re not mad? I promise—I don’t like Michael, and I don’t trust him, but you’re grown and can make your own decisions.”
She beamed. “Oh, baby, you mean that?”
Jessica nodded. The chirping birds of her phone had her looking toward the living room. “Sorry, Mom, let me grab that.”
She jogged out, only to see that it was Izzy calling. She’d call her back after dinner with her mother. Michael was still in the living room in front of the television, and he was wiping his glasses. She studied him hard. How could she have been so wrong about him? He hadn’t tipped a single card. “You know, Michael, do you know anyone who drives an Oldsmobile?”
He frowned but blinked at her rapidly. “I drive a Prius. It’s better for the environment.”
“Yeah, weird thing, someone tried to run me over the other day.”
“And you think I had something to do with that?”
“Yes, actually.” Jessica ground her teeth. Her mother wanted Michael, and she would stand by her mother, but one day the douchebag from hell would get what was coming to him.
“Then go to the police.” He scowled.
“I don’t want you in jail on some tiny charge. I want you to go away forever. So that might take some finagling.”
He was up on his feet so quickly Jessica stumbled back. “You know, you were lucky you weren't killed. Accidents seem to befall some people, especially when they won't mind their own business.”
“Michael, why would you say such a thing?”
His head snapped around to meet her mother's. “Mia, you misheard me. I don’t wish—”
A frown played on her mother’s delicate features. “No, I think I heard you fine. You lobbed a veiled threat at my daughter. I’m not going to bother to ask why. I may be naïve, but no one threatens my family. You can feel free to get lost.”
“You’re joking!”
Mia crossed her arms. “Shall I call security, or will you go on your own?”
He played visual ping pong between Jessica and her mother. “This is all your fucking fault,” he spat in Jessica’s face.
“Classic narcissist. You still think everything revolves around you. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure.” Jessica stood next to her mother and watched Michael Fenton exit out the door.
Chapter 24
Eli knocked on Vince’s door. “You got a minute?”
Vince frowned. “Yeah. What’s up? Why do you look like you’re about to give me bad news?”
Did he know? Had those records become unsealed? It had only been two days. Eli craned his neck. It was now or never. If he wanted to protect Samson, this was the only way to do it. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Vince narrowed his eyes. “Spit it out, Eli. We have work to do.”
“It's about the case.”
“You have another theory.”
“You could say that. Samson's involved.”
“Samson, as in your brother Samson?” Vince sat up straight. “Start talking.”
“Someone's trying to frame him for these forgeries.”
“I don't get it. How?”
Eli scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, so you remember how I said that Sam had a pretty rough time with drugs?”
“Yeah?”
“In high school, his drug use was maybe recreational, but after he went to jail, he became a full blown addict. First cocaine, then heroine.”
Vince's voice was cold and quiet. “What did he go to jail for?”
“Technically, grand larceny and conspiracy.”
“Fuck, Eli, are you serious?”
“He was a kid at the time. Got pulled in with some people way above his level. They took advantage of him. He served his time. Someone is trying to make it look like he's back to his old tricks.”
“And you want to tell me he's not?”
Eli shook his head. “He's not. I swear it.”
Vince crossed his arms. “You’re just now telling me this?”
“Look. Sam has had a hard go of it. And he's made his share of mistakes, but this isn't one of them. It looks like him. The signature matches, but it's not him.”
“You'll forgive me if I don't buy it, Eli. Fuck. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with this information.”
“Sam is willing to do anything he can to help, but this isn't him.”
“I don't know, Eli.”
“Look. I know how it looks. Sam has the skill. He's done it before. He's had a pretty shitty past with drugs. Someone is trying to make it look like he’s doing this again.”
“It is convenient. He was a very handy scapegoat.”
“Too handy.”
“But who? I mean, we've got our hooks in Michael Fenton. We're looking for his accomplice. But my case files don’t go back that far. They only go back six years. Six years ago, where was Samson? Would their paths have crossed?”
“Six years ago, Sam was doing a rehab stint in San Francisco when I was working for Banes up there.”
“Any chance they ran into each other there? Was Samson painting?”
Eli shook his head. “Not really. He was trying, but the drugs made it too hard to focus. The facility had an arts program though. Rehabilitation through art. They often showed the work of the attendants. Maybe Fenton went to one of the showings because Samson didn’t recognize his name.”
“You have to tie Fenton to Samson’s past, then maybe we have something.”
“So you believe me?”
Vince narrowed his eyes. “Want to explain why your brother doesn’t show up in your background checks?”
“Our parents got divorced. Mom changed my last name. When Sam got out of jail and got clean, we had his name changed. The old man was kind of a useless asshole.”
“So you didn’t grow up together?”
Eli shook his head. “Our parents divorced when we were ten.”
“Why wouldn't you tell me about him?”
“Oh, right. The FBI and Banes Insurance would have hired me with a forger in my past?”
“Good point.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Well, first things first. Why not pay a visit to Fenton? He thinks you’re Samson, right? Go talk to him.”
After leaving Vince’s office, Eli headed straight for Brentwood. A small part of him hoped he’d see Jessica, but the other part didn’t want to be put through that kind of pain again. When he pulled up to Mia Stanton’s home, Michael Fenton was packing up his car.
Eli pulled up to the curb and slid out of his M3. “You going somewhere, Fenton?”
Michal narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck do you want, Samson?”
Eli smirked. Gone was the genteel air about him. “From the looks of it, you’re no longer kissing Mia wi
th that mouth. Where you off to? Did Mia see you for the scammer you really are?”
Fenton slammed down his trunk and stalked over to Eli’s car. He placed a hand on the roof and jabbed a finger in Eli’s chest. “You’re one to talk. You show up here in Los Angeles trying to get your career back on track, and you think no one will notice that you’re a fraud and a fake. Our sins always come back to haunt us.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” said Eli.
“How do you think the skull-wearing freak is going to take it when she finds out that her new boyfriend did time for grand larceny? Her whole life will be over. Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass. She’s been a pain in my ass since I got here, but your little come back will flush down the toilet.”
Eli felt like he was missing part of the equation. Fenton clearly thought he knew Samson. But how? And why did he have it in for his brother? “What is it you have against me anyway? I don’t know you.”
Fenton whipped off his sunglasses. “You might not recognize me, but I sure remember you.”
Eli shoved his hands in his pockets. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Oh, you’ll figure it out soon enough, once I take away everything you ever cared about.”
***
Leather pants might look hot, but they did absolutely nothing to help Jessica’s sweaty palms. God, this was such a mistake.
As she stood on the front door of the studio, she shifted from foot to foot, trying to figure out if she had the balls to knock or not. Hell, who was she kidding? She'd have to walk right in—she could hear the rock music blaring. She’d be lucky if he didn’t shoot her.
“Okay, Stanton, go big or go home.” If she wanted Eli, she'd have to go after him. It hadn't been easy for him to tell her how he felt. And she'd thrown it in his face. She could be a big girl and bite the damned bullet.
Testing the door, she was relieved to find it open. “Chin up, square your shoulders. Show off your tits, and hope he’s blinded by your sex appeal and forgives you,” she muttered to herself as she stalked through the studio.
She only faltered when an errant thought of Samson and his assistant filtered into her brain. Shit, she hadn’t thought it through. No. Izzy was right. He wouldn't already be in bed with someone else.
As she warred with herself about how men and women dealt with break ups, she almost turned back around and walked out. But at the end of the day, she wanted him. At the very least, to say she was sorry. She would say what she’d come to say.
“C’mon, don’t be a chicken shit.” As she rounded the corner into the wide open studio, she watched in awe as he painted. As usual when he painted, he was shirtless. His broad shoulders bunched and smoothed as he made bold strokes with his brush then stepped in to fix something with his finger.
He danced around to the Stones as Mick crooned about getting no satisfaction. She'd never seen him dance. Wait, that wasn't true, the night they'd met, he'd danced with her. But that had been more like fucking on the dance floor. He'd been smooth and controlled in seduction mode. This dancing was more exuberant and a little off beat, but joyful nonetheless. And the abstract he was working on was just as wild as the music. Full of bold rainbow colors.
God, she could watch him paint all day, but she'd come for a reason. Inching over to the stereo, she kept out of his peripheral vision. Hating to interrupt his flow, she pressed the power button.
Abruptly, he whirled around, irritation and surprise lining his face. As soon as he saw her pleasure infused the grim lines. “Jess. I didn't know you were coming over. You, uh, you didn’t call.” His gaze darted around.
Okay, happy Samson. This was weird. She'd expected brooding, but maybe he was just happy to see her. Hell, if he'd shown up on her doorstep after that colossal fight, she'd have flown into his arms.
“I'm sorry to interrupt. And such a magnificent piece too. I just…there are some things that need to be said. And I need to say them before I lose the nerve and chicken out. I should have figured you'd be working.”
“Uh, look, Jess, maybe we should save these words for over dinner or something. Let me get cleaned up. You’re wearing white pants after all.” His gaze perused her. “White leather.”
“No, Eli.”
He flinched.
“I should have said this the other night, but I was too scared. I love you. I want to be with you. I'm just terrified. There's the women, and you’re an artist, and what if you discover I'm a fraud and not at all what you want and—” She wasn’t making any sense. Okay, she could do this. She had to make him see. She stopped right in front of him. “I love you. That's it. That’s the whole big deal. I love you. I love my Eli.”
His eyes went wide, but then he drew her close and held her. She returned the hug, so relieved. He hadn’t turned her away. He wasn’t still pissed. He whispered something in her hair, and she could have sworn he said, “That's what Eli needs to hear.”
Reaching up, she wiped a speck of red paint from his brow. “You tango with an artist, you're bound to get a Pollock on your clothes.”
“Funny. Artist humor.” His gaze was warm, but there was something missing, he didn’t look at her with the same intensity, and she could have sworn he was holding her back a little.
“Eli, what's wrong? Are you going punish me for last night? I was an idiot and terrified, and you aren’t going to hold that against me are you?”
He shook his head. “No, of course not, but I really wanted to finish this painting today, and I'm so happy right now all I want to do is take you up stairs. You just kind of caught me off guard, baby.”
Jessica wrinkled her nose. There was an edge of untruth in his tone, like the words were hollow or didn't carry the same weight. This was the same Eli who'd conned her into taking him as a client. The same one who'd teased her into accepting his apology time and again, but different somehow.
Something slithered down her back. She'd done what she came to do. She had interrupted his painting session after all—the man had a point, and him working was good for both of them. They could discuss logistics later. “Uh, right, of course, I wasn't thinking. I woke up, knew I'd almost lost you, and ran right over. I didn’t think properly. I should have figured you'd be working.”
“It's okay. I'm always happy to see you. Give me an hour. I'll meet you at Sabella's. We'll celebrate properly after I’ve had a shower.”
Her heart sank. “Yeah, okay.” Except that wasn't okay. In the fucking movies, it was always so romantic. A person realized they were an idiot and made a grand gesture, then the other swept them up and they kissed and presumably made love like bunnies, or like the way Eli had made love to her the other day, like a caged animal who'd been let out of his pen. This Eli was so contained, so aloof. Eli was restrained about everything but her.
“I’ll see you at Sabella's.”
“And Babes?”
There it was again. Eli didn’t call her Babes. She ground her teeth. No, Izzy would tell her she was looking for a reason to self-sabotage again. She got what she wanted. Her gallery was saved, she had the hottest client, and she had her man. “Yes, Samson?” She expected a flinch at the deliberate use of his artistic name and nothing. He was in working mode, that was all.
“You’ve made me so happy.”
She gave him a small smile. “Glad to hear it. Hurry up.” She turned to go, then almost thought better of it. She could give her man a kiss and not look like an idiot. Not allowing her to second guess herself, she jogged right up to him, flung her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss on him.
He stiffened, and she held on. If she wished it hard enough, it would come true—she deserved it. His hands hesitated at her waist before slowly looping around. His response wasn’t the quick flash of heat, more of a confused yielding. She drew her head back and stared at him. “Eli—”
“What the fuck is going on here?”
A shiver ran through her spine as Eli immediately dropped her.
Jessica craned her neck, afrai
d of what she'd see. Every fiber in her body told her what she already knew. She wasn’t kissing her Eli. Her Eli was at the door, furious. She knew his voice, his tone. But that meant she was kissing someone who looked just like Eli. She shoved Samson away.
Shaking, she stared at Eli, then back at the imposter, then back at Eli. “Something you forgot to mention, asshole?”
He took a step toward her. “Sassy.”
“Shut the fuck up. There is no way to explain yourself out of this fucking mess.”
“Jessica, wait, it's not his fault, I—” The imposter reached for her, too.
“Oh, no you don’t, whoever the fuck you are, nobody touch me.” She bee-lined straight for the door and ran as fast as her Weitzman’s could carry her. Curse all those spunky-chick-ass-kicking shows for making it seem like running in heels was at all a possibility.
Her brain kept running the scenario of does not compute over and over again. The same face, voice, mannerisms. Eli had even talked about his fucking brother. She hadn’t thought to ask if they were twins, but who thinks to ask that? Her stomach rolled, oh no, no, no, no, no. She would not vomit on the sidewalk like some still drunken walk-of-shamer. Get your ass in gear, sweetheart, or you’re about to have a very public fight.
Unfortunately, stilettos and quick getaways did not mix. She eventually stopped, tugged them off, and sprinted toward her car. Great, now you really look like a walk of shame. Unfortunately for her, Eli was a lot taller and faster.
He caught up to her with ease. “Sassy—”
She whirled on him. “Don’t you dare.”
He put up his hands. “Okay. Sorry, Jessica. Shit, I'm so sorry.”
She yanked open her car door and threw her useless shoes inside. “What part are you sorry about? That you did it, or that you got caught?”
“Sassy, I'm sorry. I never should have let it go on this long. It was an innocent mistake the first time. Then Samson asked me to go in his place, and it wasn’t supposed to happen, and I thought I’d never see you again, and we obviously, we uh, the chemistry thing, so I couldn’t stay away. Then I thought you would stop helping Samson, and he needed this break, and I kept digging the hole and digging the hole, and I tried to tell you last night, and then you broke up with me. I never thought I'd find you with him.”
