“We can?” Fiona knew where this was going. The thought made her queasy, but she managed to appear eager.
“Yes. It’s what we do, as you know. Help him become his best him.” She sighed, still smiling prettily, and brushed her hair away from her face. “Micheline is offering him entry into her new, specialized, individual courses. He will get a discounted rate of one thousand dollars for each of his first classes—how to judge worthy friends, how to choose a significant other, how to know if your parents are really not in your corner, and so on. Micheline will help him attain honest selfhood.”
“Wow.” This was all Fiona could manage to say. She wasn’t sure exactly how many classes they’d get poor Theodore to take, but it sounded as if they planned to help relieve him of somewhere in the vicinity of ten thousand dollars.
Her comment made Leigh laugh. “Wow is right. What an opportunity for him.” She winked. “Of course, those are only the first tier of courses. Once he’s ready to move up a level, the price will also increase to five thousand dollars each.”
Though Fiona nodded as if she was on board with the entire thing, inside she seethed. This kind of thing—AAG taking advantage of the young and uncertain or elderly and infirm—made her furious. Which of course, she couldn’t let show.
“We’d like you to be the one to discuss this with him,” Leigh continued, her voice smooth. “It should be a breeze, a shoo-in for your first networking task, since he already views you as his savior.” Her smile faded, her gaze sharpening. “What exactly did you do to get Underhill off him?”
“Underhill? Was he that big bald guy?”
“Yes.” Leigh shook her head. “He outweighs you by like a hundred pounds.”
Praying there hadn’t been security cameras, Fiona grimaced. “I’m not sure. It all happened so fast. He came at me and I twisted away. He got off balance.” She shrugged, hoping she sounded modest and frightened. “It was awful. I was so lucky. Maybe he’s seen me with you and knew Micheline was going to find out about what he’d done. Either way, he ran off.” She took a deep, shaky breath.
No frown creased Leigh’s perfect forehead to indicate she might suspect Fiona might be lying. Of course, around here, falsehoods were the flavor of the day.
“Anyway,” Leigh finally continued. “We’re going to set you up with a visit to Theo tomorrow. He’s still in the infirmary, so you can stop by to visit and check on him. That’s when you’ll bring up the custom plan Micheline has developed for him.” She rummaged through a small stack of papers, extracted one and passed it over to Fiona. “This is a list of all the classes we think would benefit him.”
“Okay.” Swallowing back nausea, Fiona accepted the paper. While this sort of thing was not in any way illegal, because Micheline gave people exactly what they paid for, it was unethical.
“Sit.” Gesturing at the antique French chair across from the desk, Leigh gestured at an open wine bottle and two stemless glasses. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
Though she took a seat, Fiona politely declined. The last thing she needed would be to dull her wits around Leigh.
Leigh pouted at Fiona’s refusal but poured herself a large glass. She took a deep sip and sighed. “Well, then, tell me how you and Jake are getting along. The last time I saw the two of you, you seemed very chummy.”
“Chummy.” Fiona pretended to consider the words, finally allowing herself a slow, sultry smile. “I guess you could say that.”
“Good, good!” Leigh all but clapped. “Was it hot and heavy?”
Fiona nodded. “Honestly, I now believe in love at first sight.” She looked down, swallowing hard, hoping she wasn’t coming off as overly dramatic. “I think Jake does, too. I know it’s sudden, but I’m pretty sure he feels the same way.”
Watching her, Leigh took another deep drink of wine. “That’s perfect. I’m absolutely thrilled and beyond happy for the both of you. Believe me, Micheline will be as well.”
Which meant they hoped to use her connection to Jake as leverage. While she still had no idea what exactly Micheline might be planning, or even if it was a singular event, since the revelations had started leaking about Ace Colton, she imagine Micheline’s jig was nearly up. That’s why she couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be very bad, truly awful. Catastrophic, even. A chill snaked up her spine. As long as she could get Leigh and Micheline to consider her as part of their inner circle, she stood a chance to stop the AAG.
Overexaggerating a yawn, which she covered with her hand, Fiona sighed. “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a crazy, long day. Though I’d love to stay and chat longer, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take myself to my room and get ready for bed.”
“Sure, go ahead and get some rest.” Still smiling, Leigh poured herself a generous second glass of red wine. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
As she walked back to her room, Fiona wondered if it was too late to stop by Jake’s room and warn him. Her heart skipped a beat as she pictured him getting up from his bed, wearing only a pair of boxers low on his hips, his hair mussed and his sleepy eyes warming with heat at the sight of her.
Professional, she reminded herself. She needed to maintain her distance.
Though her steps slowed in the hall outside her room, with his right across the way, she forced herself to continue on inside her own space and close the door.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror, flushed and breathing fast. Turned on. “Not now, Evans,” she cautioned herself, sotto voce. Continuing on into the bathroom, she washed the makeup off her face and brushed her teeth. She rummaged around in her dresser drawer, pulling out the old, soft T-shirt she often slept in.
Finally, she crawled between her sheets and clicked off the light.
The next morning, she got up early and meditated for her usual twenty minutes before showering. After drying her hair, she made a valid attempt to duplicate the makeup style that Leigh had used, but finally scrubbed it all off and redid her face in her usual, understated way.
In the cafeteria, she had her usual yogurt and fruit, along with a cup of strong coffee. She liked getting up this early, as it often turned out to be the only time she had to herself. Neither Leigh nor Micheline ever showed their face before eight. Fiona imagined they were still asleep at five thirty. She’d always been a morning person and, despite not having a concrete agenda, she liked to be ready for whatever tasks they might throw at her.
She poured herself a second cup of coffee and carried it outside to the front porch. Her favorite time of the day, no matter the season, was before sunrise, when the birds gradually came awake and the nighttime creatures went silent.
Peaceful. In a career like hers, she needed to steal small, steadying moments when she could. She took a sip of her coffee before heading over to one of the large rocking chairs.
About to sit, a sound, a blur of motion to her right had her swinging around, almost too late. A large shape launched itself at her, sending her coffee cup flying. It shattered on the wood porch.
At least her hands were free. She crouched, instinctively taking a defensive position. Large man, clumsy. Familiar, too. She launched herself forward. The top of her head caught her attacker in his large stomach, hard enough to knock the breath from him. The guy from yesterday, she realized. Ron Underhill.
Wheezing as he rasped for air, he stumbled, nearly going down. He grabbed the porch railing to pull himself up, still trying to get air. If she followed through right now, she could take him out quickly.
Instead, for some reason, she hesitated a bit too long. Long enough for him to catch a second wind. He pushed himself up, rounding on her, gulping in air. “Bitch,” he snarled, still panting. “You’re going to pay for what you cost me.”
Damn, she wished she had her firearm. Since she didn’t—couldn’t, since packing heat would completely blow her cover—she’d have to take t
his guy down with her bare hands. Which might also blow her cover, though she had no choice.
Moving fairly fast for a guy with so much bulk, Underhill tried to rush her again. Too slow, though. Right before he reached her, she twisted, just enough to use her shoulder to knock him off balance. A swift kick took his legs out from under him, sending him crashing hard into the rail. He yelped in pain.
“Stay down,” she ordered. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“What the hell?” a voice said from the doorway. Jake, his voice as hard as his gaze. He stepped forward, eyeing her as if she’d donned a superhero costume. He might have been able to convince himself that what he saw her do yesterday had been a fluke, but twice would really be stretching it.
Several other men pushed their way out behind him, crowding around her, forming a protective circle between her and Underhill. At first, she thought they were protecting him from her, but then she realized they believed they were doing the opposite.
As if she needed their help. Since she needed to stay in character, undercover, she managed to arrange her face in what she hoped was a terrified expression. “Don’t let him get away,” she urged. “He attacked another new member yesterday, too.”
Bart Akers pushed his way through the group. “Fiona?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
She simpered up at the brawny blond security man. “I’m better now that you’re here.”
Bart grabbed Underhill and hauled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. “You’re coming with me.”
“Not to the cells,” Underhill pleaded. “Let me go and I promise I’ll clear out of here. You have my word that you’ll never see me again.”
Ignoring him, Bart shoved his hands behind his back and secured them with a set of metal handcuffs. Randall Cook, the AAG center’s handyman, asked if he could help. He and Bart were good friends, and they both worshipped Micheline and Leigh.
“We’ll take care of him now,” Bart said, dipping his chin at Fiona. “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”
“Yes.” She smiled sweetly, relieved none of them—with the possible exception of Jake—had seen her fight Underhill. Even then, she had no idea how much Jake might have seen. “You got here just in time.”
* * *
She fought like a professional, with deadly, precise skill.
Watching silently as the security guard took the man away, Jake debated what exactly he’d say to Fiona. Who clearly wasn’t at all what she seemed. They’d started to have a discussion about this yesterday, but he’d gotten nowhere. Damned if he’d let her snow him again.
“Whew,” she said with a sigh, smiling up at him. “I’m sure glad Bart and the others got here in time.”
“Are you?” Keeping his voice level, Jake eyed her. “You didn’t appear to need any help. In fact, you looked like a pro to me.”
She grinned, as if she didn’t notice the tinge of betrayal in his tone. “Thanks,” she replied. “Still, I’m glad help arrived before things got out of hand.”
He shook his head, keeping his voice low and steady. “Either you level with me, or I’m out.”
Clearly stunned, she eyed him. “I... I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Cut the crap,” he said. “You aren’t who you pretend to be. Who are you and what are you doing in AAG?”
“I’m Fiona Smith,” she replied. “And I’ve already told you my story.”
Teeth clenched, he glared at her.
She glared right back.
Stalemate. Fine. “I’m done.” Turning, he started to walk away.
“Wait.” She caught at his arm. “I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t? Or won’t? I don’t have time for this, Fiona. You know what? I’ve been worried because the last thing I wanted to do was be attracted to a woman who is in a cult, for Christ’s sake. Not just any cult, but my mother’s.”
“Ouch.” Wincing, she gazed deep into his eyes. “Are you really that attracted to me? We’ve known each other one day.”
Ever honest, he gave her the truth. “I was. But not now. The one thing I refuse to deal with is a liar. Having Micheline for a mother drove that point home.”
She winced again. “Please. I just need a little more time.”
“For what?”
“To decide if I can trust you.” Though her voice came out small, the fierceness of her expression had him wondering.
“Trust me?” Stunned, he looked away. “This coming from someone who puts their faith in a con woman. I don’t understand, Fiona. Please, explain.”
Something that looked an awful lot like desperation flashed across her expressive, beautiful face. “We all have our reasons for doing what we do. What’s yours?”
Again, no explanation. Since he didn’t appear to be getting anywhere by being direct, he decided to bite. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “My reason for what?”
“Right.” She snorted. “I want to know why you’re going along with pretending Micheline is actually your mother.”
“Unfortunately, she is my mother,” he said slowly, wondering if she’d completely lost her mind.
Something in her stunned expression told him the truth.
“She isn’t?” He shook his head, as if by doing so he could clear it. “Micheline isn’t my mother. Damn, what did that awful woman do now?”
Fiona looked as if he’d punched her in the gut. Shocked and worried and maybe even about to get sick.
“You didn’t know,” she whispered, looking around as if to make sure they weren’t overheard. “Damn it, I’m so sorry. You really didn’t know.”
Because he felt like he needed to sit down, he did. Walked to the edge of the drive and sank down onto the manicured lawn.
“Micheline’s really not my mother?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Seriously,” he mused. “All these years...”
Fiona remained silent.
While he realized what she’d done by dropping this bombshell on him, as a distraction it sure as hell worked. For a moment. He wasn’t even sure if he believed her.
“I’m not sure whether to feel relieved or what,” he said. “But first, you sure as hell better tell me what you know. After that, I want the truth about you. All of it.”
She sat down next to him, tucking her legs under her gracefully. “Micheline switched you at birth with another baby. No one really knows why.”
Though his head had started to ache, he nodded encouragingly. “What other baby?” he asked, his voice a rasp.
“Ace Colton. You’re really a Colton.” She took a deep breath. “And Ace is actually Micheline’s biological son.”
“Ace Colton? Of Mustang Valley’s founding family? That Ace Colton?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Honestly, I didn’t intend to shock you. I thought you knew.”
“Not really.” He shook his head. “Despite the way everyone in Mustang Valley reveres them, the Coltons are almost as self-serving as Micheline.”
Fiona sighed. “Not really. Not even close.”
Jake let himself digest this for a few seconds. Then, his natural skeptical nature kicked in. “And you know this how?”
“Apparently, Micheline marched into Colton Oil and confirmed it for them recently. The family tried to keep it under wraps, but some of the news—of a baby switch—leaked. No one knows yet what her motive for doing that was.”
Again, he wondered where Fiona got her information. When he asked her, she simply sighed. “Word gets out. People talk.”
“People? Are you telling me Micheline has someone working inside Colton Oil?”
“That I don’t know for certain. But it’s possible.”
“Anything is possible,” he drawled. “As to why she’d do something like that, Micheline has a reason for everything she does. I�
��m sure we’ll all find out soon enough.”
“Most likely we will,” she agreed, the picture of innocence.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been avoiding answering all of my questions about you. Finding this out is a hell of a big distraction, I’ll admit.” Grimacing, he shook his head. “But I’m still not planning on letting you off the hook.”
She shrugged. “I don’t blame you. But you have to understand, I can’t always give you the information you’re asking for.”
“Why not?”
The sun had just begun to rise above the horizon, bathing them in a warm, orange glow. Despite the bright light, he couldn’t read her expression as she stared at him.
“I just can’t,” she finally said. “As I said, I’m not sure how much I can trust you.”
This earned a bitter chuckle from him. “Micheline’s son who isn’t her son? The one who, despite every awful thing I’ve seen her do, still came running back when she said she was dying of cancer.” He shook his head, allowing the familiar bitterness to fill him. “That actually explains a lot. As a kid, I always wondered why she never seemed to love me.” Even now, saying that out loud hurt. “I wonder what her end game is then. She’s probably not even sick. Even before I left, I wondered how much of that was real.”
“I agree,” she murmured. “She seems remarkably healthy to me.”
“I’m thinking it’s all tied into whatever scam she’s running now. It’s always been about two things with her. Power and money.”
Once more, she nodded.
Narrowing his gaze, he focused back on her. “You’ve dropped a hell of a bombshell on me with no warning.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding sincere. “But I figured you’d want to know.”
“It’s a lot to process,” he admitted. “And I will, just later. Now, enough about me. Who are you, really? I’m sure you’d hate for me to go to Micheline with my concerns.”
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