Devil's Deal Read online

  The mask slipped. In the harsh light of the interview room, my dad looked every minute of his sixty years. He rubbed his wrists and I wondered if he was feeling the handcuffs. If I can pull this off, he does his time in a cushy federal camp working on his tennis game. I blow it and those jail whites will be exchanged for prison overalls. He’d still have a private room, but this time it will be on death row.

  “Jewel, you’re right and I appreciate this. If there is anything I can do to help, I’ll do it. So how are you going to approach this? Rockhound won’t see you cold, especially with a stranger. Not after all this hit the fan.”

  “I know. I’ll need an intermediary. I thought I’d take Ethan out for a drink at my favorite dive and talk to a man about some guns.”

  The smile and mock salute peeled the ten years right back off my dad’s face.

  CHAPTER 36

  After a promise to keep him informed, Gerald dropped me in front of his building twenty minutes before Ethan was supposed to pick me up. We’d grabbed dinner at one of his favorite places. Its tall deep booths and discreet staff made it perfect for an uninterrupted conversation comprised of topics we chose very carefully.

  Gerald knew Dad’s end of the business inside and out, but was willfully ignorant of my role in a lot of the big deals. The firm had made him a millionaire several times over, so he had the sense not to lift the curtain and see things he’d rather not. Our dinner talk centered on dismantling the last vestiges of my legit practice, discussing my few open cases, and his promise to take care of Anthony. Neither of us ate much and I think he was secretly as glad as I was when the check arrived. We both had jobs to do and they didn’t overlap very much.

  I leaned back into the shade of a stone lion and tried to assess my mood. I’d wanted out of the firm and my practice. Well, I was out. I still had a foot in two worlds. I could have gone out and swilled fruit martinis with Anthony, ripping on the Dallas legal glitterati, as easily as taking another chocolate cake to the potluck. I also missed my damn dog. I hoped he liked it at Stella’s bus. The way this was shaping up, it could be a while.

  The low throaty growl of a big block engine interrupted my self-indulgent musing. Shielding my eyes against the setting sun, I had no choice but to be impressed. If my future was uncertain, at least I was going to enjoy the ride.

  Ethan had stuck the landing. The white Challenger purred to a stop in the loading zone in front of the stairs. He rolled down the driver’s side window and tilted up his aviator shades.

  “Hey, baby, it’s a good thing I brought my library card because I’m checking you out.”

  Unexpected laughter bubbled up and the melancholy of meeting with Dad passed like a Dallas thunderstorm.

  “Damn, Price, I will say you can follow orders. This is gorgeous.”

  “Well, it ain’t doing nothing sitting here. Get your butt in the bucket, woman, and let’s get these ponies running.”

  My retort evaporated as I melted into the leather seat. “Is this a ‘71? I can’t believe you had this in the impound lot.”

  “Miss Martin, luckily for you, we took down a major banger. He had two warehouses full of old-school American rolling stock. His hobby was reproducing movie and TV cars. I almost grabbed the General Lee, but thought it was too flashy for what you had in mind. The asset-forfeiture auction will be epic.”

  I ran my hand over the chrome and wood grain-trimmed dashboard. “There’s nothing quite like the life of a drug kingpin. I have to confess, I’m not placing this beauty.”

  Ethan turned to me and I was struck again by his easy grace and absurd good looks. His hair was combed back and he’d changed into a snug white t-shirt and jeans. The only thing missing was a pack of Lucky Strikes rolled up in his sleeve.

  “Juliana, I am ashamed of you, but I’ll cut you some slack because I know you’ve had a rough week. 1971. Barry Newman. One of the most epic car chases in cinematic history.”

  I thought for a second. “Vanishing Point?”

  “Very good. I thought you were going to have to walk there for a second. Nobody disses my precious.”

  “Hey, my high school boyfriend got lucky in the backseat of one almost like this.” If I had ever wished anything, I wished I could pull back those casual words. The easy vibe between us was seductive. I was losing my edge.

  I’ll give him credit. He only laughed for a second and only shot the backseat one wry glance. I think it surprised him as much as it did me.

  “Well, at least you gave it up for a good cause.”

  I was about to respond, but hot blood rushed to my cheeks. I’d earned that. Thank goodness, he decided to let me off the hook.

  “Where to? Are we headed back to Cochinelle or is this mission getting off the ground here and now?”

  “We need to go to my place. I assume you know the way.”

  “Damn. This car does work,” he said, pulling into traffic while I mentally smacked myself.

  CHAPTER 37

  Ethan wasn’t coy. He knew exactly where I lived. Once at the building, I directed him to the private parking garage and told him my code. I don’t know if he waited for it out of politeness or if it wasn’t in my file. A few minutes later the elevator dinged at the penthouse floor. I had one side and Dad had the other.

  Building maintenance had cleansed the hallway of any signs of what was probably a massive search effort. The wall sconces spread warm light over the Berber carpet and serene paintings. The crime scene stickers had been peeled off my door. But Dad’s, directly across the hall, was festooned with them.

  My keycard still worked, but that was the last thing that seemed normal. Inside, it was tidy enough, neutral and modern, but everything had been moved. There were dents in the carpet where the furniture had been rearranged. The entire loft felt off-kilter. The violation of my personal space jangled my nerves. I squinted, seeing the imaginary fingerprints no scrubbing could ever erase. I wondered how thorough the search had been. My private security features had been designed by a client who was former CIA. He seriously knew how to hide shit. When I got the chance I’d see if the cops had been up to the task.

  Ethan broke the tension. “Nice digs. If I ever needed proof that law evasion pays more than law enforcement, this is it.”

  “It’s only because my dad owns the building.” I caught myself. “Or at least he did. I guess his asset-forfeiture auction will also qualify as epic.” I didn’t bother to mask my bitterness voice.

  He took off the cocky shades and his whole demeanor softened. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to be crass. We were having fun. I can’t say I understand exactly how you feel, but I do have a clue. I’m sorry it went down like this, but, I’d be lying if I said I’m sorry we met.”

  His kindness hung between us while I considered how to respond. As there was nothing to be gained by being a bitch, I decided to roll with it.

  “It’s cool. Just hard to see your life flushed.”

  Okay, that wasn’t as kind as I’d intended, but if it stung, he didn’t show it.

  “Ethan, are you hungry? The dainty salad I had for dinner isn’t keeping up with my new south Texas appetite. How about a pizza?”

  He took the bait about changing the subject. “That would rock.”

  “Price, what do you like? I’m down with anything except pineapple, anchovies, or green peppers.”

  “Those ingredients do not belong on a pizza. That would be a bread casserole.”

  “You are truly a man worthy of that Challenger.”

  He pulled out one of the chrome barstools at my kitchen island. In the mellow light from the recessed fixtures, it was easy to shut out my apartment where none of the corners were neat and square anymore.

  “Okay Martin, do you want to buy or fly?”

  “Dude, that’s not how we do it up here in the clouds.” I touched the screen mounted in the countertop and within seconds a cultured voice came through the speaker.

  “Good evening, Miss Martin. It’s always a pleasur
e. We’ve missed you.”

  There could have been a shootout in the lobby, and our concierge would still have the same bland see-nothing greeting.

  My reply was equally social. “Charles, the feeling is mutual. I’d like the usual from Luigi’s. Make it a large.”

  “As you wish. Have an excellent evening.” The screen went dark as I broke the connection.

  Across the granite counter I could feel his stare. “Don’t.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. As they say, the rich are different.”

  “Yeah, they’re under indictment.”

  Before he could answer, I headed over to the wet bar, hoping its contents hadn’t been listed on the search warrant. I wasn’t disappointed. The gleaming keg tap, the wine rack, and the beer fridge all looked untouched. I’m sure the liquor cabinet was fine as well. I kept it stocked because unless the client was female and pretty, the business gatherings typically happened on my side of the hall rather than Dad’s.

  “I could make margaritas, but I’m not in the mood. Do you want wine or beer?”

  “Let’s see. If I drank wine with concierge pizza, I’d lose my man card. I’ll take a beer.”

  “Chewy or not?”

  “Okay, Martin, you’ll have to translate that one.”

  “I have a domestic on tap or something in a German that needs a spoon.”

  He laughed. “It’s been a long day. Make it a mug of suds.”

  I considered the wine rack. A couple of bottles tempted me to sink into their warm embrace, but decided on a cold beer.

  I pulled a stool to the other side of the counter so I could face him without the disturbing physical closeness.

  “Cheers.” He gulped a third of his mug. “Damn, this didn’t come from the corner liquor store.”

  I took a sip. Even after sitting in the keg, the golden beer still held its tang.

  “No, this is a Hefeweizen we get straight from the brewer. He’s a client. If it’s not to your taste, I probably have the ingredients for something a little more motorcycle-club, like garbage-can punch or Pruno.”

  He made a face and drained the rest of his mug. I started to point to the bar, but for some reason got up and refilled it for him. While I was letting the foam settle the intercom beeped.

  “Touch the screen.” Ethan wiped his hands on his jeans and tapped the blinking light.

  “Miss Martin, your order is on its way.” The screen went dark.

  “Cool,” I said putting the fresh mugs on the counter.

  Ethan flipped open his wallet. “My treat.”

  “No need. I have an account. The bills go to Gerald.”

  “Is there anything in your life that’s not scripted and perfect?”

  My expression must have conveyed my thoughts because his smile died.

  CHAPTER 38

  At least nothing had changed about Luigi’s pizza. I was on my second slice of heaven when I noticed Ethan’s open wallet was still on the counter. In the first photo window was a pic of a ridiculously handsome boy in a tux with his arm around a glittering girl.

  “Do you have a brother or do you still carry around your prom photos?”

  Like lightning, he snapped his wallet closed and started to put it back in his pocket. I caught his gaze and held it. He relaxed and didn’t break away.

  “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I swapped out my ID at the office, but not the photos. You surprised me. I do have a brother, but that’s not him. This is Corey.”

  The name meant nothing to me. I expected his wallet to disappear and the conversation to head off in another direction. When I returned from the bar, the photo was on the counter.

  “He’s my son.”

  I was still doing the math in my beer-fogged head when he spoke.

  “It’s okay. I was seventeen when he was born. My girlfriend and I celebrated winning the regional basketball championship and Corey was our door prize.”

  Several bad jokes bubbled up, but I held them back. “Go on. I’d love to hear about it if you want to tell me. He’s amazing. I can see the resemblance.” I winced at the sloppy-sounding flirt, but I really meant it.

  He was quiet, but the silence was thoughtful instead of dead air.

  “Not a lot to tell. No silver spoon here. Me and Annemarie were from a map dot. I was a hotshot athlete, hoops and baseball, and she was the head cheerleader. Hell, there wasn’t anything else to do on Saturday night. I think at least half the guys in my class had babies by graduation. What they didn’t have was my folks.”

  “I take it they weren’t ready to be grandparents.”

  “That didn’t really bother them, but Dad sat me down and gave me the do the crime, do the time talk. As soon as school was out, he put me to work at my uncle’s lumber mill. I pulled green chain ten hours a day, six days a week. On Sunday, after church of course, I had dinner with Annemarie and her family. One hour on the porch swing listening to how ugly she felt while her mom peeked out every fifteen minutes.”

  “Damn, sounds romantic.”

  I dished out another slice of pizza and round of beer.

  “To be sure. My senior year, after a summer at the mill, I could lay some hurt on a ball. There was buzz about me making it to the majors. I even got scouted.” The more he talked and drank, the more his accent slipped. I could hear west Texas in every sentence.

  “Well, you have to finish the story now.” I wasn’t kidding. I wanted to hear it.

  He shrugged. “Corey was born around Christmas. I saw him on Sunday afternoons if I kept my grades and chores up. As for baseball, I was good, but not quite good enough. I never could hit a curve ball worth a damn. Come graduation, I wasn’t willing to head back to the mill, so I joined the Air Force. My plan was to go home and get Anne and Corey after she turned eighteen. I wanted to show them all I could take care of business without them on my neck every minute.”

  A flood of irrational jealousy shot through me. To cover it, I tidied up dinner. Well, I threw the pizza box into the trash compacter and rinsed the two beer mugs.

  “So, what happened?”

  “About six weeks into Basic, I got Dear-Johned, and three months later she showed her everlasting affection with a two-ton child support order I’m still paying on. And my kid hates me. It’s the great American story.”

  With that he put away the photo. I picked up the signal that the conversation was over. But I wasn’t quite ready to leave it alone.

  “The pic?”

  “My mom and her mom are still friends so I get a few. That’s his senior prom. Since I haven’t gotten any Grandparents’ Day cards, I guess he learned to keep it in his pants.”

  His expression had a raw edge I knew well. It was the place where you’d broken through to the truth. Lawyers lived for that moment, but all I felt was warmth and empathy. Too much warmth. This evening was heading into deep water and the only thing that bothered me was how little it bothered me.

  I leaned forward on the counter, placing my hands over the invisible halfway line. It was a blatant invitation, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull it back. I didn’t care. I had nothing to lose and I didn’t want to be alone.

  CHAPTER 39

  My intentions didn’t go unnoticed. His gaze flitted from my face to my hands. I’m sure the rules about getting involved with informants are right up there with the one about defense lawyers and cops or clients. You never got past the inherent conflict. But damn, I couldn’t let a moment like this pass.

  He slid his hand across the smooth granite and tapped the back of mine with one finger. One tap, two taps, and then three. I turned my hand over and he traced a pattern in my palm, his finger tanned against my white skin. Despite the heat racing up my arm and grounding out somewhere south of my heart, I shivered. I sensed massive regrets waiting in the wings, but I was going to follow this wherever it took me.

  The delicate caress had progressed to an exploration. After brushing his li
ps across my knuckles, he stretched my fingers out one by one.

  “Your hands aren’t what I expected.”

  It was hard to find my voice.

  “Really? They’re fairly standard equipment. What did you think you’d find?”

  He brought my hand to his cheek. His warm breath on my skin thrilled me.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe some bitch-mistress fake nail manicure or that they’d be soft and weak. Instead, your hands are neat and strong. They feel capable.” Another kiss, this time on my palm.

  I never thought being called “capable” would be so arousing. If he didn’t remove this slab of rock from between us in the next ten seconds, I was jumping across it.

  I don’t know if he caught my drift or was feeling the heat himself. Still holding my hand, he came around the island and faced me. He trailed a finger down my cheek and I turned my head to kiss his wrist. His soft intake of breath told me he was in the same place I was.

  “You are so lovely. I’ve played the scene when you answered the door in my head a hundred times already.”

  I blushed at the memory. “You’ve seen a lot more of me than I have of you.”

  “That can change.”

  Those three words flashed hot right through me. I ran my fingertips up his arms and shoulders before resting my palms flat on his chest. Under the thin fabric, his skin tightened under my touch.

  “Ethan, I’m not sure what green chain is, but you pulled it just fine.”

  I flexed my fingertips into his hard muscles and felt the sudden start of his heart. He responded with a soft laugh as he snaked his arms around my waist.

  “You know this is wrong.” His voice was soft and rich with passion.

  “Totally inappropriate.” I sought out the tail of his shirt. I needed to feel his bare skin.

  “Well, as long as we’re in agreement.” One hand came up under my chin and I met his eyes, dark and blue, under the soft light.

  The combined ring and vibrate of his cell phone tore through the veil we’d drawn around ourselves. His grip on me turned hard and cold before he stepped back and flicked the screen.