A Just Deception (14 page)

On Sunday afternoon Izzy knocked on the adjoining motel room door. Peter and Billy had just checked in after sleeping at a different rattrap motel the night before. All of them arriving on the same day would have been the equivalent of carrying a we-are-traveling-together sign. Peter had made sure to request the corner room because he knew Izzy had the one next door.

With only five cars in the motel lot the front desk clerk had given a jerky shrug and handed over the key.

Piece. Of. Cake.

The place wasn’t so bad. He could live with the circa 1970 swirl rug and avocado green curtains because the sheets and bathroom were clean. The lone double bed was a problem since he and Billy were sharing the room. No wonder the clerk snickered when the two of them had checked in. Small town minds.

Izzy knocked again, and Peter opened the door to find her standing there wearing heavy black eyeliner and loads of inky mascara. Then he made the mistake of looking down. Short—really short—cutoffs and a deep—
really
deep—V-neck T-shirt. He stood frozen for a second before his gaze traveled from her head to the monster amount of cleavage.

Holy.

Holy.

Shit.

He’d seen her bare-chested that night his mother busted in on them, and her rack—although beautiful—didn’t pack that kind of firepower.

She held out her arms. “What do you think?”

“Uh,” he said.

Billy materialized next to him. “Hello, Izzy’s boobs.”

Peter shot him a glare. “Yo. Take it easy.”

She held up both hands, fingers spread wide. “You noticed. Perfect.”

Every part of Peter’s body began to itch. He didn’t know where to scratch first, so he started on the back of his neck. What the hell was she doing dressed like a hooker?

“Honey, they’re…” He waved his hands toward her chest.

“Big,” Billy suggested.

Peter gritted his teeth, turning toward him. “Shut up.”

“It’s the all-new Miracle Bra,” Izzy said.

Billy grunted. “It’s a miracle all right.”

“That’s it. You’re outta here.” Peter pushed him to the door. “Come back in ten minutes.”

“Come on, Monk.” Billy stole another look at Izzy’s rack. “She doesn’t mind. Do ya, Iz?”

“
I
mind,” Peter said. “Beat it.”

The door closed with a loud click. He threw the safety and marched back to Izzy. “Okay. What the hell is this?”

She put her hands on her hips and huffed out a breath, causing the miracle boobs to bounce.

Oh, baby.

Monk Junior roared to life. Peter’s luck was nothing but bad lately. And son of a bitch if he didn’t need to add that bra to his Izzy list of sexual fantasies.

But, right now, for the first time ever, he wanted to have a conversation rather than think about sex.

“Sampson,” Izzy began, “told me there might be some kind of sex slavery thing going on in the compound. I figured I should try and use my, uh—” she waved her hands down her torso, “—assets when I go there.”

This from the woman who didn’t want to be thought of as a sex object. Baffling. Simply baffling.

“You don’t agree?” she asked.

Tricky territory. He did agree. On a professional level. If these guys were into sex-related activities, Izzy, with her perfect cheekbones and body that would bring a dead man to life, would make one hell of a prospect.

On a personal level, she wasn’t leaving the room. Putting aside the idea of her going in there alone, and his inability to help her if she got into trouble, he didn’t want those sick fuckers looking at her the way
he
looked at her.

The sex-kitten outfit was probably the right call though.

Obviously disappointed, she dropped her chin to her chest, spotted his hard-on and, with puckered lips, lifted her head again. The man-killer gaze connected with his. They stood there for what had to be ten minutes. Her looking at him. Him looking back. She finally stepped closer and reached for him, her hands sliding around him as she nuzzled his neck.

“I guess my idea worked.”

When she ran her tongue behind his ear, he breathed deep and tilted his head back so she could work her magic. He imagined nailing her right there. Yep. It would take a week to get rid of this boner.

He gripped her arms and pushed her away before he lost all semblance of coherent thought.

Creepy Izzy—no surprise there—stared back at him. “They’ll see you and think you want to get laid. Can you handle it?”

She closed her eyes and the only sound drifting between them was the John Wayne movie Billy had been watching.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “But if it’ll get me in, I’ll deal with it.”

He brought her into his arms and she rested her cheek against his chest. Damn that felt good. “You can still tell Sampson to screw off. After you go there today, it’ll be harder to back out.”

“No. I need to do this. I’ll be fine. As long as I know you’re here. I’ll be fine.”

“You can take care of yourself, but I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll give you a ten-minute head start and then follow. I won’t be able to get too close, but we’ll be around. If you have trouble, text me a 9-1-1 and we’ll bust in there.”

She stepped away. Threw her shoulders back. “I can do this.”

“I know you can.”

He just didn’t want her to. “You ready?”

“Yep.”

She smiled at him, but the weariness of it didn’t sit well with him. She bit her bottom lip. “Um, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

She pointed to the top of his head. “Can I wear that? For luck?”

He slid his do-rag, the faded blue one with the American flag on the sides, from his head and handed it to her. “This has to be love if I’m giving you my favorite do-rag.”

When her gaze shot to the floor, his mind reeled. What’d he say? He ticked the last bit of conversation off in his head—
got it
—and nudged her chin up to kiss her. “It’s just an expression. Don’t freak out.”

Filtering every word would take some getting used to. Either that or they’d spend most of their time with her perpetually scared or pissed off. Fun stuff.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and, when she made no attempt to move, kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, enjoying the feel of her before she left to face whatever waited at that compound. She nipped his bottom lip before backing away.

“I need to go,” she said. “Just get it over with.”

“Yeah.”

“I can handle it. It’ll be worth it if we find Nicole.”

He sure hoped so because none of them had a clue what she was walking into.

Isabelle turned into the driveway and stopped. With her foot firmly on the brake, she double-checked the address Sampson had given her. Thirteen forty-two. That’s what the street side mailbox said.

This was it.

A shot of panic seized her, slashing at her insides with the fury of a deadly tornado. She sucked in a breath.

Calm down. You’re just saying hello.

Isabelle considered the wide-open iron gate a sure sign from above. She glanced at the intercom. She could push the button and ask to see Seth, but why take a chance on not getting in?

The gates
were
open.

Up the long winding driveway, at the top of a slight hill, sat a huge white Victorian with a wraparound porch that extended to the back of the house.

Good Lord. Sampson could have warned her it was so big. Big and beautiful. Windows framed by mossy green shutters lined the front of the first floor. A turret poked high into the sky, and Isabelle’s mind drifted to her favorite childhood fairy tales.

What a shame. No fairy tales here.

Even the landscaping, pretty flowers in pinks and purples and blues, had been seen to. Leave it to Kendrick to come up with a place so welcoming. The idea of something illegal happening within those walls was criminal in itself.

With an intake of breath, she levered her foot off the brake, coasted through the gate and headed up the drive.

She hadn’t called. She and Peter discussed it and came to the conclusion she should just show up and introduce herself. Why not? It would give her an opportunity to at least check out the house rather than calling and risking Seth Donner declining her visit.

When she pulled to a stop in front of the steps, she shut the engine down and took a long look.

The front door opened and a young blonde woman stepped onto the porch. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, yet her belly swelled with pregnancy.

“May I help you?” the woman asked, her voice not so welcoming.

Here goes. Act natural.

Whatever natural was when undercover.

“Hello,” Isabelle said, sliding out of the car and moving up the brick steps. “I’m Isabelle DeRosa. Kendrick’s cousin.”

“Oh.”

The woman squinted and, combined with rigid shoulders, her body language screamed of mistrusting people. Isabelle knew the feeling.

“I’ll get Seth,” the woman—girl really—said.

She turned and hurried back into the house. A slow, snaking feeling crawled up Isabelle’s arms, but she stood motionless in case they were watching. Finally, needing to move, she stepped toward the porch rail and leaned against it.

After two of the longest minutes of her life, the front door opened again, and a man of about her height with a thick mass of light brown hair came out. His cheeks were round and ruddy and his nose too big for his face. He offered a plastic smile, but the skin around his drab hazel eyes didn’t bunch. Nothing genuine there.

He extended his hand. “Isabelle. How wonderful to meet you. I am so sorry about Kendrick. What a tragedy. We’re all still in a bit of shock around here.”

She shook his hand, and the bit of moisture there turned her stomach. He clasped his other sweaty hand over hers.
Ew.
The snaking feeling left her arms and went right to her midsection.

She smiled anyway and made sure it was big enough to appear natural. No sense in him seeing a fake smile as well. “You must be Seth?”

“I am.” He eyed her car’s Jersey plates. “Have you been driving all day? From New Jersey?”

“No. I drove out yesterday. I’m on my way to Chicago to visit a friend.” The cover story she and Sampson had come up with. “I thought I’d take a detour.” She stopped, rubbed her hand over her forehead and prayed she wouldn’t vomit all over this nice porch.

She glanced up at Seth and lowered her eyes again. “I guess I just wanted to see where he lived. I’m not sure why.”

Seth nodded. “I understand.”

“I don’t think you could. I don’t understand it myself.”

This wasn’t a total lie because standing on Kendrick’s porch was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

“Kendrick never said much, but I know your relationship with him was awkward.”

Awkward. Is that what they were calling it? Isabelle stifled the urge to slap him.

Seth reached forward and Isabelle steadied herself so she wouldn’t flinch when his hand touched her arm. The taste of metal filled her mouth and she swallowed hard.

Then he did it. His nasty little gaze went to her boobs and lingered there a few seconds longer than necessary.

Jackpot.

Normally, at this point, she would have given him a thorough inspection and zeroed in on his crotch. Then she would have scoffed.

For a moment, her mind drifted back to when she’d first seen Peter in the elevator. The first man in history to take the insult in stride. She moved her hand over the do-rag on her head.

Don’t think about him now.

As much as she wanted to pound Seth into the ground, she kept her eyes glued to his face. Even managed a smile.

The churning in her stomach curled upward and she swallowed the bile back.

Just get inside. That’s all you have to do.

Seth eventually stopped gaping at her boobs and looked her in the eye. And—
yow
—what she saw there, that burning heat, forced her to throw her shoulders back. Probably not the best action because it made her chest stand out all the more. He must have taken it as an invitation because he grinned like a pervert at a peep show.

“Why don’t you come inside? Have some lemonade?”

Double jackpot. Now
she
smiled. “I’d love to.”

Peter checked his watch. “She must be in.”

This would be the one and only drive past the house in the banged up eighty-five Camaro he’d paid cash for at a corner car lot near the airport. Of course, having his fake identification back, courtesy of Vic, moved the transaction along.

“Guess so,” Billy said from the passenger seat. “Let’s find a place to wait.”

A quick punch to the gas pedal and they cruised down the two-lane country road. Hundred-year-old trees surrounded them on both sides and seemed to go on forever. Lots of wooded property around here.

Plenty of places to hide a body.

Half a mile down, Peter pulled off the road and parked the car on the grass before shutting down the engine. He might just keep this relic and see if he could rebuild it.

“I’ll pop the hood,” Billy said.

“Pull the distributor wire while you’re at it.”

If any nosy cops came by, they could prove the car wouldn’t start.

“Done,” Billy said as he got back into the car. “You bring any snacks?”

“We just had lunch.”

“You know I need snacks.”

“Listen, Lucy, we won’t be here long. I told Izzy to make it short so she doesn’t seem too anxious to stay.”

Billy stuck his foot out the open window. “What’s with you two?”

“Don’t know.”

“Liar.”

“Dickhead.”

They both laughed.

“Have we kissed and made up yet?” Billy wanted to know. “This being pissed at each other is a lot of work.”

“I’m not apologizing for kicking the shit out of you. You were dogging me.”

Billy shrugged. “I always dog you.”

Yeah, well, you never did it after one of our guys died and I was on four days of limited sleep.

“Chalk it up to a bad day.” Peter reached under the seat to make sure his nine millimeter was still safely hidden in case those nosy cops came around.

His gun. Vic had sent it back. Along with the throwaway he’d confiscated from the safe.

Somehow, having the guns back made Peter feel like his old self. Like someone who could be useful in keeping people alive.

“You’re not gonna shoot me are you?” Billy laughed at his own joke. “You just got the damn thing back.”

So, okay. That was funny. Peter took a second to enjoy the rumbling laugh. He hadn’t really laughed much lately. Except with Izzy. She made him laugh. When it happened his world became a better place.

And he wanted to stay there awhile.

Seth Donner held the door open for her.

All Isabelle had to do was step in. To Kendrick’s house.

She mentally settled herself. Letting Seth see discomfort would blow the whole thing before she’d even gotten started.

She stepped into the foyer and took in the mahogany woodwork surrounding the tiled entryway. On her left was a large dining room painted a dark blue and, to the right, a library—
Kendrick had a library?

In front of her, the staircase had been stained the same deep color of the trim.

Seth led her down the hallway. “Right this way.”

“What a lovely home,” Isabelle commented truthfully.

She followed Seth down the hall, replaying Peter’s words.

Don’t ask a lot of questions. Let him do the talking. Don’t appear too interested. Try not to lie. The lies are hard to remember after a while.

Seth led her to a two-story family room at the back of the house. The hunter green walls were outlined with more mahogany trim and the matching hardwood floors left her wondering if they’d hired a decorator. An oversized stone fireplace sat nestled in the corner. This house had to be big bucks.

Isabelle stopped in the middle of the room. “The house looks new.”

Seth turned right and headed to the kitchen. “It’s only three years old. Kendrick and I purchased it from the builder.”

“Wow. Great yard.” She moved to the door and scanned the property.

The children’s swing set nearly came to life and pummeled her. Children. Kendrick and children under the same roof. Suddenly the swing set spun and she placed an arm on the door to steady herself.

“Isabelle?” Seth stood next to her holding a glass of lemonade. “Are you all right?”

She shook it off, took the lemonade and, rather than gulp it down, as she wanted to, took a dainty sip.

“I’m fine. I think it’s the heat. Maybe coming into the cool air from outside.”

Seth motioned her back to the family room. “Let’s have a seat.”

The young pregnant woman wandered in from a doorway off the kitchen, and Seth shot her a hard, scolding glare.

Interesting.

Isabelle rose from her chair, approached the woman and held her hand out. “Hello, again. I’m Isabelle DeRosa.”

“I know,” the young woman said. “You told me on the porch.”

I’m not giving up until I get a name
.

Finally, she shook hands, but made it quick. “I’m Courtney…Masterson.”

Gotcha.

Before turning back to Seth, Isabelle drilled the name into her brain for Sampson to check.

Seth, with yet another of his plastic smiles, looked beyond her.

“I just needed some water from the fridge,” Courtney said.

Isabelle retrieved her seat, but glanced back at the younger woman. Might as well engage her and see what else she could find out. “It must be hard being pregnant in this heat. When are you due?”

“Uh.” Courtney’s gaze went to Seth then back to Isabelle. “In about a month. Give or take.”

“Well, good luck to you.”

Courtney glanced at the floor and appeared unsure how to respond.
Just say thanks, hon.

Seth cleared his throat. “Thank you, Courtney.”

Dismissed
.

What was with this guy? Was he the baby’s father? Maybe he and Courtney were a couple and he didn’t like her talking to people? Talk about emotional abuse.

Seth settled back into his chair. “Isabelle, what brings you here?”

She shrugged. “As I said, I’m not really sure. After Kendrick’s funeral I decided to take some time off, visit a friend in Chicago. I thought the drive would be nice.” She faked a laugh. “Turns out it’s boring as hell.”

Seth chuckled, but again, his smile, so small and unyielding, appeared fabricated. Gave her the creeps.

Then his eyes wandered to her boobs again.

“Anyhoo,” she said, forcing herself not to adjust her shirt so she wasn’t so exposed. “I stopped for a coffee at the rest area by the Cincinnati exit and remembered I had the address in my purse.”

“Did Kendrick give it to you?” His tone may have been casual, but his stiff shoulders said something completely different.

“I’m sure Kendrick told you we weren’t on good terms.”

“He did mention it, which is why I’m surprised to see you. He really did want to reconcile that with you.” He rested his head back against the chair. “I still can’t believe he’s dead. We built this organization together.”

Right. She had to remember this guy was grieving his friend. Even if that friend was a sick son of a bitch. Isabelle cleared her throat and wondered just how much Seth knew about her. “It has to be overwhelming for you.”

“It’s a shock.”

“The day he came to my office he said if I changed my mind I should call him. I was curious and did an internet search on your foundation. The address was listed.”

Not a total lie. She did research the foundation’s name after Sampson had given it to her.

“I see,” Seth said.

“I hope that isn’t a problem.” She scooted to the edge of her seat, leaned over a little so he could see down her shirt. Men could be easily distracted. Once she had his attention she bolted upright. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry. This is your home and I just barged in.” She stood. “I’ll go. You don’t even know me.”

He jumped from his seat. “No, no. It’s all right. I do remember Kendrick saying he had invited you to visit. It makes sense now. Please. Don’t go.”

She glanced down at the chair she’d just vaulted out of.
Don’t seem too anxious
. “Well, maybe just for a few more minutes. Then I should go.”

“How long will you be staying in the area?”

“I’ll probably head to Chicago tomorrow morning. It is quite beautiful here though. I may take a day and do the farm tours in the area. Maybe do some picking. I don’t know.”

“The farms around here are wonderful. We take the children every now and again.”

“Children?” Isabelle asked trying hard not to throw up.