A Just Deception (16 page)

She rested her forehead against his chest, and let her hands wander under his shirt, around his waist to the solid comfort there.

“I’m worried you think I’m a whore. The sleeping around was a way to deal with my emotional problems.”

He pushed her back and held her there. “I would never think that of you. I can’t even say the word to you. You were betrayed by the people who meant the most to you and you still grew up to be an amazing woman. You did that on your own. However you got there, you got there.”

His blue eyes, so focused, nearly blistered her. She lowered her head to his shoulder and tried to concentrate on slow breaths because she was crying again. With relief maybe? She didn’t know, but he needed to see. Needed to know what his acceptance meant to her.

She smiled through the soppy tears.

“Are we okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

His cell phone started ringing. The real one. Not the disposable he’d bought earlier in the day. Peter threw the adjoining door open and hustled to the phone on the bedside table. Private caller.

“Jessup,” he said.

“This is Special Agent Wade Sampson. There’s a convenience store on the south side of town. Meet me there in ten minutes.”

Click.

Peter laughed. This should be good. Simply for the pain-in-the-ass factor, he’d make it fifteen minutes.

He stuck his head into the room and found Izzy still standing there hanging on to her towel. “You can take your shower now. I’ll leave you alone.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you need me to scrub your back.”

That got him a half smile at least.

“Rain check?” she asked.

“You bet. That was your buddy Sampson. He wants to see me.”

“Uh-oh,”

“Nah,” Peter said. “He probably wants to throw his federal weight around. I’ve been waiting for him to call.”

“Well, don’t make him mad.”

He laughed and walked out the door.

Thirteen minutes later, the convenience store lights called like a beacon on the deserted country road where only darkness surrounded him. The lack of moonlight sent a familiar buzz through his system. Dark nights like this were perfect for an op, and the longing for his normal life hit him square in the chest.

He pushed the Camaro to eighty-five.

Getting Izzy home safe had to be the priority. Then he’d tell Vic he wanted an assignment. And no wouldn’t be an option.

Peter pulled into the store’s parking lot. The sign said Open Twenty-Four Hours, but considering how quiet this town was, the place couldn’t make any decent money at night.

Sampson, wearing a suit sans the jacket, leaned against a black Chevy at the far end of the low-lit parking lot and stood taller when Peter drove toward him.

He parked the Camaro, got out and strolled over.

“You’re late,” Sampson said, taking in Peter’s do-rag and combat boots.

“You didn’t give me much notice. What can I do for you?”

“Mr. Jessup,” Sampson said. “Or should I call you Monk?”

“Peter works for me. I’m surprised it took you this long to contact me. You federal boys are way too predictable.”

The sarcastic laugh from Sampson proved Peter hit his target. At least until Sampson got in his space. Of course the fucker had an inch on him and that always sucked. Not that Peter would give Mr. Slick any room to intimidate him.

“Stay out of my case,” Sampson said.

Interesting body language here. His voice was harsh, yet he stood with his hands in his pockets.

Peter crossed his arms. “Or?”

Sampson shrugged. “Or I lock your ass in jail.”

“I’m offended,
Special
Agent Sampson. I’d think the FBI would welcome a person with my skills to their investigation. I can bend the rules where you boys have to play by them.”

“Stay out of it.”

“No.”

“Are you out of your friggin’ mind?”

Peter grinned. “My boss thinks so. Makes it all the more fun.”

Sampson gave him a confused, narrow-eyed look. “Don’t make me lock you up. You’re a war hero, but I’ll wreck your life if I have to.”

Peter stepped closer. Got right up in his grill. “You think I care about my life when you’re sending Izzy into a situation where you don’t know what the fuck is going on? You know as well as I do the congresswoman’s daughter is probably dead, her murderer probably in that compound—Kendrick’s too—and you think I care what happens to me? I think you’re the one out of your mind.”

“We’ll protect Isabelle.”

“There’s nothing you can do for her once she gets inside. She’s on her own.”

Sampson broke eye contact and stepped back.

Cornered.

“
Don’t
fuck up my case.”

Hmm. Time to play. To rattle Sampson’s cage some.

Peter laughed, waved a finger. “I think you’d actually enjoy locking my ass up. If I’m in jail you can steal my girl.”

Sampson’s rock-hard expression didn’t say much. He was definitely pissed, but was he pissed that Peter caught his attraction to Izzy or that he refused to stay out of the case? Both maybe?

“I wouldn’t do that,” the lying sack of shit said.

“Yeah, you would.”

“No. I’d lock you up, close my case and
then
steal your girl.”

The answer, sudden and without warning, hit Peter like a drive-by shooting. He’d expected Sampson to deny the accusation. Props for a good comeback. And son of a gun if Peter didn’t kind of like the guy. At least he was honest about his intentions.

“That sucks,” Peter said. “Here I am wanting a reason to kick your ass and you go and say something that makes me think you’re a stand-up guy. I hate that.”

Sampson pointed at him, but he half grinned. “Stay out of my case.”

“I got it. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“But you’re not going to are you?”

Peter shook his head. “Nope.”

With that, Sampson turned and headed for his car.

“Sampson?”

He stopped, turned back.

“I won’t stay out of it,” Peter said, “but I won’t screw it up either. I want this case closed as much as you do. The sooner it’s done, the sooner Izzy gets home safe.”

“At least we understand each other.”

Oh, we understand each other.

And you can’t have my girl.

Fucker.

Peter whittled away the time in the crappy motel room playing chess with Billy. They’d found the game at the five-and-dime on Main Street. He hadn’t realized five-and-dimes still existed.

He checked the digital clock on the end table. One o’clock and Izzy was still locked behind her motel room door. She’d spent the morning at some you-pick farm because she wanted to give Seth Donner a real story. The strawberries she brought back were damn good—a nice side benefit—but she’d been back almost an hour and Peter had no idea what she was doing in there.

Sending her alone on her strawberries run had not been in his plan but she’d insisted, and he couldn’t disagree with her logic that they couldn’t keep coming and going at roughly the same times or people would notice. Most of the rooms were empty and the nosy desk clerk constantly sat by the window.

“So,” Izzy said, pushing open the adjoining motel room door. “I just called Seth and he said I should come out to the compound.”

Peter glanced up from the chessboard and saw exactly what she’d been doing. The stripper look again. Heavy black eyeliner, low-cut shirt and yet another pair of microscopic shorts. The only part he liked was his do-rag sitting on top of her silky dark hair.

He’d get no sleep again tonight thinking about her dressed like that in front of Seth Donner.

“Did you call him on your cell?” Peter asked.

“No. I used the room phone.”

“Good.” Peter rose from his chair and moved to the dresser where he retrieved a cell phone from the top drawer. “Leave me your phone and take this one.”

She stared down at the new phone. “Why?”

“If they search your stuff,” Billy said while contemplating his next chess move, “you don’t want them to have all your personal numbers.”

Her face blanched. Leave it to Billy to freak her out.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. We use these prepaid phones all the time. Billy and I each have one. I’ve programmed those numbers into this phone. I’m number one and Billy is number two. I didn’t put our names in. Try not to call our regular cell phones.”

She nodded. “Got it. Um…Can I talk to you a minute?” She gestured to the other room. “In private?”

He held a hand toward her room and trailed her there. “You okay?” he asked after she closed the door behind him.

“I’m fine. I just…well…I know you’re not happy about my clothes and I don’t want you to be upset.”

He smiled and brought her in for a hug. Clearly he’d done a piss-poor job of hiding his disgust over her getup. “I’m not upset. Not really. It’s weird seeing you dressed this way, but if I didn’t feel about you the way I do, it wouldn’t faze me.”

She squeezed him tight and all that soft, exposed flesh pressed against him.

Hellooo, baby.

“It makes me sick,” she said. “The way he looks at me. It’s not like you. You look at me and I know you have sex on your mind, but I also know you care about
me
and not just the miracle boobs.”

Peter smiled. “The boobs are a bonus.”

That got him a snort.

He pulled back, cradled her cheeks in his hands and kissed her quick. The kiss may have been simple, but the buzz simmering under his skin was anything but. “I don’t know how he looks at you, but I’m glad you see the difference.”

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so don’t worry.”

“If you can, send a text or something so I know you’re okay. With these prepaid phones they won’t know who you are texting.”

She jerked her head. “Okay. If I’m going to be back after, say eight o’clock, I’ll text you.”

“Do you want me to call Sampson and tell him you’re there?”

“No. I called him from a pay phone on the way back from the farm.”

“Be careful, Iz. Remember, don’t seem too curious.”

She smiled up at him, wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and dragged him down for a lip-lock. He couldn’t help it if his tongue slid into her mouth. She’d started it. Monk Junior began singing a wake-up tune and Peter broke away from the kiss. The last thing he needed was a hard-on when she was leaving.

“Yeah, you should go now. I have this whole stripper-Izzy-giving-me-a-lap-dance fantasy going on.”

She laughed. “You’re a pig.”

“You started it, sweetheart.”

But that lap dance thing wasn’t a bad idea. He’d add it to his list.

She picked up her purse and turned for the door. “Bye, Peter.”

“Bye, Iz.”

The door closed with a loud click that seemed to rattle around in his head. Did he just let her leave to send another man into a sexual stupor?

A sexual stupor that could get her hurt? Maybe killed.

What the hell was wrong with him letting her do this alone? They knew next to nothing about these people
and
a young girl was missing after having been seen at the compound. She was probably dead. Call him a fatalist, but the odds weren’t good they’d find this girl. There would be no way he’d let that happen to Izzy. Not after losing Tiny and Roy. No way.

He strode into the adjoining room, grabbed his gun and keys from the top drawer of the dresser. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Billy asked.

“We’re gonna have a look around the back end of that property and find a way into the compound.”

“Isabelle, how nice to see you again,” Seth said, smiling that plastic smile as he opened the screen door.

The porch overhang offered shade from the afternoon sun and the slight breeze against her bare skin calmed her jitters.

Smile.

Stepping into the house, she grinned at him. “Thank you for inviting me. I hope it’s not interfering with your day.”

He wore tan slacks and a weathered red golf shirt. Was this his normal work attire? Or was this casual for him? Either way, he dressed too much like Kendrick for her comfort. His hand came to rest on her lower back as he guided her into the house. A warning flare shot from her brain, and her shoulders stiffened.

She had to learn to control that.

Seth snatched his hand back. “I’m sorry.”

Fix this. Don’t lose him
.

The last thing she wanted was his hands on her, but her clothing and mannerisms probably said something completely different. And wasn’t that the whole point? Considering the FBI thought they were running a sex slavery ring out of this place.

Get it together.

She closed her eyes and let Creepy Izzy take the wheel. When she opened her eyes again, she stepped an inch closer than her own boundaries would normally allow.

“Please don’t apologize.” She squeezed Seth’s forearm. “I’ve been out of sorts lately.”

His gaze landed on her boobs again and she forced herself to smile as the acid in her gut churned. Damn Peter for making her feel things that would never have bothered her before.

“I’m sure,” Seth said. “Come in. I believe I promised you a tour of the property. The golf cart is out back.”

“I would love to meet the residents. I do some pro-bono work for a shelter at home. Maybe I can help in some way.”

He slid her a sideways glance and an oily half grin glossed his face. “Maybe you can.”

They wandered through the kitchen, complete with maple cabinets and granite counter tops that she failed to notice the day before.
Wow.
Granite? For a place that was reportedly about serving the underprivileged?

A woman and three young girls sat eating sandwiches at the oversized L-shaped breakfast bar.

“Hello,” Isabelle said, smiling at the woman first and the girls next.

The woman’s dark gaze tore into her for a second before they did a quick survey. The downward turn of her lips indicated displeasure. No surprise there. Women tended not to like Isabelle’s looks. Especially women dressed in stained, threadbare T-shirts and baggy cotton shorts that had seen the inside of a washer too many times.

The tension from this woman felt different. Her face read like a roadmap of a hard life. Craggy lines around her lips and eyes left her haggard when she probably hadn’t reached forty.

“Mary Beth, this is Isabelle DeRosa. She’s Kendrick’s cousin,” Seth said with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head.

It appeared Mary Beth had just been given warning number one. This guy had some serious control issues.

“These are my daughters,” she said.

The oldest, a pretty blonde teenager, rose from the chair and shook Isabelle’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rebecca.”

“Very nice, Rebecca,” Seth said. He turned to Isabelle. “We’ve been working on manners.”

Isabelle wasn’t sure what was more shocking, Seth creating a Stepford community or Rebecca’s protruding belly. Whatever was in the water around here must be making all the women pregnant.

Seth introduced her to the other girls before they went on their way, stopping briefly to speak with Courtney, who had found a shady spot on the patio to read a magazine.

“It’s awfully warm out,” Isabelle said. “Aren’t you roasting?”

Courtney glanced at Seth first and then at Isabelle. Her mouth split into a defiant grin. “I’m fine. I’ve only been out here a few minutes.”

A four-person golf cart was parked twenty feet away. “Seth is going to show me the property. Would you like to join us?”

Courtney’s blue eyes stayed fixed for a second. Measuring.

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said.

“I don’t mind either.” Isabelle unleashed what Peter called her man-killer eyes on Seth. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said, but nothing in his crabby tone revealed happiness.

Isabelle had just scored a major victory with Courtney and she’d need to step lightly. Something niggled at her—a warning perhaps—that Courtney didn’t miss a trick.

Getting her to reveal those tricks would be the challenge.

“Thank you for dinner,” Isabelle said. “You’ve all been very kind.”

She glanced around the kitchen as she stacked plates next to the sink. This group had a definite routine. Mary Beth washed, Rebecca put away, the girls cleared the table and Courtney wiped down all the counters.

Seth, of course, parked his lazy ass on the couch in front of the television in the adjoining family room.

“You’re welcome.” Mary Beth didn’t bother to glance up.

Okay. Now this was starting to make Isabelle’s skin itch. She’d been cordial to Mary Beth and had gotten nothing but scorn in return.

As she turned to leave the kitchen she walked right into Courtney and her big belly.

“Oh,” Isabelle said, reaching for Courtney’s arms. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry.”

Courtney drew her eyebrows together. “I’m fine. Sheesh. I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I’ll never understand why people think being knocked up means I should be treated like glass.”

A laugh bubbled in Isabelle’s throat. In another place and time, she’d probably like Courtney.

She held up her hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Great. Now, I’ve got this dripping rag in my hand, so if you don’t mind, could you get out of my way?”

“Watch that mouth,” Seth said from his throne in the family room.

Isabelle stepped sideways. “She’s right, Seth. I was in her way.”

“She doesn’t need to be rude about it.”

Isabelle wandered into the family room and perched on the chair across from his. “I should go. I’d like to be back before dark. These country roads are confusing enough. I had a wonderful day though. You’ve put together a lovely home here.”

Oddly enough, she wasn’t lying. Any person would be thrilled to live in such a home. Even the one-bedroom cabins, although small and minimally decorated, appeared quite comfortable.

Too bad something sick was probably going on.

“So, this is goodbye then? Are you leaving tomorrow?” Seth asked.

Where was this going? Had she said something that indicated she’d be leaving tomorrow? She’d better go with it. See where it landed.

“I’m not sure. My friend in Chicago is expecting me. There’s something about this area though, maybe all the open land, that’s peaceful.” She shrugged. “I have three weeks off and the motel is starting to get on my nerves. It’s desolate and way too quiet.”

But Peter’s there and he gives me sanctuary.

What was that all about?

“You should stay here,” Seth said. “One of our residents moved out a couple of weeks ago and we have an empty bedroom.”

Success.
No turning back now.

“And, of course, there’s Kendrick’s room,” he continued. “But I don’t feel that would be appropriate. All of his things are still in there. I’m waiting for his father to tell me what he wants done with them.”

The idea of even stepping foot into Kendrick’s bedroom nearly made her cough up dinner. “I don’t want to impose.”

Seth waved her away. “You can stay as long as you’d like. And maybe I can convince you to do some pro-bono work for us.” He winked at her for effect.

Great
. A winker. It worked for some men. On Seth it was smarmy.

She steeled herself and smiled the you’re-a-gift-to-women smile. “I’m not licensed here, but I could advise you.”

The triumphant grin on his face almost drove her to hysteria. The idiot didn’t even know she’d played him.

“It’s settled then,” he said. “We’ll have the room ready for you in the morning. Just come whenever you are ready. You could even stay tonight if you wanted.”

Tonight? She wasn’t ready for that. She wanted to see Peter. Talk to him about this.

“That’s not necessary. I don’t have any clean clothes. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“All right then.” Seth rose from the chair. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

After getting what she needed, she suddenly couldn’t leave fast enough. She spun around and spotted Mary Beth at the sink boring visual holes into her.
Why does this woman hate me?

“Good night, everyone,” Isabelle said and made her way to the front door.

With Seth on her tail, she stepped into the steamy evening air and the humidity wrapped around her. She missed the ocean and the cool evening breezes that billowed through her back doors.

“Isabelle, I hope you don’t mind, but could I ask a favor?” Seth said.