A Just Deception (24 page)

“Peter—”

“I need to borrow your car.”

Isabelle scrambled to her feet, spotted Seth’s smug grin of satisfaction and almost slapped him. But she blocked Peter’s view because the last thing she needed was more tension thrown into this mess.

“Next time knock,” Seth said.

Peter winced. Isabelle waved him out the door before he did major damage. “My keys are in the bedroom.”

Spinning away from her, he marched down the hall and she hurried after him. “Peter—”

“Outside,” he said. “Get your keys and meet me outside.”

She ducked into the room, wrapped her hands around the keys and stopped.
Deep breath
. She needed to make him understand. That’s all. If she explained it to him, he’d understand.

Maybe.

She raced down the stairs and out the front door where she found Peter standing on the lawn out of earshot. Seth would be watching from somewhere. She knew it, but to him, it would seem like a lover’s quarrel. He’d most likely find pleasure in it.

“Not here,” Peter said. “Side of the house. I don’t need an audience.”

“It’s not what you think.”

When they reached privacy, Peter folded his arms, his fingers digging into his skin. “Enlighten me.”

He knew.

She held her hands palm up. “Peter.”

The need to make him understand balled inside her. She had to make him see the logic. “It wasn’t me. I flipped the switch. It was Creepy Izzy. The email from Janet hadn’t come and I was frustrated. I thought if I could get him to relax maybe he’d give me information that’ll move us along. That’s all. I was just trying to get him to confide in me.”

Peter’s jaw dropped and hung there for a few seconds while he absorbed what she’d said. He began stomping around, back and forth, back and forth, his face transforming to nothing but hard angles.

“And what?” he said, keeping his voice low. “You think he’ll scream the passwords while you’re blowing him? Are you out of your
mind
?”

“Peter—”

“No!” He gaped at her as if she’d become a vile whore. Some piece of trash stuck to his shoe. “I can’t believe you did this.”

She had to make him understand. “It wasn’t about the passwords. I thought it would get me closer to him, and that’s where we need to be.”

Peter stopped moving—just halted right there. “Is that where we need to be, Iz? You prostituting yourself? That’s so goddamned far from where we need to be we’re not even on the same planet anymore.” He threw the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fucking insanity.”

When he bent forward and rested his hands on his knees, she put a hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away. The lightning-quick rejection tore into her and she snatched her hand back. She held her breath a second too long and the air suddenly burst free. His repulsion to her touch had been a natural response, and the sudden fear washed over her.

Wait it out. Don’t panic. Maybe he’ll accept it.

But she knew better. Caveman Peter would never accept her using sex as a tool.

After several moments he stood and faced her. The tightness around his mouth forced her to realize she pushed him too far.

“I need to get out of here and think about this. I’m too wound up now.”

But she didn’t want him leaving the house.

Leaving her.

Flip the damn switch.

“Isabelle, I can’t believe you would want to get with this guy.”

The sound of her given name coming from his lips made her ears ring, and she fought to keep her feet under her. He just didn’t get it. She fisted her hands and shook them at him. “I didn’t
want
him. You’ve seen Creepy Izzy in action. You know, without a doubt, there is nothing emotional about Creepy Izzy. Don’t make this about you, Peter.”

His head lolled forward.

“No. I didn’t mean that.”

But he snatched the keys from her hand and started toward her car.

She grunted.
Dammit.
How could she, a highly educated twenty-six-year-old criminal lawyer, be so painfully awful at relationships? Maybe because she’d never had a good one. Or at least one she wanted to fight for.

She ran to catch up with him. “Peter—”

But when he stopped moving he didn’t face her. Not even a glance. No. He looked down at her hand on his elbow and curled his lip. She made him sick. What else should she expect?

A tiny piece of her heart, the one she’d let him thaw out, shattered and a whimpering sound erupted in her throat until she forced it back.

Flip the switch! Don’t let him hurt you.

“Guess what, sweetheart?” he said. “You’ve finally pushed me away.”

He charged around the side of the house and she closed her eyes.
Flip the switch
. No hurt. No pain. Nothing.

Her mind wandered to her cottage on the beach, the smell of the salty air and the sunrises she watched from her deck. All of nature’s beauty for her to enjoy. After a few deep breaths she imagined all the pain from Peter’s rejection being stuffed into the tiniest box she could find. Crammed it down as far as it would go. She slammed the lid on the box and locked it.

There.

All better.

She opened her eyes, but the image of Peter walking away from her blew the lid right off the damn box and she came apart as if someone had hacked at her with a meat cleaver.
Whack, whack, whack.

Her lungs strained with the need for air and she dropped to her knees. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him she couldn’t go through with it. That he’d demolished Creepy Izzy.

The gravel path dug into her skin and she sucked air, but the tears still came, shooting down her face and she shoved them away.

No.

Flip the switch.

She could handle this. Had been handling it all her life. People she loved had been disappointing her for years. This would be no different than every other time. She’d just bury the pain. Even if it was still alive and screaming.

No. She imagined a bigger box this time. Steel plated. Nothing could escape this box. She shoved everything inside. Her tears, her broken heart, this house that made her think about Kendrick and his sick ways, she pushed it all in the box.

Now the lock. A big one. Industrial sized. A mental image formed of her snapping the lock closed.

There. Just try to get out.

She focused on a tiny rock on the ground and her fingers dug into the gravel, the dirt piling under her nails.
Deep breath.
She released her fingers, let them rest against the loose dirt.
Relax.
A chirping bird and the sudden flapping of its wings drew her attention. She glanced up, watched him fly away.
Calm.
Time to move forward.

Rising to her feet, she used the backs of her hands to wipe away the tears and started toward the front door. Peter could do what he needed to and so would she. When this was all over, maybe they’d find their way back to what could have been, but right now, Nicole Pratt was still missing. Along with Kendrick’s murderer.

She watched her car turn out of the driveway. She’d have to let Peter go. Her emotional issues would not keep her from getting this job done and getting home. If she was right about this baby-brokering scheme, she had to break it up.

Before Courtney gave birth.

Peter pulled into the motel parking lot, jammed the car into park and banged his palm against the steering wheel. The rampant fury licked at him and scalded his skin.

Son of a bitch.

He could have called Billy on the phone—as he’d intended—but after walking in on Izzy about to offer her body to that scumbag, he had to get his head together. What a moron he’d been to think he could handle working with her.

Wasn’t that the number one rule? Don’t get emotionally involved. Well, he was taking it up the ass on this one. And worse, he’d have to put it aside until they figured this baby thing out.

He turned the car off, got out and locked it before climbing the motel stairs to the second floor.

Billy had been poking around trying to find information on the family planning clinic Courtney had visited. So far, he hadn’t been able to connect them to anything illegal, but this new theory of Izzy’s about the baby brokering could blow it open.

It made sense that the clinic would refer down-on-their-luck pregnant women to Seth’s organization. They’d get shelter, food in their bellies and a chance to make a life for themselves and their children. Assuming Seth wasn’t selling those children.

Jesus.

Izzy’s theory might not be far off. He didn’t want to think what she might be doing while he was gone. The thought of her naked body, all that toned flesh, under Seth made his eyes throb. How the fuck did he get to this place?

Shake it off. Deal with it.
Izzy’s thinking got screwed. Maybe she’d come to the realization that fucking a man blind wouldn’t find a missing girl. Then again, if anyone could bring a man to heel, it would be Izzy and her sexual skills.

Goddammit.

He stopped on the landing, bit down hard and grunted. Okay.
Settle down, chief.
One hour to calm down. That would do it. Then he’d be functional again. He hated leaving that compound, but he’d be no good in this condition.

He dialed Billy and waited for him to answer. “I’m coming in the room. Don’t shoot me.”

“Roger.”

Peter slid the key, an actual key, not a keycard, into the lock and stepped in. Billy, dressed in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt, had his head buried in the laptop.

“What are you doing here?”

Peter tossed Izzy’s keys on the dresser and sat on it. “I needed some air. Izzy came up with something and I wanted to fill you in.”

“How is she?” He sat back and propped his feet on the desk.

Probably getting laid right now.
There’s a thought.
Shit.
He plunged his fingers into his eyes to relieve the exploding pain.

“You okay?” Billy wanted to know.

Fucking peachy.

“Headache,” Peter said. “Anyway, Izzy thinks, and I tend to agree, that Seth is selling infants on the black market.”

Billy’s head snapped back. “Holy crap. Is Courtney selling her kid?”

“Don’t know. Courtney’s not talking. I went at her this morning, but Izzy got pissed at me and pulled her away.”

“That’s why you’re here? You had a fight with Izzy.”

Sort of.
“I told you, I needed some air.”

“Sure.” Billy shrugged in that annoying way he did when he was about to be sarcastic. “The two of you cooked up this baby thing and then you took her car and left her there—
alone
—to deal with it. Nice work, Monk.”

He left her there. Alone. His worst fear and he made it happen. “It’s complicated.”

“Not really. Since when do you, of all people, leave a teammate because the situation is complicated? What is
wrong
with you?” He held up his hands. “Wait. What did you fight about?”

Right. Like he’d tell
Billy
? Peter swallowed the string of insults begging to be hurled. “It’s complicated.”

“Bullshit. The truth is you broke the fucking rule and got emotional about an op.” Billy put his feet on the floor and went back to the laptop. “Deal with it and get your ass back there. She needs you now.”

Peter shook his head. “Not this time.”

“Waa, waa, waa.”

“Fuck you,” Peter yelled because he’d had enough of the armchair psychology. Let Billy walk in on his girl about to bang some guy simply to get information. Then he could offer an opinion.

“No.” Billy said. “You signed on for this. Vic wanted to send somebody else. You told him you could do it.”

“Well, I can’t,” Peter mumbled because defeat never came easy. Or was it weakness? He didn’t know. It sucked though. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “You’re right. I admit it. I got emotional. Happy now?”

Billy pushed the chair back and got large. “I should kick your ass. You need to suck it up and get back there. You took her car! Which proves to me you aren’t thinking. I know there’s no way you’d leave her without wheels.”

No lie there.

He’d panicked. He couldn’t stand there and watch her play Seth right in front of him.

“You know,” Billy said. “This is still about you not getting your way. Every time you can’t control a situation you get pissed off. You got pissed off when Tiny went down and you got pissed off when we lost Roy. Like somehow
you
should have saved them. Listen up, asshole. We’re all pissed. We all lost friends. We
all
feel responsible. You can’t reserve the corner on that.”

Peter braced himself, willed his body to relax. If he didn’t get out he’d go apeshit on Billy.

Again.

He didn’t need this. “This is crap. I’m leaving.”

Billy waved him off. “Of course you are.”

And that ripped it. Peter lunged forward, grabbed Billy by the shirt and got in his face. “What is your fucking problem?”

Billy shoved him off. “You’re my fucking problem. You haven’t been right since Tiny died. We all knew it and gave you slack, but now you’re being a pain in the ass. You’re so bent on proving you can save someone that you’re screwing up. What makes you think you could have saved those men? Christ, you weren’t even there when Roy died.” Billy stepped back. “Let me say this so you can understand it. You couldn’t help them. But you can help Izzy. Why you are here, arguing with me, I don’t have a clue.”

He could help Izzy
. The words shattered Peter’s rage and he backed up, sat on the bed, curling and uncurling his fingers.

“Yo,” Billy said, “somehow you got it into your head that you didn’t do something that could have saved them. Accept the fact that you are hurting. We all know it. You’re the only one who doesn’t. Take some time and deal with it. It wasn’t your fault those men died. I was there both times and I know there was nothing we could have done to save them. You did
not
fuck up.”

Peter stared at his hands. “All I know is my teammates are dying.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“That’s all you’ve got?”

“I can’t think too hard about it or I’ll wind up like you. And I’d rather put a bullet in my head.”

No shit
.

“Whatever happened with you and Izzy, you’d better set it straight. She’s good for you. You’re not some insane asshole when she’s around.”

Peter snorted a laugh. “Trust me, I get it, but I can’t compromise on what we fought about.”

“Maybe not, but here’s what you need to do.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Great. More advice from Billy.

“Hold up,” Billy said. “This isn’t bullshit.”

Peter waved his hands to urge him on. Might as well. Considering he was at a dead loss. And how many times had that happened in his life? Not many.

Billy wagged a finger. “You have to learn to cooperate but not lose your nuts.”

Why, why, why did he think Billy could help? “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means you can’t agree to anything that will compromise what you stand for. Tell her you don’t mind cooperating, but not if it means giving up your non-negotiable terms. Think about it. If you didn’t have a list of terms you’d be living in constant fear of being hosed.”

“That’s the problem, jackass. I do know my terms.”

This couldn’t be making sense. Not from Billy.

“Stay specific with her. Don’t make it a huge list, but be honest. Women like that. Besides, if it’s a short list, she’s more likely to give in.”

Izzy giving in? Doubtful.

“Okay, genius, what if she doesn’t like my terms?”

Billy shrugged. “Then you’re fucked, but you’ve got to try and make her understand.”