A Just Deception (6 page)

She wasn’t the only one perturbed. “Creepy Izzy is the problem.”

She opened her mouth and left it hanging for a second. “Did you just call me
creepy
?”

“No. I called the person you turned into creepy. I’d love to give Fun Izzy a good shagging, but Creepy Izzy I’ll pass on.”

She drew her head back. “Huh?”

“You change. You did it last night right before you kissed me. But when you kissed me at your office, it was Fun Izzy.”

She sat and stared at him, either thinking he was completely whacked or that he’d nailed it.

“I…I can’t believe you noticed that. No one has ever noticed.”

Nailed it.

An insane flickering started under his skin. “Then they weren’t paying attention because you definitely check out.”

“No, Peter.” Her voice hitched and she moved an inch closer. “It’s not you.”

Yeah. Nice try. “I’m the only one here.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face. Stalling probably.

“It’s a coping thing I do.”

“A coping thing?” He sat up. “You need a
coping
thing to have sex with me? Jesus, Izzy, you should stop talking right now because this is going off the rails.”

“No.” She waved her hands at him. “That’s not what I mean. It’s the sex. I have to separate the physical from the emotional. I flip a switch in my head. It comes from the abuse. Please, Peter, try to understand.”

“I
don’t
understand.” But, shit, he’d like to because the disappointment might just kill him.

“No one has ever figured it out. Particularly not someone I’ve known one day. I’ve told you things I haven’t shared with people I’ve known for years. I’m freaking out. Very much so.”

All he could do was lay back and throw his forearm over his eyes. Could he be any more of a selfish prick? She was a victim of abuse and he was letting his dick do all the thinking. He had no idea what went on in her head…or her heart. He got rid of the thought and sat up to face her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

She nodded. “I’ll try to explain it, but I don’t know if it’ll make sense to you.”

“Give it a shot.”

She sighed, gathered sand in her hand and let it slip between her fingers.

“Sex for me has never been about making love. Being abused by someone I loved caused a…a malfunction…between sex, love and trust. Sex, just for the physical gratification is good for me, but if I start to get emotional, I get scared.” She brushed sand off his knee. “I loved Kendrick, and he exploited that love.

“Three years ago I had my first serious relationship and the sex brought back all the pain. For the first time since the abuse happened, I cared about someone. As soon as the sex became more about an emotional connection rather than a physical one, I ended the relationship. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. I still don’t.”

Separating the physical from the emotional. Holy hell. He
could
relate. The knot in his chest eased. He separated his feelings every day when he thought about all the lives lost at his hands. His job meant eliminating people to make the world safer and, somehow, over the years he’d learned to justify it.

Izzy could have casual sex, no problem. But she turned into Creepy Izzy to do it. If he wanted to, he could have her. Creepy Izzy was a major turnoff though. Talk about flipping a switch. Maybe he had his own switch, because Fun Izzy was the girl that got him firing.

He tucked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “We’re moving at light speed here. We don’t have to. I’m crazy attracted to you, but Fun Izzy is the one I want.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. Jesus. He was screwing this up.

“But, Peter, you still don’t understand.”

Yes. He did. At least he thought so. “What?”

She locked those beautiful, watery eyes on him. “Fun Izzy has never experienced making love. Emotionally speaking, she’s a virgin. Creepy Izzy always takes over. I don’t know how to change that.”

Okay. He could tackle this one. “Yeah, you do. You did it today when you kissed me.
That
was Fun Izzy. You didn’t think about it. You just plastered one on me and it rocked my world.”

No kidding there. He got hard thinking about that kiss.

“Really?” She smiled a little. “You’re sure it was Fun Izzy?”

He laughed. What a freaking conversation. “I’m positive. You have this thing you do when Creepy Izzy takes over. You close your eyes and, a few seconds later your attitude changes. That didn’t happen today. You didn’t close your eyes before you kissed me and you definitely weren’t distant.”

She jerked her head up and down, her eyes getting brighter. “You’re right. I didn’t think about it. I just did it. And I liked it.”

“Yeah, because it was Fun Izzy.” He squeezed her hands. “We need more Fun Izzy.”

“So, what do we do?”

He shrugged. “Hell if I know, but I’m not having sex with Creepy Izzy. I’m waiting on Fun Izzy. That okay with you?”

She snorted. “I guess. You may wind up taking a lot of cold showers though.”

Ain’t it the truth?
He sighed. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll turn into an ice pop.”

Wouldn’t that be fun?

The ocean breeze blew her hair across her face. She pulled her hands free from his, put them on his cheeks and ran her thumb over the faded scar near his mouth. “You could leave, you know? Just forget the whole thing. You didn’t sign on for this. We could just be friends and I won’t hold it against you. I don’t want to pull you into my mess.”

“Babe, I’m already in your mess. And I don’t want to just be your friend. I’d screw it up by constantly hitting on you.”

She cracked up. Did he say something funny?

“Let’s slow down and see where we wind up. We have our first date on Saturday night. It’s a start.”

A smooth smile slid across her face. “Sounds like a plan.”

Unable to resist, he ran his index finger down her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Hell yeah, it does.”

When her stomach growled she rubbed her hand over it. “I’m hungry. I could order pizza.”

He rolled to a standing position, reached his hand to her and pulled her up. “I’ll buy. Let me get my clothes out of the truck and get cleaned up.”

“There’s a shower around the side of the house.”

“Got it.” He picked up the towel, flung it out to get rid of the sand, and suddenly she was in front of him, snagging the towel and wrapping her arms around him. Fun Izzy.

Perfection. The way she fit in his arms. The way her head tucked in just below his chin. The way she made him feel like he never wanted to let go.

But then she backed away. Too bad.

“I’ll meet you inside,” she said. “By the way, did you happen to notice that car parked by the beach entrance?”

Peter turned toward the street. “No. Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but people don’t usually park there. There was a man in the car.” She shook her head. “He was probably picking up his kid or something.”

“I’ll check it out.”

“Nah. It’s not a big deal.”

But she’d brought it up. “You wouldn’t have said anything if it wasn’t bugging you. I’ll check it out. I have to get my clothes out of my truck anyway. I’ll meet you inside.”

He hefted his board and walked up the beach to the entrance. Whoever was sitting there when Izzy came home was not there now.

And Peter had a nagging feeling it hadn’t been someone waiting for their kid.

After pizza with Izzy, fatigue dragging at him, Peter drove back to his parents’ estate and spotted a large appliance box—
what the hell is this now?
—on the porch of the cottage. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries.

He parked in the driveway and sat eyeballing the box. Had his mother mentioned anything? Nothing came to mind.
Damn
. He blew out a breath, ran his cupped hand over his mouth and scratched his neck. He’d just check it out.

Except his heart was damn near beating itself to death. He’d probably have a coronary before he even reached the porch.

Another deep breath.
It’s a box, asshole.

He got out of the car, stole a glance around the side wall and waited. No movement. Definitely not anyone hiding behind the box. Inside maybe? Peter reached for the weapon that should have been at his waist.
Shit.
No weapon. Vic took it from him. Psychos shouldn’t carry guns.

The resourceful prick even boosted the one in the safe at his condo. For backup reasons, he had given Vic the safe’s combination after Tiny died. Tiny had always kept the combination so someone could open the safe in case Peter got injured or killed.

Not a problem. Wearing his boots had come in handy because he could take a flying leap and land feet first on top of the box. The boots would do some damage. He could snap a neck with these boots.

Sweat trickled down his face and he swiped at it. Time to go.

He blasted from his spot, got some speed going and leaped. He landed on his feet—a solid ten for sticking it—and pulverized the box.

Empty box.

Fucking idiot.

The front door of the cottage smacked open. “What are you doing?” his brother yelled. “You just wrecked Mom’s box.”

“What?”

Stephen pointed at the destroyed box. “She wanted that. The new dishwasher got installed and she sent me down here to get it. I figured I’d wait for you.”

Peter bent at the waist and sucked in air. Who the hell did he think would be in there? Almost as bad as knocking over the deadly potted plant. He either needed to get back to work or deal with this freaking anxiety.

Laughing at himself, he straightened up and shoved past Stephen who still wore dress slacks from work, but his jacket was off and nowhere to be seen. The sleeves of his white shirt were folded to his elbows.

“So, you decided to make yourself at home?”

The pretty boy’s face lit up. As he aged, Stephen’s looks had come to resemble Elvis in his prime—the long straight nose, angular face and dark hair had the women going wild.

“Why not?” Steve said.

Peter stalked to the kitchen for a couple of beers. “Do you people not understand boundaries?”

That’s it, redirect the conversation so he won’t ask about the assassinated box.

“Sure, we understand boundaries. We just choose to ignore them.”

Peter made a scoffing noise. “Of course. What a perfect explanation.”

“Mom sent dinner for you. It’s in the fridge.”

Peter glanced toward the fridge. “I already ate. Thanks though. She does this every night. I come home and find a plate in the fridge. She’s killing me with guilt.”

“That’s the plan, big brother.”

He walked back to the living room and handed Steve a beer. They clinked and took a slug while Peter moved to the cushioned side chair.

“How do you handle her? She’s never pissed at you.”

That got Steve puffing up his chest and Peter laughed.

“I love this,” his brother said. “Two Silver Stars and you can’t figure out how to make our mother happy.”

Peter held out his hands. “What can I say? I’m not doing the people around me much good lately.”

Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo. I’m guessing we’re talking about Roy. And maybe Tiny. After all, you’re the Emperor of Fix-It Land. If you can’t keep two men from dying, you must be doing something wrong.”

The smart-ass comment earned a flip of the bird. “I’m not the Emperor of Fix-It Land.”

That seemed to amuse Steve because he let out a sarcastic laugh. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’re fucked. You are priceless. They were grown men who liked to live on the edge. Just because you were there doesn’t mean you were responsible for their safety.”

Tell that to their families.

Peter slouched against the chair. “What if Vic’s right? Maybe I’m losing it.”

“I know Vic’s not laying that on you. It’s you doing this. After Tiny died you threw yourself into that overseas assignment. You’re kidding yourself, Petey. You can’t avoid thinking about your dead friends.
I
think, when Roy died, it knocked you on your ass. And now, with Vic putting you on R&R, you’ve got no place to run.
And
you’re destroying boxes.”

Don’t forget the potted plant.

But thank you, Dr. Phil. Stephen’s idea of a rough day entailed canceling his manicure. He’d like to tell him to fuck off. To get out of his sight, but something needled him, made his shoulders lock up.
You’ve got no place to run.

Fucking Stephen was right. Peter was trapped within his own mind. Afraid to admit the weakness.

“I freaked when I saw the box. I thought someone might be hiding in it and grabbed for my non-existent gun. I’m losing it. I kicked over a fucking plant the other day.”

Steve waved him off. “You’re tired. You just lost a good friend. Give yourself a break and take it easy.”

“That’s your advice? When I tell you I’m going insane? You want me to take a nap?”

“No. I want you to stop thinking you can fix everything.”

“Fuck you.”

“No. Fuck
you
.”

A minute, maybe two passed until they reached the critical point of impasse. Stephen held up his hands, but Peter’s cell rang and he stood to retrieve it from the breakfast bar.

Vic. They’d been voice mailing all day. “Yo.”

“What the fuck?” Vic said. “I give you one simple assignment and all hell breaks loose.”

“One simple assignment? You are whacked, my friend. She laid that asshole to waste last night.”

After a healthy slug of his beer, Stephen looked over, curiosity most likely eating him alive. Good. He deserved it for telling him to take a goddamned nap instead of offering some semblance of actionable advice on retrieving his mental stability. A
nap
.

“She’s tough our Isabelle,” Vic said.

Our Isabelle. Peter liked the sound of it.

“Is she okay?” Vic asked.

“Yeah. I just left her. The alarm is hooked up. It’s like Fort Knox over there now. He won’t bypass that system unless he knows the code.”

“I feel horrible she had to deal with that.”

Peter shrugged. “What are you gonna do from Chicago? I was here and wasn’t much help. He’s one sick bastard.”

“No shit. Thanks for taking care of her. I’m not going to tell her dad about this. She asked me not to. I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’ll make some time this weekend to see her and I’ll get a read.”

“Yeah, about that. You’ll get plenty of time. She’s going to the wedding with me.”

“You fucker,” Vic yelled, and Peter laughed his ass off. Vic would fume about him hitting on Izzy.

“Gotta go.” Still laughing, he hung up.

The phone immediately rang again. He assumed it was Vic, but checked the ID anyway just in case it was Izzy. Nope. Vic. No way he’d answer.

Peter headed back to his chair. “That was your buddy Vic.”

“What’s this crap about bringing a date to my wedding?” Stephen circled his hand in the air. “You’re screwing up the seating chart.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Like you worked on it.”

“Hell no, but I had to listen to all the complaining. This one can’t sit with that one because she had an affair with that one’s husband, and this one can’t sit with that one because he banged that one’s daughter. Not for nothing, Pete, but can’t these people get laid outside their own social circle? It’s a nightmare.”

Could his brother actually be bitching about this?

“Anyway,” Stephen said. “Who is this person screwing up my seating chart and who’d she lay to waste?”

“Her name is Isabelle DeRosa. She’s a friend of Vic’s. He asked me to help her out with a security system, but she had a problem before we got it installed.”

Stephen held his hands wide. “Petey, you’ve been here three days. What could you possibly be into already?”

To ward off the burning in his eyes, Peter jammed his knuckles into them. “Tell me about it. I’m freaking exhausted.”

“So, what’s up with this woman?”

“Her cousin is harassing her. The guy broke into her house, and she beat the crap out of him.”

Stephen’s grin widened. “No way.”

“Yeah, she’s a Krav expert. I saw the guy after she got done with him. He got his ass handed to him.”

“Good for her. She hot or what?”

The long huff Peter let out only threw gas on the fire because his brother gave him a crooked grin. The one that warned he was going to push buttons.

“Petey, you gonna ball this girl?”

Bingo. “To think I used to wonder why you and Vic got along. Seeing as you’re both assholes, it shouldn’t be a shock.”

“Yeah, but Vic’s gone soft since getting hitched. He’s lost his edge.”

“You’ll lose
your
edge too.”

“Nah. I’m training to stay sharp.”

“Good luck with that,” Peter cracked.

Stephen stood, stretched his arms and brought his beer bottle to the kitchen. “I gotta run. We’re closing a deal in the morning. A monster one. You’re gonna be a little richer, big brother, and you have me to thank for it.”

Actually, he had Stephen to thank for a lot of things. Things they didn’t talk about, but both understood. Stephen handled family issues, not to mention fulfilling the obligation of joining the family business, while Peter stormed the world. He stood, shook Stephen’s hand and walked him to the door. “Thank you. For everything. And don’t tell Mom I killed her box. Tell her I didn’t know and broke it down for trash.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t screw with my seating chart again.”