The Con (12 page)

Okay, sexy. He looks fucking sexy.

He's also wearing a black pair of Ray-Ban
sunglasses and he's covered head to foot in a Calvin Klein
three-piece, perfectly tailored black suit. A black tie is tied
perfectly around his neck, his white dress shirt creased in just
the right places, and on his feet are black Calvin Klein shoes.

"Are you ready, Giselle?" he asks, while his
right hand moves to play with his left cuff link.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Matteo."

Locking the door behind me we hop into his
orange and black muscle car. I'm pretty sure it's a Camaro, but I
know nothing about cars so I could be wrong. Then we're on the road
and headed to our first stop, Damien's warehouse, where Jagger has
the Bentley waiting for us.

My knees start to tremble which is just
fucking perfect. I feel like an old woman with shaky hands and now
shaky legs.

He picked the wrong person. Jagger should
have never asked me to do this with him. I'm going to ruin this for
him. I just know it.

His hand falls on my knee and squeezes
gently. Even with my legs covered in cloth his touch affects
me.

"Calm down there, Giselle. Take a deep
breath in, and then breathe out. This is all almost over."

I glare over at him, but he can't see
because my eyes are covered by these dark lenses and black frames.
"Could you not call me that right now? It's not helping."

"But it's necessary. If we break character
it will be too easy to slip up later on. Just know I'm thinking of
the little girl with the ballet slippers when I call you Giselle,
okay?"

"Okay," I reply, taking a deep breath
in.

"If you get nervous in there, rely on your
ears. Stay quiet and listen. You think of a con artist as a smooth
talker, but really they bond and get the trust of others by
listening. Be confident and listen intently, and you'll do just
fine."

When we reach the warehouse it looks
abandoned. I don't know what I was expecting, but I guess I thought
I'd see Angelo and this Damien person here waiting for us. Instead
the parking lot is completely empty.

Jagger hits a few buttons on the keypad of
his visor and the large industrial size garage door opens and we
drive inside. I silently follow Jagger's lead. When he gets out of
the car, I get out of the car. When he walks over to the Bentley, I
walk over to the Bentley.

He opens the passenger door for me to get
in, but then reaches an arm around me and embraces me around the
waist, pulling me to him so we're chest to chest. My breathing
labors and I shudder under his hold. His free arm reaches up so his
hand can caress my cheek.

"I know you're scared. This can’t be easy
for you, but I'll be next to you the whole time. It'll be over
sooner than you think."

His sunglasses slide to the tip of his nose
as I look up at him. His nurturing eyes, one blue and one light
brown, remind me that I can trust him with anything. I can trust
him with my life. He's comforting me just by being near me, by
touching my skin, and it's something I don't even think he realizes
he does. The problem will be when we're inside the bank and he's
not touching me. That's when I'm afraid I'll completely lose
it.

"Matteo?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay close to me when we're in the
bank? Right now I believe everything you're saying, but when you
move away from me, when you're not touching me, it's then that I
tend to doubt everything."

His thumb comes down to caress my bottom
lip. "So what you're saying is you need me to be touching you, to
be affectionate when we're in there so you don't freak out?"

"Yes," I whisper out in a faltering breath.
His thumb on my lip is causing a craving to flood my body that I
can't take care of at the moment. I shouldn't even be thinking
about him in that way right now.

"I think I can do that." He smirks before
leaning down and kissing the corner of my mouth. My eyes flutter
closed as I try to savor the brief touch of his lips. He pulls away
and then lets go of me. Our connection is broken.

"Get in, Giselle. This is all almost
over."

***

"Do you remember the rules?"

"I remember."

"Okay, let's go."

We get out of the sleek black Bentley that
Jagger parked right in front of the World Time Bank and Trust in
Phoenix. The brick building is large, three stories tall, and I'm
already starting to doubt this plan. There is no way Cheyenne is
the only manager on duty at this large bank.

Jagger walks over to me and reaches out for
my hand, grasping it in his as he intertwines our fingers and
squeezes my palm gently. It's comforting. He's trying to keep me at
ease.

We walk in the entrance, Jagger holding open
the gold and wooden door with glass windows as I step in first, but
he never lets go of my hand. He follows me in and we're met with a
customer service representative sitting at a desk at the entrance.
Next to her is a large burly man in a security uniform. He's meant
to be there to be intimidating and it's working.

"We'd like to speak with someone regarding
our accounts," Jagger says from beside me. He sounds so cool and
calm, the words slipping past his tongue so smoothly.

"Okay, sir. Can I have your name
please?"

"Matteo Esposito and this is my wife,
Giselle."

I may be nervous right now but I'm also a
love-struck woman. I love how the words
my wife
sound coming
from him.

Her eyes grow wide as she recognizes the
name. Everyone in the state of Arizona knows the Esposito name and
what they do. "Yes, sir. And what can we do for you in regards to
your accounts?"

He leans in forward over her desk and speaks
in a low voice. "We'd like to make a large withdrawal and we'd like
some privacy while doing so."

The woman never stood a chance. His silky,
smooth voice and boyish charm is hard to fight against. Her
eyelashes flutter, the color in her face rising.

Jagger really has no idea how charming he is
to women.

"Yes, sir. Of course. I'll see if a manager
is available to take you. Hold on one moment."

Instead of picking up the phone which is
right next to her on the desk, the petite blond woman gets up and
walks to another area of the bank, disappearing behind a closed
door.

"Jag... Matteo," I whisper softly but it's
too late. I've already broken a rule, the most important rule, and
I look around to see if anyone caught my slip up. The security
guard is watching both of us with curiosity.

Oh, shit. Did he hear me? What did I say?
Jag, I said Jag. Jag could mean anything. Even if he did hear me
that doesn't mean he'll suspect I was calling Matteo by a different
name. I could have been abbreviating a type of car or talking about
the television show.

My hands begin to tremble and Jagger
squeezes gently, reminding me that he's here with me.

"Yes, sweetie?"

I peek over at the security guard before
responding. "It was nothing, Matteo. We can discuss it when we're
done, over lunch."

At this point I have no idea what words are
falling out of my mouth or if I'm even forming complete sentences.
Jagger leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Relax. No one
heard anything." He kisses my temple before standing up straight as
we wait for the customer service representative to come back.

He's reassuring me. To anyone else he just
seems like an affectionate husband. Only we know the truth.

A moment later I see a new woman walk out
the same door the customer service rep walked in just a moment
before. She's pretty, in a way that screams trying too hard. She's
average size, with above average curves, but they look very natural
as she saunters over to us. Her brown hair is down in soft waves
and her face is covered in very little make-up, but the make-up she
does wear is meant to stand out. Thick black Mascara coats her
lashes and bright pink lipstick covers her plump lips.

It's Cheyenne. I recognize her from the
picture in one of the files Jagger showed me this week.

"Mr. and Mrs. Esposito, I presume?"

"Yes, I'm Matteo and this is my beautiful
wife, Giselle."

She smiles over at me before redirecting her
gaze back on Jagger. "I'm Cheyenne, the assistant manager here, and
I'll be happy to assist you with any and all of your needs. If
you'd please follow me back to my office."

She turns around, walking away in her high
heels and tight skirt, and we follow her. With every step her heels
make on the marble floor of the lobby, I feel the eyes of the
employees and patrons on us. They're watching us, but when I look
up it seems my paranoia is getting the best of me. The bank seems
to be running like any other day. No one in the establishment is
even looking in our direction.

Cheyenne opens a door to an office near the
back of the first floor. "If you'd have a seat. I'll be with you in
just a moment," she says, a huge fake smile plastered on her face
and I see a hint of lipstick on her teeth. We step inside and as
soon as Jagger closes the door we're finally alone.

I lose it.

"I can't do this," I blurt out, pacing back
and forth along the long leather sofa in the office. "I don’t know
what I was thinking agreeing to this, but I'm out. You can do this
on your own. They've seen me already so you don't need me." I rush
over to the door to escape, but Jagger is blocking it, his hands
coming out to grasp my arms.

"You need to calm down, Giselle."

"I'm not Giselle," I hiss, trying to push
past him.

His arms wrap around me as he pulls me into
his chest. "Calm down, twinkle toes. We're already here; you're
already a part of this. In less than an hour this will all be over.
I need you to trust me."

My mouth is against his neck as I mutter, "I
do trust you, Jagger. I'm just scared and if I stay here I'm going
to blow this."

His arms stay wrapped around me as he kisses
the top of my forehead, speaking into my hair. "You're not going to
blow this, twinkle toes. If anything, you're helping me. I need you
here. I need you with me. Can you stay... please... for me?"

When he pleads with me like that I know
there is no way that I am leaving here now.

I nod my head into his neck as my arms wrap
around his muscular frame and I hug him, basking in the comfort his
closeness brings me. I realize now that I screwed up for the second
time, I broke another rule–I backed out of the con. We stay like
this, holding each other for reassurance, until Cheyenne comes back
in the room. Walking behind her mahogany desk she sits down in the
black leather chair.

Jagger clasps my hand in his and we join
her, sitting across from her at the desk. We sit in our own chairs,
but his hand never leaves mine.

"Mr. and Mrs. Esposito, what can I do for
you?"

"We'd like to make a large cash withdrawal
from our main account," Jagger replies to her.

"How much were you looking to withdraw?"

She knows the answer to this question. She
knows all the answers, but I realize she has to ask them as a
formality, so it looks like we're all just being acquainted for the
first time.

"Five million dollars." Jagger's expression
is flat as he waits for her to respond.

"That is a lot of money, Mr. Esposito. It
would take us close to an hour to prepare it all. Are you sure I
can't convince you to keep your money here?"

“We're planning on replacing the money
shortly, Cheyenne. I know you have this kind of money on hand for
me, since it was part of the agreement I made when I entrusted my
money in your bank."

"Yes, Mr. Esposito. If you could please show
me some identification I can verify everything with my system and
get you your money."

Jagger hands over his ID and then I hand
over mine. She glances at them and then types something on the
keyboard of her computer before comparing our identification to the
identification on the screen.

"Everything looks good, Mr. Esposito. If
you'll both just fill out these forms to make the process move
quickly." She pulls out forms from a drawer in her desk before
continuing. "The one form is the joint ownership large withdrawal
form. The other form is for the government's records. It's a
requirement when withdrawing more than ten thousand in cash. You
both can stay here while we get everything prepared for you. We
have some duffle bags in the vault that I'll be happy to have your
money placed in once it's been prepared."

I doubt the bank has duffle bags on hand for
these kinds of transactions. Withdrawing this much cash has to be
rare. I can't see people just walking in and doing this on a daily
basis. Cheyenne must have had them in there waiting for us.

She walks out of the room and Jagger begins
to fill out the forms placed in front of him. I do my part by
signing the withdrawal form and then the form designated
specifically for our account, trying to focus on doing anything but
screaming out our guilt. So far Jagger's plan has gone smoothly,
just like he told me it would. I don't know why I let myself get so
worked up and worried. After this is all over my mind is going to
need to take a long vacation.

The tiny office is quiet now that Jagger has
finished completing the forms. Two of the four walls are made of
glass windows draped in ceiling to floor blinds. The other two
walls are solid, each with a single door attached to it. The door
behind us is the one we used to walk in the office. It leads out
into the open first floor lobby of the bank. The other door, the
door I'm staring at now, is the door Cheyenne slipped behind
several minutes ago to get the money.

It's the door I'm anxiously awaiting to open
back up for us.

"Hey, you're doing great," Jagger mutters
sweetly as he begins to tap his fingers against the wooden
desk.