Chapter 11
Eleven
“SPECIAL AGENT AUbrY MARSHALL.” Bristol Reynolds—Reynolds being the last alias she’d adopted—reclined in her seat. “To what do I owe this special privilege?”
The man, far too handsome for a special agent, took the seat opposite the square metal table from hers.
“Come now, cat got your tongue, Aubry?” she asked at his hesitance.
“Special Agent Marshall,” he corrected.
“Still Agent? After all we’ve been through?” She smiled, sitting forward and resting her arms on the cold table.
A smile touched his lips—for a whisper of a second, then faded away. He cracked his knuckles as he always did. She swore he did it on purpose to annoy her. She’d mentioned it once, and from then on, he did it whenever they were in the same space—casino, back of his car, jail . . .
His gaze fixed on her, scrutinizing her—most likely her bemused expression.
“I see you haven’t changed. Prison teach you nothing?”
“On the contrary, it’s taught me plenty. How to protect my derriere, for one. And how to run the card game circuit. I’ve got quite the show going in here.”
He didn’t blink. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Don’t say that. I’m a woman of mystery.”
“You’re a mystery, all right.”
“Mmm.” She crossed her legs under the table, curious where this was going.
Life was one big play and always a con—except with Dalton.
A smile curled on her lips. She loved her man.
Her good, solid man she’d gone straight for.
But, unfortunately, Agent Marshall had nailed her on a year-old cheating-at-a-casino charge, and she’d been stuck here for six months.
But Dalton was waiting for her, and she was counting down the days, as slow as honey off the comb.
He’d said he’d wait, but she feared it would prove too long of a stint and he’d move on.
She couldn’t let that happen. She loved the man, truly loved him.
She flicked her attention back to Marshall.
“I imagine you didn’t pop in just to say hi.
” She inched forward. “So why are you here? Want to bust me again? Sorry. No offenses in here.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Wow.” She grinned with pleasure. “I really get under your skin.”
“Fifteen months of chasing you has that effect.” He smirked.
“How sweet. You enjoy the effect I have on you.”
He cocked his head. “Not that kind of effect.”
“Don’t be rude, Aubry. You’re in my house now. Let’s play by the rules.”
He rested his forearms on the table. “Which are?”
“You came to me for whatever reason I’m sure you’ll share, but the least you can do is be polite about it.”
He interlocked his fingers. “Fair enough.”
“Thank you. And the second rule, never come empty-handed. I mean, you could have brought a cake with a tool inside so I can get out of this blasted place.”
“Bring you something.” He chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “You really are a number.”
“Numbers are my game.” She winked.
“Believe me, I know.” He sighed, his breath coming out in a whoosh. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“No?” She arched a brow. She couldn’t wait to get back in a spa and get everything tidied up—facial, eyebrow wax, sink into a massage.
Tension filled his jaw—that tiny muscle flicking along it.
Always around her. She clearly got under his skin, and though she was having a little fun with the agent, she was getting impatient to learn what his true purpose for being there was.
Had he found another charge with enough evidence to snag her again? “What is it you want from me?”
“Why do you assume I want anything from you?”
“One, because you’re here. And two, because it looks like needing to ask me a question is about to kill you. So . . .” She drummed her fingernails on the metal tabletop. “What is it?”
“I’m getting to it,” he said, pulling a folder from his bag and setting it on the table.
She waited as he took his sweet ole time. Cold seeped through the sleeves of the white, thermal top under her always-stunning orange jumpsuit. At least they said jumpsuits were coming back in style.
“Whatever you came here for, I know it’s not just to chitchat—though we’ve had our fun times, haven’t we, Aubry?”
“Chasing you across the country and gathering enough tangible evidence to put you away wasn’t fun.”
“No? Not even a little?”
He held his face in that Fed way. If anyone embodied a Fed, it was Aubry Marshall.
“I thought you enjoyed the chase as much as I enjoyed the ride.”
“You ran me through four states.”
“And think of all you got to see. Some tourists wait their whole lives to travel through the Southwest. I hear the Painted Desert is beautiful. We never made it there. Maybe the next go-around.” In reality, there would be no other go-around.
Meeting Dalton had changed her life. A good man had fallen in love with her, and shockingly, that’s all it took for her to hit the straight and narrow. He was that amazing.
Aubry shook his head. “You really are a piece of work.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t intended as one.”
“I’m taking it all the same.” She grinned, then glanced down at her nails, checking her bright red polish. She’d chipped the one on her right index finger while scrubbing pots this morning—her hands dry from the harsh chemical soap. “Let’s get on with why you’re here so I can get back to my room.”
“Cell?”
“There’s two ways to look at it. I prefer to look at it as a temporary room. Two years and I’m out.”
He grimaced and optimism shot through her.
“Or . . .” She gave a sly smile. “Is that why you’re here? I’m getting out early, and it’s killing you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Well then?”
Every muscle in the man’s handsome face was tense, and the sound of bone on bone echoed as he ground his teeth, his jaw clamped tight. “We . . .” He exhaled. “We need your help.”
She reclined with a pleasure-filled laugh. “Oh, that must be eating away at you.”
“This is why I didn’t want to come.” He grunted.
“And yet, you did.”
“Five minutes for visitors,” the lovely guard, Lulu, called out.
“Guess you best get to it.” She’d do anything to garner her freedom. Practically anything. It was worth hearing what he was about to propose and why. She yearned to walk away from this awful place, but no need to get her hopes up. It was probably the opposite—more crimes to charge her with.
Aubry pulled a paper out of the navy folder before him and slid it across the table. “We’re prepared to offer you immunity for your help in a far worse case.”
“Immunity?” Was he serious or just toying with her? No. For one, he wouldn’t do that, and two, her read on him said he wasn’t lying, and her read was rarely wrong.
His broad shoulders arched back more. Boy, this was really getting to him.
She lifted the sheet of paper and speed-read it.
A lot of legal jargon. She gripped it hard but kept her face schooled.
He didn’t need to know what kind of relief it would be to her heart to be free of this rotten place.
A place she’d made the best of, but she missed her privacy.
“It says you will expunge my sentence if I help you?”
He cleared his throat with a cough, sitting ramrod straight. “That’s correct.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Help you with what, exactly?”
“Time’s up,” Lulu called.
Aubry fished his badge from his pocket and held it up. “I’m a federal agent and this is official business. May we have five more minutes?”
“All right. I’ll keep Leigh stationed by the door.” She gestured with the flick of her head to the tall beanpole of a lady positioned along the wall, adjacent to the door.
Aubry waited while everyone else filed out.
“Let’s get to it, Agent,” she said when the last inmate left. “I have a nail to get fixed.”
He grimaced, fine lines wrinkling by his eyes and mouth. She was really rankling him. For the man who put her away, it had to be beyond insulting to ask her for help. She smiled at the irony of it all.
“We’ll get you out of here, and your record will be expunged, on the condition that you aid us in busting Dalton Shaw.”
“Dalton? As in my Dalton?” The sweet man waiting for her to get out so they could start their new life? What on earth could they want with Dalton?
“I’m afraid so.” He slid the full file across to her. “All I can say is you sure know how to pick them.”
Leery, she opened the folder. Dalton’s photo sat there, and she smiled.
Then she turned the page and speed-read it, then the next page and then partway through the final page.
She fixed her gaze on Aubry, trying to mask her shock at the accusations against Dalton—racketeering, fraud, laundering money, running drugs . . . “This can’t be true.”
“I assure you it is very true.”
“You have the wrong guy. Dalton’s sweet as can be and—”
“Wow. Must be different on the other side of the con for you.”
“He didn’t con me,” she bit out. “Your intel is wrong.” The papers rattled in her shaking hands. “There’s been a mistake.”
“Oh, and he’s suspected in at least two murders.”
She shoved the papers back inside the folder and slid it back to him. “You’ve got the wrong man. Dalton’s a good guy.” The first in her life. And now they were claiming all this about him? It was ludicrous. She knew a con when she saw one, and Dalton wasn’t conning her.
“Interesting,” Aubry said, tapping the folder.
She arched her brows. “Care to elaborate?”
“I’ll reiterate. You’re getting conned. The tables have turned, and you’re about to get very hurt.”
“I don’t get hurt. Not by other people.” She’d seen to that long ago.
“It’s your choice. You can stay here and serve out the remainder of your sentence, or you can agree to help us, and we’ll expunge your conviction.”
“You’re saying I’d walk free?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am? It was a term of politeness, but at the age of thirty-three, ma’am was too much. “And what do I have to do?”
“Go back to your life with Dalton, and we’ll train you to look for what only you have access to. While we know what he’s doing, he’s like a ghost. In and out without a trace on whatever he touches. We don’t know how he’s covering his tracks so well. We need you to find out how.”
“You’re asking me to spy on my boyfriend. Seriously?”
He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Dead serious.”
“He’s a good man,” she insisted. “You’ve got him all wrong.” Aubry was being ridiculous. But she needed to bite her tongue. She’d already said too much. If she protested too hard, he would take that slip of paper releasing her from prison and toss it in the trash.
“Your choice. I’ve already spoken with the warden and presented the paperwork. You can get up and leave with me, or you can go back to your cell.”
“Now? I can walk now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Again with the ma’am.
She bit her lip. Maybe she could play it both ways.
Get out but then use her time with Dalton to prove his innocence.
She could look for evidence, but she wouldn’t find any.
Aubry had this one wrong, but she’d be holding up her end of the bargain by returning to her life and paying attention.
The joy of being back with Dalton and breathing fresh air sealed the deal.
“Well?” Aubry glanced at his watch. “Time’s up.”
She turned to find Lulu entering the room for her.
If she prayed, this would be one of the times she’d do it. But there was no God, so why bother?
“Is it a deal?” Aubry asked.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Great. Gather your belongings. Change out of the prison clothes—though I must say orange suits you.”
It was a dig, but she’d never have to put that horrid orange jumpsuit on again, because once she was out, she was never coming back.
“I’ll meet you outside the gate in twenty.”
“In twenty.” She rose from the table and headed for her cell. This would be the easiest gig she’d worked. No way Dalton was the man Aubry Marshall was purporting him to be.