Chapter 20
Twenty
AUbrY CARRIED THE HEART NECKLACE that Dalton had given her draped across his hands, the morning sun streaking across the carpet. Agent Tom Aston joined them today. He would be the backup eyes and ears when Aubry needed extra coverage.
“Okay,” Aubry said, stepping around Bristol.
Pulling up her hair, she ignored—or tried her best to ignore—the shivers streaming down her spine at the touch of his fingers along her neck.
“There you go,” he said, stepping back. “Two of the diamonds are veneers with tiny bugs under them. One is the microphone so we can hear you. The other is a plant. You lift the veneer and pull out the bug inside, then replace the veneer so he doesn’t think you’ve lost a diamond.”
“Smart. He’d definitely notice that. He’s got a keen eye.” Now it made sense why Dalton was always watching everything so closely.
“We’ll be able to pick up anything he says within a certain distance,” Tom said.
“How close?”
“The closer you get it, the better.” Tom grunted. Not the happiest fellow.
“It can pick up things five hundred yards away.” Aubry smiled.
“That’s five football fields.”
“Yep.” Aubry nodded. “But the farther away, the harder it is to discern the sounds.”
Tom pushed off the counter, his shiny brown loafers squeaking. “Closer is better, and put it someplace where he consistently is or on something he wears consistently. Like on his watch.”
“Not the best place.” Aubry shook his head. “Someplace . . .”
She inclined her head. “Like?”
“He wears big belt buckles, right?”
“Yeah. He has a favorite from his rodeo days. Won it down in Cruces. He wears it ninety percent of the time.”
“Perfect.” Aubry smiled—almost impressed with her, it appeared.
“I’m just curious”—truly curious—“why did it take you so long to catch me?” He was good. Very good.
His smile softened. It kept doing that when he looked at her. Surely Agent Man couldn’t have a thing for her. Nah, she was being silly.
“You’re a master at your game,” he began. “You didn’t let your guard down until you met Dalton.”
“Clearly.” Her shoulders slackened as embarrassment sifted through her.
“He’s a master at his game too.”
Had he said that to make her feel better, or was he just stating the facts? Her intuition had failed her, and if she couldn’t trust it to lead her anymore, then what did she have left?
“All right. You’re set,” Tom said, ushering her toward the door she had zero desire to walk through.
“You’ve got this,” Aubry said.
Again, he’d pegged her thoughts. She really was slipping. She just hoped not with Dalton. Not now that she knew who he was. What he was. She needed him to buy it—lock, stock, and barrel.
Moving toward the door, she forced herself not to look back. Never look back. And why did she even want to look back at the man? Not delving there . . .
Her hand closed on the knob. Don’t. Look. Back. She’d say it as many times as she needed to. So he was handsome, so he appeared to be a good man—she still needed to keep moving forward. Forward.
“Be careful,” he called after her, and she kept going despite the burning urge to turn around.
Stepping outside and down the stairs, she moved for her VW Beetle—another gift from Dalton. She cringed, wanting to wash every bit of him from her life. The wind lashed frigid against her cheeks, but then the sun’s rays warmed them. Back and forth.
Climbing into her car, she ducked to look through the windshield, up at Agent Man’s room. There he stood, his frame silhouetted in the sheer curtains.
He had faith in her—such a strange thing. She needed to rekindle her confidence. Dalton’s true person had rocked her, but she couldn’t let on.
You’ve got this. You will out-con him. She had to buy into it, or she’d never fool Dalton. Agent Man had called her a master of the game. Time to remind herself of who she was. She’d been pulling cons since she could talk. She had this, didn’t she?
Shifting into drive, she pulled out of the lot, heading toward an unknown future.
Forty-five minutes later, she climbed the front steps leading to Dalton’s northern Santa Fe home, feeling like she was on a precipice.
She was—both literally and figuratively.
She glanced down at the gurgling creek deep below his mountain home.
Then cast her gaze to the double wooden doors leading to Dalton’s courtyard.
If he caught her with the bug, she had no doubt he’d kill her.
The wind chime clanged on the stiff winter breeze.
The day Dalton bought the teardrop silver chimes flooded her mind.
The picnic he’d prepared, the beautiful spring flowers blooming all around.
It’d been a magical day, and yet he’d been playing her the entire time.
To what purpose? Every con had an end game. What was his?
Okay, Bri. You can do this. He’s only a man.
One of her mom’s favorite phrases—only a man.
And also, one of her few rules. Never con a woman.
They were far more dangerous. “Women have claws, Bri,” she would tell her, and so far in Bristol’s experience it had proven true—except when her parents conned Elliott Maxwell.
It had been on account of her parents conning one of the most dangerous men that they’d had to leave Vegas, and soon after, Bristol had left them. Pain squeezed her heart, but she ignored it like she always did.
Enough nostalgia. She lifted the knocker and tapped her sequence: three-two-three. Familiar footsteps shuffled toward the door.
She fixed a smile on her face.
Showtime, darling. Again, one of her mom’s sayings.
Dalton opened the door, confusion and happiness warring on his features.
She held her arms out wide. “Darling.” She raced forward, engulfing him with a hug.
He embraced her back. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, but how did you get out?” Seriousness overtook his face. “You’re not on the lam, are you?”
Of course he’d worry they’d come after her—and catch on to him.
She leaned back. “I got out on good behavior. They held an early parole board, and I wanted to surprise you.”
He smiled, really smiled. Man, he was good. She might have met her match.
“It’s the best surprise ever.” He tugged her back into his arms and kissed her. She tried her utmost not to gag. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long smooch.
“We need to go out to celebrate. Come in, come in. I have some quick business to take care of. You relax and we’ll go to Spatina tonight for dinner. Your favorite.”
Until she’d learned the assistant manager killed women.
Miquel popped his head out of Dalton’s office. “Miss Bristol,” he said, all smiles, striding out to greet her.
It took everything in her not to recoil. “Lovely to see you, Miquel.” She shook his hand.
Had he killed any of the women too?
“Are you cold, Miss Bristol?” Miquel asked.
“No, why?”
“You just shivered.”
“Oh.” She pulled back, moving to stand beside Dalton and wrap her arm across his shoulders. “Just happy to be back with my love.”
Dalton kissed her cheek.
“Now, take care of your work. I’ll find something to do. Perhaps read a book by the fire.”
“Excellent idea, my love. If you don’t find a book you like down here, check out the shelves in my bedroom. Most of your mysteries are up there. I know you love your whodunnits.”
This time she knew the who. She just needed to figure out how he dunnit.