Doranna Durgin - Survival Instinct

“Which should tell you something. Supposing you didn’t already get the message with the Messieurs Ruthless at my place.”

He let go of her fingers; he covered his face briefly and then let his hands fall away to expose the weariness, the awareness of the odds…the battle within. “I don’t know,” he said. “I really…I just don’t-”

And that means you do know, and you don’t want to face it yet. The best time to back off totally, to remove the pressure. “I’m hungry,” she said. “I’m thinking lots of carbs. How about you?”

“I’m thinking of that Cardhu in the backseat of the car,” Dave admitted. “But let’s get some food on board first.”

Karin nodded, getting back into the Maxima. Already playing the game, whether Dave knew it or not. The jazz of it returned in one big rush mixed with the way it would give her a chance-for the first time ever-to make a positive difference in someone’s life. To give Rashawn justice and revenge.

But yeah. The jazz of it…

She took a deep breath, sinking deeply into the car seat as Dave backed out of the parking spot. Oh yeah.

She felt she could get used to it again, just that fast.

She wasn’t sure she liked that.

In the past, she’d been able to blame Rumsey for how she lived her life. How she’d been brought up…what she’d turned into. But the truth was, once she’d stopped resisting Rumsey, she’d been too damn good at it. And now it looked like she just couldn’t stay away from the life after all.

Karin Sommers’s Journal, March 16

Dear Ellen…it looks like I’m a little more hooked than I ever thought. But hey, maybe there’s a twelve-step program. Maybe good old Saint Dismas, patron of reformed thieves that he is, will lend a hand.

Or maybe…it’s just who I am.

Peripheral vision alerted Karin; she instantly recognized Dave’s movement. Sure and masculine, but also with a strange sense of grace. By the time he sat down opposite her, she’d closed her journal and stuffed it back into her courier bag.

He noticed, of course. “It’s never far away, is it?”

“What’s that?” Useless misdirection and she knew it.

He nodded at her bag. “Your book. It’s more than just a diary.”

“Damn your investigative eyes,” she said cheerfully, and then still didn’t answer. The letters to Ellen were too private. Sharing the fact that she wrote them…too vulnerable. “Did you decide on your dinner?”

He looked at her long enough to let her know he wasn’t stupid, but let it drop anyway. “The four-cheese burger,” he said. “Lots of carbs. So what were you thinking?”

The menu suddenly seemed like too much trouble. Karin found herself tired, ready for an early bedtime or at least a hearty nap. “That burger sounds fine.”

He smiled again, more briefly this time. “I meant, thinking about the situation. Your big plans.” He reached for one of the miniature muffins that had appeared in a wicker basket while he was gone. Poppy seed, blueberry, carrot, zucchini…

Okay, yeah, she was still hungry. She went for blueberry as she pondered his question, slathering the muffin with butter. Reminded herself that he wasn’t sold on the idea yet. Reminded herself that he was her partner, not her mark; she had no reason to withhold anything from him.

Except possibly the extent of her proficiency.

“Classic layered real-estate scam,” she said. “I’ll rope him in, but we’ll need someone to play the inside man-phone ought to do it-and you’ll need to fill in as an extra for a handful of minor roles. I assume he’ll recognize you, but we can work around that.”

He held the little muffin between thumb and finger and seemed to have forgotten it. “What makes you think he’ll even go for it?”

Karin let his obvious skepticism sit unanswered a moment. “A couple of things,” she finally told him, and then had to pause while he gave their orders to the waiter. Suited her fine. She drank down half a glass of ice water and licked the rim of it off her upper lip. As the waiter left, Dave raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. “You said it yourself…he’s greedy. He likes to feel powerful. He’s a player. Any scam depends on underlying greed. And to this one I’m going to add layers-the chance to do a big loud public good deed. The chance to make someone else look politically stupid for opposing that good deed.”

That took him back. He thought about it a moment, until he remembered his little muffin, gave it a puzzled look and ultimately put it down on the bread plate. “That sounds almost too good to be true. What makes you think he’ll buy it?”

She smiled. It wasn’t her sweet smile, or her genuine smile, or to be mistaken for anything but the most predatory expression. “You’re forgetting. We’re not really doing this. He doesn’t have to buy it, not in the end. He only needs to be interested.” And there it came again, that little thrill. The anticipation of reeling in this mark, even if this time, it didn’t actually include a payoff. “All I’m doing is buying us the opportunity to nose around his life from the inside out.”

But Dave didn’t respond to her certainty, to her enthusiasm. He sat over there with the muffin he’d somehow crumbled into tiny pieces along the way, and he didn’t really respond at all.

“What is this?” she asked. “Is this you not trusting me, or not thinking I can pull it off?”

He shook his head, not taking his eyes off hers. “This is me thinking that you’ll be in pretty deep when he realizes he’s been had.”

She took it as a personal affront. “Timing is everything in grifting. You think I don’t know how to balance the pieces?”

He cast her an annoyed look, his ice blue eyes gone remarkably broody. “I think,” he said distinctly, “that I don’t want to take the chance. Not with you.”

“You don’t even know me.” The words popped out of her mouth, and she instantly wished she could take them back. The best she could do was an angry twist of her perfectly innocent napkin as she admitted, “Okay, that was wrong. You do know parts of me. I just think there are other parts you might not care so much about. That you already don’t care so much for.”

His response was pure silent frustration, burning across the table at her.

Well, good. She had him off balance. She had him turned around so much he didn’t know what he wanted or what he felt. And that was the moment of opportunity-the moment when she then got to make those decisions for him. She didn’t do it blatantly; blatant was what got you caught. No, she just shrugged and said, “The truth is, I can do this with or without you. I can walk into that city and plug myself into the right circles and get the tools I need. And I’ll have your information before I’m done.”

Of course, if things went that way, Rumsey would find her all too quickly. And Rumsey would alert the cops, and that mystery warrant would come crashing down. And that was why she didn’t really want to run this one on her own. That was why she backed off, eating the meal the waiter set before her, waiting for Dave to finish his own while deep in scowling thought, waiting for the complimentary sherbet dessert. Trying to make up her own mind about how badly she wanted to give Rashawn his justice…how much she really wanted to risk. Would she or wouldn’t she?

And that was why she heaved a silent sigh of immense relief when Dave finally scowled at her and said, “What do you need to get ready for this thing?”

And why she gave a casual, thoughtful lick of the sherbet on her spoon when she smiled at him, covering the relief fluttering through her chest, and said, “Plastic is a girl’s best friend. Let’s go play makeover.”