Marilyn Pappano - Criminal Deception

The idea was appealing. So was the possibility that it might appeal to him, too. But sooner or later he’d have to know the truth. While he would be relieved that she’d never had a relationship with his brother, he would be put off by her lies. He would wonder what had been real and what had been calculated to find out Josh’s whereabouts. His trust would be damaged.

Or she could stick to her plan: find Josh, drag his butt into court, then return to her job, her reputation restored, her energy directed toward her next assignment. She could try to forget that Joe existed. Try to forget that kiss. To forget the something more that was pretty much destined no matter how they fought it.

The something more that could destroy them.

Or maybe save them.

Joe was pushing his bike out the rear door of the coffee shop a few minutes past five when Raven appeared in the storeroom door. “Hey, Joe, there’s a guy here who wants to talk to you.”

Stopping short, he muttered a curse. Two years in this town, and no one had ever come looking for him, and now people were crawling out from under rocks. Thanks a whole hell of a lot, Josh.

So far, he’d heard from the ex-girlfriend, the U.S. Attorney’s office and the marshals service. Was there another federal office involved, or would this guy be from the Mulroneys? And did he really want to know? Why not just have Raven tell him Joe was already gone?

Because whoever the guy was, it would take him about three minutes to get directions to Joe’s house, if not from Raven, then from anyone else in town who knew him. And he did not want anyone who worked for the Mulroneys showing up at the house, not with Liz across the yard and Natalia next door.

Griping, he pushed the bike back into the storeroom, locked the door and returned to the dining room. “Nice clothes he’s wearing, huh?” Raven murmured as he passed her.

Very nice clothes. Probably five grand for the suit and another thousand for the shoes. Hell, the tie alone could have paid her salary for a month. Yeah, Joe’s money would be on the Mulroneys this time.

The man was standing near the wall, studying the foil packs of coffee beans for sale. He picked up one and gave it a sniff before turning it over to read the back.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

He turned and his eyes widened in surprise. “Jeez, when they said identical, I didn’t really think identical .” He extended his hand. “Daniel Wallace. And you’re Joe Saldana…right?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking about getting that printed on my shirts.”

“Not that anyone would take it as proof.” Wallace was black, looked about forty and had a friendly gaze and very good taste in clothes and watches-a Rolex-and even coffee. The bag of Kona he held sold for $42 a pound. “I’m with the firm representing Sean and Patrick Mulroney in their upcoming trial.”

“I figured.” Though, if he’d really expected someone from the defense side, it would have been some tough guys to intimidate Josh’s location from him.

“Everyone’s wanting to talk to your brother, aren’t they?”

“Everyone but me.”

“I can understand that. After all, whoever shot you was aiming for him. But he is still your brother.”

“And I still haven’t seen him since then. Sorry I can’t help you.”

He pivoted and took a few steps before Wallace spoke again. “Of course, we’d be happy to help you in return.”

Slowly Joe turned and backtracked. Marshal Ashe had theorized that the Mulroneys had paid Josh to disappear, or had used the promise of money to lure him to his death. They probably considered payoffs a necessary cost of doing business, just like coffee and mugs were for him. How much would they be willing to pay him for ratting out his brother?

“Help me with what?”

Wallace shrugged. “You have a nice place here, but with only two part-time employees, it must keep you pretty busy. We could assist you with staffing and expenses.”

“How much staffing? How many expenses?”

“You want to retire and let someone else run the business for you, we could make that possible. We could see that you get a nice annual income without having to work at all, unless you wanted to.”

Retire before thirty-five, live comfortably, and all he had to do was supply information that would get Josh killed.

It was a good thing they’d made this offer to him rather than Josh, because Josh probably would have sold Joe out in a heartbeat.

“I tell you where my brother is, and you take on the expenses of running my business while I reap the profits?” Joe frowned as if concentrating. “Granted, I sell coffee for a living, so I’m not real up on the finer details of law, but there’s got to be something illegal in what you’re proposing.”

“One wouldn’t be connected to the other,” Wallace said smoothly, and with a straight face. “There’s no crime in telling us where your brother is. And there’s no crime in the Mulroneys investing in your shop. Their business interests are diversified. This shop would fit nicely into their portfolio.”

Lawyers could explain anything so it sounded reasonable and legal, Joe reflected as he leaned against the nearest table. But a person would have to be blind to not see the connection between him giving up information and being rewarded with an investment in his business. His vision-as well as the U.S. Attorney’s-was damn near perfect.

“What do you want with Josh? Just to talk to him, I suppose.”

Wallace gestured agreeably.

“To persuade him not to testify or, at least, not to testify truthfully.”

“The information he gave the prosecution wasn’t truthful. We’d just like him to set the record straight. We want him to admit that he was wrong, or perhaps mistaken, about what he reported.”

“What if you found him and he refused to, uh, set the record straight. Then what?”

Wallace’s smile was even and friendly, and it made Joe think of nothing so much as a predator with its prey in sight. “Then we’d face him in court, of course. Provided he chose to show up. My clients aren’t murderers, Mr. Saldana, no matter what the government would have you believe.”

“Someone tried to kill me.”

“But it wasn’t them. Your brother’s been involved in illegal dealings since he was sixteen. He’s made a lot of enemies of the type far more likely to resort to murder than respectable businessmen such as Sean and Patrick Mulroney.”

Joe gazed out the window at the street. There weren’t many cars parked out front because most people had already run their Saturday errands. Kids were at the mall, hanging out, and most other folks were probably at home, thinking about dinner or a date or a lazy night in front of the television. Normal things.

Not talking to some investigator trying to convince them that inside was out, up was down and wrong was right.

“I’ve seen that pretty woman you’ve been hanging out with,” Wallace said, still in that smooth, easy manner. “You can’t convince me you wouldn’t like a little more time away from here to spend with her.”

A chill spread through Joe at the mention of Liz. They’d finished lunch nearly five hours ago, so Wallace must have been in town at least that long; he must have put off coming here for a reason. To find out more about Joe? More about Liz?

If he said no, would they threaten Liz?

Damn, he was tired of this.

Wallace turned serious. “You almost died because of your brother, and I’m willing to bet he never even said he was sorry. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t owe you or the Mulroneys anything either, and I plan to keep it that way.” Joe straightened and gestured toward the door. “Unless you want some coffee, you should leave now.”