C.J. Miller - Taken by the Con

Lucia pulled into traffic. “That’s where I’m headed. I have paperwork to do.”

“How’d you get stuck with that job?”

“I wasn’t stuck with it. Benjamin wanted me to handle that part of the job.”

The administrative part? Benjamin had mentioned to him that Lucia was in charge of filing reports and documents for the team. Why would Benjamin waste a good field agent’s time with that? “You can pass the torch to me, I guess, when this is over.”

The idea seemed to cheer her up a little. “The time will be over before you know it. Then you can be with your son.”

Which was exactly what he didn’t want. For the time to pass and Adrian to grow while Cash never had the opportunity to have a relationship with him. It was a small measure of comfort that Lucia hadn’t forgotten about Adrian. “The four years in prison went by at a crawl.”

Prison had robbed him of time with his son, but it had also been difficult, challenging and stressful to constantly watch his back, be on guard and anticipate someone trying to harm or kill him. Six men had died on his cell block while he had been incarcerated. Cash considered himself lucky that he’d survived relatively untouched. At least physically. Thinking about his cell and the rules and restrictions and food made him sick to his stomach. Jail was emotionally and psychologically draining. It was no wonder some repeat offenders were hardened beyond reach.

The car felt cramped, and a rush of frustration and anxiety bubbled up in him. He needed space and air. “I’ve changed my mind. Drop me off here.”

Lucia looked at him, her brows knit together. “Here? In the middle of the street?” She stopped for a red light and he climbed out of the car. “See you, Luc.” He shut the door behind him. He needed to walk and breathe fresh air.

So little stood between him and that cage. Disgust and anxiety clawed at him. Prison. He could go back if he made a mistake. The FBI would only keep him out as long as they could use him to bring in Clifton Anderson. What if Cash couldn’t lead them to him? What if something went wrong and Clifton Anderson was picked up by another agency? Would the FBI return him to jail? He could lose his chance of a reunion with his son.

Lucia called after him and he ignored her. Embarrassed about his behavior and unwilling to explain it, he stuck his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. He didn’t want to risk being recognized again by anyone from his former life. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to disappear, but with the GPS tracker monitoring him, he couldn’t do that. He was trapped in the confines of the city under the careful watch of the FBI. It was hard to feel truly free. He was still imprisoned, just in a different way.

The pounding of footsteps and Lucia calling his name had him glancing over his shoulder. The persistent woman didn’t know when to give up. She caught up to him, out of breath. Strands of her brown hair had broken free of the ponytail she had it tied in. He had the urge to pull the elastic from it and let it loose around her face. He kept his hands pressed to his sides.

“I need space,” he said, feeling a combination of weak and whiny. He hated weak and whiny.

Concern touched her face. “Tell me what that was about because normal people don’t jump out of a car,” she said.

“I didn’t jump out of the car. I stepped out,” Cash said.

“Going from being locked in a cell to walking around on the street is a big change. But it’s a good change.”

He realized she knew where his thoughts had gone. He added intuitive and considerate to his list of her good attributes. He’d liked Lucia from day one, even if she was strung a little tight, but the more time he spent with her the more he saw her best qualities were buried beneath her icy facade. “I’m not free and not much has changed. I’m monitored around the clock. I live in a dump. I eat crappy food.” Benjamin had made it clear he wanted to know if Cash was in touch with anyone from his past. Cash half expected him to demand Cash keep a log of everyone he spoke to.

“Living in a motel isn’t ideal and I know your budget is tight.” She pressed her lips together. She was uncomfortable talking about money.

Was it because she had financial problems, too? The place where she lived was at least three thousand square feet and she had a number of decorative items he’d price high on the open market. She was either living above her means, on the take or the FBI was paying better than he’d thought.

“I’m grateful to Benjamin for what he did for me.” Even if the other man had a lot to gain by capturing Clifton Anderson, like a huge promotion and a raise, he’d put himself out to help Cash.

“You don’t sound ungrateful, but you sound like you’re coming unhinged. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you while we’re together,” Lucia said.

That’s what he needed to dissolve the anxiety, someone else watching him. “I have the tracker. You don’t have to worry about me skipping town.”

“I’m not worried about you skipping town. At the moment, I’m just worried about you.”

Compassion and an olive branch. Cash hadn’t realized how isolated he’d felt until she spoke the words. He had the urge to reach back, to connect with someone in a real way. Not to manipulate her or get on her good side for any other reason than needing a friend. “I can’t go back there.”

Empathy touched the corners of her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “We’ll get this guy, and as long as you keep your head down and work hard, prison stays off the table. Now, please come back to the car. We’ll head to the office and sit on the rooftop and review our case notes, okay? And then you have the team’s happy hour.”

“Aren’t you going?” he asked.

“I have paperwork to finish up,” she said.

He let her lead him to the car. Lucia was looking left and right.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing her unease.

“I have the strangest feeling we’re being watched.”

Not one to ignore instincts, Cash looked around. He didn’t notice anyone watching. They were surrounded by tall buildings. Anyone could be watching from those windows. Someone on the street? Another driver? He’d made a scene. He could have drawn the curiosity of a passerby or a people watcher with nothing better to do.

Or someone from his past had already caught up to him.

* * *

As people brushed past on the busy sidewalk, Lucia reached for her gun, unsnapping her holster. The atmosphere had tensed and shifted. If someone approached her or Cash, she would defend them.

Before her transfer to Benjamin’s white-collar crime team, Lucia had worked in the violent-crime division on a complex murder-for-hire case. Her contributions to breaking up a ring of Egyptian nationals selling their services as assassins had led to fifteen arrests and fourteen convictions. Unfortunately, several of the well-known assassins who were part of the ring remained out of reach.

Her old team leader had let her know that the assassins still at large could seek revenge and target the team who had broken up their lucrative business. A few months had passed without any whisper of a threat. Lucia had been lulled into a sense of security that shattered the moment her instincts pricked that something was wrong.

Her instincts had served her well at the Bureau. She couldn’t have explained why or how she knew trouble was near. Just as she had known by their treatment of her as the only female member of the violent-crime division that they were looking for a reason to kick her off the team.

In the end, it hadn’t been something she’d done or hadn’t done. It had been her success that gave her boss a reason to request a promotion for her. A promotion to a better-paying, higher-ranking open position in another unit.