Confidence Tricks (13 page)

Asprey smiled then, a wide and genuine movement that folded the lines of his face into an irresistibly charming mask. “Thank you. People don’t often do that.”

“What?” she quipped. “Kick your ass?”

“No. Believe in me.”

Poppy relaxed. It was funny how much simply being in this man’s presence put her at ease—when really, she should have been running in the opposite direction. As fast as her feet would take her.

“See, Graff?” Asprey said, returning to the hangar feeling triumphant and aroused and more content with the world than he’d been in a long time. He was really beginning to like that woman. “I told you we have nothing to be afraid of. Poppy is the perfect partner in crime. She has something we want; we have something she wants. It’s win-win.”

Graff shook his head and pushed Asprey aside, making sure to lock the door securely behind them.

“I’ll admit—I had Tiffany look a little more into Todd Kennick’s financial records. Poppy is right about his side schemes. That guy has been ripping people off for years, cleared several million in investment scams. It’s the only reason I was willing to consider this trade.”

Asprey paused in the act of setting the alarm code. “I know how much you love to fight on the side of justice.”

“That doesn’t mean I like this,” Graff added. “But at least now we can keep her close, watch her for signs of trouble.”

“You’re being paranoid, as always.”

“And you’re being an idealistic idiot, as always. Trust me, Asprey. She’s after something bigger than cash.”

“What do we have that’s bigger than cash?”

The look Graff gave him was one Asprey recognized well, casting him firmly in the role of underwhelming and continually disappointing youngest brother. “We have family. And I get the feeling she knows a lot more about ours than she’s letting on.”

Chapter Ten

“What’s the huge emergency?” Poppy strolled up to the three-story brownstone, an address Asprey had texted her with the brief but compelling message,
Meet me ASAP
. Unlike most of the brownstone houses she was familiar with, this one went beyond the skinny one-car length in width and spanned almost a quarter of a block. The neighborhood, all leafy trees and happy dogs, matched the grandeur of it. “I was supposed to meet Todd to get him to come to the racetrack tomorrow.”

Asprey, clad in dark jeans and a French blue button-up that fit snugly across his shoulders and chest, ignored her remark and surveyed the house with detached interest. “I need your help with something.”

“An emergency, right?” She fought a wave of irritation that had more to do with how charming he looked set against the upscale city sidewalk than being forced to delay her dinner with Todd. “That’s why you called me all the way out here?”

“Well, it’s not an emergency according to the standard definition of the word.” As he spoke, Asprey at least had the decency to look sheepish, rubbing his finger along the side of his nose.

“Really? What definition would you use?”

“Think of it more like a strong urge.”

She laughed. “I imagine you’ve had a lot of strong urges in your lifetime, haven’t you? And you’re the exact type of person who gives in to each one.”

“You think I have no self-control?”

“I think you’re used to people giving you what you want. Money has a way of opening doors and pandering to strong urges.” His eyes flashed a warning, but Poppy ignored it. “Am I wrong?”

“Nope—you’re completely right.” Asprey crossed his arms and nodded up at the house. “I’m a spoiled, selfish reprobate who doesn’t know how good he has it. I should be living it up in a palace like that instead of sleeping next to Graff in an airport hangar with no heating. It’s my birthright. I deserve it.”

Dammit.
She’d hurt his feelings. Lifting a hand to his arm, she said, “Hey—I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did, and it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.” In the distance, a dog barked, and an elderly couple strolled by, nodding a friendly greeting toward Asprey as they went. She waited until they passed before speaking again, glad for the chance to gather her thoughts. It had been a mean thing to say, and if there was one thing Poppy strove for in all of her endeavors, it was to avoid cruelty. Maybe she didn’t always do the right thing in terms of society’s views, but she always did the right thing for
her
. “I’m sorry. If anyone knows how unfair it is to judge someone based on their situation, it’s me. It was a crappy thing to say, and I take it back.”

He studied her carefully before finally settling into a small smile. “Apology accepted and appreciated—you have no idea how much. So does that mean you’re willing to help me with my, ah, emergency situation?”

Poppy was so grateful to see the smile back on his face she didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. What are we doing?”

“There is something I need inside that house, and you look like you could use a little fun. So I propose we go in there and get it.”

“Oh yeah? This is your idea of showing me a good time?”

“Yes, it is.” He looked supremely proud of himself. “I spent most of the day debating between this or letting you try to break my arm again. I’m not ashamed to admit I chose the former.”

She rolled her eyes and scanned the building’s exterior, looking for clues. Based on the size and location, she’d say they were looking at five million dollars in real estate, easy. Whoever these people were, they had money and weren’t afraid to announce it to the neighborhood.

Her pulse picked up and she felt the familiar mounting thrill that always accompanied this kind of activity. Damn him for knowing exactly what got her excited. “Why not a walk on the beach or dinner at the pier? You didn’t even bring me roses.”

“I have something better.” He pointed at the house. “In there.”

“Do you want to go grab some priceless art? Maybe the family’s most prized heirloom?”

Asprey shook his head. “An espresso maker.”

“Great idea.” She laughed, sure he was joking. “Breaking about twelve laws and endangering our lives is the only way to enjoy a good cup of coffee. Seattle’s Best has it all wrong.”

“What if I told you there are no consequences?”

That was absurd. How could there be no consequences? She shook her head. “Too dangerous, and the risk-to-reward ratio is ridiculously high—that is, unless we’re talking about taking the espresso machine prototype that spawned all other espresso machines in the world.”

“Nah. This one’s from Sharper Image.”

Poppy let out an inelegant snort. “So tempting, and yet…”

“What if we amped up the reward a little?” he persisted. “Con versus theft—winner takes all?”

Her heart picked up as she caught the heady inflection in his tone. Even though she’d sworn kissing him—twice—had been a reckless, glorious mistake, her body had a hard time following along. And there were too many ways Asprey could demand his winnings—too many ways she could triumph over him in return—to pretend a little friendly competition wasn’t incredibly alluring.

“What is your definition of all?” she asked. “And what are the rules?”

He shrugged, but it was a studied movement. He’d considered this before. He knew exactly what he wanted from her. She suppressed a delighted shiver.

“I propose that we both attempt to get inside the house and extract the espresso machine,” he said. “I’ll use stealth; you’ll use cunning.”

“Why are you narrating this in a Morgan Freeman voice?”

“Are you going to ask questions, or are you going to accept the challenge?”

Poppy scanned the street, getting into the spirit of it. Since it was early evening, there were a few people milling about, a car pulling up across the street and a pair of teenage girls tumbling out. “You’re sure this is what you want to do?”

Asprey made the motion of an X over his chest and held up his hand. “Absolutely.”

“Why do I get the feeling this is a trick? This is probably the mayor’s house or something, and you guys golf together on Sundays.”

“You either accept or you don’t.” Asprey waggled his eyebrows. “But to make it fair, I won’t talk to any people—it’ll be a straight heist, in and out undetected. You, on the other hand, can do whatever you want.”

“As in, I can knock on the front door and offer to buy it?”

“Well, yes. If you want to suck all the fun out of it.”

She laughed. This was, at once, the strangest and most exhilarating date she’d ever been on. “And what is the outcome of this challenge?”

“That’s easy.” He crossed his arms and looked smug. “If I get the machine first, I get to ask you any question I want. If you win, you can ask me anything about what Graff and Tiffany and I are doing.”

That was almost too good. “And you’ll tell me the truth no matter what?”

“Unless you’d rather do something else,” he offered. “Drink a nice Pinot and discuss French cheeses.”

“Oh, I’m in.” There was no use pretending this wasn’t exactly how she wanted to spend the evening. Her, Asprey, a good challenge, better stakes. “But if I find out you cheated, I get two questions.”

“Done.”

She checked her watch. “Let’s give it three hours. We’ll meet two streets down at that martini bar at eight.”

Asprey cast a look up at the house, his eyes riveted on a second-story window. “Better make it seven.”

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Of course I’m not,” Asprey said with a smile. “That would make it too easy. On your mark?”

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Hit it.” With those words, Asprey gave her a cheerful wave and trotted around the block, to where the house turned the corner and continued its impressive takeover of the whole neighborhood. He obviously knew where he was going and had his plan all mapped out, but she wouldn’t let that faze her. Thinking on her feet was part of being a con woman. She could still win.

She made a quick scan of the street, searching for something that could get her through the front door. She wasn’t dressed for a delivery or door-to-door solicitation or even a respectable emergency use of their phone, and chances were good that they were the kind of people who had a housekeeper or butler who could efficiently turn her away.

She knew firsthand that the best way to be successful with a con was to offer the person something they wanted with a limited window of opportunity. It was the same motivation that drove people to take advantage of Act Now gimmicks on infomercials and door-buster sales that required you to get up at four o’clock in the morning. If marks thought this moment would be their only chance to take advantage of a good deal, they had a much better likelihood of taking it without first weighing all the options.

Unfortunately, she had no idea who these residents were or what sort of weaknesses they had. The bland exterior, devoid of any plants or decorations or open windows that would allow her a glimpse inside, didn’t provide any clues. It wasn’t at all like the house next door, which, even though it rose just as impressively into the partly cloudy sky, had a toy castle with a slide in the yard and a wagon with a one-eyed teddy bear slumped over the side—items that said something about the family living inside. Kids, not enough time to always clean up after them, enough money to live in a place like this…
that’s it.

She had her in.

Poppy wore a loose tunic-like top over ripped leggings, which suited her purposes just fine. She adjusted her shirt so that the neckline swooped all the way over one shoulder and pulled her hair up into a ponytail high on her head, securing it with a rubber band from around her wrist. She trotted up the steps to the Asprey House of Wonders and, without allowing herself to overthink the issue, knocked on the bright blue door.

It was answered by an older woman who, though not exactly decked out in a crisp maid’s apron, still bore the appearance of hired help in elastic-waist pants, sensible shoes and an industrial fabric on her scrub-style shirt.

“Can I help you?” she asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, hi!” Poppy extended the syllable in a high-pitched, breathless tone commonly adopted by girls with fewer years and a lot less drama in their lives. “I’m so sorry, but could you grab a ball from your backyard for me?”

The woman’s eyes, a kindly hazel, flew open. “Excuse me?”

Poppy thumbed over her shoulder. “I’m the nanny next door. We were playing soccer earlier, and we kicked a ball into your backyard. I was just about to get off shift, so I thought I’d swing by to grab it.”

“Oh, you’re with the Parsons!” The woman opened the door wider and gestured for Poppy to come into the house. “I’m sorry I haven’t met you before, but I’m only here Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m Rose.”

“Poppy,” she replied. No need to lie on this one.

Before she got much farther than the foyer, Rose held up a hand to stop her. “Oh, just a moment. I need to grab the alarm if we’re going to be coming in and out the back door.”

She reached toward a small white box on the wall. With a total disregard for common sense, she punched in the numbers so that Poppy could clearly see each one. Poppy had just enough decency to feel guilty about taking a kitchen appliance on this kindly, if misguided woman’s watch, when her eyes ran from the alarm panel along the wall, which extended into a slightly recessed living room done up in a familiar pattern of glass and metal.