Conning For Keeps (An Agents of TRAIT Novella) (Entangled Flaunt) (9 page)

Oblivious to the turmoil she’d caused, Marissa simply popped up on her toes and kissed him, lingering longer than strictly necessary. Long enough to make him second-guess himself—again—and wish that this mission were over for totally different reasons than being free from her and Canalis. Too bad her voice took on a sarcastic edge when she followed the kiss up with, “You say the sweetest things sometimes.”

No. She hadn’t missed it.

She didn’t care. Why did that somehow make it worse?

“Okay, you two, I know you have a room…” Evangeline teased as she and Frankie walked in. His frown said he was a lot less happy to be there than she was. Daddy dearest had definitely put a damper on his plans…and played right into Evangeline’s. Her blue-green eyes shone as she swept her long, blond hair back. “Glad you skipped the room to come here, though. Based on that kiss, this should be fun.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Marissa beamed.

“Seems like you don’t miss much.” Frankie narrowed his eyes at Marissa. Whatever was going on between the Canalis men, Marissa didn’t fit into Frankie’s plans. That could be good or bad. The whole angry-young-man bit was too ephemeral to define. For all they knew, Frankie simply didn’t like the idea of a younger woman in his dad’s suite.

For that matter, Trevor didn’t like it much, either. The last thing he wanted was Marissa that close to Leo Canalis. Nor was he overly fond of this party they had going on. If Marissa was playing Canalis senior, they didn’t have to work the Evangeline angle anymore.

Every moment they were with the others was another risk of slip up. Another chance they could be discovered. Marissa insisted, though, pointing out that they’d be more suspicious if they hid all the time—especially if they weren’t audibly “boinking like bunnies.”

When he’d tried to argue, she shut him up with another of her deadly kisses and told him not to worry so much because it was all part of her plan. The other part being her alone time with Leo Canalis. It had taken her over half an hour to get back from his suite when she first went to meet with him. Enough time to do all sorts of things. Enough time for her to spill all of TRAIT’s secrets if she wanted to.

He hated Marissa’s plan, mainly because he didn’t know what it was.

But what he hated most of all was part of him that itched to touch her again, the part that burned for her kiss…that part of him wanted to trust her. But she was making it impossible.

The worst of it was he couldn’t threaten her with a formal report since they’d already screwed the mission so many times, and their boss would insist on knowing how Trevor had let it get this far. Instead, he brooded and argued and cajoled…and got nothing for his trouble. If he weren’t falling for her, he’d have been looking to get Marissa ousted from TRAIT.

This wasn’t how partners were meant to work.

They weren’t supposed to play games, and that’s what she’d been doing…what they were going to spend the rest of the damn night doing. Literally.

The game room consisted of half a dozen tables and chairs for up to six people each along with a few chessboards on smaller tables against the walls. At the far side, some low couches sat in front of a stage. None of the other couples had arrived yet. “And where’s everyone else?”

Evangeline huffed out a sigh. “Sandy overindulged in the wine at dinner and is either passed out or puking. Or both. Lana went to get a manicure since she was worried she wouldn’t have time tomorrow with the rehearsal and all. Nick and Rebecca are screwing each other’s brains out—their words, not mine. And everyone else… Basically, everyone is being a big ball of no fun. Well, Nick and Rebecca might be the exception, but their fun doesn’t include the rest of the group. So it’s just us.”

Just them. This could end badly. At least Frankie’s dad wasn’t joining in, so it likely wouldn’t end bloody.

“So, what’s our method of destruction tonight?” Marissa waved toward the tables, her eyes resting longest on the chessboards. Chess? She was full of surprises. No. She’d probably learned to play at her parents’ knees. Moves and countermoves and always having a damned plan that was shared with no one.

Frankie pulled a bottle of Grey Goose from the bag in his hand. “Vodka to start.”

Evangeline’s eyes glittered. “And with only the four of us, a drunken game of truth or dare sounds like a lot of fun.”

Shit. She was digging. The only question was what was she digging for?

Too late to back out. Trevor leaned over as they walked toward the couches and whispered in Marissa’s ear, “As long as we stick to dare, we should be safe.”

“Good idea. You go for dare.”

“What about you?”

“Safe was never part of my plan.”

Damn her plan to hell and back. He was still fuming when they settled onto cushions across from the other couple.

Frankie poured shots into glasses from the hotel’s bar and raised his in a toast. “To surviving tonight with our relationships still intact.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Trevor announced with a pointed glance toward Marissa.

“Silly boys,” she said, as she lifted her vodka to her lips, “we’re getting married. And what are a few dirty, little secrets between friends?”

“You say that now…” If she didn’t cool it, she was going to blow the whole mission.

Unless that was her intention.

Trevor resisted the urge to haul her bodily back to their room. Not his style, but Marissa seemed to like pushing him past all his carefully plotted boundaries. And now he couldn’t manage to safely think about getting her out of a dangerous situation without it having sexual connotations.

“Pfft.” Marissa ignored his warnings the same way she’d ignored all his questions since she left the room yesterday with her Valjean announcement.
What did you do? Why were you with Canalis so long? Did you find out where the painting is?
Only the last one got a straight answer—
we’ll have it by the end of the week
.

As much as he wanted Canalis punished for his crimes and hoped this mission would lead to that, he was going to strangle Marissa if she kept the evasion up. And now she was smirking at him like she didn’t give a rat’s ass. “Let’s get this party started. Who’s first?”

The questions and dares started flying, and so did the liquor. Soon, Trevor realized this was the perfect opportunity for him to get some answers. Sure, Marissa could lie, but he’d started to recognize her tells over the last few years of working together.

It was probably why she wasn’t answering him at all about her plan. With their “friends” already several drinks under, as he’d said before, they’d be unlikely to ponder his stupid questions.

He waited for the next round of the game—and another round of shots—before it came back to him. “Marissa.”

“Ooooo he
does
like me!” She twisted on the couch to glance up at him. “For you, dear, truth, always. Unless you ask about that one night in college. Then I reserve the right to lie.”

That right there was a lie since she hadn’t gone to an actual college. Josh had let her earn her degree online on TRAIT’s dime. “Top five things that come to mind when I say the name Jean Valjean.”

Evangeline gaped. “That’s either the lamest question ever, or you have a hard-on for Hugh Jackman. Please say it’s the latter.”

Laughter echoed through the room. Marissa was obviously comfortable in whatever role she was playing all of a sudden, because he could barely detect a hint of falsehood. “Trevor has this obsession with the classics. I promised I’d read some of them, but he should know better than to choose one that not only has Sparknotes but multiple movies to fall back on.” She turned to him, a glint of something hard in her eyes—green ice, or a razor sharp piece of jade. “Five things, right? One: two-four-six-oh-one. Two: a loaf of bread. Three: strength. Four: ‘Bring Him Home.’ Five?” She paused for a long time, staring at Trevor, maybe searching for whether or not he was ready to know. “Sucker.”

She nodded like that was the most logical answer in the world.

He wanted to ask what she meant, but he knew she’d weave some line out of thin air, likely about being strapped with an ungrateful kid for the last years of his life because Valjean hadn’t micro-managed one of his businesses.

But Trevor knew the truth. She wasn’t calling the character a sucker. That answer was directed at him. She wouldn’t fall for any of his questions, and clearly she held her liquor better than most people.

With an empty bottle between the four of them, they downed the last of the vodka. Evangeline raised bloodshot eyes and pointed a wavering finger at Marissa. “You. Truth or Dare?”

“I’ve done too much truth tonight.” She had, too. Nearly every question from Evangeline and a few from Frankie and himself. “I’m ready to do something naughty, so make it a good one. Dare.”

Evangeline’s eyes drifted shut as she grinned, and Trevor thought they’d get off without this one last thing. But they popped open a second later. “I fully expect to get laid after we leave.” Probably not likely given her state, but Trevor wasn’t going to point that out. “I dare you to give your man a lap dance that will get all four of us ready to go back and finish the evening on a high note.”

Marissa ran her finger along the inside of her shot glass and sucked the digit into her mouth, closing her eyes as she savored the last of the vodka. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

As she stood, Evangeline fumbled with her phone, finally pulling up music. It was some angry female rock band he’d never heard before. Not exactly seductive music…until Marissa’s hips started swaying to the beat, and she inched her skirt higher and higher on her thighs as she turned, freeing her movements. Soon, it was so high it barely covered her panties, and he was tempted to tug it down. The other couple didn’t need to see this. It was for him…wasn’t it?

She slammed her hands on the back of the couch to either side of his head, her breasts jutting right in front of his face. So close he could lift his head and…

“Uh, uh, uh,” Marissa said, winking. “Lap dances have rules. I touch you. You don’t—” She bent at the knees then slithered up the length of his body, grinding her hips against his “—Get to lay a finger on me unless I say so.”

In under a minute, he forgot all about Frankie and Evangeline. All he could think about was his hands on Marissa, roving over her as she did this. She turned, straddling him backward, and grabbed his hands, placing them right under her breasts.

So close but not close enough.

Then, she shifted and rubbed her ass against his cock, and all thought vanished. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her machinations.

Too soon and far too long after, she collapsed on his lap. The dual rounds of applause from the other couch had her breaking into laughter as she struggled to right her skirt.

Frankie tugged Evangeline into his arms. His voice was gruff as he said, “You got your game and your show. Can
I
have you now?”

“Good night, you two.” Grinning, she pulled him into the hall.

As soon as they were out of sight, Trevor ushered Marissa to the door.

“What’s the hurry, big guy? World ending tonight?”

They were almost to their suite, so he didn’t bother responding until his key slid home. Then he leaned in close so only she could hear. “No. In fact, we’re officially off-duty until morning.” Inside, he locked the door behind him and turned to her. Screw being careful. Everyone was asleep anyway. “And now I want a repeat of that dance with fewer rules and fewer clothes.”

In an instant, she had his pants undone, her hand inside, rubbing his dick in long, tight strokes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Eight

Going t
o the Chapel

Marissa
spent the day reliving the previous night and counting the minutes until this mess was over and done with. So many times when Trevor touched her, it felt like part of the act. But then, when they were alone…

And that didn’t take into account his attitude about her spending time with Canalis. Did he think she actually
liked
seducing that viper? She was over the uncertainty of it all. The sooner they had the damn painting and were out of here, the better.

At least the rehearsal had gone off perfectly. Well, perfectly for her. Amy had huffed and puffed her way through Marissa and Evangeline’s antics.

Surely it had been enough of a show to convince Canalis she knew how to play a damn mark, though. Managing that was all that mattered. Then she could do what she wanted so many years ago and finally set her hands on
Certain Laughter
.

No. She wanted to turn it over to TRAIT. It wasn’t that she wanted it herself.
She
wanted Trevor, and if she pulled any stunts with the painting, she’d lose any chance at him. All that would remain were the memories of how good they were together. Not exactly her preferred outcome. Nope. Handing over the art was the path she had to take if she wanted the life she’d dreamed about.

Too bad part of her kept chiming in with the fact that the government only wanted it out of Canalis’s hands. Why couldn’t it be in hers instead?

It would have been nice if she’d had an answer better than “because.”

The hardest part of the rehearsal dinner had been suffering through Trevor’s whispered questions during the meal, along with his constant reminders they had a timeline that ended tomorrow.

Like she didn’t know the painting would be gone, departing via private helicopter or jet or freaking snowmobile before they were supposed to check out on Sunday. Like she didn’t understand he had an undeniable need to know what was going on—even if she was sure he really didn’t want to.

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” he said. Again.

“Getting cold feet?” She arched a brow at him. If anyone else heard his questions, hopefully, she’d planted the idea in their heads that he was just nervous. “If you like, I can take your mind off it later.” She winked as she pushed away from the remnants of her dessert. Tonight so wasn’t a creme brûlée night.

It was an art acquisitions night.

At least if she had any say in things.

Trevor grabbed her as she stood. “Where are you going?”

The pressure on her wrist brought back the memory of his hands on her thighs, spreading them wide, and heat rushed through her. Damn this man and his amazing hands. Forget the specifics, damn his amazing everything. The annoying need to be in the know at all times was his worst fault. Of course, all things considered, he had a right to be aware of what was going on. But, partner or not, it was safer if he didn’t.

Better.

He’d try to stop her if he knew.

“To thank our host for the wonderful dinner. Then I’m going to go upstairs so I can get to bed early and be well-rested to become Mrs. Trevor Smythe tomorrow.” Marissa leaned down and kissed him firmly—not too chaste, not too much passion.

“That’s not necessary.” His grip tightened on her wrist until it was painful, but she didn’t pull away. Trevor wasn’t even looking at her when he said it. His attention was focused on Leo Canalis, and she couldn’t help but think his anger was there, too.

“Not necessary, but polite and tactical.” She frowned and pitched her voice slightly lower—enough of a change that he’d notice and pay attention. “Trevor, is there something you need to tell me?”

Immediately, he let her go and turned back to the table. “No. You’re right. Go play nice.”

There wasn’t much of an option for now, so she let the worry go. Squaring her shoulders, she sauntered over to Canalis, who’d just turned away from his son. Frankie cast a glare her way, and she wiggled her fingers in response. Only a couple more days. She could do this for a couple more days.

“Mari.”

“Good evening, sir. This has been so incredible tonight, and I know in the madness of the wedding tomorrow, I might forget to say thank you. I figured I should do it now instead.” She let her unspoken message hang in the air along with an equally unspoken, but less enthusiastic, offer.

He sighed heavily, the exasperated father again. “Why don’t you join me for a moment? A
digestif
seems in order tonight. Too much rich food. I warned Evangeline about the menu, but it’s hard to argue with a bride-to-be.”

That was a good sign; maybe it meant he was willing to give in. She only hoped she didn’t have to screw him to get the painting. That was
not
on her agenda, at all. Flirting and innuendo were fine, but she was not going to have sex with the man to get the art. With a smile, she waved to the bar and followed him with a bounce in her step that had been absent a moment before.
Focus on the good stuff. You’re almost done…

“Cognac. Two, please.” He handed a glass to her and waited for the bartender to disappear before speaking again. “One thing I’ve learned in my business is it’s never smart to welch on a deal. And I won’t with regard to you, but I’ve also learned it’s wise to wait until a race is finished before paying up on a bet.”

“So that’s a no?” Her grip tightened on the glass, and she had to take a sip to calm her frustration. So much for almost done and away from any temptation with regard to the art.

“That’s a ‘wait twenty hours’ and it will be a yes. Considering you’ll be in your room much of that time, I’m sure you’ll come out on top.” He twirled his glass, light catching on the cognac and making it glow golden.

At least he hadn’t suggested she come to his room. “If you’re so sure, why make me wait?”

He downed what was left in his glass. With a smile, he leaned close, pressing something cold and sharp against her stomach.

Marissa froze, afraid if she moved he’d decide she wasn’t worth the trouble after all, and he whispered in her ear, “If I’m going to allow you access to my most prized possession, I need to be sure you will give it the respect it’s due. Also, because you plan to work for
me.
Not the other way around. I have ways of dealing with employees who forget the order of things. You’re a beautiful woman, Marissa. It would be a pity for you to have to learn that lesson the hard way.” He stepped away without a backward glance, shouting, “Where is that bottle of wine I ordered?”

Marissa caught candlelight glinting off the corkscrew in his hand and remembered how to breathe. Not a knife. It was a threat, a reminder. And, no matter what else, Trevor was safe. That was what mattered.

She managed to plaster on a fake smile and join in the good night toast, but when Canalis’s gaze flicked toward Trevor, she faltered. What if Evangeline wasn’t the only test? What if he wanted her to show her loyalty before he gave her the painting?

Considering the way he talked about
Certain Laughter
reminded her far too much of Gollum ranting about his “precious,” she wouldn’t put murder past him. And if Canalis was as bloodthirsty as his file said, it wouldn’t be ridiculous to think he’d ask her to put a bullet in the brain of the man she’d deemed nothing more than a “pretty body to get her in the door.”

Marissa couldn’t get back to the suite fast enough. Her shoes landed in a pile when she kicked them off. Then she raced into the bathroom, slamming the door and sucking in panicked breaths.

Messing with Canalis like this was so much more dangerous than any job she’d ever pulled with her parents. If this went wrong, Canalis knew who she was and, with his resources, he’d find her. It wasn’t just a job she was risking now. It was everything. If he found out who she was working for, the lies she’d spun about Trevor would evaporate, and then what? So much for protecting him.

TRAIT agent.
Ha!
She was a grifter, a thief. At her heart, she was only supposed to have to watch out for herself. Not a team. Not a partner. And now…

She would not get sick, she would not…

“Marissa?” Trevor knocked softly on the door. “Are you okay?”

It took a second to steady her breathing enough to call out, “Yeah. Working on getting all squeaky clean for our wedding tomorrow.”

More like she wanted to wash off Canalis’s breath in her ear while he pressed metal into her gut. A corkscrew tonight. What would it be next time?

She leaned over and twisted on the shower, praying to a God she vaguely remembered from childhood.
Please, Lord, wash my sins away. Keep Trevor safe. And if you can, I’d really fucking appreciate it if you kept me safe, too.
She heard Trevor’s hand fall on the doorknob and tore her clothes off, stepping under the stinging spray before he saw her like this.

The water hit her skin like a hundred needles and, instead of chasing the worry away, it drove it home. The job was always dangerous. This shouldn’t be any different.

But it was.

Different because the one sure fire way to make certain Trevor was safe was to be exactly who she told Canalis she was—the dream Marissa who would walk happily toward Evangeline and hand over the damn painting.

Sobs wracked Marissa’s body, and she braced herself against the wall, trying desperately to keep from sliding down to wallow in the depths of her fear. When Josh had come to see her in juvie, she’d told him she couldn’t be a spy, that it would never work, but the man had been so damned persistent, she’d fallen prey to his certainty.

And now look at her—ready to abandon ship and leave everything behind at the first opportunity. It didn’t matter that it was to protect the people she cared about—she was still choosing wrong over right.

She was still nothing but a con artist.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, supporting her and holding her close. “Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know anything.”

She leaned against Trevor’s chest, watching as the water sluiced over their skin. Light and dark. She always thought, in a lot of ways, they were alike. Different sides of the same coin. Her smartassery and his silence both defense mechanisms to keep people from getting close. So many little things.

But there would always be differences.

Gaps too big to get past.

“Marissa, I won’t let him hurt you, but you can’t keep things from me like you have been.” He whispered the words into her hair, and it would’ve been easy to pretend she hadn’t heard.

Problem was, she was too far in to tell him now. She’d made this mess, and she had to get them out of it. God! With the deception and trickery in her nature, how had she ever believed a future together might be possible? And what if she couldn’t salvage the mission? What if the only way to save him was to walk away from TRAIT? From him. Would he ever forgive her?

Questions warred in her mind, and she turned her head, burying it against his chest in an effort to hide from them all. “Worry about keeping yourself safe, Trevor. Canalis…I don’t know what he’s going to do, but this con could still go so wrong. No matter what, I want you to make sure you walk away from this. As for the rest, you can’t help, but you can hold me.”

He smoothed back her wet hair and kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer as he sighed. “Forever if you need me to.”

Marissa thanked that God she hadn’t really believed in for the fact that the hot water wouldn’t run out for a while. It hid the presence of her tears as she realized she wasn’t made for forever.

She was made for lies, for cons, and for running.

Trevor woke to an empty bed and a note:
See you at the wedding. I’ll be the one in white.

Ha ha. She seemed in better spirits than she had after last night’s dinner—hopefully because the end was in sight. He couldn’t wai
t to get the hell out of here and back to some semblance of normal. For a while he’d thought maybe that could include Marissa, but now…she’d confirmed he couldn’t trust her.

The simple fact that neither of them had laid eyes on the damn painting yet had him worried it wasn’t in the hotel at all. And that didn’t take into account her Goddamn “plan.”

The only good thing about it was, with her flirting her way into Canalis’s good graces, Trevor had to stay in the background. There was no chance to get close enough to the man to exact vengeance for Delray. Which meant his ethics were still intact, even if he felt like a caged beast.

Either way, the mission would be over soon, which meant a return of his sanity. At least what was left of it where Marissa was concerned. He still needed to figure out how to tell Josh he was done working with her. A partner he couldn’t rely on was worse than no partner at all.

It was the big day, and she’d left him completely in the dark while she went off to hair and nails and make-up.

Trevor cast a bleary-eyed gaze at the clock. Time to stop worrying about the future and get on with today. He had a few minutes to check in before hitting the late breakfast for the grooms. He hadn’t set an alarm and was lucky the noise in the hall woke him. Family and friends arriving for the nuptials in…four hours.

He flopped in front of the computer and opened the secure chat with TRAIT. Greta’s icon came on the screen.

Greta Gallagher: About time you checked in. How’s it going? Our feed tapped out that first night, and there were concerns. There’s a team nearby if you need back up at the ceremony. They’re dressed to pose as guests.

Shit. Marissa had deactivated her comms after he woke her, and that first pair of shoes had been ditched in the bathroom when she’d changed into the nightie. They’d been in the closet ever since. As for back up, he had to assume Marissa would have clued him in if they needed more guns on site, even if she refused to tell him anything else.

Trevor Harris: Sorry about the glitch. There have been some hiccups but nothing we couldn’t handle. Right now we don’t have confirmation the painting’s here. Let Josh know and have him make the call on the others. It’s a toss-up between spooking Canalis and having extra hands on deck.