The Heart Heist (3 page)

This job could be a chance to find out.

It could also be a chance to find out he was dead wrong.

It was wishful thinking against reality. A false freedom against a hated security. Gary knew which way the thing should tilt, but it didn't. It hung in even balance.

Balance. Gary opened his eyes. That was the key. So far, the pros and cons of the thing were in perfectly equal balance. But it would only take one straw to shift the balance to either side.

A strange peace settled over him as he came to this realization. One straw was all it would take. Gary's eyes drifted closed. His tense muscles relaxed.

Give him that straw, be it ever so flimsy, Gary decided, and he'd take the damn job.

CHAPTER TWO

Two hundred miles from home, Kerrin eyed the uniformed woman who'd just finished frisking her. She had to remind herself that coming to prison had been her very own idea. No one had ordered her to meet this man. As a matter of fact, she'd had to twist a few arms for a chance to do so.

"Okay, you're clean." The uniformed woman informed Kerrin of this fact while consulting a clipboard. "You're here to see Number 406651?"

"I don't know his number." Kerrin waved a hand in the air. That hand was starting to shake. So far she'd passed armed guard towers and electrified fences. She'd had her purse confiscated and her belt and shoes removed.

Level Four. Maximum security. It's what the sign on the gate had said and apparently they weren't kidding.

More than ever, Kerrin couldn't believe the plan of the DWP. That they would hire a thief, a convicted felon -- and put him to work in Freedom!

"I suppose my pass would have his number," Kerrin explained. "But the woman at the reception desk took it. His name is -- "

"Never mind." The woman disregarded Kerrin's ignorance, took a pencil from behind her ear, and made a notation on her clipboard. "This way."

Still in her stocking feet, Kerrin padded after the woman down a long hall. She mulled over the kind of men they kept in a maximum security prison. Dangerous. The worst. Killers, sex offenders, psychopaths. Kerrin's heart began to pound with a combination of anger and fear.

The hall was absolutely bare except for a number of heavy, steel doors. The guard's shoes rang a lonely echo before she stopped outside one of the steel doors. After making another notation on her clipboard, she unfastened a large set of keys from her belt.

She stopped, though, on the verge of sticking the key into the lock. Straightening, she fixed Kerrin with a peculiar smile. "Say," she asked, "wanta have a look at him first?"

Kerrin swallowed. "You mean one-way glass?"

"That's right." The female guard's smile turned sly.

Kerrin was tempted, sorely tempted. But she couldn't help thinking that to spy on the man would be...dishonorable. Silly, perhaps, but she shook her head. "No, let's just get this over with."

Looking disappointed, the female guard shook out her keys. "Well, if that's the way you want it, then here ya go." She stuck her key into the formidable lock on the door. "Just remember not to get too close. The man hasn't been near a woman in five years." The guard rolled her eyes as she turned the bolt. "It's amazing what they'll try."

Greatly reassured by this admonition, Kerrin stepped through the opened door.

There were actually two men waiting in the plain, concrete block room. They both sat at a large metal table. One of them was wearing a gray business suit. He jumped to his feet as soon as Kerrin walked in.

"Ah, Ms. Horton. How do you do?" He had a florid face under a batch of copper red hair and sported a bright, genial smile. "I'm Marty Simmons."

As Marty Simmons hurried across the room to greet her, Kerrin's eyes fell on the other man. He hadn't bothered to rise from his seat. Instead his gaze fastened on Kerrin and narrowed. He wore faded blue coveralls with the number 406651 stitched over the left pocket. Despite the loose clothing, she could make out a compact, powerful build. In the man's fingers was a cigarette. He shifted the thing restlessly, dexterously, as though it were a magic trick. But his eyes remained steady; brown, dark, and very intelligent.

"So pleased to meet you," Marty Simmons gushed, pumping Kerrin's hand. "I suppose they told you. I'm Gary's parole officer."

"No. No one told me." No one had told her a lot of things, Kerrin thought. God. If the convict had been monstrous, twisted, drooling mad saliva -- she would have been prepared. But he wasn't. On the contrary, the man was...
attractive
. His face, like his brown hair, was bronzed by the sun, his features clear and regular, except for his nose. That was gently blunted at the end, as though someone had lightly pressed a finger there while the clay was still wet.

And he was a man. No doubt about that. Just sitting there, perfectly still but for those restless fingers, he radiated a visceral, sexual quality that stunned Kerrin.

"True, this isn't exactly a parole matter," Marty continued. His enthusiastic smile started to fade. "But, uh, I suppose they couldn't think of anyone more appropriate to call."

After her first glance at the prisoner, Kerrin desperately switched her gaze to the parole officer. The prisoner, on the other hand, didn't appear to have any problem staring at her. She could sense his gaze travelling, very slowly, down the length of her.

"It is a rather unusual situation, isn't it?" Kerrin addressed Marty Simmons. Squirming, she could only guess what the prisoner saw. Her figure wasn't very feminine to begin with and she'd dressed in a primly cut pantsuit with a high-necked blouse.

Unusual
, he seemed to agree as he lifted both hands to take a long, thoughtful drag on his cigarette. He had to raise both hands because they were joined at the wrist with a metal handcuff.

Handcuffs!

Shocked, her gaze crashed into his. His eyes were cold and hard, though something flickered briefly behind them.

"That isn't nice." The voice was Marty's. He'd turned and apparently caught the prisoner's perusal. The parole officer's smile was now replaced by a far more genuine scowl. "What did I tell you, Gary?"

Gary's reply was to lift a shoulder. An awkward beat of silence followed.

"Well," Kerrin said, in what she meant to be a hearty tone. She was shaking, she realized in disgust, physically trembling. It was the handcuffs. Somehow the idea of locking a man's limbs in cold metal disturbed her. Which was stupid. The man was in maximum security. Of course he wore handcuffs. Trying to look confident, she made herself turn to him. "So, you're Gary Sullivan."

"And you're the lady mayor." His voice was low, slightly rasping. For some reason it carried a hint of amusement, as though the fact he'd just stated were funny.

"I am the mayor of Freedom," Kerrin agreed, and didn't find this fact the least bit humorous. "I suppose you know what I'm doing here?"

He glanced down at his cigarette and raised his eyebrows. "I was told you had some problems with my future line of employment."

"I-- Well, yes I do." There was no shame in admitting it. But he made her feel ashamed, somehow. How ridiculous. He was the criminal. "Though the blame really lies with the Department of Water and Power," Kerrin generously allowed. "I don't see why they couldn't have found someone, well,
legitimate
to do this work for them."

His dark eyes shot up to her. "Legitimate?"

"Someone..."
not like you
. "Someone with credentials."

A corner of his mouth kicked up. "Honey, I've got the best credentials there are."

Marty seemed to want to interject here, but Gary silenced him with a brusque wave of his fingers. "You want to hear about them?" he asked Kerrin.

He was up to something
. What, Kerrin couldn't say. She hadn't counted on intelligence from the prisoner's quarter, but it was clear he had plenty of it. Crossing her arms over her chest, she did her best to look tough. "I'm listening."

"Gary." Frowning, Marty took a seat beside the prisoner. "Remember, we discussed this -- "

Gary shook the parole officer's hand from his shoulder. "C'mon, Marty. The lady has a right to know the truth. Just what sort of
animal
I am." There was a note of asperity, almost bitterness, in his tone.

"Think -- " Marty said.

"Can it," Gary hissed. "I know what I'm doing." He turned back to Kerrin. "Listen. The truth is you have every right to be worried about my imminent arrival in your peaceful little town. Hell, I've got a record as long as your arm, lady. No. Longer," he decided, with a glance at the appendage in question. "Over ten of the past twenty years of my life have been spent in various reformatory schools, jails, and prisons. The last five of those have been right here on a felony burglary charge. If you'd looked more carefully in my file you'd have seen that I've committed over a dozen parole violations in my day. I have 'bad associates' and a 'poor early background.' They call me 'highly antisocial.' The DWP wants someone who'll think dirty, outside the box -- like a criminal."

He paused, tilting his head at her. "Credentials. That enough for you?"

Kerrin, shaking again, thought that they were more than enough.
How could the DWP do this to her
?

Rubbing his brow, Marty shook his head. "Gary, you know that's -- "

"All true," Gary proclaimed. He watched Kerrin shrewdly, odd flecks of red gleaming in his eyes. "So, I get it. I'm not exactly who you want to have living next door to you in Freedom, am I?"

"Well." Though she was trembling, Kerrin defiantly blurted out the truth. "No."

"And you see now, that's the thing." Marty, his gaze shifting nervously between Gary and Kerrin, managed to get a word in edgewise. "The plan was for nobody in town to know Gary's, er, true identity. It would have made matters...a great deal simpler."

This was the same lousy excuse Kerrin had heard from the DWP. Ignorance, according to them, would have been bliss.

"Er, how
did
you find out?" Marty asked, apologetic.

Kerrin's lashes lowered. She hadn't told the officials at the DWP and she wasn't about to tell Marty.

"Oh, it doesn't matter." Gary, his elbows propped on the table, sucked in a breath through his cigarette. Balancing his chin on his knuckles, he blew out a quick stream of smoke. "There's nothing she can do about it anyway."

Marty looked alarmed, but Gary ignored him. He glanced up at Kerrin, faintly challenging. "Is there?"

"So you know about the DWP," she observed. "Their threats."

Gary shrugged. "It's obvious they have something on you."

"They'll pull out of town if they don't get their way in this."

"Ah." There was a hint of amusement around his mouth as he took another drag. "I'm flattered."

He would be, Kerrin thought. "The DWP said they'd close their plant in Freedom if you can't assure them it's safe. They said they'd build another one. Elsewhere."

"Your town would die."

Once again, he was right on the money, but Kerrin stifled her chagrin. She had to concentrate here, focus.

When Kerrin's father had first informed her of the DWP's plans to hire a felon and put him in Freedom, she'd thought her problems were bad enough. But when the officials at the DWP had made the threat of building a new plant elsewhere, Kerrin had known she must do everything within her power to keep that from happening, including letting a prison convict into her town.

Assuming, that was, the prison convict wanted to come.

"So you understand that I can't challenge them," Kerrin pointed out to Gary. Slowly, she added, "But you can."

He tilted his head, questioning.

"You have a choice," Kerrin reminded him. "They told me so, that you didn't have to take the job, that it's voluntary." This was her only hope, the last possibility of preserving the safety and security of her home town.

"I don't have to take it," Gary confirmed. There was suspicion in his tone. Languid before, he went positively motionless now. The smoke slowly curled up from his cigarette.

"Well." There was a chance, a slim one, that Kerrin wouldn't even have to work to convince him, that he'd decided on his own not to cooperate. She took a deep breath. "Are you taking it?"

For one unbearably long moment he simply looked at her. His dark eyes were completely unreadable as they focused on her face. "Yes," he said at last. "I'm taking it."

Marty stirred in his seat and Gary spared him a brief, quelling regard.

Kerrin barely noticed this little exchange as the floor seemed to drop out from under her. She hadn't realized how much she'd been counting on his refusal, ridiculous as that hope had been.
Oh, good Lord, what am I supposed to do now
? She felt herself sway.

"Sit down."

Kerrin blinked at the softly given command. Gary Sullivan was watching her with a frown. "Sit down. Marty won't be any good if you faint on him."

"Oh, dear me, do sit down," Marty put in, half rising from his chair. "Do you need something to drink? Are you all right?"

"I'm all right," Kerrin claimed. She moved forward to take one of the metal chairs, blinking at the tone she'd just heard in the convict's voice. Had that been
concern
?

"Frankly, I don't see why it's such a big surprise to you," Gary said. Whatever caring emotion Kerrin might have heard in his voice was gone. Carefully gone, as though he hadn't meant her to hear it in the first place. "Didn't they tell you the deal?" Glancing away, he knocked some ash to the floor.

"Deal?" Kerrin repeated stupidly. "What deal?"

His eyes shot to hers. "Ten years."

"I'm sorry. Ten -- ?"

"Ten years off my sentence."

Kerrin had to lick lips that had suddenly gone dry. "Ahem. Ten years off of
what
, Mr. Sullivan?"

He raised his brows. "Life."

She stared at him.
Life
? This man had committed a deed worthy of
life
in prison?!

"That means twenty-five years," Marty put in. He threw a scowl Gary's way. "On his third felony conviction the judge didn't have a choice."