to be completely honest. One sniff of a lie, and Lucia would never trust him. Trust was the key to winning her over.
“Hey,” Cash said, turning around, extending his arm and clasping his former associate’s hand.
“I heard you got sprung,” Boots said. Boots was a petty criminal with more brawn than brains. But he had good connections and knew how to keep his mouth shut.
“I’m a free man,” Cash said. It was the story the FBI had told him to use if he encountered anyone from his criminal past. If the FBI had any chance of using him to locate Clifton Anderson, he couldn’t broadcast he was working for the Feds to every member of the criminal underworld. He’d be shunned and mark himself for a hit.
“Who’s your lady?” Boots asked, putting his hands in his pockets.
“This is my friend Lucy.”
“Are you working?” Boots asked, looking between the two of them.
Lucia’s eyes widened slightly, perhaps wondering if they’d had a breach in their cover. Cash knew Boots was referring to them working a con.
“Not at the moment,” Cash said, darting his eyes over his shoulder at Lucia and subtly shaking his head at Boots. Let Boots think Lucia was a woman he was dating. He didn’t want Boots propositioning him with a job offer, especially in front of Lucia.
“Where you staying?” Boots asked, taking a cigarette from one pocket and putting it between his lips while drawing a lighter from another pocket.
“The Hideaway.”
Boots winced and lit the end of his cigarette. “How the mighty have fallen. I’ll be in touch. I have some work that might interest you and help you get some nicer digs.”
“Appreciate it, man.” They nodded and went their separate ways. Boots continued down the street at a slow lope as he smoked his cigarette and flicked the ashes on the ground.
“That was close,” Lucia said, once they were in the car, a company sedan with its boring, fabric interior and no luxuries.
“Would it have mattered if he’d pegged you for a Fed?” Cash asked.
“Of course it would. I don’t want your cover blown. We’ve just started,” Lucia said.
He took it a step further. “If my cover is blown, then I’m no use to you and I’d go back to prison.”
Lucia turned and looked at him, keeping her hands gripped on the steering wheel. He was pressing her emotionally without much effort. “I don’t want you back in prison.”
That was an improvement from the initial hostility he’d encountered. “Then take the anger down a notch,” Cash said. “You’re making me nervous.”
Lucia blew out her breath. “You have nothing to be nervous about. You’re working with me on this case. When it’s over, we’ll part ways as former colleagues.”
“We’ll be working in the same building for the three years I’ve been given in this program. Tell me how to pretend there is nothing between us. I’ve already slipped once. I kissed you.”
Could he use their physical attraction to convince her to use her influence to transfer him closer to his son? She couldn’t deny the powerful chemistry between them forever and she may prefer he work farther away from her to avoid any temptation.
Lucia stared at him, panic registering on her face as if she hadn’t considered how long they would be trapped together with that kiss haunting them. “I won’t ask for a transfer. I’ve been with white collar for a few months and I plan on staying much longer.”
He’d wait for her to realize that transferring him at the end of this case was the better option. He sensed something she wasn’t saying about her short time with white collar. “I don’t want you to walk away from your job. Maybe they’ll move me to another office,” Cash said, planting the idea.
Lucia stared ahead at the road. “If you’re as good as Benjamin seems to believe, you’ll crack the case, bring in Clifton Anderson and we’ll recover some of the money. We’ll wrap the case up in a few months. Benjamin will get his promotion and you can spend the rest of your time filing paperwork at headquarters.”
Cash hated paperwork and office work, which were about the same to his way of thinking. Being stuck at headquarters away from Adrian doing both was near the worst-case scenario. “Sounds abysmal.” But not as bad as jail. Not nearly as good as being closer to Adrian. A commutable distance. Maybe he could get special privileges to drive to see his son, nights and weekends. As long as he showed up to work on time and did what he needed to do, what boss would begrudge him time with his son?
But any allowances required trust and worthiness. He needed to find Clifton Anderson and the money he’d stolen first.
“Aren’t you looking for anything out of the deal?” Cash asked.
“The money returned to the people who need it,” Lucia said, stating it like it was obviously her goal.
“No promotion?”
Lucia tensed. “I’ve already been given a promotion.”
She sounded defensive.
“Do you want me to drop you at the Hideaway?” Lucia asked.
He’d rather go anywhere but there. “No, thanks. Even when I take a shower there I feel dirtier. I’ll head back to the office.” Which was where he had taken a number of showers. Their onsite gym facilities were clean and free of pests—unlike the bathroom at the motel.
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.
