Page 2 of Lethal Deceit

I inhale sharply and reach over the bar to place my hand on his, blinking rapidly as though dispelling tears. I can cry on demand when required—I learned that skill when I was twelve years old—but I’m wearing too much mascara to risk it. “Could you? You have no idea what that would mean to me. Mom is… She’s not doing so well, and the bills… well.”

I glance at Mona, duck my chin, and feign embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m being rude. She’s… she’s all that I have left.”

I sniff, and Mona gives me the motherly smile I’ve only ever seen when we’re working together.

“Oh, of course! I understand completely. You’re obviously the kind of person we’re looking for. I can’t tell you how many vapid models I’ve interviewed. It’s all me, me, me. This level of warmth and selflessness is refreshing.”

I shake my head, batting my eyes at the bartender. “Oh, no. My mother is so wonderful… Well… I know you’re busy.”

As though I snapped my fingers, the bartender draws away, but it’s with enough hesitancy that I know he’s right where I want him.

The moment he’s out of earshot, Mona tuts. “You’re distracted. You should have been able to read him in your sleep.”

I let out a sigh and pretend to sip my drink. I never drink alcohol. Order it, yes; find creative ways to tip it out, certainly. Alcohol makes people pliable. And stupid. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve managed to lift someone’s wallet from right under their nose because they’ve been too drunk to notice.

“Yeah, well, this much heat would throw anyone off their game.”

Mona’s jaw tightens, letting me know how disappointed she is in me. “With this much heat on you, darling, one slip and you’ll be dead.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I don’t dare swallow. I blink. Once. Twice. Keeping my blink rate normal, not too fast, not too slow. A sure giveaway that I’m not handling the pressure.

“I told you to stay in Hawaii,” she says.

I straighten and wish I’d chosen a dress that wasn’t so tight. She’ll notice if I start to shallow breathe or if my breathing rate increases. Good posture and loose clothing conceal a lot.

“Something didn’t feel right… How would you have handled it?”

Her lips pinch. She takes a sip of her own drink. Not a single indication that she’s concerned. Either she isn’t, or she’s hiding it so well, even I can’t tell.

Mona doesn’t answer my question. She asks one of her own, deflecting. “I wouldn’t have allowed myself to be set up.”

I lift my chin in defiance. Does she really think I’mthatstupid? “He was a businessman from Saudi. It was supposed to be a prank.”

Mona blinks slowly, calming herself down before speaking as though I’m a naughty child. “How much did he pay you?”

I know better than to try to lie to her, so I answer immediately. “Fifty thousand.”

Fifty thousand dollars to don a flight attendant’s uniform, entice a Coast Guardsman back to an apartment, slip something into his drink, then leave. Easy money.

Except it wasn’t.

Her eyelids flutter, the closest I’ve seen her to flustered. “Can you identify him?”

I shake my head. “The money was wired to me. Half up front, half after. I never met him. They used a cutout to pass on information and left the uniform in a locker.”

“Who was the cutout?”

I shrug. “Just a random. No one I have ties to.”

Her eyes close, and my heart rate jumps in response. I’d hoped meeting her would reassure me that this would all blow over, but her behavior is having the opposite effect.

Her cadence slows, and for the first time since I’ve met her, I pick up on a pacifying movement of her hands as she twists one of the rings on her fingers. I hold my breath, waiting for her to speak. But when she does, her words are like knives slicing into my chest.

“You ran headlong into this mess. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Indignation makes my voice pitchy. “Do you still have the contact or not?”

Mona gives me a half eye roll. “He’ll get you to Cuba, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be pleasant.”

---