Page 82 of One Wrong Move

“You seem lost in thought,” he said, the firelight dancing across his chiseled features.

Danger. Danger, Will Robinson. Tread easy, girl.

“You’re very perceptive,” he said.

She cocked her head. Where had that come from?

“Your earlier observation...”

“Oh, I didn’t mean—”

“No. You were right.” He stood and strode to the stone counter by the kiva fireplace.

“Oh?” she said, not pushing this time.

Christian took a seat on the edge of the counter, took a deep inhale, then streamed it out. “Uncomfortably perceptive,” he said with a humorless laugh.

She stiffened. Shoot. She’d pushed too much. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” he said. Was that a catch in his voice? “It’s good you did.”

“Oh?” She scooted closer to the edge of the couch.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Oh” It was taking everything inside her not to press. But how many times could she sayoh.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the shadows and the flickering firelight. “I don’t...” He cleared his throat.

She waited, forcing her jumbling self to be patient, not to heed the ridiculous urge to wrap him in her arms and tell him that, whatever it was, it’d be okay.

“I guess it’s best to start from the beginning.” He took a stiff inhale, his shoulders hiking up, then released it, his shoulders easing back down.

Her stomach swished. How bad was what he had to share? A swift uneasiness raked through her.

“I ... Deck, Riley, our older sister, Bristol, and I grew up in a world of illusion,” he began.

Another sibling? She wanted to ask about Bristol but forced herself to remain still, to just listen.

“My parents,” he continued, pain etching hard across his face, “were famous ... or...” He shook his head. “Or rather, infamous illusionists in Vegas when I was young.”

“Really?” That didn’t sound so bad, though she doubted Vegas had been fun to grow up in. They were probably exposed to a lot. Maybe that’s why they all struggled in some way.

“I know it sounds sort of glamorous, but believe me, it was far from it.”

She could imagine ... well, could fathom.

“My par—” He swallowed. “Theywere an illusionist duo on the stage, but no one knew that beneath all the magic, they were nothing more than world-class cons.”

“What?” She hadn’t seen that coming.

“They were conmen ... well, a conman and woman. But that’s just a more sophisticated word forthieves. And that’s what my ... whattheywere. Thieves and scammers.”

“Is that why you all do what you do?” she asked, unable to keep silent. Were they trying to catch people like their parents?

“Yes and no,” he said, and she forced herself to be quiet, to focus on him and not all the theories and ideas stirring through her mind.

He exhaled, his shoulders drooping deeper. “They used us.”

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