Four Seconds to Lose

“Though some people call me Cain.”

My heart spasms in my chest. I should have known. Cain is not afraid to give his name out. He’s not afraid of anyone.

I wonder if he would be afraid of Sam.

Without prompting, Cain leans back to grab a chair from the table next to us. Swinging it around, he takes a seat. I finally notice the key lime pie in his hand as he sets it down on the table. It makes me think of Storm. He must be going to see her tonight.

“Do you live around here, Jimmy? Or are you in town for a visit?” Cain’s voice is so smooth. He doesn’t seem at all awkward and I don’t know why, seeing as I want to peel my own skin off and run away right now.

Jimmy gives that jovial chuckle of his. “Oh, just in from New York for the week on business.”

Nodding, Cain asks, “And what is it you do?”

“I own a construction company down here. Focused mainly on commercial sites.”

I watch as the two of them casually chitchat back and forth, Jimmy fluidly lying to Cain and Cain accepting each lie without any expression at all, though I know he doesn’t believe a word. I wonder if the real Charlie Rourke even had an uncle. I have no clue. But I’ll bet Cain will find out, if he doesn’t already know.

All I know is that this conversation needs to end now. I just don’t know how to end it. Lying just isn’t coming as easily to me as it used to. Not since I met Cain.

Jimmy is as aware of the clock as I am. The hotel drop site is ten minutes away and I need to be there in twenty minutes. There can be no delays. I don’t want to give Bob another reason to be angry with me. He slurps the last of his lemonade rather rudely and then announces, “Well, it was nice to meet you, Cain.”

Yes, Uncle Jimmy knows I was lying about the name. He’s mentally sizing Cain up right now, noting his height, his weight, his hair color, eye color, the scar on his brow, the tribal tattoo on his bicep peeking out beneath the gray golf shirt.

Maybe even the one on his neck. If Jimmy tells Sam about that one . . .

That was a farewell from Uncle Jimmy if I ever did hear one. The problem is, Cain isn’t accepting it. He slings his arm over the back of my chair and stretches his legs out, as if getting comfortable. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was fully aware of the attempted dismissal and is politely giving Jimmy a “fuck off.” I’m surprised he hasn’t handed him a business card.

“Yes, it was nice to meet you too, Jimmy.” He turns to look at me, his eyes rolling over my wig for a moment before settling on mine. As if he’s letting me know that, yes, he’s noticed my wig. In case there was any doubt. “Let me give you a ride back home?”

I’m going to be sick. I feel the blood draining from my face. “No, I’m good, I drove here,” I answer in clipped tone. I’m not even allowing myself to feel the sting of the China incident right now. I just need Cain to be gone. Him being here, talking to Jimmy, is enough to cause me a seizure.

“So, how do you two know each other, again?” Jimmy asks, cold, flinty eyes drifting between me and Cain’s arm on my chair.

I clear my throat, scrambling to think of something. I can’t give Cain a chance to answer. All Sam has right now is a name. He can’t find out about Penny’s.

“We have a mutual friend,” Cain answers before I can cough up a lie. It’s not a lie, but it’s such an intentionally vague answer. Thankfully, Cain has no more interest in Jimmy knowing about him than I do.

“Oh, really . . .” Jimmy scratches his wiry beard as if in thought. “What’s this friend’s name? Have I met him? Her?”

And here we go. Jimmy is gathering information.

“No, you wouldn’t have. Just a girl who lives in my building.” To try and steer him away from any assumptions about Cain and me being a couple, I add with hesitation, “She’s his girlfriend.”

I feel Cain’s cutting glare but I don’t turn to meet it.

Jimmy’s cheek puffs out as he presses against it with his tongue, taking the two of us in as he nods slowly. Deciding something, he glances at his watch and announces, “Well, my dear Charlie. I think we have somewhere we need to be.” Making a point of standing up, Jimmy sticks his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse us.”

Cain takes it. “Likewise, Jimmy.” He doesn’t hide the iciness in his glare.

I follow suit, standing and collecting my purse and keys—the rental car keys—from the table.

“Charlie, a moment please?” Cain’s tone is clipped.

I can see annoyance flash in Jimmy’s eyes but he doesn’t want to make a scene . . . yet. He pulls on the jovial voice and chuckle. “I’ll be just over here, Charlie,” he says, moving off no more than ten feet away, pretending to check his messages.

I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get a picture of Cain.

No doubt, for Sam.

I grab Cain’s arms and swivel them so his back is to Jimmy. “What?” I whisper harshly. My level of panic has reached new highs.

“Charlie . . .” Cain’s eyes roam over my face and hair again. I’ve experienced so many intimate moments with this man, and yet right now I couldn’t possibly feel farther away from him. “Please don’t do whatever you’re about to do. I can’t—” He cuts off abruptly, that jaw that I’ve had my mouth on countless times growing taut.

A painful lump fills my throat. He’s figured it out. Maybe not entirely, but he knows it’s something bad. “Can we talk about this later?”

I can see the internal struggle inside him. Will he even want anything to do with me later? Cain could do a lot of things right now. He could put up a fight. He could pull me into his car.

Or he could just walk away.

Finally, with narrowed eyes, he asks, “Are you in danger?”

“No,” I lie quickly, my eyes flickering to where Jimmy stands, his head turned and tilted as if he’s trying to catch the conversation.

“Charlie! We have to go. Your father is waiting for you,” Jimmy calls out in a sterner voice than I’ve ever heard him use with me. Maybe that’s his normal tone. I don’t know anything about Jimmy. He could be a cold- blooded killer. He could be planning Cain’s death right now.

I don’t have to look up at Cain’s face to know that there’s a cyclic storm of unanswered questions brewing in his head. Is he wondering about the father that’s in jail? Or the one who called today?

I don’t need to look, and yet I do. My heart stops.

I don’t miss the subtle shake of his head, the clenched teeth.

The disappointment.

The anger, as he realizes that the woman he’s been nothing but kind and generous and loving to is a liar.

I hear the agony in my voice as I whisper, “You need to let me go.” For good. I’m no good for him.

“You want me to let you go? Fine.” I see him swallow hard and then his face turns stony. “Consider yourself gone.”

* * *

“What is this?” The guy flips a few strands of my black hair through his fingers. “A wig?”

“You want to borrow it?” I ask smoothly, letting my eyes shift pointedly to his receding hairline.

I get a cold, flinty glare in return. “You’ve got a smart mouth, don’t ya?”

It’s the only thing keeping me from pissing my pants right now. I bite down on my tongue to keep quiet and scan the small hotel room for anything important to note. It’s a different hotel than before, but just as high end. Eddie and Bob are here—without any family as cover—but so is this new guy. He’s on the heavier side, with beady eyes and a couple of days of dark scruff that camouflage the pockmarks on his cheeks. He calls himself Manny. Apparently he’s Eddie’s new partner. Maybe he is, but there’s standard protocol and Eddie has clearly broken it.

Manny is not supposed to be here. The second I saw him sitting on the bed, I made a move to leave but Bob was there, blocking my exit, grabbing my purse before I could think to pull out my gun.

I knew I was trapped.