Page 93 of Three Steps Behind

He was being ridiculous. He never lost his cool like that. Never on the job and most certainly not in his personal life. Which begged the question, When had this become personal to him?

She stood by the door, waiting.

Ten minutes after Dalton left, at least. That’s what Aubry said. Make noise in the apartment, turn on the TV, then sneak across the hall.

She glanced at her watch as she moved to turn on the TV. Only five more minutes. She made noise in the kitchen. Got a glass of water. Crumpled a bag of chips, then moved for the door. She looked through the peephole as guilt sifted through. She rarely experienced guilt. It was not in her wheelhouse, but tonight it was very present.

Aubry, who she had to admit seemed to be a genuinely good guy, only revealed the stark contrast between his morals and hers. White to black, and she hated it. When had things turned bad for her?

She exhaled a dry chuckle.

From birth.

She hadn’t had a chance to be a kid, and it’d tarnished her. She’d learned her mother’s skill set from a way-too-young age.

Actually, outdid her mother. Became the best, but she’d kept her cons to the guilty while her mother and father preyed on the guilty and innocent alike.

She touched her lips, the memory of Dalton’s kiss lingering. Her stomach roiled. This was harder than she’d imagined, in more ways than one.

Fifteen minutes in, she opened the door, checked the hallway, and tiptoed across, holding a measuring cup. Who’d buy her baking at eleven fifteen at night—who’d buy her baking period? But she was following orders. Aubry gave her suggestions. Baxter barked out the orders.

Without a word, she stepped inside Aubry’s apartment, and the door shut behind her.

She turned to face him, guilt rearing its head again. This time over Dalton’s kiss, oddly enough. She hadn’t initiated it and certainly hadn’t wanted it, but it was part of the con of catching Dalton. It was gross, and the thought of it soured her stomach, but why guilt?

She swallowed, knowing why. The reason was standing in front of her, but the notion alone was absurd. A good man like Aubry could never fall for a girl like her.

“What happened?” He finally broke the silence standing between them.

She narrowed her eyes. “What happened with what?”

“Your comms were out for twelve minutes.”

“They were?” She touched her necklace. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I was just . . .”

She stepped closer. “Just?”

He cleared his throat. “Just worried about you.”

“You were?”

He nodded, and the words left her mouth before she’d realized it. “I found a second office behind a wall.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

She nodded. Had she seriously told the Feds the truth? No. She’d told Aubry the truth—all except the money.

“In the bedroom. That would explain why the comms went out.”

And there went the unspoken lie. She’d spent a lifetime lying, and now not speaking the truth was killing her. What was going on? She was on one of those spinning rides at the fair they never got to go to as kids—everything was discombobulated.

“Let me check the mic in your necklace just to be sure.”

“Okay.”

He moved behind her, and his fingers tickled the back of her neck, sending goose bumps rippling over her.