AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You didn’t like him either.” Sam wagged his tail and blinked up at me. “Traitor. You ate whatever it was he fed you.”
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His tail wagged harder, and I stroked behind his ears.
“Let’s see what else we’ve got.”
I riffled though the wallet. Multiple American Express Centurion credit cards. An expired car insurance card for . . . a Ford pickup? I’d pictured him driving a Maserati or a Bentley. Definitely not a pickup. His suit probably cost as much as a truck.
A Visa. Discover. Mastercard. Another Visa.
The pile of plastic grew on the comforter beside me.
A Costco membership. With another impeccable photo. I tried to picture him warehouse shopping and couldn’t come up with the image to save my life.
I unfolded a photo, and my eyes were immediately drawn to him. This younger version of Drew still had a cocky smile, but it was carefree. His arms were slung around the two men who were at the shelter with him earlier today, both of them laughing. Even though the paper was worn, I felt the joy radiating from the photo. They weren’t the only three posing. Two women were beside them, but one had a crease through her face, making it impossible to see her features. Mother and sister maybe? The photo paper appeared to have been opened and closed so many times, there were white ridges in the crinkles.
Who was this man?
In the same slot I’d pulled the photo from, a baseball card peeked out. If possible, it was more worn than the picture and basically a solid rectangle of wrinkle. I could read Texas Rangers on the bottom, but like the woman in the other photo, the face on the card was too far gone to make out.
Weren’t baseball cards supposed to be treasured to hold their value?
Finally, I checked the long slot for bills. A twenty, a five, and three ones. I fingered the smooth leather of the bi-fold wallet. It was a two-thousand-dollar Tom Ford and housed not a single hundred dollar bill.
Who. Was. This. Man?
He wasn’t at Paths of Purpose by choice, and if he treated all women the way he’d just treated me, he shouldn’t be here.
I didn’t like him.
I especially didn’t like him seeing through my bruise, almost as if he knew the story behind it. I thrived on my marks buying whatever I chose to sell. Drew Harris Carter and I were more alike than I was comfortable with.
I touched my earlobe, but the earrings that were always there when I was between marks were missing. My neck and wrist twinged with the bare feeling in the absence of my other jewelry. That made me restless. Less grounded. Indecisive.
I should turn him in to Mrs. Quinn. Get him out of here before he caused problems for me. His threat to expose me wasn’t hollow. He’d been too . . . forbidding, as if he had the resources and the means to unmask me, and I couldn’t risk that.
Except . . . I didn’t really want him to go.
For every second he’d infuriated me, my interest had been equally piqued, which was dangerous. That made it too easy for him to get inside when I survived by keeping people out. The element of danger was what lured me into swindling men. There was always a risk of getting caught, and I liked pushing the envelope and seeing just how far I could go and still escape.
Stealing Drew’s wallet was playing with fire. That one act essentially confirmed exactly what he’d accused me of. I wasn’t who I seemed. Part of me had wanted him to know, to find out what he’d do, see if he would try to get me kicked out of here. I didn’t think he would. Not yet. But the little tingle of nerves at the thought of being exposed excited me.
He was bad news, too tempting. He wouldn’t just hand over the cash and the gifts. I’d have to work hard, and I’d enjoy it all the more when I got him to give me something big because I didn’t like him.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Sonya?”
Dammit. “Just a sec,” I called, shoving the contents back into Drew’s wallet and under the pillow. I smoothed my face into a pleasant expression and opened the door.
“Hey. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but you weren’t at dinner, so I thought I’d bring something up to you,” Trish said, carrying a plate of food in one hand and a bowl for Sam in the other.
“You didn’t have to do that.” I tried to sound appreciative, but it came out forced.
The smile on Trish’s face dimmed. “I’ll just put it on the table and get out of your way.” She placed the plate on the nightstand, hesitating as if waiting for an invitation to stay.
Company was the last thing I wanted, but I heard myself offering her a seat while I grabbed the plate and sat on the bed. Trish bent to place Sam’s bowl on the floor, but I pointed beside me. Why should he have to eat on the floor if I wasn’t?
