After Con Man Read online

  After Con Man

  Bonus Book

  M. S. Parker

  Belmonte Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Copyright

  M. S. Parker

  After Con Man

  1. Karis

  2. Bron

  3. Karis

  4. Bron

  5. Karis

  Also by M. S. Parker

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 Belmonte Publishing LLC

  Published by Belmonte Publishing LLC

  After Con Man

  M. S. Parker

  Bonus Epilogue to Con Man. CLICK HERE to download the complete series in a single box set.

  Chapter One

  Karis

  It was cold again, snowy and gray, typical for mid-January in this city. As I settled into the seat in front of the security screens, I couldn't help but remember how it had been a year ago – a little warmer, but just as gray. Like before, I didn't mind it quite so much, not when I would finally be getting what I truly wanted.

  My life had changed that New Year's Eve when I'd gone to pick up my childhood sweetheart, Bron Du Murier, from prison. That day had been the beginning of the two of us working on building our trust, regaining the friendship that we’d had at one point. Now, Bron and I were as close as we'd ever been. He'd moved into my apartment the day he'd been released, and the only nights we hadn't shared a bed were those times we were working on a case. We went out occasionally but were always careful with how we appeared in public. No kissing. No hand holding. As long as we were discreet, the FBI turned a blind eye to us. Our relationship hadn't been anywhere close to normal, but it was ours.

  And after today, we would be able to take another step forward. The first step toward a real future together.

  Assuming my charming boyfriend was able to pull off one last job.

  “Breathe, Karis.” A familiar hand came down on my shoulder. It was Benita Alverez, my mentor and partner. At close to forty, she was like a combination big sister and mother to me. “He'll be okay. He knows what he's doing.”

  She was right. This wasn't the first time Bron had gone undercover, using his expertise from his years of criminal behavior. But it was supposed to be the last, and for some reason, this case was making me more antsy than usual.

  “Take a look.” Benita continued to keep her voice low so that I was the only one who could hear her. “He's safe, Karis. I won't let anything happen to him.”

  She'd promised me that right before their first case. While she was my partner, which meant I was involved in all of Bron's cases, she was the one in charge of him so there wasn't quite as much conflict of interest. She'd even worked all of that out with our boss, Colman Gau so that I'd never been in the dark about what Bron was doing. After spending a decade not knowing where he was or what he was doing, I tended to be a little overly anxious about his well-being.

  “I know,” I said as I found the familiar figure on the screen.

  Six and a half feet tall, Bron was hard to miss. The picture was in black-and-white, but I didn't need color to know the exact shade of bronze his hair was, the perfect cerulean blue of his eyes. I knew every inch of his body, every hard plane of muscle in his lean frame.

  My stomach clenched at the sight of him. It never failed to amaze me that still, after all this time, my desire for him had never waned. If anything, it only seemed to grow, as if making up for our years apart.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and began to pace as he waited for his contact to show. Three months of hard work all came down to this meeting. There'd been a group of art thieves and forgers who'd been on the FBI's Most Wanted list for a few years, and we'd never been able to get close. They'd stolen millions of dollars’ worth of sculptures and paintings as well as other pieces of art and historical artifacts. Somehow, they’d always disappeared into thin air.

  Then, by chance, Bron had made contact with a contractor who got a little too free with his mouth when plied with enough liquor. That gave us our in, and now Bron was in place to meet the head of the entire organization.

  My pulse was racing, and I kept my hands on my lap, twisting my fingers together as I worked to hide my anxiety. I appreciated all of the work Bron had done for the FBI, was proud of all that he'd done, but it didn't stop me from worrying. This job, however, worried me more than most. The ringleader of this particular group had been more like Bron's childhood mentor than I was comfortable with. Uaine Leconte was at the beginning of his very long prison sentence, but there were still times I had nightmares about that final stand-off between he and Bron. A nightmare with a much worse ending than the one we'd actually gotten. Now, something in my gut was telling me that Bron was walking into the same kind of danger.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” I muttered.

  “Karis?” Benita leaned down, moving closer.

  “I don't know what it is, Benita, but something isn't sitting right with me.” I shifted in my chair without taking my eyes off the screen.

  Benita raised her radio. “Perimeter check.”

  One by one, the agents set up at various points around the warehouse answered back that everything was all clear.

  “That doesn't really make me feel any better,” I admitted. When Benita gave me a questioning look, I explained, “No one's checking to make sure the guys coming in aren't carrying.”

  Benita's expression hardened. “True.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “But we'll have eyes on him, Karis. It’s not like we can pat them down at the door.”

  It should've made me feel better, but it didn't. I didn't press the issue though because Benita's radio crackled to life again. Something was happening.

  “Targets approaching from the southeast.”

  I stiffened and leaned forward, my nose practically pressed to the screen. Showtime.

  I recognized two of the men entering the warehouse – well, technically one man and one woman. They had both met with Bron before, worked with him on a heist that we'd had to let him pull off in order to gain their trust. The man called himself Poe, but we didn't know if it was part of his name or something he'd christened himself. Bron had gotten us fingerprints, but the guy wasn't in any database despite the bodies we knew he'd left in his wake.

  It unnerved me that people could get away with such violent acts without leaving a trace. Bron had been good enough to pretty much stay under the radar, but he'd never been violent. This group didn't seem to care at all about collateral damage. In fact, I'd gotten the impression that some of them actually enjoyed it.

  The woman was Amanda Paine, though the name she used with Bron was Rayn. She'd been arrested a few times in the past for petty theft, fraud, and solicitation. She was in her early thirties and, according to Bron, the deadlier of the two. Cold and calculating, she always went for the straightforward approach, even if it meant someone got hurt.

  She still wasn't the one who called the shots though. That man had remained in the shadows...until now.

  I studied him as he walked between the other two, forcing myself to make note of all the clinical details as a way of distracting myself from my unease. He was shorter than everyone else, barely five and a half feet, and stocky. He had none of the smooth grace Bron possessed. He looked like he'd be more at home working construction or acting as the muscle for organized crime than setting up cons or stealing artwork.

  Bron called him Finley, but that was all we'd known until this mom
ent. Once we took him in, we'd run his prints, see if our mysterious Finley already had a few outstanding warrants, or had left evidence at any prior crime scene. Even if he hadn't, Bron had gotten us enough information on everyone involved that there was a reasonable expectation that at least one of the others would take a deal in exchange for testifying. The DA was going to be busy for a while with these.

  Bron spoke, his voice tinny sounding. “You're late.”

  I normally would've snickered, or at least smiled, but now, all I could think of was that this guy wasn't someone Bron should be smarting off to. I knew from experience how deceiving looks could be. I was six feet tall and athletic while my partner was barely five-four.

  And she could scare the shit out of me when she wanted to.

  My gut told me that this guy, this Finley, was the same way. He might not have been very big, but the way he sized everyone up said that he'd have no problem using whatever means necessary to get what he wanted.

  Finley shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  His voice was surprisingly soft, with just a hint of some sort of accent. I couldn't quite tell what, but it sounded European.

  “Bron Du Murier, this is Finley.” Poe made the introduction.

  Bron took a step forward and held out his hand. His back was to the camera we'd set up, but I knew he'd have on one of those infuriatingly charming smiles of his. The sort of smile that had gotten him out of trouble more than once when we'd been kids.

  Finley shook his hand but didn't smile.

  “I've been hearing things about you, Du Murier,” Finley said.

  “Good things, I hope.”

  Shit. He seriously needed to stop being so fucking glib.

  “That depends,” Finley continued. “On who you believe.”

  That didn't sound good.

  “You see, I've been looking into you, Mr. Du Murier, and there seems to be a differing of opinions regarding your...loyalties.”

  Fuck.

  I started to stand, but a harsh glance from Benita made me sit back down again.

  “Give him a minute,” she said. “We don't want to bust in there and mess this up. We need a definite connection between this Finley guy and the ring.”

  She was right. If it'd been any other agent or informant in there, I'd be waiting to see how things played out. But if it were anyone else, my stomach wouldn't have been in knots.

  “That's easy,” Bron said. “My loyalty's always been to myself, which means some people think that I'm disloyal to them when what I want doesn't mesh with what they want.”

  Finley stroked his beard. “That does make sense.”

  I started to relax.

  “Except I've heard stories about you and Uaine Leconte.”

  I tensed again.

  “I was one of Uaine's...projects.” Bron's voice was tight. “We didn't see eye-to-eye on some things, so I went off on my own.”

  “But you met with him last year,” Finley countered. “In fact, rumor has it that you were with him when he was arrested.”

  “We were both arrested,” Bron clarified.

  Bron had only spent a few months in prison, but we'd been able to work it so that it worked in his favor. If anyone looked into it, they'd believe that Bron's sentence had been reversed due to some FBI error. His background had held solid through every other job, and logic would say that it would hold this time too.

  My instincts, however, told me that something was different this time.

  “And now you're out, and he's still in,” Finley continued. “I think that's quite a coincidence.”

  I watched as Poe and Amanda shifted their stance. Bron took his hands out of his pockets. He didn't make a threatening move, but I knew that he was making sure his hands were free for whatever was coming.

  “Not my fault the FBI screwed up,” Bron said easily. “My case was tossed. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk business. That's why we're here, is it not?”

  “Strip.”

  I blinked, thinking I'd misheard.

  “Sorry, buddy,” Bron said with a chuckle. “I don't swing that way.”

  “Funny, asshole.” Finley reached into his pocket. “Is it the cops or the Feds?”

  Oh, fuck.

  “What?”

  “Who's got you wired?” Finley asked. “The Feds or the cops?”

  My heart stopped when he pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at the man I loved.

  Chapter Two

  Bron

  Well, that all went to hell faster than I expected.

  I'd had a bad feeling about this meet from the moment Poe first told me about it, but I hadn't let Karis see it. I knew if she had, she would've tried to step in, and doing that would put her career at risk. I wasn't going to do that any more than I already had. She'd worked too hard to get to where she was, and being with me made it that much harder.

  “Hey, buddy, put that thing down.” I put my hands up, kept my voice calm. Thanks to Uaine, this wasn't the first time I'd been faced with an asshole with a gun. I knew the best thing to do was stay calm and try to talk him down.

  “Finley, what're you doing?” Poe sounded uneasy.

  “Doing your fucking job, Poe.” Finley's voice was even. “You're supposed to vet people before I meet them, but you let this son of a bitch in with a wire.”

  “No way, Finley,” Poe protested. “Bron's clean. He's been working with me and Amanda, and we haven't been caught.”

  “Answer me.” Finley kept his eyes on me as he ignored Poe. “Who are you working for, Du Murier? Feds or cops?” He shook his head. “You know what, it doesn't matter. How about you give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now?”

  Would he listen if I told him not to shoot me because the woman I loved was watching? Because, for the first time since I was a child, I had a future with hope?

  I doubted it.

  So I went to my old stand-by. “Because I'm not worth death row.”

  I kept my hands where he could see them, not wanting to give him another excuse to pull the trigger. His eyes narrowed at my words.

  “You shoot me, and there's no way to escape a needle, Finley. The FBI's on their way, and if you kill me, they'll make sure you get the death penalty, one way or the other.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Poe yelled at me, but I didn't even look at him.

  Amanda threw a few curses my way, but they were quiet enough I didn't hear the exact words.

  “Come on, Finley, put down the gun. If you leave now, you might be able to get away.” I knew that wasn't going to happen, but I had to get him to believe it.

  “You're full of shit.”

  I was.

  And for a moment, I thought I was dead, that Finley's finger had tightened on the trigger and the sound I heard was the gunshot.

  Except it wasn't.

  It was the sound of the door slamming open as Benita led the way in. I saw her out of the corner of my eye but didn't risk turning my head. Not even when I saw Karis following her partner into the warehouse. I knew Agent Alverez wouldn't let anything happen to her partner.

  “FBI!” Benita yelled, her voice forceful. “Drop the gun and put your hands behind your head.”

  “I don't think so,” Finley said, the gun still pointed straight at my face. “You want your boy alive, you're going to let me leave.”

  “Us,” Poe spoke up. “Us, right?”

  “You can have those two,” Finley said. “But you will let me walk.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Shut it, Poe,” Benita snapped. “On the floor. Hands behind your head. And Finley, put down the fucking gun.”

  “I'll kill him.” The words were flat out.

  “Go ahead.”

  I had to admit, it wasn't exactly reassuring to hear Benita tell the guy with the gun that it was okay to kill me. In the beginning, she hadn't been my biggest fan, but over the last year, I liked to think that the two of us had come to some sort of agreement. I knew she was calling
his bluff.

  At least, I hoped that's what she was doing.

  “You think I won't?” Finley asked. “I'll kill him.”

  “The paperwork will be a bitch, but other than that...” Benita let her statement trail off.

  “Listen to me, you fucking cunt–” His eyes slid over just a fraction, and that was all I needed.

  I put everything behind my punch and felt the jolt all the way up my arm when I made contact with Finley's jaw. Despite how hard I'd hit him, I had to admit, I was actually a little surprised when Finley dropped like a stone, the gun falling from his fingers.

  Even as I shook out my hand, agents rushed in. They cuffed Amanda's and Poe's hands behind their backs, rattling off the familiar Miranda Rights. Benita herself went to Finley even as Karis threw her arms around me. I knew we had eyes on us, but I couldn't stop myself from pulling her against me and pressing my lips to the top of her head. This had been a little too close for comfort.

  “I'm okay,” I murmured as I ran my hand up and down her spine, breathed in the familiar scent of her orange-mango shampoo and body wash.

  Her embrace tightened for a moment, and then she took a step back. Her normally porcelain skin was flushed, her dark curls spilling out from her up-do. My heart gave a painful thump. When she and I had first decided to pursue this relationship, I'd feared that we'd find it made up of nothing but childhood fantasies, that who we were as adults wouldn't be compatible, or that the intensity of what we felt would fade once the novelty was gone.

  It hadn't happened, and I was hopeful now that it never would. I didn't think I'd be able to survive losing her again.

  “Agent Alverez.” I forced myself to look away from Karis so she could compose herself. “Thanks for not letting him shoot me.”

  Benita straightened and gave me one of those half-smiles that I always seemed to earn from her. “I wasn't lying about the paperwork being a bitch. And we all know how much I hate paperwork.”