Комбат. Игра без правил. Андрей Воронин

telling anyone the real story. There didn’t seem to be a point. “Eric wouldn’t have been able to put up with suspension. He probably would have dropped out.” Not that graduating high school and going on to college had managed to do very much for his brother. It had been just another excuse to continue floating. Cole had hoped otherwise.

      “So you took the fall for him. No wonder he thought of you as a saint.” She stopped to take a sip of her tea. “You didn’t drop out,” she recalled.

      He smiled more to himself than at her. “Someone convinced me I needed an education.”

      “Oh?” Interest peaked, she cocked her head. “Someone in the Addams Family?”

      He grinned. The woman had remembered the analogy he’d made earlier. But there was no way that his grandfather could have been considered part of the circus that comprised his family except in the strictest sense of the word “family.”

      “My father’s father. He was a black sheep, like me.” A fondness came into his voice. It was the money his grandfather had left him that now allowed him to do what he felt was his calling. And to be his own person, unlike Eric who had always been tied to his parents’ purse strings. “He was the one who told me that the way a black sheep keeps from getting sheered is by learning to stay ten steps ahead of everyone else.”

      “And do you?” she wanted to know. “Stay ten steps ahead?”

      He knew she was pulling information out of him. More information than he was accustomed to volunteering, but for now, it amused him to watch her at work. So he played along.

      “At least five.”

      Because she identified with what he was saying, she laughed softly. It wasn’t all that long ago that she’d followed the same path. “That sounds more like the credo of a con artist than an educated man.”

      He thought of the paths he’d followed before he’d settled down to his present way of life. He’d been a little of everything, including a mercenary for a while, taking on all life had to give just to feel something, anything. Adrenaline coursing through his veins when his life was on the line in the jungles of Bogota was as close as he got to experiencing anything.

      “I’m guilty of both.”

      She was surprised he admitted it. “And are you still a con man?”

      His smile locked her out. “At present, I’m a respected businessman.”

      But she apparently wasn’t one to accept a locked door and back away. “What sort of business?”

      He put it in the most nebulous of terms. “I buy houses that need work—then work.”

      She’d done a little homework before coming to meet him. It helped to have an in with someone in the IRS. His last form had referred to him as a builder. And there had been numerous charitable contributions cited, as well. “You make it sound simple.”

      He shrugged as he finished his main course. “At bottom, most things are.”

      Finished, as well, she pushed aside her plate and reached for her fortune cookie. “Interesting philosophy. But it’s usually hard to get to the bottom.”

      He watched her long, slim fingers crack the golden shell. “Never said it was easy.” He indicated the paper she cast aside. “Aren’t you going to read your fortune?”

      “I don’t believe in the clairvoyant powers of a cookie.” But because he was watching her, she glanced at the slim paper. You will find love soon, it read. Yeah, right. She raised her eyes back to his face. “What do you want with me?”

      The prepared answer was not the one that rose in his mind. The word “want” all but shimmered in front of him. A man could want a woman like Lorrayne. She was more than pleasant to look at, the rebelliousness in her eyes having not quite been tamed by the position she’d assumed. Everything appealing and attractive had conspired to join forces within Lorrayne Cavanaugh. The last job in the world he would have said she’d been drawn to was that of police detective.

      But a police detective was exactly what he needed right now. If there were other needs unexpectedly raising their heads, he would just have to ignore them.

      He was fighting the clock. The D.A.’s office was out for blood. Eric’s blood. Even if his brother wasn’t guilty, everyone thought he was and appearance was enough to appease the masses.

      He had to change that. But he couldn’t do it alone.

      “I want you to help me prove that my brother’s innocent.”

      “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m part of the Aurora police force.”

      She began to refill her cup, but he took the teapot from her and did the honors himself. “I noticed. That’s why I came to you.”

      Ignoring the tea, she began to slide out of the booth. “I’m afraid there’s more than a slight conflict of interest here.”

      Cole took hold of her wrist. “Just hear me out.”

      Training told her to shake off his hand and to keep walking. Instinct told her to stay. She’d learned that the Cavanaugh instinct was more than just a pleasant myth her father liked to regale them with. It was based on the truth. They could all testify to that.

      With a sigh, Rayne settled back in the booth. “Okay, talk.”