Chapter Two
Ransom
I’d been right about to make my goodbyes and take my exit when she’d come in, and after I’d scoped the thousand-dollar shoes on her feet--definitely out of the ordinary for a place like the Green Leaf Diner--I’d decided to stay a bit longer, just for the sake of curiosity. Of course, as cold as it was, I’d have taken any real reason to keep sitting at the counter, but I’d had plenty of coffee already, and I didn’t want to buy anything else to eat if I didn’t have to.
“What do you want to know?” I resisted the urge to call her princess again--even if it was apt--and turned my chair to face her. She had brown hair and gorgeous hazel eyes. I thought about getting up and taking the seat next to hers, but she had the look of someone who was a bit jumpy. Just what’s your damage, princess?
She scrunched her nose. “You’re not like...with the mob or anything, right?”
I laughed at that question. For someone as cynical as Bethany acted, that was a naive question.
“I’ve done a couple of things for a couple of families but I’m not in the mob,” I replied. “It’s always good to have powerful people owe you a solid or two.” I let that sink in for a moment. “What do you do for a living? I mean, it must be something important--considering the shoes.”
She rolled her eyes but I could see her cheeks lighting up with a new blush.
“I’m an executive at an adoption agency, a non-profit,” she said. “I know it probably looks like we’re one of those organizations that takes all the money--the shoes, like you said--but we really do work hard to get good placements for kids who wouldn’t otherwise have great chances in the system.” It’s a set piece, a routine, and I know she’s probably told at least a hundred people something along the same lines; of course, plenty of people have reasons to doubt the good intentions of adoption organizations.
“Which one do you work for?” I reminded myself to keep my voice under control, to play it cool; there was almost no chance she worked for the company I was interested in, after all--there were dozens of nonprofits throughout the country.
“The Hannah Wells Organization,” she said, as if she’d read my mind. I made myself take a breath. Whatever job she had in mind, I was definitely interested in finding a way to do it.
“So, were you some good girl in school, and you’re making your triumphant Homecoming Queen Makes Good return to the old alma mater?” I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at her steadily. “And where do I figure into this?”
“I was never the homecoming queen, first of all,” she told me tartly. “But you’re sort of right. I’m going to the reunion to kind of...I guess show off,” she admitted.
“The only reason to go to a reunion, unless you’re one of the saps who’s still friends with your student government, prom planning buddies,” I pointed out.
“That was about the way I figured it--even if I wouldn’t have called them saps,” Bethany said.
“So where do I figure in your plans?”
She looked at me a moment longer and I thought she’d chicken out. “I want a date to the event,” she said quickly. “I don’t really have much of a social life--I work too much for that--but I want to have the perfect life to show off to my former classmates.”
I barely managed to bite back a laugh. “Being an executive for one of the world’s worthy causes isn’t enough of a win?”
“All these people...they’re going on vacations to the Bahamas, and getting married, and all that,” Bethany explained. “I just...I guess I don’t want anyone to have any reason to feel bad for me.”
“How are they going to know for sure that you’re a sad lonely-heart if you don’t tell them?” Why the hell should she care? She should find the captain of the football team and if he’s still halfway in decent shape she should fuck his brains out--he’d be crazy to turn her down. Bethany was unquestionably hot: medium-brown hair and big, hazel eyes, clear skin without any sign of wrinkles, and in spite of the office-appropriate attire, it was pretty easy to estimate her at a generous cup size, with excellent curves--as one of the rappers once put it: a winning hand. She could probably get the entire football team, if she wanted them.
“It’d be better to have proof, and I’m willing to pay well for it,” she said.
I whistled lowly at that. “You’re going to pay someone to be your boyfriend for a weekend?”
“My longtime boyfriend,” she corrected me. “The idea would be to act like we’ve been dating a good long while.”
“Easy enough,” I said, shrugging. “What’s the price you’re willing to pay?”
“Fifteen thousand,” she said, without hesitation.
I let out another whistle. “They’re paying you well at that nonprofit.”
“I make enough...and I don’t have a social life, like I said, so I’ve been able to save money,” she pointed out.
“Fifteen thousand to pretend to be your boyfriend.” I took a bite of my pie and sipped my water.
“Will you do it?”
I pretended to think about it for a few moments. The money wasn’t really an issue; I could always make money.
“Eh--I’ve got my own business to take care of in town this weekend,” I said, just to tease her a bit.
“Twenty thousand?” That was more money than I’d taken to run a few--very odd--jobs for Jimmy Linetti. But this was obviously a one-time deal, not repeat work, so twenty thousand was solid.
“Five thousand wouldn’t make that much of a difference, not at the end of the day,” I pointed out. “Actually, you might be able to get a good deal on this--if you’re willing to trade in a little ethics instead of cold cash.”
“What do you mean?” Bethany frowned at me and I licked my lips, hoping against hope she’d go along with me.
“One of the pots I’ve got on the back burner has to do with the very agency you work for,” I explained. “If you’d be willing to give me some secure access to files, I’d be happy to pretend to be your boyfriend--hell, I’d pretend to be your husband--for the weekend.” Bethany’s frown deepened at that and I thought idly to myself that no woman that cute had a reason to have such a pronounced frown, like she was used to being disappointed.
“What do you want secure access for?”
“That’s my business,” I replied. “If you give me access to the files, I’ll be your loving, devoted boyfriend and swear up and down that you’re the only girl for me.”
“You’re sure you wouldn’t just take the money instead?”
I shook my head. “I’d have to declare it on my taxes--I don’t need that kind of headache,” I said. “The information is good enough for me.”
“You’re not going to use it for criminal purposes?”
I laughed at that. “Not really,” I said. “Nobody’s going to get hurt as a result. I just need some information.” Of course, that wasn’t entirely true, but I couldn’t give up on the best chance at a break I’d gotten in years.
“You’re completely sure I can’t convince you to take the money?”
I laughed again. “I am completely sure that the only thing I want is information, which I can only get with secure access to files you should be able to open,” I said. “Take it or leave it, Bethany.” I turned away from her then, pretending to be interested in my pie and my phone, giving her a chance to think it over. She hadn’t eaten much of her own dinner, and a woman like that didn’t need to skip meals.
She turned back to her food, I saw in the corner of my eye. I was willing to wait. I was pretty sure she’d go along with my plan; I’d done the song and dance before, negotiating terms with people a lot tougher than her. At the end of the day, we each had something we wanted that the other person could help us with--that was all that mattered.