Page 55 of Outsider

“I’m going to head home. Get on the phone. See what else I can find out about Tyson.”

“Keep me posted, will you?”

He leans in for a kiss, then motions with his eyes toward Gina. “Keep an eye on her.”

His cell phone pinged at the stroke of midnight and vibrated across the polished wood surface of the night table next to the bed. Ken Mercer rolled away from his sleeping wife, reached for it, and squinted at the display. Though the number was unfamiliar, his heart quickened. How very like her to call at the witching hour.…

Rising, he cast a final look at his wife’s form and went through the door, closing it behind him. “Yeah,” he said in a sleep-roughened voice.

“Took you long enough,” came the female voice on the other end. “I didn’t catch you in the middle of something, did I?”

Regardless of her words—whether they were cutting or kind or somewhere in between—the sound of her voice always had the same effect. It put him on edge. Aroused him in ways that weren’t quite sexual. Made him feel like the man he hadn’t been for a long time.

“Where the hell are you?” he whispered. “I’ve been out of my fucking mind. Why didn’t you call? I thought they’d…” His voice breaks. “For God’s sake, I thought the next call I got was going to be about someone finding your body in a goddamn field.”

“I’m fine,” she said, unaffected. “Safe.”

“They said you were hit. There was blood at the scene.”

“I got it taken care of. I’m okay.”

His breathing was elevated. He was wide awake now. Senses humming an uneven refrain. As always, she had his undivided attention. “I was afraid to call you. Even on the burner.”

“You’re the only one who has the number. What do you think I am, a rookie?”

No, he didn’t think that. Not by a long shot. She hadn’t been a rookie for a very long time. “Where are you?” he asked. Trying not to sound too anxious. Too needy. Not wanting her to know just how desperate he’d been to hear from her.

“You know I can’t tell you,” she said. “Plausible deniability, remember? You never know when someone is going to be looking at your cell phone records.”

He sighed. “Look, all hell is breaking loose here. There’s an APB out for you. They IDed the truck you were using and you’re fucking Al Capone. Monaghan is shitting bricks, and everyone and their uncle is looking for you.”

“They can look all they want. They won’t find me.” Despite the situation, confidence and arrogance rang in her voice. With any other woman, those traits would have been brash and unappealing. Not this woman. She wore both of those traits like a second skin that was as taut and polished as her own.

“What happened to Jack Tyson?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard.”

Even now, after everything that had transpired between them, he didn’t like lying to her. The feeling wasn’t reciprocal; lying was second nature to her. She was good at it and enjoyed the game—often at his expense. He’d learned to accept it, look past it, embrace it even. Some things were more important than the truth.

“Did they kill him?” she asked.

“No way. Tyson was solid. Everyone trusted him.” Another lie, but such was the nature of their relationship. “Could have been a gang hit.”

“I don’t like the timing.”

“Welcome to the club,” he said. “I don’t like any of this.”

Silence sizzled over the miles between them. His need for her stirred low in his gut.

“They think you took the money,” he said after a moment.

She laughed. Of course, she would laugh. Not only did she have a penchant for lying, but she had no problem courting danger. Such a volatile combination. He wondered if she knew just how much danger she’d stepped into this time.

“Maybe I did,” she said.

“I guess that means you’ve been a bad girl.”

“That’s exactly why you can’t get enough of me,” she whispered. “That’s why you’re standing in the hall outside your bedroom door with a raging hard-on. That’s why you’re going to leave your wife and spend the rest of your life trying to live up to my expectations. Isn’t it?”