First Lie Wins(88)

The only thing inside is a small, white origami swan.

A look of confusion flashes across his face for one second, then two.

The confusion shifts to anger. An anger so consuming that it feels like it sucks the air out of the room. His eyes narrow and his brows snap together. His jaw clenches.

Tick, tick, tick.

“I guess I don’t need to call you George anymore,” I say, if only to drown out the clock.

He picks up the swan by one of the little wings and twirls it around. Then he takes his time, slowly opening it up, verifying that the paper is blank. There’s no question that there is no information on either him or Victor Connolly in this box.

I was prepared for a lot of different reactions, but the unrelenting attention on the empty box wasn’t one of them. “I used to think you picked Mr. Smith because you were a big Matrix fan or lacked imagination, but you are literally Mr. Smith. Mr. Christopher Smith. Pretty ingenious, actually. Your name is already one of the most generic names out there.” I’m rambling.

A laugh escapes him but there’s no humor behind it.

He finally faces me, the unfolded paper still in his hand. One step, then two. Each step he takes toward me, I take a step back.

The paper slips from his hand and floats to the floor.

Another step forward.

Another step I take back.

“When did you figure it out?”

“Figure out that my boss and my delivery guy were the same person? Figure out your real name? Yesterday afternoon,” I answer.

He nods to the open safe deposit box. “But this has been waiting for me for much longer.”

I nod.

“While I’m impressed you were able to discover what so many others have tried and failed to in the past, you knowing my name doesn’t change a single thing.” There is an edge to his voice that tells me it’s taking everything in him to remain in control. “Where is the information Amy Holder stole from me? You left that hotel just as her room went up in flames, and this was your first stop. Don’t lie to me again and say you didn’t keep it for yourself.” He glances to the hundred or so other boxes lining the walls, and I can see what he’s thinking, that I’ve got more than one box and it could still be close by.

“Oh, I got what Amy took, I just didn’t leave it here,” I say, gesturing to the other side of the room. “But I knew you would think I did. That was one of the many lessons you taught me: It’s hard to get caught if you aren’t in possession of what you stole when they catch you.”

We’re only inches apart now that my back is against the wall. The metal handles of the boxes behind me are digging into my skin. I use the pain to help focus. I may be at his mercy in this room, but there is a crowd on the other side of this door. It won’t be easy for him to walk out of here without me, since the woman who let us in is waiting to lock the box back up.

“You failed a job for your own benefit.”

“You’re assuming I failed. That job was successful, you just didn’t understand what the end goal was.” I’m throwing his words back in his face, and from the look he is giving me, I know I’d be dead if we were anywhere other than where we are.

He crosses his arms. “It seems we are more alike than you would want to admit. Instead of completing the job you were hired to do, you took advantage of the situation.”

The words hit their mark, but I can’t let him get in my head. “I’ve learned . . . so much from you over the years. But probably the most important thing I learned was—Do whatever I must to save myself and the job. Those are words I worked very hard to live up to.”

“You’ve come a long way since that trailer park in North Carolina. I had high hopes for you, but what a disappointment you turned out to be,” he sneers at me.

“I was your best asset and we both know it. You know nothing about disappointments.”

He’s leaning over me, forcing me to tilt my head back to see his face. “How long have you been planning to betray me?”

“Four years,” I answer, without bothering to correct him. “Only half as long as you have been planning to betray me.”

I can tell he’s thinking back, trying to determine what happened four years ago that would make me turn on him.

Finally he says, “The Tate job.”

I nod. “The Tate job.”

He leans back and spreads his arms out. “Are you going to get to the point of all this? I’m assuming there is a reason for this little stunt.”

“Amy told you she had information on Victor Connolly and the crimes his family has committed, but what she really had was information that shows you’d been double-crossing them for years. Not a good idea to screw over one of the biggest crime families on the East Coast. She had it all: wire transfers, documents, and communications that show you’ve been skimming money, selling their secrets, and using information to your benefit instead of theirs. You’ve made them think you are protecting them when in reality you’re their biggest threat. But it was useless to have blackmail on you when I didn’t know your real name, Christopher.”

All humor has been wiped from his face. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want, Lucca?”

“Absolutely nothing. And it’s Miss Porter now. I’ve expended all the energy that I care to on you. This is just a friendly warning, since we go back so far. You have some old friends waiting for you outside. We really shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” I stare at him two seconds, then three, before I add, “Did you think I wouldn’t have a contingency plan in place?”