Prince Charming For 1 Night. Nina Bruhns
Believe me, she’ll be back for it.”
“And?”
“And when she shows up, I’ll call you and you can come arrest her. You can get to the real truth. The real perps.”
Duncan briefly considered. “Even if I went along with this, what makes you think Ms. Mancuso will let you stick around that long?”
Conner shrugged modestly. “I’m not without my charms.”
The FBI agent’s eyes rolled. “And yet, she keeps telling me you’re not her lawyer. Besides, wouldn’t your representing her be a conflict of interest?”
“Not if she’s innocent.”
And, damn, she really did look innocent sitting there in that bleak, gray interrogation room, holding back her tears by a thread. Innocent, and incredibly brave. While Duncan questioned her, Conner’d had his legal assistant do a quick workup on Vera Mancuso. Her background had been far from easy. He’d been all wrong about her relationship with her biological father, Maximillian St. Giles. The man didn’t want to know her, was openly hostile to his illegitimate daughter and kept her existence deep in the closet. The scumbag.
Duncan raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the FBI is not in charge of your cousin’s murder case. That’s strictly Metro at this point.”
Conner glanced at him in surprise. “Then why didn’t they arrest Vera?”
“Because of that ring. My current investigation is a series of high-end interstate jewelry robberies for which Darla St. Giles is a prime suspect, along with a couple of her friends. Possibly even a family member,” he added pointedly. “I got a tip from an informant that Darla was seen entering the Diamond Lounge, so we closed in. I thought she might be fencing some of her stolen goods. The manager there’s had some illegal dealings in the past.”
“So when you saw Vera wearing the Quetzal…”
“I recognized it right away. And she looks enough like Ms. St. Giles to have fooled me for a minute. I have good reason to believe Darla’s gang had targeted the Rothchild diamond on the night your cousin was killed. You seeing her with that phony cop at the police station, and the ring showing up in her half sister’s possession are both pretty strong evidence to connect her to the theft.”
“But what about the phony cop I saw her with?” Conner said. “And didn’t you say Luke Montgomery’s new wife was there at the casino the night of Candace’s murder, and was later stalked by someone wanting the ring?”
Duncan crossed his arms. “All true. But even if I agree with you in theory, my hands are tied. Until Darla is in custody and corroborates Ms. Mancuso’s story, and Vera’s alibi is checked out, I’d be insane to let the only suspect I have go free.”
Conner stuck his hands in his pockets. “Okay, I see your point. Still, keeping Vera in custody is probably the best way to drive Darla so far into hiding you’ll never find her. She certainly has the means to disappear for a good long time if she feels threatened.”
“So what do you propose I do?”
“Let Vera out on bail. I’ll pay it. Then we use her as bait, like I suggested.”
Both of them turned to contemplate Vera through the mirrored window. She’d put her head down on the Formica table and buried her face in her arms. Had she finally broken down? Conner’s heart squeezed in sympathy.
“If I agree to this crazy scheme,” Duncan finally said, “I’d want something in return.”
“Like what?” Conner asked.
“I’d want your help figuring out exactly who is part of the jewel theft ring I’m investigating. You move in the same social circles as Darla St. Giles. You go to the same parties and charity events, know the same people. I’d want you to nose around, ask questions. Narrow down my list of suspects.” He turned to look Conner in the eye. “Help LVMPD figure out if your cousin’s death was a jewel robbery gone bad, or something else entirely.”
Conner raised his brows. “Kind of a tall order, isn’t it?”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.” Obviously, Vera wasn’t going to get a better offer. Nor was he. “I’ll take it.”
They were letting her go.
Vera couldn’t quite believe it. But she wasn’t about to question her good luck.
Right up until the devil’s Agent Lex Luthor—whose name actually turned out to be Duncan—said to her as he handed over her bag of belongings, “Your attorney, Mr. Rothchild, has posted your bail and personally vouched for your whereabouts until the arraignment. As a condition of your release, you must agree to check in with him at least three times a day.”
She stopped dead. “You can’t be serious.”
“Bear in mind you are a potential murder suspect, Ms. Mancuso,” the agent said sternly. “Personally, I’m opposed to releasing you at all, but the Rothchild name wields a lot of influence—”
She handed him back her bag. “Forget it. If that’s a requirement, I’ll stay arrested, thanks.”
The FBI guy’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“No one ever listens to me. I’ve told you over and over, he’s not my—”
“Actually, he is.” Duncan held up a paper. “Court appointed. I have the order here if you need proof.”
She blinked. Oh, for crying out loud. The man was totally relentless. “Let me see that.”
It didn’t matter that for some mysterious reason she found the loathsome Conner Rothchild so incredibly, toe-curlingly sexy that every time she looked at him she practically melted into a limp noodle at his feet. Or that the whole time he’d sat in the audience at the Diamond Lounge—before she knew who he was—she’d girlishly pretended he was the only man in the whole room, and danced for him alone. When had that ever happened before? With any man? Never, that’s when.
But even so. She wasn’t about to trade sex for lawyering. Or anything, for that matter. She knew what he must have in mind, and she wanted none of it. Well. Not like that, anyway. She probably wouldn’t say no under other circumstances or if he were anyone else. But selling herself? No way. Regardless of how mouthwateringly and wrongly tempting he was. And how much she really wanted to find out what it would be like to lie under his ripped, athletic body and—
Oh, no. Banish that thought.
She looked over the paper that Duncan had handed her. Sure enough, it was a one-paragraph court order appointing Conner as her legal counsel.
What. Ever.
At least she didn’t have to pay him. Or owe him in any other way. That was a huge relief.
But did she want to have to check in with Mr. Cutthroat Playboy Attorney three times a day like she was one of his low-life parolees? Heck, no.
“Have you ever been to prison, Ms. Mancuso?” the federal agent asked. Apparently mind reading was part of the FBI arsenal.
“Of course not.”
“Trust me, you wouldn’t enjoy it.” He took back the paper and slid it into her file. “Mr. Rothchild seems like a decent attorney. Let him help you.”
She regarded him. “Special Agent Duncan, if I were your little sister, would you be saying the same thing?”
He gazed back steadily. “If you were my little sister, you wouldn’t be in this mess, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be