Page 6 of The Billionaire's Wife

He rubbed the back of his neck and came to the kitchen island and sat. “So you became a hacker.”

“Among other things. It wasn’t all hacking. I made some IDs. Documents that weren’t strictly original. That sort of thing.” I hated how it sounded, even though I could explain to anyone—or, well, anyone but Tristan—why it had been my only option.

“Mmhmm.”

I stabbed one chopstick into a dumpling and wiggled it in a circle, making a slowly widening hole in the dough. “I was careful. Did a lot of screening of potential clients. I mostly only took word-of-mouth referrals from people I’d already vetted and had been working with a while. But I screwed up.”

He didn’t speak.

I waited, but he just sat. I’d expected…something. Some kind of reaction. When it was clear none was coming, I continued. “I took on a new client. One of my repeats had vouched for them—admittedly not someone I’d known a long time, just a year. Ish. The job sounded interesting and the pay was more than I usually charged.”

“That doesn’t smell like a trap at all.” Sarcasm dripped off Tristan’s words.

“Yeah, well. I see it now. I was blinded by greed, I guess.” And the idea that the money would have been enough for me to create the new identity for myself that I’d been designing. I’d been planning to get out—all the way out. And yeah, sure, I’d been considering touching base with Tristan to see if he wanted to come along. Somewhere in the back of my mind I couldn’t shake the idea that we could be good together if he’d give us a chance. That part of the situation I probably didn’t have to share though.

Tristan stood. He moved around the island and started scraping the food off his plate back into the takeout containers.

I guess his appetite wasn’t very strong either right now. I nudged my plate toward him.

“You’re finished?” He nodded toward the barely touched food.

I nodded. “I figured out the plan before it was completely too late, but not before they’d stolen back the money they’d paid up front plus about eighty percent of my cache. They had my location and the ID I was using. I took what I could that was untraceable and ran.”

“Who was it?”

I hesitated. “If I tell you, it puts you at risk.”

“You need my help, right?”

I nodded slowly. I still desperately wished for an alternative—any alternative.

“Then I need to know what we’re up against.”

I blew out a breath. He was right. “The Ortegas.”

Tristan held up a single hand like a police officer stopping traffic. “You did not just say the Ortegas. As in the cartel Ortegas?”

I nodded, wincing.

“A cartel, Faith? Seriously?” He set the plate down on the counter with a smack so loud I was surprised it didn’t split into two pieces.

“I didn’t know.” I frowned. “I didn’t work with drug dealers. I was always really clear about that. I had no reason to think this client was setting me up, either.”

Tristan just shook his head. He closed up the containers and turned to stick them in the fridge. “Are you sure they can’t find you?”

“As sure as I can be.” I twisted my fingers together in my lap. “I don’t have a cell phone. The car down there is the third one I’ve had since I started running—all cash and trade transactions. None of them registered to an ID I’ve used before. I haven’t used my own computers—they’ve been powered down in my suitcase. I stop at libraries and Apple stores when I need to find information. I’m not stupid. And I’m not taking chances with your safety.”

He looked like he wanted to make a snarky comment, but I was grateful when he kept it to himself. Instead, he just nodded.

I sat and let the silence thicken between us. The soundproofing on his condo was good. I didn’t hear anyone in the hall or in the unit next door. Not even the quiet hum of someone’s television.

Finally, I couldn’t take it. I looked up an met his eyes. “Can you help me?”

“Depends. What do you want? What’s your endgame here?”

That was a good question. When I’d finally settled on coming here and begging Tristan to bail me out one more time, I’d planned on figuring out how I could still just disappear. I could make that new ID, figure out the finances, and poof. And okay, yes, I’d figured on hitting Tristan up for the finances. He was a successful lawyer. He had to have a little extra, didn’t he? Fifty or a hundred grand would do. Sure, more would be better, but there was no point in getting greedy.

But now—no. I should stick with the plan. Just because seeing Tristan again dragged up all the thoughts and feelings I’d had about him, didn’t mean I should do anything about them.

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