Page 96 of The Pretender

Nothing in his expression gave away what he was feeling. He was a smooth one.

Unlucky for him, she was done with smooth. Attractive, charming and someone pretending to be a good listener were all off her list. Men could keep on walking.

“You’re not an investigator.” She’d battled one liar today. Why not another?

Damon put his hands on his hips and stared down at her. If her curt tone worried him, he did not show it. “I actually am. This is what I do.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes narrowed. “What exactly happened with Harris?”

Nothing shook this guy. He didn’t even blink. She refused to let it unnerve her. “He’s a thief. He came here to steal a painting and almost got caught at the scene. He got lucky. Tabitha didn’t.”

“Ah.” Damon nodded. “He told you the truth about that night. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“That’s what he does. He takes things that aren’t his.” He’d robbed her of so much. She would have given him the painting if doing so would have spared her the rest.

“No, not anymore. Not really.”

Oh, please. “What kind of answer is that?”

It wasn’t as if she trusted Damon any more than she trusted Harris. They were different in many ways but a matched set in others. They worked together... schemed together.

Damon shrugged. “An honest one.”

“Neither one of you knows what it means to be honest.” They’d lied to her from the beginning. Damon... She didn’t care about his choices. But Harris was a different story. He’d lured her in, told her about his past. He made her believe in him and opened up a part of her that had been closed off for so long.

Doubt swamped her now. She was stronger than ever when it came to sticking up for herself. All of this—every rotten, scary moment—had taught her to stop living her life wallowing in guilt. But when it came to emotions, she felt more unsure and vulnerable than ever. The stable ground had been knocked out from under her and she would never forgive Harris for that loss.

“He solved the case, didn’t he?” Damon asked. “Fourteen months in without a break, but he made it happen.”

That wasn’t how she saw it. It had been a joint effort targeted at saving him. Not her. “So the ends justify the means? Is that your life motto?”

Damon shifted his weight as he exhaled. His unreadable expression morphed into something else. She could almost see his mind spin as he decided what to say. Knowing what she knew now about how they operated, she guessed he was trying to determinehow muchhe had to tell her to get her to back off. Which carefully chosen pieces he should share.

“He gets paintings back to their rightful owners. Nazis stole art in the thirties and forties and he returns it to them now. Families sell art at unconscionable prices due to financial difficulties or threats, and he evens that score.”

“A regular Robin Hood.”

“He cuts through the red tape and government regulations. He understands that a lot of these transactions never had paperwork to confirm the details. He investigates and makes it happen without governments having to step in. It’s that simple.” Damon looked up, stared at the clear blue sky and helicopter buzzing off the coast before lowering his head again. His gaze was intense, almost biting. “Harris thinks he’s unlovable and undeserving because that’s what he was taught. His upbringing was a clusterfuck and, admittedly, his priorities got skewed.”

She refused to let any of that matter. Blocked out these details and the ones Harris had shared because she needed to stay on track. Feeling sorry for people had always screwed her in the past. “We all have a sad story.”

“He doesn’t know it but he’s a good man. Loyal and decent. Someone worth caring about.”

Two days ago she might have used the same words. Now, no. “The scam is over. You can stop trying to sell him to me. I know better.”

“He’s the best person I know, Gabby.”

He sounded so genuine. For a guy who’d spoken in straightforward terms from the minute she’d met him, he sounded different now. His tone had an edge of pleading.

Well, Harris had that skill, too. She wasn’t falling for the cute-guy-with-an-act thing a second time.

She sighed at him. “Then you need to meet new people.”

“Hate him. That’s your right.”

“Damn straight.” And she intended to do just that. It might take her weeks or months or even longer to get her balance again, but she would. Then she would wipe Harris from her mind.

---