Page 1 of His to Bedevil

Irma

“Hello, darling. I hope you’re calling with some good news?” He lays his Louisiana accent on thick.

Letting out a sigh as I stretch out on my beach towel, I tell Matches the good news he’s been waiting for. “Sure am. I got the job. I’m boarding the boat tomorrow morning, and we’ll be leaving late afternoon after the guests arrive.” Using my dark-lensed sunglasses, I continue to scan any and all people within earshot on the beach out of habit. Always cognizant and aware of my surroundings.

“Then we need to meet.”

“I’ll see you soon.” I smile and hang up. Matches will know how to find me. He can find anyone. That’s one of the many things he does. Computers and technology are his specialty. An adroit hacker, whereas I am an adroit con artist.

Rolling over to my back, I sit up and open my book lying next to me to pretend to read. When really I’m only using it as a ruse to blend in. Just a girl enjoying a good book on the beach with the beautiful ocean in front of me.

After about thirty minutes, I lather my fair skin with more sunblock and stand up to stretch. Stepping into the hot Miami sun, I head for the water. Some things I’ll never get tired of about this place: the baby-powder sand in between my toes, the bright sun on my skin, the soft breeze whipping around my auburn hair, and the crystal clear waters in front of me. Miami born and raised and at twenty-two years old, I’ve been many places, but this will always be home. I couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere else.

As I stand there with my toes in the water, a group of guys approach me. “Hey,” one of the guys says. He’s hot—they all are—but I am not interested. Not today, at least.

I turn to them, and they unabashedly check me out from head to toe. Like most men, they like what they see. Especially when I’m wearing a thong bikini, green to compliment my hair and match my eyes. I smile politely. “Hi.”

“We were wondering if you wanted to join us over there,” the same one asks, and points over his shoulder to where a few other guys are sitting and staring.

I keep my polite smile on. “I’m sorry, but I’m waiting on my boyfriend to meet me.” Lying has become so second nature for me. To beguile is not only my job, but a way of living.

His grin fades, and he shakes his head. “Of course you’re taken. You’re gorgeous, honey.” Giving up easily, they all retreat. Not without one more perusal of my body from each of them.

I wave goodbye and head back to my shaded towel under the umbrella. Picking up a pack of cigarettes, I pull one out and place it between my lips to light it up, not letting my repugnance physically show. I absolutely hate the taste of it. It makes my tongue feel fuzzy and my head a little light, but it’s part of the decoy.

“Excuse me,” a familiar accented voice says. Looking to my right, I see a familiar face, but I don’t let it show on mine that I know him. “Do you happen to have an extra cigarette I can have?” He gives me a boyish grin that would make most girls weep. I’m immune to his charm though.

Picking up the full pack, I slip one out and hand it over. “Here you go.”

His smile widens. “Thanks.” He pulls out some matches from the pocket of his swim trunks and lights his cigarette, letting out a big cloud of smoke. “Do you mind if I sit?” He gestures to the spot next to my towel.

I shrug. “Sure.”

He settles in next to me, leaving just a few inches between us to seem not so cozy. “Those guys are staring at you,” he muses.

“I told them I was waiting on my boyfriend.”

“Then should I kiss you hello?” he asks in a teasing tone.

Keeping my focus forward, I smile. “Don’t even think about it, Matches.”

“Oh, come on. You know I’m a pretty good kisser.” I can see him grinning out of the corner of my eye.

“Not good enough to ever repeat it,” I dryly state.

We may have hooked up one drunken night a few years back after our first big job we pulled off. The adrenaline was high, and we were literally rolling around in money. We were both adults about it afterward. Able to go right back to professional partners as if it never happened.

“Ouch.” He mocks offense.

Matches is a good-looking guy. Just over six feet tall, lean but muscular, tan skin, sandy blond hair that falls just over his ears, bright green eyes, and a dazzling smile. He has no problem getting women, and we both agreed never to let that happen again. We’re partners, we do not need to not only complicate things, but we also don’t need to tie ourselves to each other. To the world, we are strangers. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair so you can wait for yourboyfriend.”

“Unfortunately, I think my boyfriend may have flaked on me.”

A relationship is something neither of us can ever have, not with the life we live. We hardly stay in one place for long, and we hold too many secrets. I have a place here to come back to in between jobs, but I don’t stay. I honestly don’t know where Matches disappears to or if he even owns a place of his own. Probably not. His part of the job is much more serious than mine. He’s an infamous hacker in the cyber world. Me? I’m his little puppet. He pulls the strings and makes the plans. I execute them. Sometimes I play a role, becoming someone else entirely, sometimes I’m breaking and entering like a thief in the night. He’s the brains, I’m the con.

“So, you know what to do, right?” he asks more seriously, and I subtly nod. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

I refrain from rolling my eyes at him.Not this again.“Yes, I’m sure.” I can feel his eyes now burning holes in the side of my head, so I turn. “It’s an easier job than half the ones we’ve done. What has you so worried about this one?”

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