Staying On Top(81)

“You don’t get to keep friends, Dad. You live for the con, not me. I liked it when I was younger. It was a fun game, and an easy way to live, not having to form attachments. Especially after Mom died, because it hurt to think that I would lose the next person I cared about, too.” He flinched at the mention of my mother but I soldiered on. “But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want friends. I want to fall in love. I want to work for my money.”

“I thought we were partners, you and I. That we had each other.”

“I’m your daughter. I’ll always be your daughter, and I’m thankful for the things you’ve given me. But you’re never around, Dad. You’re wanted by international authorities and you’ll never be able to come home. Never stay in one place. I don’t want what you want. I need more.”

He gave me a sad smile, then shifted to stare out over the pool, into the distance. “You’re not like your mother. You’re not like me.” His gray eyes, so unlike mine, returned to me. “Where did you come from, Blair Louise?”

“Maybe wanting a normal life is a recessive gene.”

“Perhaps.” He paused, his gaze wandering away again. “And what if I refuse to grant it to you? There are many things to consider, not the least of which is that this is going to put a serious damper on my business pursuits.”

Keep going. Don’t let him con you.

I took a deep breath. “Then I go to the FBI and tell them everything I know—how you work, how you choose your marks. Your safe houses, your favorite banks. I don’t want to, but I will.”

His lips down in a grimace. “I taught you well. I can honestly say I didn’t think the day would come when you’d use your formidable skills against me.”

“You and me both.”

“Can I ask what changed? Is it Sam? Did you fall for the boy?”

I started to shake my head, then stopped. “I don’t know. I think I could fall for him, in a different world. But he’s not the reason I decided this life isn’t for me. The idea of being happy with him pushed me to demand it sooner, that’s all.”

The breeze ruffling the leaves of the fruit trees cooled the sweat on my skin. My insides trembled, and I was sure my dad didn’t miss the evidence of my nerves in my shaking voice, yet he made no comment. I hated confessing Sam’s importance to me, because Dad would see it as weakness, as a point of leverage, and he’d taught me never to give those up.

But this wasn’t a con. This was my life.

“I think it’s in both of our best interests to part ways, as business partners.”

Relief so potent that it brought tears to my eyes flooded my blood and lifted my heart until it floated, weightless and pounding, in my ears. It gave me the courage to keep pushing.

“There are two more things.”

My dad tensed. “Don’t make me regret my generosity, Pear.”

“Don’t forget I’m your daughter.”

“Go on.”

“I want a million dollars. I’ve earned at least that much, and it will get me through the last two years at Whitman and give me some breathing room afterward.” I could have asked for more. Probably should have asked for more, but it was dirty money. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I was prepared to live the way Sam and I had on our trip, but I didn’t want to be greedy.

“And the second thing?”

“Give Sam’s money back. All of it.”

“I’m inclined to negotiate the second request.”

Despite the hard edge in his voice, I steeled my nerve. “I’m not negotiating. Those are my requirements.”

“I find it insulting that you’re not concerned about whether or not I’ll let you leave this island at all, never mind give in to your demands.”

“Dad, you’re tough, and you’re a criminal, but you’re not violent. We both know it.”

Another seemingly endless pause preceded his acquiescence in the form of a tight nod. “Fine. One million dollars to your account, and thirty-two million returned to Mr. Bradford. I’ll make the arrangements right now.”

To my surprise, he did. It took four phone calls to four different banks, but less than ten minutes altogether to move the money. I checked my spending account and verified the pending funds, then used my phone to log into Sam’s accounts with the passwords my dad had given me at the outset of this ill-fated venture.

Well, ill-fated in my dad’s view. Never mine, even with the pain.

The money was pending there, too.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll go.”

“Please stay for lunch, Pear. You can have a quick nap, a shower, fresh clothes. I would like to hear more about school, and about Sam, before you go. There’s no telling when we’ll see each other again.” He paused, smiling a real smile this time. “I suppose I’m a little proud, that you’ve grown into such a strong woman, even if it is inconvenient for me.”