C10 You're on the enemy's side

Confirmation that Paul Reed was the one who would give me my uncle's freedom . But a reminder: he owned the whole city. I shook his hand and swallowed saliva. "It's a lovely place."

"Thank you," he said, without taking his eyes from mine.

"I'm Manala," the other man said, "in case you were wondering."

I broke free of Paul's gaze and turned to the other newcomer. "Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Lara Swap," San had almost said. I had almost used my real name.What the hell was wrong with me?

"So what do you two want?" asked Mary , sounding angry. Manala threw a French fry in her face and she growled, catching it and shoving it in her mouth. "Don't waste my food." He slapped her hand as she went to grab an onion ring.

God, Mary!" Mánala retorted. "You have enough food here to feed everyone."

"I don't eat pea-sized meals like your other friends. Back off."

He pinched one anyway, tossing it into her mouth before she could stop him.

"Do that again and I'll punch you in the jaw."

He laughed, stood up and motioned for her to do the same. "Bring the onion rings to the bar while I order some."

"I'm fine, thank you."

Manala shared a look with Paul , then glared at her. "Mary ..."

"Fine," she relented, taking the bowl. "Will you be okay by five, Lara ?"

"Sure," I replied.

Paul added, "She'll be fine with me."

I shuddered in a way that warmed my body, but I didn't appreciate it. I didn't need this added complication of being attracted to my mark.

Mary frowned before following Manala to the bar.

"Are you two together?" I couldn't help but ask, for the affection between Mánala and Mary was evident beneath their bickering.

"No," Paul replied , pointing to my plate. "Are you going to eat all that?".

Don't you buy your own food here?". I smiled, pushing my plate toward him so he could share it.

He picked up a French fry, ate it without taking his eyes off me, then said, "I've been on a trip. I got here ahead of schedule. I heard a broken down truck is bringing you to Woods Creek."

"News travels fast."

"It sure does. Especially for me." He smiled smugly, his piercing eyes eager to make me uncomfortable.

"That's right," I replied shakily. "I was lucky to find you. Not that you advertise the place. But I got lost, wandered around a few times and ended up here. Otherwise I would have had to walk a long way to find help."

"That's a strange route to... Where are you going again?"

"Albuquerque." I didn't flinch, my story well rehearsed. "I wanted to take the scenic route. Take my time. And like I said, I got lost." Smiling, I tried to flirt, leaning closer to him. "I'm not very good at reading maps."

"Oh, no?"

His leg squeezed mine and I startled. My reaction pleased him. He kept smiling as he ate another French fry. But he left his leg where it was, his touch burning me in a way my body craved. He closed the distance between us a little more and lowered his voice. "You were lucky to find us."

I look up at him with narrowed eyes and stilled at the suspicion in his voice.

"Best of luck," I spelled, remembering my performance, trying to numb myself to him and play the part. I took a chicken wing from the plate and bit into it, licking the sauce off my lips.

"Take another bite," he demanded. The rumble in his voice, the slight plea, made me shift in my seat. I held his gaze, took another bite and swallowed.

Caught in his trap, I trembled and then chided myself: no one trembles at a mere glance, for God's sake. But I did. I trembled. And not from fear, but from need.

Paul liked my reaction. His lip curved, pleased about something. He reached out and wiped the sauce from my mouth, with his thumb.

He slowly drew it to himself, sucked his thumb, and I moaned.

I moaned.

Finally, Mary returned to the table, breaking the spell. "Do you want to play pool?"

"Sure," I blurted out, getting up hurriedly, and regretted every damn bite I'd eaten. I grabbed the beer bottle. The last thing I needed was to be attracted to the man I had to deliver to Scott . "Let's play."

I knew how to play pool. I was good at it. But I also knew how to make a living. And even though I wasn't looking for money tonight, I was doing it to keep my cover. I had to give Paul a false sense of security and act like the naïve woman who was lost, the one who needed saving, the damsel in distress who didn't know how to play pool. Sometimes the stereotypes - even the crappy ones - played in my favor.

We started playing and I purposely missed a few shots during my turns.

"Your turn, Mary," ordered Manala , scratching her cue. Mary rolled her eyes before taking her turn. I hid a smile at her exasperation at being called Manala . But as soon as she moved, Paul took the space next to me and my smile withered.

"I can help you on your next attempt," he told me, his eyes sparkling. "Your technique needs a few tweaks, that's all."

"You're on the enemy's side," I retorted, trying not to gape and wrap my legs around him like a leering snake. "I can't accept your help. That makes me a traitor."

"Even if it helps you win?"

"Yes.

He shrugged. "Your loss."

"Maybe. But when I win, it'll be even sweeter."

Her eyes darkened and she lowered her voice. "You like games?

An underlying threat mixed with desire caught me off guard. My body responded to him too easily, and I wanted to rub and bite his lip.

"I play to win," I replied, taking advantage of the flirtation. "And I keep going until I get it."

Is that true?" He took a step closer, narrowing the space between us even more.

At five foot five inches tall, most men would only be a few inches taller than me, but not him. I'd get a crick in my neck if I had to look at him for too long. But first I refused to stop looking at him.

"Your turn, Paul," said Manala , breaking the exchange of glances. Paul , who was still looking at me, put down his beer.

"To be continued."

I watched him do his take, devouring an ass that should be forbidden with the jeans he was wearing. I couldn't help myself. But in a rush, the reason I was here turned into something akin to someone pouring a bucket of cold water over my head.

"Your turn," Paul said to me once he was done. And oh, that look.

Fuck.

My control over the situation slipped a little more. Doing this kind of thing when I was experiencing every butterfly flutter, craving every caress, was not something I'd come across before, and I had no idea how to deal with it. Normally, I could easily shed my brand and get the job done. But not now. And not with him.

I concentrated on the shot to keep my wily arms from wanting to wrap around his neck so I could give him a hickey.

You're not in high school, Lara . Grow up and take care of the job at hand.

Yeah, right. I was out of my league and I knew it. But I had no choice. My uncle had no choice. My low vibes just needed to cool down and allow me to grab and hold on to higher ground.

I stepped up my game and took advantage of the cue ball being close to Paul . He didn't move, and I didn't expect him to. I didn't want him to either. Not just because my ass wanted to get close to his junk, but because it would help with the reason I was here.

The seduction.

Then the kidnapping.

Holy shit, was I about to kidnap someone?

My plan hit me like a battering ram to the brain. Normally, I lured someone in. I lure them in with honey. And soon they were following me, believing the lies I was selling them, but with Paul , I had planned to drug the poor bastard. what was I up to?

Panic set in then, reality clawing at me. I had to find another plan.

Or maybe get Paul close enough to Scott to be able to make the exchange? If things went south, I could alert his friends and help him once Spencer was free.

Yes.

Two birds. One stone.

He could do that.

I think.

No. Don't think. If you think, you'll back out and Spencer will take a bullet to the brain.

A calm came over me. One that numbed me to what I had to do. That helped me. I had to shut down, save my uncle, and somehow keep Paul safe along the way. Unless he turned out to be the evil killer Spencer said he was. Then I'd have no qualms about drugging him, would I?