As she whirled to face him, her hazel eyes narrowed. “Another lie. You were never honest with me.”
He might have defended himself, might have told her that every syllable he’d uttered in praise of her beauty, intelligence and wit had been truth. The language of his emotions had been pure.
But she had a right to her anger.
And she unleashed her rage, full-force. Eden rattled through a barrage of Italian invective before facing him directly, fists on hips. “So you’re a fed. It was your work to bring down my family.”
He wouldn’t blame her if she hated him. She’d been raised to put family above all else, and Payne had betrayed the Verones.
Instead, she gave a curt nod. “Good. At least you had the right idea, saving the family from crime.”
“But it didn’t work,” he said.
“Not for Eddy.” Her jaw tightened as she struggled to maintain her tough attitude. “Eddy used bad judgment. And he paid for it.”
The sorrow in her eyes belied her harsh judgment. No matter what she said, he knew that Eden considered her brother’s death to be a tragedy. Palpable grief surrounded her. Payne had known that she couldn’t stay away from her family at this terrible time. He’d counted on her need to be with them. Hoping to console her, he reached out and touched her arm.
She yanked away from him. “Don’t.”
Somehow, in the back of his mind, he’d always imagined that when he saw her again, she would melt into his arms and allow herself to be carried away on clouds of bliss. Apparently, he’d been wrong. In the vernacular, he could forgeddabouddit.
“Okay, Eden, here’s the story.” Payne opted for facts. This time, there would be no lies between them. “I’m undercover, again. This time, it’s more complicated than before. I was framed by another agent. Inside the Bureau, I’m considered a renegade. They’re looking for me, want to take me into custody. Plus, your family knows I’m alive.”
“So, you’re wanted by the Verones and the feds?”
“Essentially.”
“Nice work,” she said sarcastically.
“I didn’t see the double-cross until it was too late.”
“What double-cross? I want more explanation,” she demanded. “And don’t even think about lying to me.”
“The setup happened at a restaurant in Brooklyn. I saw your brother shot.”
She gasped. Her hands flew to cover her mouth. She whispered, “Who killed him?”
“An agent. His name is Danny Oliphant. That snub-nosed, redheaded bastard shot Eddy in cold blood.” He wanted her to hear this information from his lips. “No matter what anyone tells you, I didn’t kill your brother.”
“Why would people say such a thing, if it wasn’t true?”
“Part of the setup. Danny-O delivered me to the meet in Brooklyn. I suspected something was wrong, but I didn’t understand until I saw Eddy walk through the door. Danny-O drew and fired.” Payne had since learned that Danny-O had used an exact duplicate of his own weapon, right down to the serial numbers. “His gun was identical to mine.”
“So it would be assumed you were the shooter,” Eden said. “And what were you doing while this Danny-O person killed my brother?”
“There was another agent in the restaurant. Luke Borman. He was aiming at me. My guess is that his gun was a match for Eddy’s. When the ballistics people analyzed the crime scene, they’d assume that I shot Eddy and he shot me.”
“But there were witnesses,” she said.
“Parents and kids having dinner. When the bullets started flying, they dove for cover. They were scared, hysterical. I doubt any of them could say exactly what happened.” Especially not when Danny-O was directing the investigation. “Here’s how it’s going down. I’m accused of killing your brother and shooting Agent Borman.”
“Did you?” she asked. “Did you shoot the other agent?”
“Yes.”
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“Alive and recovering,” Payne said. “He’s a hero.”
“And you’re the goat.”
She leaned her back against the wall and regarded him steadily as if she were weighing his words against her standard of truth. He trusted her instincts. Though raised in an atmosphere of base treachery, Eden had a finely tuned moral compass.
“If you had met my brother on the street,” she said, “and he recognized you, would you have killed him?”
“If it came down to him or me,” Payne said, “I’d shoot.”
She frowned, considering. Then she glanced at her wristwatch. They were both aware of the ticking clock. Soon, the Verone family would gather for the funeral in the upstairs sanctuary. “Why did you come here, Payne?”
“I wanted to see you.”
She brushed away his comment. “I’ve never heard of a fed who was so sentimental. There must be another reason.”
“Surveillance.” By observing those who attended the funeral, he might be able to connect the dots and figure out the connections that led to Danny-O. “Your brother was killed for a reason. I want to know why.”
“Why does this make a difference to you?”
“Until I have proof to implicate Danny-O and Luke Borman, I’m out in the cold.”
“Because the feds think you’re the corrupt agent who’s working with the Verones.”
“Eden, we don’t have time to talk about this. Not right now. I want you to meet me after the funeral. I’ll be at this motel.” He handed her a card. “I’ll wait until four o’clock.”
“Before four o’clock,” she repeated. “At this motel.”
Eden glanced at the card, aware that he was literally trusting her with his life. If she betrayed him by giving his location to her grandfather, Payne would be trapped in a motel room with no escape. The Verone family would take their revenge without mercy.
It was what he deserved for deserting her. A slow and horrible death. But she knew, in her heart, that she would never cause him to suffer. Besides which, he might have another motive in revealing his location. What if Payne expected her to pass on the name of his motel? He might be arranging a sting to catch the Verone assassins. Or, if she came alone, he might be plotting to kidnap her, using her for leverage against her family.
With sudden alarm, she realized that Payne’s apparent trust might have something to do with Josh. Did he even know about their son? His son? Though he hadn’t mentioned Josh, this might be part of a plot to steal her child. So many devious possibilities lay beneath the surface. As a daughter of the Verone family, she had learned to navigate the Byzantine twists and turns of the criminal mind. She must always beware of murky deceptions.
And yet, as she had stated, Candace Verone was dead. She was Eden Miller, a law-abiding citizen who expected honesty.
She looked up at Payne again. Frankly, she demanded, “Why should I come to this motel? Why should I believe a single word you’ve told me?”
An infinitesimal twitch at the corner of his left eye was the only warning before Payne closed the space between them with a few quick strides. His arms surrounded her. His mouth slanted across hers.
Furiously, she fought his kiss.