Free Dangerous Liaisons by Tarah Scott, Evan Trevane Page A

the foliage as Cole rounded the corner of the diner.
    “Jess!” he shouted.
    She crouched in the bushes as he jogged toward her. Too late to run, he would see and hear her if she moved. Fool, fool, fool, she cursed herself. Lanton, and Cole , had played her like a fine fiddle.
    Cole continued around the corner of the building and skidded to a halt near the bathroom window.
    He spun in frustration, echoing her words, “Jesse, you little fool!”
     

Chapter Sixteen
    Jesse shifted in the chair at a cheap Newark, New Jersey, hotel, attention on the laptop monitor sitting on the table in front of her. The progress bar that moved across the screen indicated the funds from the Indian Ocean account she’d created were being transferred into another account which would disappear once the two hundred thousand from the Cayman account Lanton setup as her blood money moved into yet a third account.
    The hope that she hadn’t miscalculated came too late. If OIA traced the money to her, it wouldn’t matter that the money’s final destination was the Philips and Rothman fund, a nonprofit organization that housed autistic kids with families without the money to care for them. OIA would proclaim her guilty of selling out Green Team, and Lanton would be given carte blanche to hunt and kill her.
    Her stomach did a flip. The hundred thousand Lanton paid Cole was piggy backing on the two hundred grand. Twenty-four hours from now, the money would have funneled through eleven other accounts before falling off the face of the earth to find its way into Philips and Rothman. The idea to filch his payoff was the driving force that had goaded her into snagging the two hundred grand as well. Which only proved that, despite the fact he was Lanton’s boy, just thinking about him muddied the waters—and made her want to bawl like a baby.
    She rubbed her sore eyes. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Getting from Westchester to Newark had taken her well into the afternoon. Setting up the money route had put her deep into the night. All she wanted now was a hot bath and a few hours—The Professor’s cell phone rang.
    Jesse jerked her attention onto the phone sitting on the table beside the computer. The display read Cole Smith. Her pulse skipped a beat. Smith? His name was Smith? Jesse wanted to laugh. Hell. Mr. Smith had traced the bank transaction and, instead of bursting in, guns blazing, had called first—on a phone no one but she and The Professor knew existed. What would Emma Peel do? Be civilized, of course.
    Jesse picked up the phone. “Hello, Cole.”
    “Hi, Jess.”
    She closed the laptop display as the hotel room door opened and Cole filled the doorway. He met her gaze, cell phone to his ear, then lowered the phone and closed it with a click. His other hand gripped a plastic drugstore bag.
    “Like a bad penny,” she commented. Though she could deal with a little bad luck when it arrived in tight jeans and a midnight blue, long sleeve, button down shirt.
    He offered a lopsided grin that sent a flutter skittering across the inside of her stomach. He stepped into the room and she flicked a glance past him at the empty parking lot before he closed the door.
    “We need to talk,” he said.
    “I’m too tired to kick your ass,” Jesse said, and meant it. “How did you get my cell number?”
    “I called Tom.”
    “Tom?” she blurted.
    Cole cut her off. “You weren’t compromised. He set up a blind relay to forward my call to your phone.”
    Jesse’s mind raced. Why had Tom admitted to being in contact with her? Maybe he hadn’t. Lanton would love for her to believe she couldn't trust The Professor.
    Jesse closed the phone and set it on the table. “Come on in," she said, "join the party.”
    Cole ran his gaze down her body. She felt a stab of disappointment when he said, “You need to change the dressing.”
    She sighed and glanced at her pant leg. Blood had seeped through her chinos in spots resembling splashed coffee stains. She