Conning For Keeps: A Novella

Lovers Undercover…

Secret Agent Marissa Joens has a gift. A con artist to the core, after deep hypnosis she can turn into someone else entirely. Marisa’s gift has gotten her into a lot of hot water over the years, but now more so than ever. With her smoking hot partner by her side, she needs to convince him that not only is she her true self, but also that she can be trusted—even in spite of her past.

…or traitors to the cause?

Trevor Harris has his own issues with the mission, he’s got revenge to seek, a cursed painting to secure, and Marissa’s sugary sweet alter-ego to ignore. But when he releases Marisa from her mental cage and things get a little too hot, he ends up finding out what falling for a con artist really means—bigger trouble than ever before.

Conning for

Keeps

Seleste deLaney

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Seleste deLaney...

Gaming for Keeps

Fighting for Keeps

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Seleste deLaney. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Ignite is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Allison Blisard

Cover design by L.J. Anderson

Cover art by Shutterstock/Studio10Artur

ISBN 978-1-62266-471-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition January 2014

Grandpa, for all the shots and all the games and all the love.

You will forever be missed.

I love you.

Chapter One

Chain of Fools

When all the threads of life are inexplicably wound around a single spool, there are very few choices in how to respond.

Marissa Joens chose denial.

She nodded, making sure every detail from her careful smile, to her posture, to the words she chose exuded enthusiasm. She even flipped her newly brunette locks over her shoulder because having too much of it forward would shadow her face and made her appear nervous, like she had something to hide.

Not Marissa.

To the outside world, she’d seem perfectly calm and carefree. The young agent ready to take on any challenge. It was the perfect mask, one she wore almost every day. Greta and I have worked all the details into the profile. I can’t wait to get started.

Josh Marron narrowed his eyes at her, their usual chocolate brown darkening to the kind of glare normally reserved for criminals on the witness stand. She refused to wither. He knew her too well—since she was fifteen and angry at the world. That was when he’d taken her under his wing and taught her how to channel her rage into more useful emotions. No one had ever pushed or trusted her like Josh had. It had been enough to make her believe in herself, which was the only reason she was standing here now, trying not to let him see into her soul.

She focused at a spot slightly past him, picturing all the mundane details of his office so he wouldn’t see the evasion in her eyes. Dove gray walls with black framed diplomas and awards. Heavy desk and leather chair. Stark dullness, except for the picture of the woman he refused to talk about. That was the only life in his entire office. But she’d cling to it for a minute. Anything to make her nerves less obvious.

It was a risky venture. Not much got past Josh where she was concerned, more like nothing got past him at all. It was what made him so good at his job as the special agent in charge of their Tactical Response and Investigative Team field office. Hell, he had the stones to run all of TRAIT.

Though he was like an older brother to her, there were some secrets Josh kept under lock and key. That was the thing about a secret government intelligence agency. Everything was need to know, and as the dark spot on their field office’s agent registry, she needed to know less than everyone else.

And she’d hate to see the disappointment in his eyes if he realized she kind of missed her past and the freedom she’d had then.

Finally, Josh stopped staring at her. Okay, go downstairs and get started while we finish up here. He waved at her as she stood. Don’t forget to change.

Why would I change? I’m perfect exactly the way I am. She winked at Josh and spun, coming face to chest with Trevor, her partner for this mission of awesome-that-could-go-so-very-wrong. Isn’t that right, big guy?

He scowled down at her, and her smile almost slipped. She patted his pecs as she stepped outside, waiting, hoping, for the expression to turn to something more personal. That was the one he used on everyone, and Marissa had never wanted to be like everyone else where Trevor was concerned. No dice this time, though.

Not that that was anything new.

She walked through the building in a haze. Everything about Trevor screamed at her and made her tingle, which was a bit ironic considering their average daily interaction consisted of about a dozen words on his part, one of which was inevitably what?

After years of subtle back and forth flirting, she’d finally decided to screw the unwritten rule about fraternization among agents. She and Trevor had been working late on paperwork and, when his leg brushed against hers for the third time in fifteen minutes, she’d point-blank hit on him. Instead of fessing up to his end of the flirtation, he’d given her the what? So, she’d tried again, less subtly. But when she trailed her fingers over the buttons of his shirt and suggested they use the couch against the wall to take a break, he’d turned on the scowl. Since then, it had been the only expression he bothered giving her.

But now they were going to be all alone together on a mission—playing at being engaged. It was the second chance she’d been hoping for.

Except for the damn painting.

Josh knew she wanted it, that she’d dreamed about it every stinking day since she and her parents were arrested in that stupid sting operation twelve years ago. She’d begged to go after Certain Laughter that night, but Mom and Dad had insisted on chasing the bigger score—the one that had been a complete set-up.

To this day, she couldn’t help but wonder if Josh hadn’t arranged the whole thing in order to get her—the girl who could become anyone—into his unit. Black spot on the roster, but still a feather in his cap. And she couldn’t help but wonder what her life would have been like if they’d followed her lead instead.

She shook off the memories as she ducked into the bathroom and changed clothes. Whatever Josh’s part in things, she had a good life now. Good friends. A good, respectable job. Certain Laughter or no Certain Laughter, this was not the time to drift back onto old paths, no matter how much the want was there.

To touch the painting. To smell it. To imagine the life of the woman captured within. To trace the strokes on the canvas. Okay…to hang it in her closet and stare at it before she went to bed at night.

Once more, with feeling, Marissa. The painting doesn’t matter. Your old life is gone and you’re better off. Let it go and keep working on this new life. Who knows, maybe the mission will be your chance to finally build a relationship with Trevor. After all, you’ll be stuck together, playing nice the whole time.

He’ll have to notice you.

Too bad she’d be programed to be someone else. The real her would be forgotten in favor of a new personality implanted directly into her memories. It was one of Josh’s requirements given the personal nature of the mission—one she couldn’t argue with.

After all, she had already wondered if there was a way to replace the painting with a forgery and keep it forever. Definitely safer this way—even if it meant losing her one chance to get close to Trevor.

Giving a resigned sigh, she knocked on the dark gray door at the bottom of the stairs. Gray, gray, everywhere gray. It was like working in the middle of a storm cloud.

A short woman whose blond hair frizzed out of her ponytail opened the door. Why are you knocking?

Without considering the move, Marissa reached out and wrapped her best friend in a hug.

Greta wriggled from her embrace. Sneak attack. Got it. Are you ready?

And like always, Greta didn’t understand Marissa’s need for the hugging. But it was a normal part of their friendship, and Marissa hardly noticed. Definite sneak attack. Have to keep you on your toes. And… She sucked in a breath, giving one more thought to Certain Laughter and to Trevor being fake-engaged to not-her-that-would-still-look-like-her. Ready as I’ll ever be.

Greta waved her inside. This was the darkest space in the building with no windows or light to distract or annoy Greta when she worked. Like the monotone palette wouldn’t take care of that on its own.

The room was sparsely furnished with a battered metal desk, rolling chair, and threadbare couch—the last part a dingy plaid that wasn’t entirely gray but somehow still managed to clash with the boring decor.

Not TRAIT at its prettiest, but this space was rarely about looking good. More about searching for the bad, hunting for trouble and, on days like today, for fucking with Marissa’s mind.

After a couple hours under hypnosis, Marissa would emerge with a whole new set of memories. A whole new life. She’d become a person whose only goal in life was to get to the art and make sure Trevor knew exactly where it was. She got them in; he got them out again.

Simple.

She flipped through the file once more. It was an easy enough mission, but the initial request was scant on details. Whether or not she’d remember any of it, she preferred knowing what she was in for prior to the hypnosis.

At least they’d gotten the stories about the painting right. Certain Laughter had a crazy history. Including the BS about how it was cursed and killed anyone’s whose blood touched its surface. Painted by a student of Da Vinci, Certain Laughter shadowed Da Vinci’s Head of a Woman. Instead of the subtle browns, though, Certain Laughter brought the twisted face of a woman to life in stark blacks and grays. Calm quiet had not been the sensation the artist brought out, either—this woman looked to be in agony.

It was that silent pain that had always called to Marissa.

That and the mystery.

The piece had been lost to the world more than once. While older records didn’t line up, it had definitely disappeared prior to World War II, found after the war in a shipment of art that had been destined for Hitler’s personal collection. Oddly enough, once it was found, it had vanished again. Rumors linked it to several political leaders, but nothing was ever confirmed. Now supposedly Leonardo Canalis, mafia don, had it, and the government wanted it back. Why the sudden interest, she couldn’t fathom.

Maybe someone was hoping to use it to kill off all their enemies. Stupid people and their superstitions. Marissa rolled her eyes at the idea, wishing she could figure out a better reason.

Don’t bother asking for a better why. Josh will point at the signature, and that’ll be the end of it. Stupid Secretary of Defense and his cagey ways.

As Greta dragged the rolling chair over, Marissa discarded the file and settled onto the couch. A spring poked into her back, and she wriggled, waving a hand toward the computer. You made sure to emphasize the art thing in the profile? I should only be interested in it in the most vain and flighty way possible. And the fail-safes?

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