Read Online Confidence Tricks by Tamara Morgan - Free Book Online Page B

cracked maroon vinyl. “But believe me when I say there’s a reason this place is usually empty. If you order eggs, expect to be sick for at least three days.”
    Before he could respond, the waitress came by and unceremoniously dumped a carafe of coffee on the table. Asprey thanked her and poured himself a cup, but Poppy put her hand firmly over the top of hers. “I’ll resort to the creamers if I get thirsty.”
    Considering the way the coffee appeared to have lumps as it moved through the spout, Poppy seemed to have a point.
    “My brother used to buy this brand of creamers by the crate,” Asprey said, rolling one of the little tubs between his fingers. He could also do a pretty mean coin-roll knuckle, but he drew the line at impressing women with sleight-of-hand tricks. Everyone had standards. “He said they made the best White Russians.”
    “I have a hard time imagining Graff clinking a glass of vodka with the girls. He strikes me more as a swilled-straight-from-the-bottle type.”
    “Not Graff—Winston.”
    “Winston? As in Harry Winston Jewelers?” Poppy grabbed the creamer from his hand and held it aloft. “There’s another one of you?”
    Crap. Discretion had never been Asprey’s strong suit. He covered his slipup by taking a generous gulp of coffee, which burned the inside of his mouth and all down his throat—but not because of the temperature. His eyes watered. “What is this stuff made out of? Napalm?”
    “I think they wash out the pot with bleach after each use.”
    He coughed heavily, taking the creamer she offered in one hand and biting the bottom so he could suck it down, shotgun-style. By the time his eyes had cleared enough that there was only one of her laughing at him from across the table, she seemed content to let the subject of Winston drop.
    “So what is the deal with Graff?” she asked, resting her head on both hands, elbows propped on the table. When she did that, she looked young—her actual age, which he’d been surprised to find was only twenty-five. If half of the facts they’d compiled about her were true, there had been a hell of a lot of life shoved into those twenty-five years. “Are you guys in or out?”
    “We’re hovering somewhere in the middle.”
    She frowned. “You’re either in or out. Don’t waste my time.”
    That seemed a fair response, given what he knew about this woman. But as it was his first foray into attempting to buy a person’s silence, he preferred to step lightly. Everything came with a learning curve. “What if I were to make this easy on you?”
    She didn’t budge.
    Fine. They’d do it the obvious way. “We can pay you for the necklace,” he finally said. “No questions asked, no trade of services required. All we want is a promise that you won’t go to the police.”
    “You want me to keep my mouth shut? That’s what this is about?” She didn’t sound happy, and a deep furrow in the middle of her forehead seemed like a sign of impending doom, like a tornado siren or the four horsemen galloping by. This was the last time he was letting Graff talk him into anything.
    “Yes?” he tried. “Like the real gentleman we are?”
    She hesitated. “How much?”
    He tried not to let his disappointment show. Yes, Poppy Donovan-slash-Natalie Hall was a criminal. And yes, she could probably kick his ass with both hands tied behind her back. But there was more to her story—and he wished he could have a little more time to hear it.
    “Full market value. Twenty grand.”
    “You have that kind of money here? Now?” She cast a furtive look around.
    “Well, not on me,” Asprey said with a laugh. “Not even this trench coat is big enough to hide those kinds of rolls. But we are sorry about getting in the way of your—relationship, shall we call it?—with Todd Kennick. This is our way of making amends. Let us do this for you.”
    She got to her feet so quickly he was sure he must have missed something. With what could only be described