Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(43)

She pitched to the side before righting herself and stepping back from him as if he’d already torn off the mask and revealed what lay beneath. Perhaps he had. Being censured for his past sins had never felt more vital than it did right now. Polly was the only one who could do that for him. Would she?

“Just keep talking,” she breathed, taking her post once again on the other side of the room. “I’ll be the judge of what’s more interesting.”

He raised an eyebrow, attempting to disguise his discomfort at having her so far away. Touching was his greatest ally, and she’d handily divested him of it. “If it pleases you.” He took a moment to memorize the blush that climbed her neck before continuing. “That man was my partner up until about four years ago. We didn’t always work the same mark. Sometimes months passed where he and I didn’t even see each other, going off on our own. But we called each other in when necessary. I—” Hell, if he’d only detailed the cons out loud years ago, maybe the way it made his soul flinch would’ve been enough warning to stop. “We were in S?o Paulo and my partner told me about an American woman on vacation. Rich, spoiled, spending money like water…newly married.”

Austin winced on the inside when Polly drained her whiskey.

“Her husband had gone back to the States for business and left her there for a month. She wasted no time telling me the marriage was rocky, the husband is a philanderer, which is what they all say as justification, before we—”

“I don’t think I need those details.”

Any other time, the underlying jealousy in her tone—although she’d tried to hide it—would’ve had him rejoicing, but celebrating in the face of his oncoming defeat proved empty. “My partner set it up. It was a simple investment scheme, much like the one your fathers likely encountered.” The look he gave her was packed full of sympathy, but it didn’t make her look any less numb. “I’m sorry.”

She dropped into a seat at the square table, eyeing the police file he’d brought with him, but not touching it. “Are you really sorry? I don’t know if a person can go from feeling nothing, caring for no one, to feeling regret. It’s like a prisoner turning to religion. Buying because there’s nothing else for sale.”

“I can’t convince you I’m genuine with words, Polly, only deeds. And I will, goddammit.” He waited for her attention before resuming the story. A story that felt as though it had happened to someone else. Or a fictional character in some tragic play. “For the most part my associate stayed out of the picture, stepping in as the shill on two occasions, playing the success story who invested money with me.” Scenes filtered through his mind. The smell of suntan lotion. The lapping of waves against the side of a boat. “With the way she spent money, we were surprised when she didn’t bite right away. It was nearly a month before she decided to transfer the funds. And right after…right after she did, she told me she was pregnant.”

Polly was an ice sculpture across the room. God, God, he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to kneel in front of her and wrap his arms around her waist. Get in her face and demand she shout at him, just so she would push him away. At least there would be contact. Never again. She’ll never touch you again. That knowledge was a deep, piercing wound, but not being able to protect her from Charles would be the death blow. So that had to be his goal here. Lose the fragile relationship they had, but still be allowed to protect her.

“I’m always so careful, Polly. Looking back, I think it was purposeful. A way to get back at her husband for leaving her alone. For the affairs.” He laid his hands on his knees. “As soon as I found out, I reversed the transfer. I’m a thief, you understand. But I wouldn’t steal from my own…my own…” A bracing inhale. Another one. “My partner reversed it back and took off with the money before I’d wrapped my mind around what had happened. I was…nearly catatonic after I found out about the pregnancy, or I would’ve stopped him.” Austin stood on lethargic legs and commanded them to take him toward Polly, so very aware of her silence with each step he took. When he reached the table, he opened the file and removed the photograph that he’d stared at in a near-daze on the train ride to the hotel. “This is Gemma Klausky. My…daughter.”

Polly’s hand flew to her mouth, dropped away, and went right back to muffle a sound of disbelief. “Oh my God, Austin.” Quizzical eyes scanned the photo, probably noting the similarities in her features and Austin’s. “Is she why you came to Chicago?”

His chin jerked up. “Yes. Although, we’ve never spoken and I have no idea what I thought my presence would accomplish,” he murmured, shocked that even Polly had landed on the reason for his arrival in Chicago in such short order. She didn’t believe in coincidences, either, it would seem. “It appears Gemma is the reason Charles Reitman is in Chicago, too.”

“Reitman? What’s the connection…” Polly stiffened, no longer meeting his eyes. This was it. This was when she bolted for the door, cursing him to hell. The masochist she’d stirred to life inside him shouted at her to do it! Just so it would be over and he wouldn’t feel the awful anticipation of watching her disappear down the hotel corridor. “Don’t say it out loud,” she whispered. “I know what the connection is, but don’t say it out loud.”