Confidence Tricks Read Online Free

Tiffany’s computers and the bulk of their stolen goods.
    Asprey thought about grabbing one of the shotguns leaning against the wall by the door, but changed his mind at the last minute. It was early afternoon, and the woman traveled alone. Chances were she’d gotten lost or had a flat tire somewhere in the vicinity. Even he couldn’t botch this one up.
    As the woman drew nearer, Asprey leaned against the corrugated metal exterior of the hangar and donned his most disarming smile, squinting into the rare patch of sun. The shorts she wore were as infinitesimal as distance had promised, and she carried a red jug in one hand, a clear sign that her tank was empty and she was in need of a little assistance.
    “Do I detect a damsel in distress?” he asked as soon as she came within earshot.
    One of the woman’s brows rose, but she didn’t say anything, so Asprey took her reticence as an invitation. In addition to the world’s smallest shorts and her odd choice of footwear, everything about her attire was eccentric and playful and invited perusal. Her hair was a short tangle of loopy brown curls, and there were a few brightly colored feathers worked in, dangling over her shoulders and making it look as though she might take flight at any moment. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, fresh-faced and glowing with the exertion of hiking all the way to their quiet, secluded hiding place.
    But it was the legs he kept going back to. This woman obviously worked out.
    “Are you done?” she asked, using the toe of her boot to scratch the back of her calf.
    “Sorry,” he said, not feeling nearly as sheepish as he should have, given the situation. He blamed months of sleeping on a mattress next to Graff in their makeshift apartment in the office above the hangar. All that stuff in the movies about dashing thieves and women being wooed by his outlaw ways were a crock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, let alone near a pair of legs like that.
    “So…what can I do for you?” he asked. She wasn’t a very forthcoming visitor, that was for sure, content to stand there trying to stare him into a state of discomfiture. Good thing Asprey was impervious to the disdain of others. As the least impressive and most likely to screw up member of his family, that sort of thing came standard. “Are you running on empty?”
    “Only temporarily,” she said. “I was hoping you might be able to help me get on track again.”
    Her smile, crooked and mocking, seemed familiar. His awareness of it was more of a visceral reaction than a mental one, all warm and tingly and a bit like he was about to be strapped to a chair and given intense dental work without Novocaine.
    “So I was right?” he asked, ignoring the feeling. “About the distress?”
    “This place was hard to find,” she agreed, setting down the red jug. “But I hate to disappoint you…I don’t need anyone to rescue me.”
    “Oh, really?” Asprey asked. “Then what brings you all this way?”
    “You do,” she said, her eyes meeting his. They were large and brown and seemed to be on intimate terms with him.
    Asprey’s mind immediately started flying through all the women he’d slept with in the past year, searching for eyes like the ones facing him. He tilted his head a little. Would he call those scorned eyes? Irate eyes? You’re-a-jackass-and-I’m-going-to-kick-you-in-the-face eyes?
    “If this is a staring contest, you really suck at it,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “You’ve blinked like twelve times.”
    “House rules—blinking is allowed. I have very dry eyes.”
    “That’s odd,” she said, breaking into a wide smile and flashing her teeth, complete with a strangely charming turn to the tooth in the front. “I don’t recall your eyes being very dry. In fact, there was a moment there when I was pretty sure you were crying.”
    It took a moment—a much too long moment he would later regret—before Asprey realized what she