Too Wicked to Keep by Julie Leto Page B

knew enough about women to spot the type who werekeeping their true passions under wraps. Maybe it was the way she lingered in the sections of the museum that housed the more evocative sculptures—maybe it was the way she spoke in whispers to her friends while they admired paintings that ventured near to erotic. Whatever it was, he’d needed to know more about her.
    So he’d learned. And in that learning, he’d fallen in love.
    Or at least, that’s what he’d called it at the time. After pining for her for six full months in Mexico, though, he hadn’t been so sure. From what he’d heard about love, it required two people to share things like trust and honesty. He’d done neither with her then—but he was ready to do it now.
    He couldn’t help but glance down at the ring and wonder.
    â€œI didn’t make it common practice to get so closely involved with my marks,” he said, shifting so that his hand was out of sight. “In fact, in my business, it usually pays to stay in the background and do reconnaissance without interacting with anyone. That way, no one remembers you well enough to describe you to the police.”
    â€œI could have described you very vividly,” she mused, her voice deepening to throaty levels that scraped against his skin like fine-grade sandpaper.
    â€œMore vividly than you know,” he said, trying to ignore her perfume, which was suddenly invading his space with alluring hints of vanilla and spice. “You knew things about me I’d never told anyone.”
    She snickered. “I didn’t know anything about you! I knew about David Brandon, but he wasn’t even real.”
    He shrugged. “He wasn’t entirely made up. A good lie is one that’s based on truth.”
    Her expression turned curious. “What was the truth, then? You told me that you were a military brat who traveled all over the world. Was that true?”
    â€œI did travel a lot, but mostly because my mother was a junkie who had a thing for long-road truckers.”
    â€œHow old were you when you ended up in foster care?” she asked.
    He arched a brow.
    â€œI told you I’d done my own research, Danny. But I’d like to hear about it from you.”
    Danny chuckled mirthlessly. He didn’t like to talk about his childhood. Few foster kids did. Living the life of an unwanted brat shuttled through a cold and broken system had hardened just about every child it touched. But Danny had, eventually, found a situation he could manipulate, if not thrive in. The Burnetts had been far from perfect, but they’d, at the very least, given him a trade and a sister in their daughter, Lucy.
    â€œI don’t remember much about the first years. I never stayed anywhere longer than six months because I had a habit of taking things that didn’t belong to me and trading them in school or on the street for stuff I needed. Then when I was around twelve, I ended up in the Burnett household.”
    â€œAnd it was different?”
    â€œNot really, except for one thing. Lucy. She was their only biological child amid a houseful of ever-changing fosters. She and I—I don’t know—connected, I guess. We were best friends. Still are, which is convenient since she’s about to marry my brother.”
    â€œWhich brother?”
    â€œAlejandro,” he affirmed. “After I was framed for the attack on the security guard and arrested, a hired thug named Jimmy the Rim paid me a visit in jail andoffered me a trade—my continued good health for this ring. Trouble was, I didn’t know where the ring was. Ramon, my biological father, had owned it, but he was dead. Lucy…” Here, Danny decided to alter the facts. He could share his own secrets with Abby, but Lucy’s private life wasn’t his to reveal. “Well, let’s just say she went to Alejandro to find out about the ring, and in the process, they fell