ONE WAY OUT: Chapter Five
Cassie was aware of the truckers checking her out as she passed them, and she enjoyed the attention. Still, it was so unfair.
A man like Martinelli could show up all sexy and attractive just the way he was, while women needed to stuff themselves into skinny clothes, balance on high heels, fluff their hair, and make up their face. She enjoyed the sprucing up, though; it had been a long time since she'd had an opportunity to feel like a desirable woman rather than a mom or a boss.
Along with the familiar hum of excitement, jitters staked out their territory in her belly as she approached the bar. Martinelli was bound to retaliate before giving in to her demands, and he was at his most dangerous while acting charming or harmless. For that reason alone, she hoped he'd greet her with snarls and jabs rather than smiles and charisma that worked its wiles on her far more than she liked to admit.
A group of skinny, weathered cowboys outside the bar surveyed her with unabashed apreciation as she walked their way, and their catcalls and whistles followed her into the dark, smoke-choked bar. In the heart of Wyoming, sexism and non-PC behavior still flourished.
Above the sound of a jukebox, the clink of bottles and glasses, and the hum of conversation, Cassie heard the solid thwack of pool balls hitting one another, and she spotted Martinelli and his sycophants by the back pool table. He'd spruced up a bit and appeared to be wearing clean jeans, a clean shirt, and a shiny, twenty-something blonde.
The shiny blonde didn't deter her. While Cassie might have left her twenties behind some time ago, she still looked good. More important, she was sneaky, unscrupulous, stubborn, and thick-skinned. Sometimes success was nothing more than being the last one standing.
Martinelli pretended not to see her, although he couldn't possibly have missed her arrival since the entire bar fell dead silent. She moved forward, aware of the male and female gazes following her, assessing and judging.
"Hey, Martinelli." Cassie leaned her hip against the pool table. "I see you're well-accessorized, as always."
Lazily, he looked at her over the blonde's head. "You're just jealous."
"Of what?" She grinned as she hitched herself up to sit on the side of the pool table, then deliberately crossed her legs, causing the intensity of the stares directed her way to incrase a gazillion-fold. "Your reputation as the biggest slut west of the Mississippi?"
The blonde turned and Cassie recognized her as the grad student working on obtaining exclusive rights to Martinelli. And very attractive rights they were; the dim light of the bar only added to his classic good looks, the patrician nose, firm lips, and hooded eyes that clearly marked his dark, volatile Mediterranean heritage.
"Oh, it's you." The other woman's voice was cool, her expression scornful. No trace of the earlier friendliness; the girl was a quick study on whom to look down upon.
"Yes, it's me, and I have business with your boss. Now be a good girl and go away."
"Don't you give me orders, bitch."
Oh, my. Dramatics! It was like having an angry puppy yapping at her heels.
Cassie smiled gently. "In this little world of ours, I'm the queen bitch and you're nowhere near my league. Truth is, you're just a nuisance. Now go away."
The woman pulled free from Martinelli, who didn't move. A nice man would've jumped to his girl's defense; instead he looked like he was enjoying the skirmish.
"Alex? Are you going to put up with -"
"Mel, why don't you get a beer and keep Cleary comany for a few minutes. I'll come for you when I'm done here."
His low, pleasant voice carried a note of authority, and the blonde simply glared at Cassie as she walked past.
God, had she ever been that young and emotionally transparent?
"Bye, Mel," she chirped at the woman's stiff, retreating back.
"Pull in the claws, Ashton," Martinelli said, his tone still pleasant. "Your business is with me, not her."
Cassie arched a brow. Admirable of him to defend his date, if rather pointless after the woman had left. "But she's so easy to offend."
"And when you scent a weakness, you go for the kill. Nice habit." His voice had an edge to it she hadn't heard in a while.
He was furious. Ice-cold, raging, blindly furious -- and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about the reason for it.
"The laws of survival, my friend," Cassie said easily. "Something we should be well aware of in our line of business."
"My line of business and your line of business aren't alike." He turned toward the pool table and picked up a cue. "Despite your fantasies to the contrary."
At what point had the other men at the table faded away to leave them alone? Absolutely alone, in the center of the room, with the neon gleam of the Budweiser sign on the wall casting his face in a cool, blue light.
Cassie slid off the table and picked up a cue. She wasn't much a pool player, and letting Martinelli win might help ease the brittle tension. Twirling the cue, she ambled to the other side of the table.
"Like it or not, this time our business is mutual. Play a round?"
Wordlessly, he bent, aimed, and sent balls smacking across the table. The number six dropped into a corner pocket. "Take your best shot."
"I always do, Martinelli. You should know that."
She did her best but managed only to send a few balls wobbling over the worn green felt. She glanced up, and caught him eyeing her cleavage.
Yup; distraction techniques in place and working fine.
"If that was your best shot, I'd pay money to see your worst." Martinelli lookd up, not the least embarrassed at being caught ogling her boobs.
"We can't all be brilliant at everything. So, have you thought over my little proposition?"
"Drop the nice act, Ashton. I like you better bitchy."
She smiled, reveling a tiny bit in her victory over him. "I just thought you might have a few questions."
"You're getting off on this, aren't you?"
Cassie leaned back against the table and did her best to look bored. Again, his gaze lowered to her breasts; the look almost physical as a touch. Her entire body warmed in a way that was pleasant but most definitely not welcome.
"Why not?" she answered. "Serves you right for being such a bastard to me for all these years."
He merely stared at her, his mouth thin. "You're sure it's an infant rex?"
"Keep your voice down," she ordered, after glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. "And, yes, I'm certain."
"So you can prove it?"
"Oh, Martinelli, you're just making this harder on yourself."
He turned away, and more pool balls cracked against each other before thudding into the pockets. "You're such a nice girl."
"Been there, done that. When I played nicely, by the rules, it got me a big, fat nothing. You've got so many rules to play by, it must really chap your ass that I can go where I want and do what I want without departmental bullshit and grant committee red tape tripping up my every move."
"At least I have respect."
A direct hit, and he knew it. With another smile, though this one took a bit more of an effort, Cassie sent a few balls skittering across the table. Again, she could feel his gaze on her, heated and physical as a touch.
"It wasn't your turn, Ashton."
"I'm not much for waiting. I've already won what really matters, haven't I? So here's the rundown, even though your ego won't allow you to ask for it: The remains are in very good condition, and from what I've already cleared, I'm pretty confident the skull's intact. We did find one of her arms and a portion of a foot washed downstream, but we've excavated that area as well. If any other small bones drifted away, we should recover most, if not all, of them. And if we're lucky, some of the soft tissue might have been preserved and we'll get skin impressions. Maybe more."
"You can tell it's female?"
"Nope." At his raised brows, she elaborated. "I'm going on instinct. When it comes to bones, anyway, my instincts rarely fail me."
"So what exactly do you want from me?"
"For starters, the usual -- I need you to verify it's what I already know it is."
"Yeah, the validation behind those three letters is something you can't claim, no matter how much you lie, cheat, and manipulate situations to your advantage."
Old words, old accusations. There was no real heat or conviction in his voice.
"Seems to me that precious little bundle back in my lab is all the validation I'll ever need for the rest of my life." She smiled at him and watached his expression darken. "Now, what I'm about to say may come as something of a shock, but I'm completely serious."
She walked around the table until she faced him. It annoyed her that she had to look up, and she wished yet again that she hadn't been born with an overabundance of "cute and tiny" genes. Her looks had a few advantages, but most of the time they made for a struggle to be taken seriously.
"Despite what you and your colleagues believe, I run a damn good business and I know my work. But because this is an important find, and because half the members of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology will be out to discredit me, I want somebody with credentials working at my side. You may have a certain notoriety within your circle of peers, Martinelli, but nobody questions your skills or judgment. If you're there to back me up, I won't have to waste so much time defending every minuscule move I make."
"What's in it for me?"
"You need to ask? You get your name attached to the biggest paleontology find of the century, which ought to translate into a whole lot of journal papers and attention for your department. Maybe National Geographic will even pick you to be their next cover boy."
"Maybe I don't give a rat's ass about that."
"And maybe I'll wake up tomorrow looking like your tall blonde over there." She leaned into him, close enough to feel his heat and smell the freshly showered scent of him beneath the bar's miasma of stale beer and cigarette smoke. "Best of all, you get to uncover, with your own hands, something nobody else has ever seen. You're not going to turn me down."
"No," he said after a long moment, his expression not in the least friendly. "No, I'm not. But there's one more condition you need to meet before I agree."
Cassie nodded, waiting. She knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.
"I want first crack at acquiring the finished specimen."
"Deal," she said, without hesitation.
Wyatt would have screamed at her for that. Martinelli didn't look as if he believed her.
"You heard right," she said, answering the question in his eyes. "I know what you think about me, that all I ever want is to make a quick buck -"
"And this isn't true?"
"I make no apologies for wanting to earn as much money as I can, although I barely break even most of the time. And even that's hard when unexpected court costs and lawyer fees nearly bankrupt the family business."
Their gazes clashed, and an old, bitter anger washed over as she added softly, "But a girl can still dream, right?"
For a long moment, Martinelli stood very still, not even blinking. "I told the truth."
"You told your version of the truth."
"Because that was the only version I had."
"And it nearly landed me in jail. Not that you cared."
"Why should I?" he asked, his tone so quiet that Cassie heard him only because they stood close together.
Too close together. When had they moved toward each other?
And when had the bar grown so quiet?
She glanced around and saw the room's occupants were watching her and Martinelli as if the two of them were acting out a drama on center stage -- except for the stiff-backed blonde at the bar, who stubbornly faced away.
Cassie stepped back, hoping Martinelli didn't notice her retreat. "As I was going to say, even I'm not rapacious enough to sell a fossil this valuable to a businessman with too much disposable cash on his hands. She's not ending up in a bank lobby or somebody's living room. You get first dibs -- but that's all I'll promise."
"And you'll price her so high, my department will never have a chance in hell of buying her."
Cassie stared back at him. "You just don't get it, do you? I have bills to pay. Like you, I have employees and overhead and business expenses. It costs me time and a hell of a lot of money to dig up fossils, clean them, put them back together again, and get them ready for display. You expect to be paid for your work. You don't seriously think I do this out of the generosity of my heart, do you?"
At that, he smiled. "And all this time, everybody's been saying you're heartless. Who knew?"
Beneath the jab, she sensed an easing of the tension between them.
"So do we have a deal, Martinelli?"
"You knew you had me before you walked through that door, Ashton, but I appreciate the fact you dressed up for me, even if it was just a tease. You're a fine-looking woman, and if you didn't make me feel homicidal every time we get within arm's reach of each other, I'd even think we could get along better. Much better."
"I don't want to get along better with you. You are so damn sleazy sometimes." Cassie rolled her eyes, but her heart was racing. "What time can you be at my lab?"
"I'll be there tomorrow morning but can't say exactly when. I'm in the middle of a dig; give me time to put matters in order first. I have to bring Cleary up to date -"
"You don't tell him a thing," she said flatly. "I don't want to be dealing with telephone calls, reporters, or any of your pals stirring up trouble for me. Ideallly, I want as much of her cleaned in the next few weeks as possible."
"Deadline?"
"A friend of mine is getting married soon, and I'm in the wedding party."
He still looked resentful, but anticipation had toned his hostility down to a manageable level. "I'll see you tomorrow. Shall I buy you a beer to seal the deal?"
"Your little woman is waiting for you, Martinelli. If you bring me over to the bar, there's no way you're getting laid tonight. See you later, dino boy."
With a wave, Cassie left the bar to the sounds of a few more catcalls from Martinelli's team. But Don Cleary's narrow-eyed, hostile glare almost stopped her. She'd never seen that look on his face before. Exasperation and angry resentment, yes, but nothing that close to...hatred.
To be sure no one noticed her reaction, she blew the old man a kiss before walking out into the cool, clear night air.
She'd won, but for some reason it didn't feel like much of a victory.