Double Take. Leigh Riker
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she recognized the soft-bodied doll from her childhood—the treasured doll she’d had to leave behind when her family entered Witness Protection. Along with everything else, her favorite toy had been abandoned. Nothing, absolutely nothing, had made that first move except her mother, her father, Kyle and Cameron.
Her throat tightened. Cameron cradled the doll, feeling a slight stiffness here and there. It must have been left in the rain at some point, then dried. The doll looked dirty and worn—apparently well loved—but its button eyes brightly stared up at her as they had done so often at night before she fell asleep. At three years old, on the verge of having her world destroyed, she’d clutched that doll for a final time like a talisman against the dark that would soon engulf her. Now she had a piece of her life back again.
“Where did you find this?”
“At Gram’s.” After leaving the program—before he’d vanished without a trace—Kyle had gone to live with their maternal grandmother until he finished school. Like their mother and James, Gram was dead now. But she’d saved this doll for Cameron. All those years.
Kyle had guessed at its significance to her. She didn’t know what to say now except, “Thank you,” which seemed so inadequate.
Kyle shrugged. “I knew you’d appreciate the memento from our childhood. All I remember is getting uprooted and living where I didn’t want to go, always lying about who I was.”
Like their names, she thought. She wasn’t ready to forgive Kyle. But at least now she had the chance to rebuild what they’d lost.
“WHY WOULD YOU choose not to?” Emerald said in a strident tone late the next afternoon. “How could you refuse?”
She didn’t mean Kyle, and Cameron felt her first reaction—a simple no—take flight. She surveyed the pile of evening gowns on Emerald’s wide bed and tried not to stare. Black velvet, bronze satin, red silk…they must be worth more money than Cameron’s entire wardrobe—mostly practical pants and shirts—several times over.
Emerald’s hands fluttered over the obviously expensive fabrics. And again, Cameron thought how nervous she seemed. Last night’s phone call must still be bothering her. Why else had she made such an outrageous suggestion?
She didn’t really have a choice, Cameron realized. If she wanted to keep her job here, if she wanted to talk her way into other clients through Emerald, she would have to do as Emerald asked. No, demanded.
“Stand in for you?” she said. “Me?” Determined to decide her own fate, she tried to back out. “I realize we’re the same height and build, more or less, but…”
Irritation edged Emerald’s tone. “It’s only for one night.” She ripped another dress from a hanger in her closet. Dark green watered silk flowed onto the bed and drank up the soft light from the bedside lamp. Once more she ran through the scenario. “You’ll come to the hotel just before the Zeus reception ends. We’ll trade clothes there in my dressing room. Then I disappear in your jeans while you take my place in the evening dress I wore to the reception. You climb into my limousine for the ride home and wave to the press through the tinted windows. No one will actually see you except getting in and getting out of the car. You’ll wear my coat, which has a hood to hide your face. Now, is that so hard?”
Emerald dashed back to the walk-in closet and came out with a suitcase. She threw in lingerie, shoes, pants and blouses. They didn’t match but Emerald didn’t seem to care. She seemed intent upon one thing now—leaving town.
At a sharp rap on the open door, Emerald jerked around. She clutched a pair of designer jeans in both hands, her knuckles white. Her features didn’t relax but faint relief sounded in her voice when she recognized her personal trainer, a huge, barrel-chested man, lounging in the doorway.
“Ron. I thought we had finished for the day.”
“Torture’s over but I wondered about my pay.”
“Grace will write a check, you know that. See her.”
Uh-oh, Cameron thought. More trouble. Ron’s frown and the hard look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine. Turning her back, Emerald dropped the jeans then rearranged the gowns on the bed.
“Grace had a headache.” Ron straightened, his gaze raking Emerald. “Probably from one of your browbeatings. She went home.”
“Then she’ll pay you tomorrow.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been put off.” He glanced at Cameron, who felt decidedly uncomfortable being in the middle of their quarrel. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” he told her. “Greer’s up to her pretty ears in unpaid bills. Her staff’s income is the last to be dealt with, which I’m sure you’ll learn.”
“I will talk with you tomorrow, Ron,” Emerald cut across his statement. “Don’t be late tonight.” He doubled as her chauffeur, Cameron knew, and would drive her to the Zeus reception. Carrying a dress, Emerald walked toward him, clearly intent upon shutting the door behind him for now. “Thank you for the workout. I’m still perspiring. I must have lost five pounds.”
“That why you’re shaking now?”
Cameron had noticed, too. Emerald was not in control.
“Or is it the guy who keeps calling?” He stepped back into the hall before Emerald reached him. The muscles of his massive chest and biceps stood out when he folded his arms. Not a man to make an enemy of, Cameron thought. “Better watch it, Champ,” he said. “There are a lot of nuts out there. If he takes it in mind to turn up here—”
“I’m sure you’ll protect me.” Emerald’s voice dripped with both honey and vinegar, but her fingers twitched again on the silk in her hands.
“That’s why you pay me.”
His sarcastic tone served as a reminder that she owed him. As if satisfied with that for the moment, Ron gave Cameron a nod, turned and went soundlessly down the hall.
For a long moment no one spoke. Emerald threw down the silk gown.
Then she said, “Don’t let his muscle-bound appearance fool you. Ron is minor league. I pulled him out of the gutter two years ago. He’s not that good a driver, either. When I’m back on top in my game, and my knee is fully healed, he’ll be the first to go.”
“Still,” Cameron mused, “I wouldn’t want to cross him.”
“He’s a nobody. Grace undoubtedly paid him—and he simply wants more.”
She turned back to the suitcase, pushed everything flat inside and closed the latches. When she faced Cameron again, she was smiling.
“Imagine being afraid of him, or that deranged man who called. They won’t touch me.” She waved toward the dresses on the bed. Red, green, black. “I think the bronze satin will do for you. It suits both of us.” She returned to the closet then handed Cameron a sleek, long-haired object.
Cameron recoiled.
“Take it,” Emerald said with a half smile. “My wig for those bad-hair days. If you’re going to impersonate me tonight, you’ll need to be blond.”
Cameron frowned. “What if this doesn’t work?”
“Of course it will work. Most people are completely unobservant. Unless you’re forced to play tennis, you can easily pass for me.” A pleading note had entered her voice and Cameron sank down on the bed, knowing she’d been defeated.
As far as she could tell, Emerald had plenty of colleagues and professional acquaintances—all potential clients for Cameron—but no real friends. Ron and Grace didn’t appear to like her either. As for enemies, that “fan”… Cameron shuddered at the memory of his harsh voice, his threat. She knew all about that—in the past. Now she had her job to consider. Plus, she felt a connection to Emerald.
“Well, if it will help…”
Emerald