Against the Odds

by Donna Kauffman

  Mig shook his head. “Just the single gunshot wound.”

  “Was Ralston interviewed last night with the rest of the guests?” Tucker asked.

  Ted spoke. “He wasn’t on the premises when we arrived. We sent a car to their home address, to inform him of what happened, ask some questions. He claimed to be home all night, but we already have a witness—a Blackstone driver—who claims he saw Ralston getting out of a cab at the resort gates within the time frame of the time of death. Once we got the warrant this morning, he lawyered up. But we have enough for an indictment now, so it doesn’t matter. He won’t talk to us, but he’ll have to talk to the judge.”

  “So, what do you need me for?” Tucker asked.

  Mig grinned. “Well, there was some concern initially with the splatter formation, trying to judge the height of the shooter, but now that we have this…What can I say? Dead bodies tell many tales, and this particular tale—” he held up the computer printouts “—is going to put Mr. Drew Ralston in jail.”

  “So, Ms. Denton lives here in Vegas, but was staying at Blackstone’s?” Mig turned to Misty when she spoke. She smiled. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, it’s just that, as a writer…well, I’m curious. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Mig smiled. “That’s okay. She was apparently invited by Mr. Blackstone for their grand opening in January,” he said, “but wasn’t able to schedule a stay here until now. Seems Blackstone had to do a little convincing.”

  Tucker noticed a tinge of pink grace her cheeks, and her hand fluttered to her neck. Apparently Patsy Denton wasn’t the only celebrity invited, or the only one needing some convincing. He wondered what Blackstone had had to offer to get her to agree to come.

  “So she didn’t choose to come here, then?” Misty asked. “She was just here as a favor? But you said she was, um, taking advantage of the resort services…” She trailed off as all of the men looked up at her.

  Tucker realized they were all thinking—and quite graphically—that she’d been there for the same purpose.

  “They have couple’s packages here, don’t they,” Tucker said, drawing their attention to him. “Perhaps they came together, only Mr. Ralston wasn’t able to arrive until later.”

  Patterson shook his head. “No, she was signed up for the—” He pulled the file around so he could read it. “Cleopatra. This is where she gets to command a bunch of guys to—”

  Tucker cleared his throat and Patterson broke off and coughed. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Misty smiled. “It’s okay. I’m…somewhat familiar with that type of thing.”

  Tucker had to hide his smile as all three men found somewhere else to look for a moment. He admired the way she handled the attention, directly, but with just enough cool aplomb to discourage further comment. He imagined she’d had a lot of practice at it. But it didn’t stop him from wondering what her package plan had been….

  “So,” Mig said, pausing to sip his coffee. “Jealousy seems to be the prime possibility for motive. He’s got plenty of his own money, so I doubt this was planned for some inheritance or insurance deal. Classic crime of passion. With the matching fiber to put him on the scene, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we nail his ass—er, hide, to the wall.”

  “Well, he knew what type of resort this was, and what she was here for,” Ted added, “so there was some premeditation to it. He could do some serious time.”

  “Who were the other suspects?”

  The four men looked at Misty once again. “Excuse me?” Mig asked.

  “You said there were other suspects. One was the employee who was with her. I’m just curious, who was the other one?”

  “Actually, there were several employees assigned to Ms. Denton, but only one had gone in at the time of death. He claimed she was dead when he arrived and he was the one who alerted the staff, who called it in.”

  “So, then he was telling the truth,” Misty said.

  Mig and Patterson both shrugged. “We don’t know that for sure, but it doesn’t look like he pulled the trigger.”

  “So then it’s not a crime of passion. She wasn’t in the act.” This came from Tucker.

  “She was here, she was, shall we say, prepared and waiting for the evening’s festivities to begin. I don’t think the district attorney is going to worry if the guy wasn’t actually there in the room with her yet. There was no doubt what she was in that room to do.” He looked at Misty. “But, as a matter of procedure, we always take a close look at whoever discovers the body.” He shrugged. “You never know, so you never rule anything out until the evidence is all in.”

  She nodded, chewing a bit on her bottom lip.

  Tucker had noticed her doing that the night before, as she’d talked to the detectives. It made him want to do unnatural things to her mouth. He forced himself to look away as his body responded yet again to the visuals that seemed to just spring forth every time he looked at her.

  Spring forth. There was an apt description of the effect she had on him. And every other male, if the other three men at the table were any indication. You’re as big a hormone-induced jackass as they are, Greywolf, thinking you could make time with her because you happened to catch her when her defenses were down.

  Though, come to think of it, she hadn’t seemed all that defenseless. In fact, she’d been amazingly poised, all things considered. Anyone else put in the potentially mortifying position she’d been put in would not have been able to pull it together so smoothly. She’d chatted up the detectives as if they’d been having tea in her salon. As if she’d been fully dressed and not wearing that filmy piece of nothing.

  A piece of nothing he remembered quite clearly as he’d been up against it in that hallway when he’d so badly wanted to take that mouth of hers and—

  “Greywolf?”

  His attention jerked back by Mig’s voice, he had to backpedal quickly and hope like hell he hadn’t been leering or worse, drooling. Really, you need to get a grip.

  What he needed was to get Misty out of here and alone. With him. Until he’d exhausted every one of the scenarios that kept playing out in his mind.

  “I’m sorry, I was thinking about the case. About how Ralston got on the grounds. Do cabs routinely let people off at the end of the drive?”

  Mig ducked his gaze, but not before Tucker saw his smile. Still, he rescued him before Ted could make some smarmy-ass comment and ruin any chance he had to not be lumped in with the usual men who couldn’t stop thinking about what she did for a living.

  “No. In fact, cabs aren’t allowed on Blackstone grounds. Only their own drivers can get past the front gate. Which also confirms that he wasn’t here to join in the fun and games with his wife. Otherwise she could have had a car sent for him.”

  “Mmm,” Tucker said, sending a silent thanks to Mig for covering his ass. He’d owe him one. “Good point.”

  Not that he needed to worry. Misty wasn’t paying any attention to him anyway. She propped her elbows on the table. “So, who was the third suspect?”

  “We don’t know,” Patterson piped in. “All we know is there was another woman in her room that night.”

  “Her Blackstone assistant maybe?”

  Patterson and Mig shook their heads. “Not unless she was sharing a glass of wine with her.”

  “Which is against company policy,” Ted injected.

  “There were two wineglasses with two different shades of lipstick on the glass. One had been wiped off, but we found the napkin in the trash, and lifted traces of it off the glass as well. No usable prints, though, but we’re running tests to see if both colors belonged to Ms. Denton.”

  “You think she changed lipstick and drank from a second glass?” Tucker asked.

  Mig shrugged. “No, but again, we don’t leave anything unexamined. It could have been someone who came by earlier in the day and had nothing to do with this. But the fact that the attempt was made to wipe it clean makes it stand out as potential evidence.”

>   “Even if it was her lipstick, couldn’t someone else have borrowed it?” Misty asked.

  “Sure. Unlikely, but sure. I’m guessing it won’t match the lipsticks we took from her room or purse. I’m almost positive there was someone else in that room.”

  “No other evidence?” Tucker asked. “No chance another guest stopped by?”

  “Not that anyone’s admitting. She had no scheduled guests either. Still, we’d like to track down whoever the second set of lip prints belonged to. Possible witness to the murder, or to the motive.”

  “Could she have come in with Mr. Ralston?” Misty asked. “Maybe he had someone else on the side himself and this was premeditated. Maybe it wasn’t about money, or jealousy, but about love.”

  Mig grinned. “You know, you might have missed your calling. You do any suspense novels?”

  Misty’s eyes did that twinkle thing. “Sometimes the greatest suspense in a person’s life is falling in love. Or it should be.” She shrugged, but smiled as she shaded her neck with her hands.

  Tucker was becoming more and more enamored of those little splotches by the moment. Maybe because they appeared to be the only chink in her otherwise impeccably British armor.

  “Reading people, seeing beneath the surface,” Mig shrugged. “That’s not always easy, but you have to get inside their head. Not everyone can do that.”

  “Well, I don’t know Drew Ralston, have never met him, so I can’t really say if my idea is even close to the mark. As for understanding motivation, well, that’s my job. In fact, often I do a sort of interrogation of my own characters, to learn more about them. Helps to flesh them out, make them more real.”

  “Why bother to flesh them out?” Ted asked with a self-amused grin. “As long as they’re in the flesh most of the time, right?” He looked around as if expecting everyone else to laugh with him. When Mig and Patterson just rolled their eyes, Tucker moved to intercept, but Misty beat him to it.

  “Have you ever read one of my books, Mr. Strosnyder?”

  Tucker hid a smile. The regal queen’s English had made a return appearance. Why he thought she’d needed defending he had no idea.

  “Actually, I haven’t had the pleasure.” He’d obviously meant that last part as a pun, but even he wasn’t foolish enough to look for support this time.

  “Well, I think you might be surprised by the depth and complexity of my plotting.” She leaned forward, bestowing on him her best smile. “I don’t ever underestimate the intelligence of my readers, or my characters. I think a believable and enjoyable story is only truly entertaining when an author can seduce her reader’s mind, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Ted’s face had become a bit flushed. “I guess so.”

  Misty pushed her chair back and stood with a smile. “I appreciate you allowing me to sit in on your discussion, gentlemen. Be assured I won’t speak of it to anyone. And as much as I’d have enjoyed the tour, I’m afraid I have a flight to catch.”

  She’s leaving? Today? Tucker stood abruptly. She’d agreed to four days. Hadn’t she? What else had that little chin dip in the taxi meant?

  By the time he gathered his wits, she was already shaking hands with everyone and heading to the door.

  “Wait.” He couldn’t just let her walk away. Not again. “I’ll see you out, get you a cab.”

  She smiled at him, the same serene curve of her lips she’d been giving the others during the entire meeting. But this time it didn’t reach her eyes. There was some other message there, but he was damned if he knew what it was. “I’m sure I can manage.”

  “I insist.” Tucker ignored the speculative looks of everyone still seated at the table.

  She merely lifted her shoulder in a half shrug and stepped into the hall.

  Tucker turned to the other men. “I’m sorry.”

  Mig and Patterson both grinned. “Oh no, we perfectly understand,” Patterson offered.

  “Mighty chivalrous of you,” Mig added.

  “Sure we can’t interest you in the tour?” This from Ted.

  Both Mig and Patterson just gave him a look. Ted merely shrugged as if he didn’t understand his offense.

  Tucker shook his hand. “Some other time, maybe.”

  Then he let himself out and found Misty waiting for him, that ambiguous expression still on her face.

  “What time is your flight?” he asked.

  She studied him for a long moment, then seemed to come to some kind of decision. Tucker felt his heart stop in the space of time it took her to finally answer.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “I haven’t actually booked it yet.”

  6

  THERE, SHE’D SAID IT. More or less, anyway. It was what she’d tracked him down for, after all. Of course, she hadn’t planned on announcing her availability in the hallway of a police lab facility, but then nothing between them had been remotely typical up to this point. Why start being predictable now?

  The slow grin that crossed his face did wonders for her confidence…and her pulse rate. Dear Lord, she felt another lapse of decorum coming on. A small smile of her own threatened to surface. About time.

  “Would you like to grab something to eat?” he asked. “Discuss…flight plans?”

  Did she want to get to know him better first? Or would it be best to, well, fling herself into this fling? After all, she wasn’t planning on anything long term here. “I have a suite at the Bellagio. We could…order in.”

  If she wasn’t so nervous, she’d laugh at herself. After all her talk in the conference room, here she was, acting out Ted Strosnyder’s most prurient fantasies. Only she was acting them out with Tucker. Which made it entirely different, of course.

  He didn’t leer at her…or worse, condescend to her. In fact he hadn’t made mention of her occupation at all, or the fact that when they’d met she’d been naked and oiled and ready for God knew what.

  “I was thinking maybe something outdoors,” he said.

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  His danced. “For lunch. We can discuss what comes next while we eat.”

  In her books, men never said no when a lady proposed sex. And there was no doubt he knew she’d been offering herself for lunch.

  The man who had trapped her against the wall last night wouldn’t have wanted to waste time with the midday meal. Unless that meal was her. She subdued her urge to shudder with visualized pleasure. Had he changed his mind? Or maybe her set down of Mr. Strosnyder had him thinking he had to woo her into bed.

  If he only knew.

  She started down the hall, away from potential prying eyes and ears. “Lunch would be lovely,” she said, then slowed and turned, catching his gaze with hers. If she was going to do this, she bloody well wasn’t going to mince around. “But unnecessary.”

  Tucker gave her a look, but said nothing, pausing only long enough to ask the receptionist to put a call in for a cab. Then he held the door open for her. As she passed by him, he dipped his head and said, “I want to watch you eat.”

  There was no subduing the shiver that raced through her this time. So, the man was a sensualist. She wasn’t surprised.

  “And besides,” he added with a boyish grin, “I’m hungry.”

  That surprised a laugh from her and propelled her out the door. She couldn’t peg him, he wasn’t easily categorized, much less predictable. She liked that. And since she didn’t know what to say to a man she’d just offered herself to, she watched the road for the taxi.

  He stepped in behind her. “I’ll have a better chance of finishing my meal if we eat out.” She stilled at his nearness. He waited until she shifted her head slightly so she could see him from the corner of her eye. “And I’d rather satisfy one hunger, before embarking on satisfying another.”

  She tried desperately to maintain a serene outward expression. Which was a challenge, as chaos reigned within her. The things this man said to her!

  “You handled yourself well in there,” he said, stepping away.

/>   She faced him, surprised at the shift in topic. Indefinable, unpredictable.

  “With Strosnyder,” he clarified. “And with the rest of it. Your take on the case was interesting. But I meant Strosnyder. I imagine you get that a lot.”

  “Not often, really. But then I don’t make a habit of sharing the details of my occupation with just anyone.” She smiled. “Cocktail party chitchat is far simpler that way.”

  “Not as interesting though.”

  “Depends on your point of view.”

  He just smiled.

  The cab pulled up then and he held the door for her before sliding into the back seat. “Any recommendations on a good place to eat al fresco,” he asked the cabbie as they settled in. When the man just looked at him, Tucker said, “A place that has tables outside, for lunch?”

  The man’s face lit up. “No problem,” he said, the words heavily accented. He pulled away from the curb and Tucker turned his attention back to Misty.

  “You’re just going to trust his selection?” Misty asked.

  “Why not? He knows the city better than I do. Unless you have a place in mind?”

  “I believe I mentioned the place I had in mind.”

  That lifted his eyebrows a twitch, she noted. She shifted her gaze out the window, hiding her pleasure at being the one to do the surprising. She vowed to do more of it.

  “So you did. Well, why don’t we just consider lunch the first stop on our adventure?”

  She thought about what he’d told her the night before. “I can’t promise you the entire four days.”

  He picked up her hand, turned it over and traced his thumb over her palm, then down each finger. It caused the most delicious sensation to curl in the pit of her stomach.

  “Why don’t we just begin with lunch, see where that leads us? Whenever you decide it’s time to leave, you can book your flight home.” He traced his fingertips to her wrist, across her stuttering pulse. “I don’t see any reason to set boundaries on this, do you?”

  She thought she could drown in those dark eyes of his. Eyes that promised nothing…and everything. No boundaries. “No, no I don’t.” She tried to get her thoughts on track, but all of her attention was focused on his hand, touching hers. His skin was darker, his Native American heritage a definite opposite to her English one. And where she was pale all over…she imagined he wasn’t. His hands were big, and strong…and very possibly he was going to be putting them on her in places that… Well, that delicious sensation curled a bit lower as her imagination took over.