By Hook or By Crook

by Linda Morris

  God, she had to get this business with Daisy and Pock wrapped up so she could get out of here and return to sanity. She gazed at the front of his shirt, wishing she had the right to slip her fingers between the buttons and explore the flat muscles there. She bit back a sigh as she realized what a hopeless mess she was.

  “Damn, I wish I could get in there to get some coffee,” Joe said.

  Ivy gestured with the half-empty cup of coffee in her own hand. “You can share mine,” she offered. “After last night—” She broke off abruptly. She had been about to make a weak joke that after last night they didn’t need to worry about sharing a mug, but just the mention of last night made him stiffen.

  “Thanks,” he said, reaching to take the mug from her.

  His fingertips brushed against the back of her hand as he did so, sending a shiver through her. He sipped from the same side of the mug she’d drunk from, Ivy noticed. She couldn’t quite tear her gaze away from the sight of his lips against the porcelain. His eyes never left hers, and she finally looked away, coloring slightly.

  “So what’s up with Daisy and Pock?” he ventured.

  Glad of the change of subject, Ivy seized on it. “He’s apologizing to her for getting us all mixed up in this. He says he did it to impress her.”

  “Impress her?” Joe echoed.

  “Yeah.” She paused, reluctant to explain something so deeply unflattering to herself, but she couldn’t mischaracterize Pock’s words. Maybe she was a snob, but she didn’t lie. “He got involved with Cantor to make money, which he thought he needed to impress Dad and me, and to win Daisy’s approval.” After a moment, she chuckled, a flat sound devoid of humor. “Little did he know, impressing Dad and me is no way to win Daisy’s approval.”

  “I see.” He braced the mug of coffee on his knee.

  Her fingers itched to follow the movement, sliding her hand down his muscled thigh and cupping his knee through the soft denim, but her hands remained properly in place, folded in her lap. She couldn’t make her emotions behave the way she wanted, but she could control her movements. For now. She clenched her hands in her lap to make sure.

  “So what’s next?”

  Ivy blinked in confusion.

  “If Daisy and Pock are getting down in there, your plan to break them up isn’t working. What’s next?” he repeated. “You’re going to have to face your father eventually.”

  His carefully neutral tone took some of the sting out of his blunt words. His green eyes fixed on the middle distance, not staring her down as he usually did when he confronted her.

  She should be happy he didn’t want a fight. Somehow, though, it didn’t make her happy. The Joe she knew pulled no punches and came after her, calling her on whatever he had a problem with. That trait usually annoyed her, but now she missed it. Confrontation showed he cared. She wasn’t sure whether this polite non-stranger gave a damn about her or not.

  She bit her lip, uncertain. “I know that Pock, for one, realizes how hard their life is going to be. I think maybe I have a better chance talking to him than to my own sister.”

  “Turns out Daisy isn’t as amenable to your reasoning as you thought, hmmm?”

  “I haven’t given up, and I’m not going to,” Ivy vowed. “Maybe I can reach him, since I can’t reach her. He understands he’s affected her life for the worse.”

  He took another long pull on the coffee, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed. His lip shone with moisture, and she imagined leaning forward to brush it dry. Maybe he would take her fingertips into his mouth, teasing her with his tongue, nipping at her nails...

  Between memories of last night and her overwhelming physical attraction to him, it didn’t take much to put her under a sensual spell. But instead of turning toward her, taking her into his arms, and taking her mouth, as she half-hoped he would, he lowered the mug to balance on the armrest of the couch and looked out the patio door with a carefully blank expression. He surely didn’t find snow that fascinating, so he must not want to look at her.

  He did that a lot, she realized. He excelled at creating distance between them when he didn’t want to be reached. This is how it feels to want something really, really bad that you can never have, she thought. If she were Daisy, she would say it sucked, big-time.

  She wasn’t Daisy, so she rose and walked away, waiting until she was safely alone in her room to let a few quiet tears fall.

  ****

  Sprawled on the couch, staring at the chateau’s huge flat-screen TV, Joe clicked the remote from one channel to the next. Movies, reruns, news, talk shows, infomercials, and sports. He’d give his left nut for a Blackhawks game to take his mind off Ivy, but there wasn’t one on. He settled on a replay of an old college football bowl game, but the offense huddled and broke without him ever knowing what was going on. After a minute, he restlessly hit the Channel Up button again.

  Damn that woman. He should write her off. This morning, padding around in her bare feet and her overpriced jacket, her eyes wide and mouth turned down, she should have been easy to resist. She’d nearly ping-ponged into him in the hallway, fresh from meddling in her sister’s life once again, and the realization should have made him angry.

  Instead, he’d simply wanted to draw her into his arms, pull open that ridiculous puffy coat, and drag her down to the floor with him. Since their awkward morning encounter, they’d steered clear of each other. He’d hunkered down in the home theater, remote control in hand, and she’d been up doing God knows what—first puttering around in the kitchen and then in the library.

  Why should he care what she did? She’d made her intention plain. Because she couldn’t seem to bring her sister around to her point of view, she would work on Pock instead. As dumb and malleable as Pock seemed to be, Joe figured she might be onto something there.

  He didn’t care anymore. He had to get this mess resolved so they could get the hell out of here. Back in Chicago, he’d amp up his efforts to find other clients. The choke chain Richard Smithson had around his neck chafed, and anything that took him away from his maddening eldest daughter would be all for the best, too.

  He’d settled on an old Jimmy Cagney movie when his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number on the display.

  “Hello?”

  “Joe?”

  The voice was Daisy’s. She and Pock had gone into town a few hours earlier to pick up some allergy meds. Something about all the cedar trees making Pock’s allergies flare up. He was in the wrong damn place for that. Here in the mountains, they were surrounded by the things. Had any tough guy ever been more ridiculous than Pock? Glancing at the time on his phone, Joe realized they’d been gone for three hours. A bit long for a pharmacy run.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think they’ve found us.” The fear in her voice left no doubt about who she meant.

  His feet swung to the ground. “Where are you?”

  “The Conrad,” she said, naming a mid-sized casino they’d passed the other night. “We thought it would be safe, but I think they’ve spotted us. Pock saw a guy that works for Cantor. He’s pretty sure he saw us, too. We ducked into an empty conference room on the second floor. I think we’ve lost them for now, but there’s no way for us to get out without them seeing us! We’ll have to walk right through the lobby, and I think Cantor’s got more than one guy here.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised. What the hell are you doing at the Conrad? What happened to the pharmacy?”

  “Sorry about that. We came to the Conrad for the wedding chapel.”

  Wedding chapel. The phrase hung in the air for a long moment. It took a second for the implication to sink in.

  “Jesus.” After a beat, he sighed. “So I suppose congratulations are in order?”

  “Will you be the first to give us your blessing?” Daisy said with a nervous laugh.

  Joe rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. “I have to tell you, I don’t really see the point of bailing you out of this
mess. When Ivy finds out you’ve married him, she’s going to kill you herself.”

  “I was sort of hoping you’d talk her out of that,” Daisy admitted.

  “Yeah, ’cause of course Ivy is putty in my hands.” Had anyone in the Smithson family not been put on earth expressly to make his life a living hell?

  “Who are you talking to?” Ivy’s curious voice behind him had him spinning. Shit.

  “Don’t put her on the phone!” Daisy said in a panic. “I can’t deal with that right now.”

  “You can’t hide from her forever,” he reminded her. Much as he hated to admit it, he saw Ivy’s point about her sister. Most of the time, Daisy didn’t act like a grownup.

  “Hide from whom?” Ivy queried. “Is that Daisy? Let me talk to her.”

  She reached for the phone, but Joe twisted away from her. He quickly got instructions from Daisy on their location and ended the call.

  “What was that all about?” Ivy asked, arms crossed in annoyance.

  “It’s Daisy and Pock,” he said grimly. “They’re in a casino on the near north side of the lake. They think they’ve been spotted.”

  “By Cantor? Wait, what are they doing in a casino? I thought they were going to a pharmacy.” Ivy’s face mirrored her confusion.

  “One of Cantor’s goons spotted them,” he said, ignoring the last part of her question. “Damn it, why did I ever listen to you? I should have made you go back to Chicago as soon as we found Daisy. These guys have contacts everywhere.” He grabbed Ivy’s arm harder than he intended. “Come on. We can talk on the way.”

  ****

  “Slide onto the floor, low as you can. Don’t come out until I tell you.”

  Ivy unfastened her seat belt and obeyed without question. That much at least, she had learned within the past few days. Joe wouldn’t talk about his phone call with Daisy and Pock, but his anger didn’t bode well. She didn’t blame him for being angry. What had they been thinking, to slip away to a heavily populated casino just because they wanted to do some gambling? Casinos were magnets for criminal activity of every sort. They should have seen this coming. As soon as she knew her sister was safe, she’d give Daisy and Pock a lecture they wouldn’t soon forget.

  Crouched on the floor of the SUV, Ivy felt the vehicle make a series of turns and then come to a stop.

  Joe pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “We’re here,” he said tersely. “Can you get to the south side of the building? Look for a window you can climb out of. There’s one above the kitchen you might try. We’ll circle the building while you look.”

  Ivy felt the SUV surge forward as he ended the call. Long moments went by as they drove aimlessly, and Ivy felt the muscles at the back of her thighs start to cramp.

  “Can I get up yet?”

  “No.”

  “My legs are killing me,” she complained, shifting from side to side as she tried to stretch each leg in turn.

  “Think about how pleasant a charley horse is compared to a bullet in your head.”

  “I don’t see anybody shooting at you,” she pointed out.

  “Yet,” he reminded her. “Dammit, where is that sister of yours? They should have been able to find the window by now.” On cue, Joe’s phone rang.

  “Yeah? Can’t Pock break it down? Okay. I’ll look for it.” With a muffled curse Ivy couldn’t quite make out from beneath the dashboard, Joe ended the call and turned the vehicle sharply, bouncing Ivy’s head on the door.

  “Take it easy, will you?”

  “Sorry, princess.” He had called her princess again. She’d thought they were well past that by now.

  “They can’t get to that window, but they found another one on the west side, overlooking a flat roof,” Joe said.

  Ivy poked her head up far enough to help him look for it. Distracted, he didn’t scold her.

  “There they are!” She pointed to a tiny window, half-covered by mini-blinds.

  Pock’s massive shoulders blocked nearly the entire space, shielding Daisy from view. Below, a white-clad kitchen employee was making a Dumpster run. Joe held back until he went back inside, and then pulled close to the kitchen door.

  Joe climbed out, but when Ivy moved to follow him, he yelled, “Stay in the car!”

  He left the engine running. Ivy occupied her time with vengeful fantasies of driving away and leaving them—him, Daisy, and Pock—in this mess by themselves. She wouldn’t actually do it, of course, but thinking about it took her mind off how uncomfortable she was. In only a few moments, the rear door of the SUV opened and Daisy and Pock piled in. Joe took the driver’s seat and wasted no time getting on the road.

  “I think you owe us an explanation,” Ivy said, pushing herself back into the passenger seat, wincing as she stretched her cramped legs.

  “We’re really sorry you couldn’t be at the ceremony—” Pock began, only to break off at Daisy’s frantic shushing. Ivy twisted to meet her sister’s gaze. Daisy’s face spoke an apology, perhaps a plea for understanding, but she didn’t deny Pock’s words.

  “Ceremony?” Ivy repeated blankly. “Ceremony?” Inexplicably, she looked at Joe. Had he known about this? His unsurprised reaction told her he had.

  “You got married?” Wounded, her gaze drifted back to Daisy.

  “Yeah, we did,” she said softly, her attention now totally focused on Pock. “We’re husband and wife now.”

  They leaned together for a slow, consuming kiss, Daisy half-hidden by Pock’s huge shoulders. Ivy’s eyes skittered away, reluctant to intrude on such an intimate moment while her own emotions were roiling.

  Anger, disappointment, and—shockingly—a trace of envy all churned inside her, making nausea rise until she longed to jump out of the vehicle, to get away, to flee from all of them. Her emotions veered wildly. She was the only grownup in this car. No one appreciated what she had suffered. Was Daisy trying to screw up her life? Self-pity hollowed out her stomach.

  “You okay?” Joe asked, his tone cautious.

  “Okay, okay,” she muttered, scarcely aware of him, moving one hand down her face, rubbing her tired eyes.

  Her mother wouldn’t like that—she’d always told her to keep her hands off her face. It wasn’t ladylike and would cause breakouts. Of course, Mom probably wouldn’t have wanted her youngest daughter marrying a thug, either.

  “What?” he said. “I asked if you’re okay. You look a little green.”

  Finally his words penetrated the haze of her rage. “Yeah, sure I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Daisy insists on having her own way, even if it puts us all in danger. She’s just married a guy willing to jump in bed with a bunch of Vegas gangsters to make a buck.”

  Daisy must have finally peeled herself off Pock in the back seat, because she heard her sister make some noise of protest. Ivy held up one hand for silence and barreled on, unwilling to listen.

  “Oh sure, he regretted it later and backed out of the deal, just in time to send hired thugs chasing after us all. And this is the guy my sister wants to marry so badly that she resorts to an elopement worthy of a couple of teenagers! I guess I can call you Mrs. Pock now, huh, Daisy? Or is Pock your first name?” she babbled, eyeing her new brother-in-law. She tried to keep her voice under control, but by the end, she had pretty much reached a screech.

  Not surprisingly, no one answered her question about Pock’s name.

  “Feel better?” Joe asked after the tirade stopped.

  “A little. But I’m not done.”

  “Oh, good,” he said, his words edged with sarcasm.

  She seized on the quip. “And you are the worst one of all!”

  “Me?” He took his eyes off the winding mountain road long enough to glare at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m the only adult in this whole mess! I’m trying to do what’s right for everybody, and you know it. Yet you’re constantly making sarcastic remarks, talking down to me, sitting in judgment of me because I agree with my father that this is a disastr
ous decision for Daisy! But all your moral rectitude doesn’t stop you from cashing my father’s checks. Why is that, hmmm?” She pinned him with a glare.

  “Because I have a job to do!” he exploded. “I don’t have a trust fund waiting for me! I got drummed out of the only job I ever cared about. Now I have to earn my living whatever way I can, and that means sometimes taking money from people I don’t like, to do things I don’t always agree with. You wouldn’t understand that, would you? Daddy has always been there, backing you up with his checkbook as long as you toe the line.”

  “There you go! Throwing my dad’s money in my face! If it’s so awful, why are you so eager to get some of it by helping me on this mission? You’re nothing but a hypocrite!”

  She spat out a hank of hair that had somehow gotten sucked into her mouth and turned her head to stare blindly out the window. Tears rose, but she blinked them back doggedly. Damn Joe Dunham for doing this to her!

  “Shit.” Joe’s quiet monosyllable caught her attention. “We’ve got somebody on our tail. Don’t turn around!” he barked as the three of them started to pivot. He eyed the rearview mirror for a long time. “We’ve got to lose these guys. We’ll go back to the chalet long enough to get our stuff, and then it’s back to Vegas.”

  “Vegas?” Ivy said. “What’s in Vegas?”

  “Your daddy’s private jet.”

  Her daddy’s private jet. Not “her father’s” or “Richard’s.”

  His carefully chosen words made his disdain apparent. She should have been glad this misadventure was almost over, but instead, the finality in his voice filled her with sorrow. She needed to get back to the calm and sanity of her daily life back in Chicago. Just as it had done for many desperate gamblers before her, Nevada had made her lose her mind.

  ****

  In the VIP lounge of the private aircraft terminal, Joe took another pull on his beer as they waited for the weather to clear to allow takeoff. On a TV over the bar, not even a Blackhawks game could hold his interest. Instead, he nursed his beer and tried to steel himself for the prospect of a cross-country flight.