“Okay, I will,” she said, knowing she had a hell of a lot more to think about than just whether or not she wanted in on his business venture.
“When do you plan to start?” she asked.
“It will depend on what the weather decides to do over the next few months. There’s a ton of preliminary work to be done before any actual work takes place. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy until spring.”
She debated for about five seconds before just blurting out the crux of what was holding her back. “Will you be doing this preliminary work here? Or are you going back to Vegas?”
“Here,” he said, clearly surprised at the question. “I meant what I said when I asked about me staying. I am staying, Kirby.”
She took a steadying breath. But her heart was already off to the races again. “What about home? Your friend Dan? Vanetta?”
“I tried to talk to Dan about it last night, see if he wanted in on the building phase, but…things there…” He trailed off, and the sadness and confusion was clear on his face. “I don’t know what the hell is going on there, to be honest. But I’m working on that, too.”
“So…you really are staying.”
He reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “That was my plan.” He took her hand, tugged her closer. “Good plan or bad plan?”
“Good plan,” she said somewhat distractedly, still trying to sort through the onslaught of questions and emotions this sudden turn of events had set to swirling around inside her head. Along with all the ones she already had. But one thing she knew. “You staying is very good.”
“I can move out of the inn, if that makes it better.”
“Makes what better?”
“Whatever it is about this that has you feeling…I don’t know. Trapped? I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I know I’m excited about this, and there’s no way I can hide that; I don’t want to, even if I could. But don’t let my enthusiasm for this make you feel crowded and pushed into a corner. I don’t—”
“No, it’s not that. I think it’s pretty fantastic that you’re excited about this. I don’t know what I feel about my part; I have to think about that. I haven’t even decently launched my own place yet, so—”
“So, don’t worry, or even think about it. It’s months away.”
“Months,” she echoed, trying to imagine having months with him. It was everything she wanted. And his excitement about having her be part of it was flattering and not a little thrilling. Except—
“Tell me what’s going through your mind, right now. Uncensored.”
“Okay. I was thinking that I’ve already had a relationship with someone I worked side by side with, and to be honest, it makes me a little nervous to think about—”
“Listen, just scrap what I said, okay? We don’t have to mix business with pleasure. I’m not going to risk what we’re starting for that—”
“I didn’t say no. Just that…it’s all part of the stuff going through my head. You’re not Patrick. And this situation is far, far from that. Just…give me some time. To get used to it.” To get used to the idea of him being around. Of letting herself want the impossible. Again.
Because it seemed so…so very possible, right now. It was scary. In a very good way. Also in a completely terrifying, “run for the hills and protect your heart” kind of way.
“You can have all the time you need.” He caressed her cheek, urged her face to tilt up to his. “You sure you’re okay with the me staying part, though? Be honest with me, Kirby. I didn’t come here to cause you trouble. You deserve the life you’ve carved out for yourself. I just want to be part of that, and build my own while I’m at it.”
“The problem is I want it too much,” she said, baldly honest. That was the one thing with Brett that made this entirely different. He made bald honesty not only easy, but pretty much mandatory. “It scares me. How much I want what you’re offering. How much I want you.”
All in, indeed.
His pupils flared at that, and he might have made a little growling sound in the back of his throat. “That…” He stopped, ducked his head, and cleared his throat. “Wow,” he managed. “I had no idea how badly I needed to hear you say that. Until you just did.”
She smiled a little then, no less terrified, but realizing that she wasn’t the only one dancing on a dangerous ledge made facing the terror that much easier. “Kind of scary, right?”
“You forget. I like high stakes.”
Her smile spread, and the very beginnings of allowing herself to accept what might be possible started to bloom inside her heart. And her head. And…every-damn-where. “You’ll have to teach me to play. Poker, I mean. I want to understand more what it is you do. Did. Whatever.”
“Deal.” Then he laughed and swung her around again. “You feel like taking the inaugural peek inside? We can come back another time—”
She shut him up by placing her hands on either side of his face and pulling his mouth to hers. For once, she was taking the lead. And as soon as she kissed him, and felt him immediately relax, and soften, and take her so easily and perfectly and naturally…she understood as she never had before what true power there was to be had in a complete partnership. And it didn’t consist of one leader and one follower.
This was nothing like before. This was…new. And it was hers to decide what to do with, and how she wanted it to be. At least to work for her. She wasn’t surrendering control. She was taking on a new challenge. And damn, but maybe she was up for it after all. Because, the reward, if she pulled if off, was priceless.
When she broke the kiss, she lifted up on her tippy toes to hug him, and he swept her up so they could hug good and proper, everything aligning so perfectly. She kissed the side of his neck and felt his pulse thrumming, which set hers to thrumming, too. “Okay,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m all in.”
Then she snatched the keys from his unsuspecting grip and wriggled out of his arms. “Come on. Let’s go see what you’ve gotten us into. Last one to the front door is a rotten poker player.” And she took off toward the house.
Chapter 19
Brett throttled down as they rolled through town, then punched it a little as they neared the turn up to the inn. He wanted to get home. Where he was going to make love to Kirby and end the perfect day with the perfect night.
He couldn’t believe it was all going to work out. She’d loved the farmhouse and his design concept for it as much as she had with the log cabin. He’d called and put an offer on the place on their way back into town. What a lucky, lucky bastard he truly was. Hell, Kirby had even admitted she’d gotten used to the bike. Total package. He had the most ridiculous urge to beat his chest and howl at the moon.
They rolled to a stop in front of the house; the sun had sunk enough to cast the front of the house in deep shadows. The air had a distinct bite to it, and Kirby shivered as she let go of him and climbed off the bike.
“Maybe some wine, have the leftovers from last night?” she asked.
He wanted to scoop her up and head to the nearest bed, but pacing, given the rush he was feeling, was probably not a bad thing.
“Sounds perfect,” he said, and meant it. He took her helmet and then slipped his hand in hers as they walked toward the porch. He was thinking about how easily he pictured himself doing just this for a very long time, when she suddenly paused.
“Oh, crap. The quilts and bedspreads, they’re still out back. I need to bring them in.”
“You want some help?”
She lifted up on her toes and kissed him. “Why don’t you go pour the wine and start reheating the food. It won’t take me long.”
Yeah, he thought as he kissed her back. Definitely lifetime material. Better than he’d ever thought possible. “Okay,” he said, his body stirring again as he watched her walk around the outside of the house toward the back of the property. He spent about two seconds contemplating following her around back and getting at least one of those blankets dirty all over again, but
it was getting colder by the second. “Dinner. Then play.” He took the steps two at a time, put the helmets on the registration desk, slung his jacket over the newel post at the base of the stairs, and then headed straight for the kitchen.
He was smiling as he entered the room and was thinking that maybe he’d snag one of the blankets and start a fire in the front parlor fireplace, turn dinner into a little fireside picnic, but stopped in his tracks when he spied Kirby through the kitchen window.
She was standing in the backyard, hand over her mouth, looking at what was left of her freshly aired antique quilts and spreads. All of which were in shredded ribbons.
Something went hard and cold inside his chest. He was simultaneously furious at whoever had invaded her property, whoever had destroyed a single thing she’d worked so hard to get…and sick almost to the point of puking over the unavoidable suspicion that crawled right back into his gut.
No. This wasn’t happening. Not again. He thought he was done with that, that he’d left it back in Vegas. That whoever thought this was the right way to get his attention had figured out they were wrong when, instead of caving in, he’d packed up and left town for good.
One face floated through his mind. Maksimov’s smug expression as Brett had turned him down flat, like he’d known something that Brett hadn’t known. Like…he was going to stir up the shit all over again until Brett agreed to another deal. The thing was, he couldn’t understand why they thought this was the way to get what they wanted? Whatever it was they thought he could bring to their table, or any promoter or casino owner’s table for that matter, regardless of his celebrity when it came right down to it…he was just one guy. It wasn’t worth this kind of aggravation. For him or for them. That was the one part he couldn’t figure out.
But no matter who had been behind the problems back in Vegas, he’d never thought trouble would follow him here.
He pushed through the door to the porch and let himself out the screen door. She looked over to him as he crossed the yard to the clothesline. “I guess we need to call Thad,” she said. “File a vandalism report. Was anything done inside? Was it still locked up?”
“Door was locked, nothing looks out of place inside. At least on the main floor. Kirby—”
“Who would do this?” she asked, clearly at a total loss. “We don’t really have a lot of school-age kids around here. And certainly not any kind of gang problems. I mean…what, a hoard of Clemson’s maniacal kitties? What?” She looked back at the shredded quilts and sort of slumped in on herself. “These were antiques. They…you can’t replace these. I spent a full year hunting these down.”
She sounded more sad than pissed, though he suspected the latter would show up eventually. “Kirby, I need to tell you something.”
“I guess I shouldn’t take them down until Thad can come and file an official report,” she said, not hearing him, too upset by what had happened to pay attention to anything other than what was going through her own mind.
She had her arms wrapped around her middle, and Brett suspected that was as much to console herself as it was to ward off the rapidly cooling evening air. He wanted to hold her, console her himself, but he had to tell her first. She might not want him anywhere around her after he told her what he knew. Or suspected, anyway. He should have told her the rest of the reason why he’d left Vegas when she’d told him about Maksimov booking a room. He just hadn’t thought it really mattered.
He walked over to her and pulled her arms from where they were crossed. “Come here.” She walked into his arms, and that’s when he could feel her shaking. “Let’s go inside, okay? We’ll call the deputy and go ahead and heat up some food.”
“I can’t eat.”
“Okay. But let’s get out of the cold.”
She nodded against his chest and willingly let him steer her inside. He noted that she didn’t look back at the destruction. Once they were in the kitchen, she moved away from him and slipped out of her jacket, still clearly upset. It didn’t make him any happier to have to tell her the rest, but she had to know.
“Kirby, before you call Thad, there’s something I need to tell you.”
She had already started toward the cordless that sat on the counter, but paused to look at him. “Shouldn’t we get this reported as soon as possible? It will be dark soon and I’d like to see if he can get right over here and take a look. I mean, I’m racking my brain, but even crotchety old Clemson would never do something like this. And unless he’s breeding a whole new kind of barn cat over there, I don’t think they’re responsible, either.” Then her expression lightened. “Do you think it could have been some kind of animal? I mean, I can’t imagine what kind, but—”
“No, Kirby, I don’t think it was an animal. Not the four-legged kind anyway. I…I think I might know who did this.”
She started to respond, then stopped as the rest of what he was saying sunk in and snapped her mouth shut again.
“When I left Vegas, there were a few other reasons why I left.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “What? Are you saying someone is after you? Oh, my God, Brett. Why didn’t you—”
“I didn’t think it would follow me.” He crossed the room in three strides, but she folded her arms across her chest, barring him. He respected that. Hated it, but didn’t push. She deserved to hear the rest. “It hasn’t, actually. But now I’ve brought the world of poker here, and I guess that problem came with it. I’m sorry. If I thought—” He broke off as her expression changed from one of honest confusion and concern to that shuttered look he hadn’t seen in quite some time now. He silently swore and vowed right then that as soon as Thad was done here and he was reasonably certain Kirby was okay left here by herself, he was heading to the resort. Maks wasn’t going to touch another person he cared about.
“What kind of trouble?” she asked, a carefully blank tone in her voice.
“I—when I stopped playing, when I retired, not everyone was happy about it. I was the poster boy for a lot of big events and it drew money to the tables, both during the event itself and before and after, just from the publicity of it. I was the biggest name and the easiest money to be made, promotionally speaking. So I know it wasn’t a great day for promoters and casino owners when I stepped down. There aren’t many others with the easy name recognition that I had and it will likely be a while before someone dominates the sport.” He lifted a hand. “I’m not saying any of this to toot my own horn, just—”
“No,” she said quietly, “I know you’re not like that. Just…go on.”
“So, there were a series of…events. Set up to look like accidents, but after a while, it was too coincidental to have all those things happening to me. Or to people I cared about.” Her shoulders slumped then and he couldn’t help it, he grasped her folded elbows and tugged her closer. “Kirby, we could never prove anything; the police chalked it up to bad luck. The running joke was all the ridiculous luck I’d had during my career had flipped on me when I left the sport. But I—I didn’t want anything bad happening to anyone I cared about. And I needed time and some space to figure out what I was going to do. So I took off, figuring if it was one of the folks hounding me to come back, then they’d either follow me or let up once and for all.”
“Did anything else happen after you left?”
Brett shook his head. “No. Dan has kept an eye out and it all stopped as soon as I left. Word got out and people stopped calling. I haven’t had to deal with any of that fallout since crossing the Nevada state line. Which you can take as proof it was someone there, or maybe it was just bad luck.”
“But you didn’t think so.”
“No,” he said, “no, I didn’t.”
“What did Dan think?”
“I would have told you that Dan was the one supporting my decision to get out, only now I’m not as sure about that. I was working for him after I quit, which, as I told you before, is something I had done off and on since I was a kid. It wasn’t a permanent thing, just helpin
g him and giving myself something to do while I figured out what I wanted to do next.”
“But now you think it was someone. And that they’re here. Because you’re playing again.” Her eyes went wide. “That Russian guy? Maks—whatever? You think it’s him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what else to think. Kirby, honestly, you know I’d have never put you at risk like that if I had any idea—”
“Okay,” she said, cutting him off, obviously still trying to process the whole thing. “So, why do you think he’s behind it?”
“They were probably the least happy when I retired. I had done a few events for them when they’d started up, and it always went well for them. And for me, I won’t lie. So they leaned pretty hard to try and get me to continue on, at least with their events.”
“And you turned them down.”
“Flat. And then…things started happening.”
Her carefully controlled expression shook for just a second, but the fear he spied in her eyes was all he needed to see. “I’m going to put an end to it, Kirby. Once and for all. As soon as we report this to the sheriff’s office, I’m going up to the resort.” He thought about taking Thad with him, then immediately reconsidered. A small town local cop was not going to intimidate Maks. In fact, it was probable he was counting on that. As he was counting on the local female innkeeper not being able to bring much pressure to bear, either.
Well, Maks was about to learn that he was all kinds of wrong on that score.
“I’m going with you.”
“What? No. Not because I don’t think you can handle yourself and not because you don’t deserve a crack at him, but I understand the world we’re from. You don’t. And I can’t—” His grip tightened on her elbows. “I’m not putting you in the middle. I’ll leave here before I do that.”
“What, and keep running?”
He tried not to wince at that, but she was close enough. “No,” he said, and meant it. “If he’s left town, I’ll go back to Vegas after him. I’ll pull every string I have, cash every marker. But I’m done. All done.”
Here Comes Trouble Page 29