But over the past several hours, one thing had become very clear to him. He wanted Toni in his life. He enjoyed her company way too much to let her activities come between them. Whatever she had done, they would undo. Whatever trouble she’d gotten herself into, he would help her get out.
He’d only been kidding himself earlier by telling himself that he could let her go. He’d been in lust before and had found the attraction decreased in direct proportion to the amount of sex he engaged in. But with Toni, the more he had, the more he wanted.
He didn’t just want her, he craved her. And not just her sultry body but her beautiful, creative and open mind.
And he wasn’t going to give her up—even if she had helped sabotage the paper. She hadn’t succeeded. No real harm had been done. In fact, thanks to her and his “Hot Scoops” column, the Louisiana Daily Herald was doing great. He was willing to let bygones be bygones.
With her wrapped in his arms, their breath mingling, their legs entwined, their arms around one another, he didn’t want to let her go. In fact, he couldn’t help thinking how great it might be to wake up in the morning and know the name of his bedmate before he opened his eyes.
He supposed he should figure out exactly what he wanted, but right now he didn’t want to muster the energy or upset the equilibrium they’d established. Just because he wanted her again at this moment, didn’t mean he’d feel the same way next week. Zane knew his strengths and his faults, which were sometimes one and the same. He tended to live for the next new toy—whether it be a better trampoline or helicopter—the next new city—whether it be Rio, Paris or Istanbul—or the next woman—whether she be blond, redhead or brunette. But, right now, he couldn’t seem to get enough of Toni—a totally new experience.
His twin claimed he simply avoided commitment, but Zane knew he just liked to be different. The pattern had started when he and Grey had been children and parents, teachers and nannies had difficulty telling them apart. He’d wanted his own identity, forged his character by going his own way. If Grey zigged right, Zane zagged left. If Grey was the conservative businessman, Zane was the laid-back playboy. The lifestyle had suited him and eliminated all competition between the brothers.
Right now, Zane wanted the woman who slept in his arms. But for how long?
When his phone rang, Toni barely stirred. Zane reached over her and picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
“Sir, if you intend to arrive before the shift ends, we need to leave within fifteen minutes.”
“Be down in a few minutes,” Zane told the driver-bodyguard he’d hired for tonight’s investigation. As he gazed at Toni deep in sleep, he hesitated to wake her. Perhaps he should go alone.
He’d intended to have answers from her long before now. Perhaps taking her with him would be better. He need not accuse her, but could simply watch her reactions to the guard. Zane hoped he knew her well enough by now to be able to tell if she was lying. And his heart tightened.
Regardless of her guilt or innocence, he needed to know the truth.
TONI APPRECIATED THAT Grey hadn’t left her sleeping in his bed with a note to explain his absence. Instead, he’d told her about his intentions to question his former security guard and she’d volunteered to go with him.
However, when she’d seen the size of his “chauffeur” and glimpsed the gun holstered under the man’s loose-fitting suit jacket, she’d had second thoughts. Settled in the plush back seat of his sedan, Toni fidgeted with her hemline. She wasn’t exactly dressed to go skulking around back alleys and dark streets. Running in her spiked heels would likely break an ankle.
Grey wore a black turtleneck shirt, a dove-gray jacket and matching slacks with polished dress shoes. Elegant but comfortable, he appeared alert, yet relaxed.
She glanced from the driver to Grey. “You think the man we’re going to meet is dangerous?”
“The driver’s just a security precaution.”
She didn’t feel reassured. And while she wasn’t sure if she expected Grey to protect her, she damn well knew he had no business putting her in jeopardy.
As the driver stopped before one the city’s twenty-four-hour casinos, she relaxed a little. Under the bright lights, under security cameras that constantly monitored the gamblers, under a multitude of security, they should be quite safe.
She still must have had a puzzled look on her face because Grey explained, “Stiller took another job.”
“Security?”
“Gambling. He runs a blackjack table.”
“Don’t these places do thorough background checks on their employees?”
“Stiller’s clean. No criminal record. We checked him out before we hired him, too.”
Inside, the casino was brightly lit and the dark red carpet cushioned her pointed heels. The nickel slots stood in rows closest to the front doors. And here gamblers wore everything from ten-year-old jeans and ratty shirts to designer apparel. Bells rang and lights on poles flashed every few minutes signalling a winner. However, the mood wasn’t merry or frivolous. An elderly woman inserted coins with surprisingly agile fingers considering her hands looked painfully twisted from arthritis. She stared at the tumbling numbers and when they stopped and she lost, she tried again with a quiet desperation that squeezed Toni’s heart. Even if the woman won, she’d no doubt feed her winnings right back into the hungry slot.
Too many of New Orleans’s unfortunates ended up here. But gambling was good for the city, good for tourism and every restaurant owner and shopkeeper in the city knew that gambling increased their traffic and profits. As Toni walked side by side next to Grey, they passed blackjack and crap tables while the casino’s employees plied customers with free drinks.
There were no windows to indicate if it was day or night. No clocks on the walls to tell that time had passed.
She shivered slightly. Toni had nothing against a fun night out, playing with money one could afford to lose. And she wasn’t usually so judgmental. She suspected the dark cloud that had settled over her had nothing to do with their location but more with the man they were about to meet. Ever since Grey had awakened her, she’d been unable to shake the ominous feeling that weighed her down like a heavy cloak.
Already she missed being in his arms. Wanted to return to his big bed and forget about business. Until now, he’d been most considerate about keeping his newspaper responsibilities from interfering with their relationship, so now it seemed odd that he’d suggested coming here in the middle of the night.
Grey placed a casual arm around her shoulder. “Mr. Stiller works here but he’s also a gambler himself, and not a very good one—although he’s recently paid off a hefty sum of a very large debt.”
“How did he pay off the debt?” she asked him, appreciating any distractions from her previous thoughts. She tried to cheer herself with her newfound feelings for the man beside her.
She loved Grey. She loved the way he listened, really listened, when she talked. She loved the way he made love. She loved the way he made her feel about herself, as if she was extraordinary.
But despite the casino security, despite his arm over her shoulders, her wary instincts wouldn’t calm. Being here with Grey simply didn’t feel right.
Then a croupier nodded a greeting, “Evening, Mr. Masterson,” and a barmaid handed them dry martinis, claiming it was his “usual,” her friendly smile saying he could have much more than a drink. Toni realized that Grey frequented the casino more often than made her comfortable.
And she didn’t know why. Grey could certainly afford to gamble. However, the activity seemed so out of character. She refused the drink but Grey kept his and sipped in seeming appreciation.
Grey spoke softly into her ear. “My source told me Mr. Stiller plays poker in one of the back rooms after he finishes his shift at the blackjack table.”
“Your source?”
“I put out the word that I wanted to talk.”
He put out the word? To whom?
She didn’t have t
he opportunity to ask as the “chauffeur” rejoined them, his silent presence little comfort to her. Before she could think of another question, Grey swept her through an open doorway, his bodyguard following.
This room, filled with cigar smoke, mirrors and the ever-present bright lights, was just as red as the rest of the casino. Red carpet, red decorations, red-dressed waitresses. But the pace was a little less frenetic. Men and women, young and old, black and white, rich and poor, hunched over their cards in quiet concentration.
Without hesitation, Grey walked directly over to a short, overweight man with thinning black hair, leathered skin and pocked cheeks. At the sight of Grey and his bodyguard, Stiller threw in his hand, stood and tried to brush right past them.
Grey clasped the other man by the arm, halting him. “I’d like a word with you, Stiller.”
“I don’t work for your brother no more. Let me go. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”
His brother? Stiller’s words confused Toni. Stiller had worked for Grey’s brother?
“You know me?” Grey asked, stiffening, and she thought his reaction odd.
“I’ve seen you around,” Stiller admitted. “What of it?”
Grey set down his drink, mostly untouched, and lowered his voice, but the honed edge of pure threat under his gentlemanly southern speech couldn’t be missed. “The Daily Herald is a family business. Or didn’t you bother to learn that before you put sand in our trucks?”
“I didn’t. I was…sick.”
“And you’re going to get a lot sicker if you don’t cooperate.”
Grey tugged the man through a doorway into another gaming room that was currently empty. Toni imagined the casino opened it during the high season of Mardi Gras. Right now she simply appreciated the smoke-free air, hoping it would clear her head. Grey was no longer acting like the Grey she knew and while she didn’t expect him to turn violent, Stiller appeared to take his threat seriously. His former employee trembled and wouldn’t look them in the eyes.
“You ain’t got no right to threaten me,” he mumbled.
“That wasn’t a threat.” Grey shoved the now sweating Stiller into a chair. “It was a promise.”
Stiller’s gaze went to the closed door as if contemplating making a run for freedom, but the bodyguard blocking his exit must have dissuaded him. He threw his hands into the air. “Look, I got sick that night. And your brother told me if I had to leave again not to bother coming back, so I didn’t.”
Stiller kept mentioning Grey’s brother and Toni frowned in confusion. Grey never spoke about his family much, but it seemed odd that if the brothers worked together at the paper that talk about his presence wouldn’t have come up during at least one of their conversations.
Grey kept his tone soft but she heard the edge of steel beneath. “Word’s out that you just paid off half your marker. Where’d you get the cash?”
That Stiller had suddenly paid off gambling debts suggested he’d taken a bribe to sabotage those trucks. No doubt Grey wanted to know who’d hired the man.
“I won it.”
Stiller didn’t sound the least bit convincing.
“From whom?”
“I inherited it.” Stiller changed his story, his gaze again shifting to the door. Sweat pooled under his armpits as he realized his mistake.
Not only was the man lacking intelligence, he was a poor liar. Even she could see Stiller hadn’t the brains to have pulled off sabotaging those trucks without taking orders from someone.
But Grey fascinated her. He reminded her of a jungle cat, lean, honed and ready to pounce. His eyes reflected the thrill of the chase and anticipation in outing his foe.
And again she wondered why he’d brought her here.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. I understand you still have debts to cover.” Grey pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket.
At the sight of the money, Stiller licked his lips. “If I didn’t pay, they were going to break my legs. I wouldn’t be able to work.”
Grey fanned the money under Stiller’s nose. “The interest on your debts is going up as we speak.”
Stiller’s shoulders sagged, but his eyes remained cagey, his tone shrewd. “What do you want?”
“A name. The person who hired you.”
Before Stiller could answer, the eager waitress who knew Grey’s favorite drink entered the room and shot Grey a knowing megawatt smile. “Would you like me to refresh your drink, Zane?”
Zane?
Who was Zane?
13
TONI’S FACE PALED AND her eyes rounded with shock as she stared at him accusingly. Although he’d planned for her to meet Stiller, he hadn’t realized that the people in the casino might call him by name. His real name. Zane could have kicked himself for not recognizing the possibility. When in New Orleans, he frequented the casinos often, enjoying the nightlife and the action.
Now his past had come back to bite him big time. Only Toni was paying the price. He could see in the shock, disappointment and sadness in her eyes what his lies had cost her. The normal sparkle was gone and he had no one to blame but himself.
He ached to explain, to console her, but now was not the time. He squeezed her shoulder. “Just give me two more minutes with this piece of slime and then I’ll explain.”
Furious with Stiller for his traitorous activities as, Zane glared at the traitor. “Who paid you to—”
“If I tell you, I’m a dead man.” Stiller’s gaze went to the money. “As much as I could use the dough, I can’t—”
“Boss,” Zane’s bodyguard spoke for the first time. “Leave me alone with him for five minutes, and I’ll get you an answer. Those five minutes will be the longest of his life.”
Stiller’s face went as pale as Toni’s. Zane let the silence drag out, suspecting the first man to talk would lose. Under normal circumstances he would hold out as long as it took. But he ached to make his explanation to Toni more than he wanted to find his saboteur. The longer he waited, the more time she would have to stew about how badly he’d treated her. Damn.
“A name, Stiller,” Zane pressed.
“All I can say is that it’s someone close to you.”
Zane had no stomach for violence. He nodded to the bodyguard, wanting him to deal with the authorities and leave him free to make explanations to Toni. “Call the cops and tell them we caught the man responsible for damaging our trucks. I’ll make a statement in the morning.”
His chauffeur handed Zane the valet ticket. With a flick of the wrist, he closed his fingers about the paper, crunching it inside a tight fist. With the other hand, he reached for Toni. Her skin was as cold as ice, and he thought she might pull away from him. But she acted as though his touch was of no consequence to her whatsoever. His stomach tensed. He almost preferred she’d hit him, yell at him, anything to break into her damning withdrawal.
Holding her head high, she walked out of the casino without saying a word, totally ignoring him. He only hoped she was saving her anger for when they reached the sidewalk outside. Never had he seen anyone exhibit more control.
He wished she would release the pent-up anger. He didn’t know how to read or cope with the ice queen she’d suddenly become. He supposed he deserved whatever angry words she threw at him and both guilt and remorse stabbed him. She was so self-contained and withdrawn that he wondered if she’d already figured out that he’d suspected her of complicity in the sabotage.
Stiller had said someone close to him was the traitor.
He could have lied. He could have meant Toni. Or he could have been referring to someone else.
In Zane’s heart, he knew Toni had to be innocent. When she’d arrived at Grey’s meeting in that gorilla suit and someone had poured oil in the ink, the timing had to be sheer happenstance. Her association with the senator, a man who had reason to hate the Louisiana Daily Herald, was likely just as she’d described it. That she had been with Zane at Club Carnal while Stiller had sabotaged th
e trucks had to be another fluke. And her access to the computer before someone had altered the headlines had been simple bad luck.
If only they’d met under other circumstances. He tossed the valet a twenty-dollar bill.
At least someone was happy. The valet tipped his hat with a wide grin. “I’ll be right back, sir.”
Zane and Toni stood together on the sidewalk, but he couldn’t have felt more alone. “Say something,” he pleaded.
“I must have been an idiot to think I’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t trust me enough to tell me his name. His real name. Goodbye, Zane.”
She headed toward a taxi, her back straight. Her words struck him like a brutal right hook to the temple. She’d thought she loved him? And she’d said the words in the past tense as if he’d killed that emotion. Other women had told them they’d loved him and he’d known he’d stayed too long and had run away. But now all he felt was this huge ball of guilt roiling in his stomach. Usually with Zane, what a woman saw was what she got, a good time. He made no bones that he was a party animal. But he’d lied to her by misrepresenting himself, his character, his intentions.
He hurried to her side. “I’m sorry. Please. Let me explain.”
She spun on her heel. “You’re an identical twin?”
“Yes.”
At his admission, she looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to hit him, berate him or ignore him. All because of his deceit. The man she’d just made love to had lied to her about his name. Guilt sliced him. “And you’re Zane? Not Grey?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie to me?”
“We agreed to switch places before you and I ever met.”
“You hadn’t changed places yet when I wore the gorilla suit to the newspaper?”
“No,” he answered, wondering why she’d asked, but not caring as long as she kept speaking to him, giving him a chance to explain. “Grey needed a vacation and I offered to try and figure out who was sabotaging the company while he took some much needed R and R.”
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