by Dobbs, L. A.
“Yep.” Blake smiled blandly and opened the door. “It’s fun. You’ll see.”
“It’s karaoke.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t sing.”
“Neither do I. I come to watch the other people.” Blake led him across a packed room and over to two empty stools at the bar. “Order whatever you want. My treat.”
They gave the bartender their ale choices as a new duet started on stage. The off-key rendition of an eighties power ballad would’ve caused paint to peel and Owen covered his ears, laughing. “Jesus, I haven’t heard pitiful wailing like that since the war.”
“Most of them aren’t that bad.” Blake took a swig from his bottle then glanced past Owen toward the front door, his smile turning wicked. “Well, look at that. Maybe you’ll have a chance to question your favorite little cheater again after all.”
Owen followed Blake’s pointing finger to two women who’d just arrived.
Faye Wagner and… Oh, shit!
He narrowly avoided choking on his beer and narrowed his gaze on his cousin. “What the heck, man? Did you set this up?”
“Me? Nah.” Blake scrunched his nose and held up his hands in innocence. “Like I said, your dealer was long gone when I went looking for her. But I will say it again, the ladies can’t resist me, man. Is that the Faye in question? If so, I’ll be glad to find out what she knows.”
“Charming my ass. And yeah, it is.” Owen gave Blake a disparaging look to go with his scowl. “Henry’s more charming than you.”
“Smile.” Blake nudged him on the shoulder and pointed toward the women again. “Here they come. You wanted to know more about Alison and what she’s hiding, right? Here’s your chance.”
* * *
“C’mon.” Faye grabbed Alison’s arm and tugged her forward. “Let’s get something to drink at the bar.”
Alison trailed after her, not given much choice with her friend’s persistent grip, then halted abruptly when she spotted the two men staring back at them from the bar.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
“Faye. Faye, stop. I can’t go up there. Owen’s here. You know, the guy who’s the reason I’m leaving.” She pivoted fast to head for the door again. “I’m out of here.”
Faye kept ahold of her arm, however, halting her after two steps. “Calm down, Al. I’m sure he's just here having a drink. He's not going to arrest you or anything.”
“Yeah?” Anger welled inside her. “What if he does! What if he ... hey wait a minute. Did you set this up?”
“No, really. I had no idea he was going to be here. I swear.” Faye pulled her closer and whispered. “Act normal, okay, and everything will be fine.”
Act normal? Easy for Faye to say.
I hate lying. I’ve never been a good liar.
No wonder Copernatech finally caught me.
“Let’s go.” Faye tugged her forward again. “Looks like a couple of stools opened up.”
“Who’s the other guy?” Alison asked, her gaze locked on Owen.
“His name’s Blake Rockford,” Faye said, maneuvering them through the throngs of partiers. “He owns Rockford Security. Another McHottie, if you ask me.”
Great. As if one snooping guy wasn’t enough, now she had two Rockfords poking their noses into her private, personal past.
What if they see through my disguise? What if they expose my secrets? What if…
She smoothed her hand down the front of the royal blue wrap dress. Not her usual conservative style, by any means. Far too low-cut and curve hugging for her taste. Faye had insisted on doing her hair and makeup too, teasing and primping her to within an inch of her life. If she was leaving this life behind, Faye had insisted, she might as well do it in style.
Now, though, as Alison looked at Owen Rockford, Alison felt way more vulnerable than she ever had before. From the strong set to his shoulders to the spark of fire in his warm brown eyes, Owen Rockford looked like a force of nature. A force she wasn’t sure she should tangle with.
Faye glanced back at her and frowned. “Relax. You look like you’re headed for a firing squad.”
Sudden irritation fired Alison’s blood, dissolving some of her fear. “How am I supposed to relax? I tell you this guy’s following me and what do you do? You force me to talk to him. For all I know, he’s a psycho stalker.”
“He’s not a stalker.” Faye stopped and faced her once more, only feet away from the two men. She placed her hands on Alison’s shoulders and looked her directly in the eye, her voice calm. “Listen to me. This is all a big misunderstanding. Talk to him. Tell him the truth and let him see the wonderful, smart, beautiful woman I love. He’ll realize you’re not the cheater he’s looking for and all will be well, okay? Maybe you'll even realize that you can stay after all.”
Like life’s ever that easy.
As if sensing Alison’s reluctance, Faye changed tactics. “One drink. We’ll have one drink and if you’re still uncomfortable, then we’ll leave and I’ll go wait at the train station with you. Deal?”
Alison knew better than to argue with Faye when she had her mind set on something. “Fine. One drink. That’s it.”
“Perfect.” Faye tugged Alison to the bar and ordered them both a Hurricane before turning her attention to the Rockford men. “Hello, Mr. Rockford. And Mr. Rockford. Fancy seeing you two here.”
“Fancy, huh?” Owen muttered, taking another swig of his beer while watching Alison over the rim. “I’ve got another word for it.”
“Ms. Wagner,” Blake said, from over Owen’s shoulder, then extended his hand. “We haven’t officially met, but Owen filled me in about you. And please call me, Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, Blake.” Faye shook his hand and batted her eyelashes, in full flirt mode now. Faye took a sip of her drink and smiled. “You sing, Blake? And feel free to call me Faye.”
“Only when forced, Faye.” Blake returned Faye’s smile with a polite one of his own, his somewhat stiff demeanor at odds with Faye’s overt come-ons. The guy looked several years older than Owen and whatever else might run in the family, the handsome gene was certainly one of them. With his tailored suit and chiseled face, Blake Rockford was all debonair swagger and lethal confidence. Exactly the type Faye went gaga over. Never mind he seemed oblivious to her friend’s advances. “Care to move closer to the action, Faye?”
“I’d love to get closer to your action, Blake.”
Alison did roll her eyes at that one, shaking her head as she watched her friend bail on her, leaving her alone with Owen. She took a larger than normal sip of her own giant-sized, neon blue Hurricane and wrinkled her nose at the burn in her throat. Deceptively frou-frou and fruity, these suckers packed quite a wallop. Given the fact she’d only had popcorn for dinner, she’d be on her ass in no time flat if she kept this up.
She glanced over to find Owen Rockford still watching her, his expression stoic, though a small muscle ticked near his tense jaw. Apparently, he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted her to believe either.
When in doubt, revert to math.
Math was straight-forward. Math didn’t lie. Math didn’t betray you the way people did.
She tucked a stray red curl behind her ear and grinned. “What did Al Gore play on his guitar?”
Owen remained silent.
“An algorithm.” She snorted, loud enough for people closer by to turn and stare at her. Embarrassed heat prickled her cheeks and she stared down at the bar again. So much for small talk. “Get it? Al Gore rhythm. Sorry. That was bad.”
“Awful.” His voice sounded lower than she remembered. Rougher. “Faye says you’re unusually good at math.”
Alison shrugged. “I guess I can hold my own.”
“Is that why you win so much at cards?”
“I don’t cheat if that’s what you mean. Math comes naturally to me. It’s pretty useful, I bet you use it a lot too Mr. Rockford.”
“Owen.”
“Okay, Owen. But only if you call me
Alison.”
“Fine.” He took another gulp of beer. “I hate math. Never was good at it. So, I rarely use it.”
“I bet you use it all the time and just don’t realize it. How many times do you walk into a room at your casino and calculate the number of heads in a crowd to make sure you’re not overcapacity? Or watch the tables, guesstimating the probability that someone will prove troublesome?”
“I don’t know.” Owen tapped on the bar to order another beer. “I prefer listening to my gut versus my brain when it comes to troublesome situations. Not numbers.”
“You might not do it consciously.” She turned down the bartender’s offer for another Hurricane. “But math is still there, lurking in the background. Perhaps if you embraced it, you’d be even better at your job.”
“Really?”
“How many people are in the Lucky Ace at any given time? Three hundred? Five hundred? More?” She took another sip of her drink. “For a nice round number, let’s say a thousand people. With all those people, what made you single me out as a cheater? Your gut?” When he didn’t respond, she smiled. “Sorry, but if you analyzed the data mathematically, you would’ve seen I lose as much as I win. Hardly an effective strategy, if I had one. I mean, if I was cheating, wouldn’t I want to win all the time?”
“Nope.” He twisted the cap off his new beer and took a drink. “Not if you’re smart.”
“I’m flattered.”
He stopped mid-sip. “Why?”
“That means you think I’m intelligent. And I am. Just not that kind of intelligent.”
The alcohol in her system buzzed through her bloodstream, lifting her inhibitions and flushing her body with warm relaxation. Apparently it was doing the same to him, if the way he swayed slightly toward her was any indication.
“I do think you’re smart, Alison.” Owen set his beer aside and leaned closer, his warm brown gaze holding hers. “Maybe too smart for your own good.”
Warning bells went off and Alison didn’t know whether to lean closer to him or run away. Before she could do either, Faye and Blake returned.
“That was so much fun!” Faye’s voice was perky. “We should definitely come back here again, Al. You ready to go?”
“Sure,” she mumbled, uncertain her shaky legs would carry her as far as the door, let alone all the way to the train station. “Okay.”
“Right.” Faye helped her off her stool then placed a steadying arm around her waist. “Well, thanks for a fun time, Blake. Owen. See you both later.”
They weaved back through the crowd toward the front door and it wasn’t until they were outside again that Faye stopped and leaned Alison against the brick wall of the building. “Are you sure you’re fit to travel tonight?”
Alison stared at her friend wondering if Faye had a some sort of plan. Running into the Rockford’s tonight couldn’t have been a coincidence... could it? But if Faye was planning something it wasn’t to hurt Alison. It was to help her. And if Faye didn’t think Owen Rockford was a threat, Alison could take that to the bank. But Faye didn’t know the real reason why Alison needed too run. Still, the hurricanes were strong and she wasn’t used to drinking. Maybe it was smarter to wait until tomorrow.
She’d be out the price of her train ticket, but that seemed a small price to pay for a clear head and a clear plan for her future. “Maybe I should sleep this off at your place then figure out what to do in the morning.”
“That’s my girl,” Faye hailed a cab then took hold of Alison once more. “Sleep it off and things will look different in the morning, I promise.”
6
Owen walked into his apartment half an hour later and tossed his keys on a side table by the door. He was more conflicted than ever about the casino cheater. His gut told him it wasn’t Alison James, but there had been something off about her too.
Alison James was definitely hiding something and that was unacceptable.
After all, his ex Faith had done that too, once upon a time.
Faith…
Jesus. Even five years later the pain was still fresh.
Temples pounding and head swimming with alcohol and memories, Owen clicked on the lights in his bedroom only to find an excited Peaches sitting on the middle of his mattress, tail thumping and goofy dog grin in full force.
“Dammit, Shelby.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and speed dialed her number, but it went straight to voicemail.
Shit. A quick glance at his bedside clock showed two-fifteen in the morning. Of course, she’d be in bed by now, like any normal, sane person. He left a terse voicemail and hung up then turned back to Peaches, resigned.
He sank down on the edge of the bed, more exhausted than he could remember, and glanced over at his unexpected canine companion. “You better not snore.”
As if in response, Peaches went down on her front paws, hiking her butt in the air with her tail still going. Classic play position. She nuzzled his hand then licked the back of it, whining.
“All right, girl.” He couldn’t help chuckling at her playful demands for attention and scratched her behind the ears. Peaches rolled over and exposed her belly her expression one of pure ecstasy.
Laughing, he headed into the bathroom where he jammed on the shower and stripped then stepped under the cool spray, grateful for the brisk temperature and the time alone to think about what Alison had said.
What made you single me out as a cheater? Your gut?
Her question continued to swirl in his brain like a cockeyed tilt-a-whirl.
Yeah. My gut. And my cousin, Blake.
Except, over the past couple of days, his gut had changed sides. Hours and hours of analysis and watching security feeds had him doubting whether she was really the person he was looking for. Oh, she was still hiding secrets, no question. But his prized instincts told him she wasn’t ripping off his casino. At least not by herself anyway.
Maybe his thought of her being part of a gambling ring when he'd seen her take the envelope from under the bench wasn't so far-fetched.
He soaped up and scrubbed shampoo into his hair. A ring would explain a lot, actually. Like why she never won very much and why she was still so reluctant to come clean. If she was part of a bigger organization, it was entirely possible she’d been forced into it, coerced against her will. And that would explain the envelope. Instructions for the next take, perhaps?
Who else would be in on it? The dealers? Faye? He hated to think Faye would have anything to do with it, but her table did have a lot of losses and she was chummy with Alison.
Hell yeah, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
As he stepped under the spray again to rinse off, the years seemed to trickle away along with the soap and he was back in the Marines once more. Twenty-six and green when it came to women. Oh sure, he’d had plenty of girlfriends, but nothing serious.
Not until Faith.
She’d been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life and he’d fallen hard and fast. He’d bought into her praise and her seduction hook, line, and sinker. And after she’d satisfied both his body and his youthful ego, she’d plied him for information. Top-secret military information he’d been granted access to because of his rank. Information he’d managed to keep secret, despite her obvious temptation.
Good thing too, considering it had later come out she’d been a North Korean spy and he wasn’t the first officer she’d plied with her talents. He’d been investigated, disciplined by the military court, and gotten off lucky with an honorable discharge and no time in the brig for his troubles.
Clean and now most definitely sober, he shut off the water and fumbled for a towel. He dried off fast then stepped out of the shower with the wet towel slung low around his hips. He brushed his teeth and did a quick shave before shutting off the lights and padding over to the bed to slide between the cool sheets at last.
Lights off, he punched his pillow twice then settled in and closed his eyes, Peaches snuggling up on top of
the comforter and stretched out lengthwise beside him before snoring loudly.
Perfect. Owen thought as he tried to fall asleep.
* * *
Beeeeeeeepppppp.
One eye squinted open, Owen peered over at the clock on his nightstand. Something warm and heavy lay draped across his chest and the distinct smell of wet fur tickled his nose.
He pushed Peaches off him and back onto her side of the bed then reached over to slam off the alarm. God, it couldn’t be six a.m. already. Impossible. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes and…
A wet tongue in his ear jolted him awake.
He shuddered and sat up fast only to come face to face with a panting Peaches. She licked his face in response then danced around excitedly in circles.
Right. Potty time. He got up and pulled on a pair of sweatpants he found in a drawer and his dress shirt from the night before then searched the apartment for the dog’s leash and finally found it in the kitchen, alongside a bag of food, a toy, and a note he assumed was from Shelby.
Yeah, he’d be having words with his boss about using the key he’d given her to his apartment for surprise doggy drop-offs, but first he needed to get Peaches outside before she had an accident he didn’t want to have to clean up this early.
Twenty minutes later, they returned and he felt a bit more awake after his dawn sojourn. He started a pot of coffee then set out food and water for Peaches before finally taking a good look around his living room.
Well, crap didn’t notice any of that last night. Gaze narrowed, he stared at the neat rows of family photos hung on the wall over his sofa.
Apparently Shelby hadn’t been the only one invading his space lately.
Seems his cousin Liv had taken it upon herself to do some decorating at his place. The coffeemaker beeped and he fixed himself a mug then went in search of what other damage she’d inflicted. The cabinet beneath the sink had been fully stocked with cleaning supplies. A not so subtle hint about his bachelor status.
Nice. He was clean, if not always tidy.