Get Lucky

by Lorie O'Clare

  “Hey, London. I just got your message. That is so romantic,” Meryl said cheerfully. “And yes, of course I’ll come in and finish out your shift. I’ll be there in a few. How cool is that! Marc King coming in on his white horse to sweep you out of here.”

  London laughed, all too aware of Cliff glaring at her and really not caring. “Thank you so much for agreeing to work for me, Meryl. I owe you big-time. I was just standing here talking to Cliff and explaining the family crisis.”

  She’d given Meryl a very abridged version of the story, leaving her a message first thing that morning asking her to help cover her shifts and telling her Marc was on his way to pick her up.

  “You told him it was a family crisis?” Meryl asked, lowering her voice.

  “I know I haven’t missed any work. I wasn’t planning on starting now. But you understand. It’s an emergency. My parents need me.”

  “I do understand family. Honestly, I didn’t think you had family,” Meryl said, buying into London’s story with as much compassion as she’d expected her to have.

  “Everyone has family. I just never talked about mine much. I spent my time here working and you know I love my job. I think I have all my shifts covered now so there won’t be a problem while I’m gone.”

  “What’s wrong with your family? Is someone sick? Or is it just a story you told Cliff?” Meryl pressed.

  London squeezed the bridge of her nose, glancing down. There wasn’t enough time to explain what was wrong with her family. Although when she didn’t talk to anyone about it, she was able to live with how she’d been raised. Maybe her parents hadn’t done things the conventional way, but she’d grown up okay.

  “They’ll be fine, but they’ve asked for my help and I need to go to them.” In a way, she decided, that was true. There was no way of knowing who sent those pictures, but they were sent to get her attention and to let her know her parents were in trouble. Any other child would run to the aid of their mother and father. Why shouldn’t she?

  “I understand. I’d do the same thing,” Meryl said, her tone full of compassion. “I’ll be there in a few.”

  “I’ll see you when you get here,” she said, and told Meryl good-bye.

  Cliff was still scowling when London turned around. “I have everything taken care of,” she informed him. “All you need to do is approve my time off.”

  An older couple walked up to the counter. Cliff’s expression transformed and he smiled at them as if they were his best friends.

  “London will take care of you,” he informed them. “I hope you’re both enjoying your stay here.”

  “Yes, we are. Thank you,” the wife of the couple said, grinning back at him.

  “Good. Good.” Cliff left London, disappearing around the corner without giving her approval to leave.

  “Fuck him,” she grumbled to herself, and managed her professional smile as she helped the couple at the counter.

  It would take Meryl at least half an hour to get to the lodge from her house. The lobby began filling up with guests, their skis and other paraphernalia cluttering the large room as they chatted among themselves cheerfully. They were on vacation, all appearing to not have a care in the world other than hitting the slopes and playing in the snow all day. It was a sight London was very accustomed to seeing, travelers from all walks of life hovering in the warm lobby while waiting for the shuttle to take them to the lifts.

  She remembered being in awe of some of them when she first started working here. Her life was so far from anything these people had ever known. After working here a few years, she had grown immune to them. Today she watched the group as they mingled, all wearing their bright ski attire. She’d learned over the years which ones came from way too much money and which guests scrimped and scraped just to enjoy some time here at the lodge.

  It was also interesting watching them judge one another. Especially the women, although the men did it, too. They would make a show of being nice to their fellow skiers, but the look in their eyes, the shift of their heads, showed how they sized one another up and judged one another.

  London had made a lifetime habit of watching people, learning by their actions who could be trusted and who couldn’t. For the most part she’d determined very few could be trusted. It created a sinking feeling inside her when she wondered for the tenth time, at least, why she’d confided in Marc. Worse yet, she’d known him two weeks. She was uprooting her life and had agreed to leave the state with him. Maybe once in her life running on a moment’s notice had been par for the course. But today she had order. It amazed her, and scared the crap out of her, when she realized how quickly she conformed to her old habits, making decisions on the spur of the moment and packing hastily, leaving everything she had and taking on the unknown.

  The shuttle bus pulled up out front and the large group seemed to talk louder as they filed out the front door. One man didn’t leave them but remained standing with his back to her, facing the fire. London noticed the patches on the elbows of his jacket and her gut twisted painfully.

  She moved around the counter, refusing to let the PI unnerve her. “You’re here again,” she said when she came up behind him.

  “I heard in town this lodge was once a millionaire’s home, and that he built it so he and his wife could enjoy a reclusive lifestyle in the mountains,” he said without turning around.

  James Huxtable’s hands were clasped behind his back and he didn’t change his position as he glanced at the large painting over the mantle of the couple who had once lived here. Since he was right, London didn’t see the need to comment. Nor was she in the mood to elaborate and offer a history lesson.

  “Do you know where my parents are?” she asked.

  That grabbed his attention. His expression was somewhat amused when he turned around and faced her. “Now if I did, why would I be here?”

  He hadn’t answered her question. “If you were a good detective, you would have known I’ve had no contact with them,” she pointed out.

  “You’re right. Sometimes family members seek each other out in a time of crisis. It’s been known to happen.”

  Maybe normal families, she thought to herself. “You never answered my question.”

  He shook his head, his dark hair remaining in place as he looked down at her, his gaze drifting before meeting hers. “I don’t usually spend my time focusing on con artists who drift from town to town. They’re a dime a dozen.”

  He would have to do better than that to insult her when it came to her parents. She’d heard it all before. “So if that’s a ‘no,’” she began, again thinking he didn’t look at all what she would expect a private investigator to look like. “Where do you think they are?”

  James smiled at her, his lips smooth and moist as if he’d applied a thick layer of lip balm to them recently. At least when she learned Marc was a bounty hunter he looked the part, so tall and muscular and with that blunt side to him that made it easy to imagine him diving to the ground and pulling a gun from his hip at the same time. This man facing her looked as if he would get upset if he got dirty at all.

  “You must have some idea. I can’t imagine you didn’t research them before approaching me.”

  “I did,” he consented. “They were in Chicago last year and I do believe they headed west when winter set in.” Whether he was telling the truth or not she couldn’t tell. His expression never changed, and that smile on his face was growing more and more annoying. “My guess is they’re with one of the game players. I just don’t know which one yet.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked as the phone at the front desk began ringing.

  London left him without a word, hurrying around the counter to answer it.

  “Wait!” she called out when James walked out the front door. “Shit,” she hissed to herself, and answered the phone.

  What the hell did he mean by “game players”? God. Was it possible for all of this to get any more confusing?

  She headed back to her
house less than an hour later. Maybe she’d be smart to grab her packed bags and head out on her own, leave Aspen for new territory, and put all of this strangeness behind her. It was something she knew how to do. Take off and leave all problems behind, forgetting about them completely before the new town and new adventure came upon her.

  Wasn’t that the one thing her parents taught her how to do better than anything else? When shit got too deep, run. Don’t hang around and try to solve it. If her parents heard she was in trouble, would they run to her aid?

  Although that thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, London wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t ignore the growing mystery surrounding her or the dangerous implications coming with it. It made it easier to accept her decision when she pulled into her driveway and Marc was already there.

  “Got to love all this snow,” he announced, getting out of his car and looking larger than life when he walked up to her, his long legs helping him clear the distance between them within seconds.

  Marc didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and damn near squeezing all air out of her lungs. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything,” he whispered in her ear.

  He smelled so good. All that muscle and the warmth of his body had her melting against him before she could think of anything to say. His greeting confirmed what she’d come to believe during the time he’d been here. There was something growing between them.

  “We’ll discuss that later,” she informed him instead of saying what came to mind first, which was that she was used to it.

  Marc let her slide down his virile body and brushed her hair away from her face. When he lowered his mouth to hers, greeting her further with a kiss hot enough to make her insides melt, she prayed she would get through all of this without losing her heart. The pictures arriving in the mail didn’t terrify her half as much as the fact that she might have already lost it. As she gripped his shoulders, leaning in and deepening the kiss, London moved her hands under his coat, soaking in his warmth and feeling his heartbeat just above his collarbone. The solid throbbing under her fingertips matched the hard beating of her own heart.

  “Where were you?” he asked when he finally let her up for air.

  Marc ran his hand down her back and escorted her up her porch stairs. London wondered if any of her neighbors were home to witness that public display of affection. It was really the least of her worries, though, and she slid her key into her lock and let her and Marc into the house.

  “I had to tie up a few ends at work before I could leave,” she explained.

  Marc nodded, glancing around her living room and noticing her luggage stacked against the wall. “How long did you say you’d be gone?” he asked, and picked up her suitcase and overnight bag.

  “A week.”

  “What if you’re gone longer?”

  He started to the door and she stared at his broad back, her insides throbbing with need after that incredible kiss. “My boss wasn’t thrilled I was leaving for a week.”

  Marc didn’t comment but let the screen door close behind him as he took her luggage to his car. She was really going through with this. He had all her clothes and was putting them in his car. As her insides twisted, she admitted to some excitement in being with Marc nonstop over the next few days.

  “Where are those pictures?” he asked when he came back inside. “Did you pack them? I want to see them.”

  “They’re in here.”

  “Were you not going to bring them?” he asked.

  London glanced over her shoulder when he followed her into her bedroom. His expression was harder than it had been when he greeted her. The bounty hunter she imagined him being stood before her in the flesh, strong, powerful, and focused.

  “Honestly, I didn’t want them in with my clothes. I have all of them here.” There was something creepy about them she didn’t like.

  London picked up the stack of large envelopes off her dresser and handed them to him, then walked around him and turned on her bedroom light. “Have you heard of a James Huxtable?” she asked when Marc sat on her bed and let the first group of pictures slip into his hand.

  “No. Why?” He looked up at her for a moment before returning his attention to the pictures.

  “He’s a private detective who showed up at the lodge the other day and asked me about my parents.”

  That got Marc’s attention. “When did he come talk to you?” he asked, looking at her instead of the pictures.

  “The first time was the day you left.” Which was a good thing. The look on Marc’s face was enough to let her know Marc would have bullied the PI and possibly even made a scene if he felt London’s honor needed to be defended. “He showed up again this morning,” she continued. “It was strange. The first day he showed up he told me my parents were on the most wanted list and wanted to know if I knew where they were.”

  “The most wanted list? Which one?” Marc asked.

  “I didn’t know there was more than one,” she said, shaking her head and pulling her gaze from Marc’s. “But this morning when he showed up again I decided I didn’t want him harassing me at work, even if I am leaving. I confronted him and asked if he knew where my parents were. He told me he guessed one of the game players had taken them, but he didn’t know which one. What kind of answer is that?”

  “One of the game players?” Marc asked, suddenly sounding angry. “What is this guy’s name?”

  “James Huxtable. His card is in my purse. Not that it says much. Just a name and his number.” She hadn’t meant to blurt out the bit about her parents being on the most wanted list. Marc had picked up on it, commented on it, and would ask her about her parents again. He wasn’t the kind of man to ignore a detail, under any circumstances. Oddly enough, she wanted him to know everything. She didn’t want to shoulder all of this by herself anymore. For now, though, London was cool with the conversation swaying away from the subject of her parents.

  “Let me see his business card.”

  London left him in her room with the pictures and went to the living room, where she’d left her purse. When she returned with the business card in hand, Marc was holding up two of the pictures, comparing them to each other.

  “Do you know this place?” he asked, glancing at her over the eight-by-tens.

  London sat down next to him and he made room on the side of the bed for her, then held up the two pictures she’d received with the note saying her parents were gone.

  “What place?” she asked.

  “Look at the buildings in the background. Have you ever been there?”

  London frowned. She’d focused on her parents in each of the shots, comparing how they looked to the last time she’d seen them. She hadn’t given a lot of attention to the background in the shots. Both her mom and dad in each picture stood in between two men who had their heads down. They were walking toward the camera, or so it appeared. London narrowed her gaze on each shot, studying the street they were on and the row of businesses partially visible behind them in each shot.

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Just curious.” He put the pictures back in their envelope and took the business card out of her hand. “Jake and I recognized the buildings in the background, which is what took us to Arizona and then, curiously enough, got us shot at and Jake injured. I’m searching for similarities between our situation and yours and wondered if you’d by chance been there, too.”

  He flipped the business card over in his hand, stared at the blank back side, and flipped it again. “It’s just his name and a phone number.”

  “I found that odd, too. I don’t even know where he’s from.”

  Marc shook his head and grunted, handing the card back to her. “Let’s get going. I’ll drive for a while and let you take the helm once I run out of juice.”

  London worked to calm her nerves by talking. She assured herself again and again she’d worked her way out of worse ordeals in her lifetime. Ma
rc could be trusted. She’d seen the Web site advertising his family business and had called the number on it to reach him. None of that knowledge helped soothe her nerves when she sat next to him in his vintage Mustang and drove out of Aspen.

  “So were the pictures you received similar to mine?” she asked once they were on the interstate heading south.

  “Identical. Especially the notes. Down to the same font. I’d bet good, hard money they were sent from the same source.”

  “God. Weird,” she whispered, studying her fingers in her lap. “What would your parents possibly have in common with mine?”

  “That’s what I want to find out.” He looked over at her, studying her for a moment.

  London didn’t look back at him. Instead, sighing, she stared out the window so she wouldn’t see him at all, not even through her peripheral vision. “Are your parents good people?” she asked, deciding if they were going to compare notes, he would start.

  “The best.” He didn’t hesitate. “Dad was a cop with LAPD for twenty years. When he retired he started his own business. Jake and I jumped on the bandwagon almost at the same time. We’re licensed bounty hunters in the state of California.”

  “So you can’t be a bounty hunter anywhere else?” she asked.

  “We don’t usually have to cross the state line. We go after those who skip out on their court dates or violate their probations. Most of them don’t get out of the city before we bring them down. I can count only a couple times when we’ve had to leave the state.”

  “Then what do you do?” She looked back at him, curious about his work. If she could keep the topic off her parents, everything would be okay. London really didn’t want to lie to him. But at the same time, telling anyone, especially Marc, what kind of people her parents were would cut her to the core. Admitting they could be on the most wanted list spoke volumes, and she hoped would satisfy him for now.

  “We’ve been known to work with the local law. It hasn’t happened too many times.” He leaned back in his seat, yawning. “I’ve got a thermos of coffee behind the seat. Would you mind?”