Luck Be A Lady (Destiny Bay Romances-The Ranchers Book 5)

by Helen Conrad

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Copyright © 2014 Helen Conrad

  Cover Copyright © 2014 DoorKnock Publishing

  Cover images from Shutterstock.com

  First Edition August, 2014 published by DoorKnock Publishing

  Luck Be A Lady

  by

  Helen Conrad

  Destiny Bay Romances~The Ranchers, Book 5

  Thank you for downloading this e-book. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, please take a moment to leave a review. Thank you!

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

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  ABOUT AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Cody Marin felt the sting of a fist as it grazed the side of his jaw. There were three of them, three thick-skulled goons bent on teaching him a lesson, and he didn’t have a chance. The best thing he could do was relax, he told himself with a grim touch of sardonic humor, and hope for the best.

  They’d caught him in the alley, a dark place he never would have been in under any of the usual circumstances. The moment he’d seen them, he’d turned toward daylight, but they’d cornered him against the fence surrounding the back doors of the Las Vegas casino. He felt the fence now, felt the cold, rough network of chain link digging into his back.

  A car horn blared. The busy street was only steps away, and yet here he was being worked over in an alley behind the Marquis Casino. There wasn’t a chance that he’d be rescued. His attackers held all the cards this hand.

  Something hard and painful hit Cody in the ribs and he heard his own groan as though it were coming from far away.

  “Think about the suit,” he told himself with silent determination. He’d think about anything so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of what was being done to him.

  He filled his mind with thoughts of his suit, forcing himself to worry about the condition it would be in when this beating was over. It was his best suit and he hated to think he might have to replace it. You couldn’t get this fabric any longer, and that little tailor who’d cut out the pattern so exactly had left Vegas a few months before and moved to Chicago.

  “You got the picture, Marin?” The growl was ugly, slurred. The hand that was jammed against Cody’s throat was missing a couple of fingers. “You get what’ll happen to you if you talk?”

  “Sure do, Stumpy,” Cody gasped, improvising the name, refusing to lose his cool even if it meant losing much more in the process. “You boys have made it perfectly clear.”

  “Naw,” the large one chimed in helpfully from behind. “He don’t get it yet. We’re gonna have to give him some souvenirs to remind him to keep his mouth shut.”

  Cody knew it would be the better part of valor to take his punishment in silence, but he’d never been careful. Why start now? Forcing a pleasant smile, he nodded at his assailants. “Good of you to think of me this way.” Talking hurt. He winced, but smothered it. “How about something simple, like a string around the finger?” he murmured past his swollen lip. “That is, if any of you ever learned how to tie a knot.”

  “Shut up, fathead,” the large one spat out.

  Cody managed a wavering grin. “You’re just mad because I got you with one good right hook before you got me pinned. Listen, try an ice pack on that eye. I know that’s what I plan to do.”

  Infuriated, the huge thug growled and balled his ham-size fist for another blow.

  Cody closed his eyes with a sigh, bracing himself for more pain. But just before the huge fist connected with his face, another voice rang down the alley.

  “Okay, you goons. Fun’s over. Get outta’ here.”

  The voice was feminine, and for one elongated second, Cody wondered if he were dreaming. There was a stunned pause as the behemoths turned to see who had the audacity to order them around, and Cody took the opportunity to open one eye tentatively and peer beyond the shadows.

  A woman stood there, her golden hair highlighted by a shaft of sunlight. Dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt, she stood with her legs apart, and in her hands she threateningly brandished a Little-League-size baseball bat.

  Cody had a quick impression of terrier-like bravery and righteous indignation. Joan of Arc carrying a sword before her or a Cub Scout den mother sensing danger to her flock. Only she was too pretty to put herself in the front lines this way. Didn’t she know that these guys were paid to hurt people?

  Cody swore under his breath as the thugs started to grin. Was she crazy? “Run for it, sweetheart,” he muttered, but no one was listening.

  “You get away from him,” she was saying warningly, and to his horror she started to advance toward where they had him pinned, waving the bat in the air.

  The large one started to laugh. Cody began to pull away from the fence, reaching for the creep, but Stumpy stopped him with a swift right to his midsection that doubled him over. The ground spun away for a moment before Cody regained equilibrium. It took all his will to right himself again, but now he had a reason. He had to keep the lady out of it.

  The only thing left was to try going into a Superman act and take them all on. Scowling, he clenched his fists.

  Stumpy first, he decided, and then, if he was still alive, the big guy.

  “Leave him alone, you scum,” the lady ordered again, pausing just a few feet away, her eyes narrowed coldly. “I’ll make you pay for every mark you put on him.”

  At face value her threat was ridiculous, but there was something steely and sure in her tone that sobered them all for a moment. The grins dropped from their faces and they moved uncertainly, as though they expected a backup force they couldn’t quite see yet. Cody watched, fascinated. The lady was no slouch at this.

  “I’ve already called the police,” she announced, her tone that of a marine drill sergeant, “so get ready to hear your rights.” And even as she said the words, the wail of a siren came slicing through the alleyway.

  Everybody froze, listening to the piercing sound. The police car was still a few blocks away, but the goons exchanged glances, swearing obscenely. Cody’s body sagged as Stumpy let him go. He watched in amazement as they started to run down the alley.

  She’d done it on her own. With a little help from a police siren, to be sure. But he never would have believed they’d scatter so easily.

  “Hey, Marin,” Stumpy called back just before he turned the corner into the parking lot. “You remember our little talk, okay? You remember to keep your fat mouth shut, or we’ll have another go. You got it?”

  Cody didn’t answer. He was busy pulling himself away from the fence as carefully as possible, moving gingerly, checking to make sure every limb still worked the way it should, checking over his suit and at the same time, stealing a glance at the woman who’d come to his rescue. She walked up slowly. He turned and looked fully at her.

  Mid-twenties, h
e guessed. Young enough to look appealingly vulnerable. Old enough to know how to cloak steel in velvet. She was slighter than she’d seemed at first; her eyes came about level with his mouth. The baseball bat dangling from her hands suddenly looked out of place. That was some act she’d put on. He’d almost believed it himself.

  “Did you really call the cops?” was the first thing he wanted to know. He winced at the pain around his rib area as he took a step. “Because if that’s them—“ he nodded toward the sound of the siren that was coming closer all the time “—I’m going to have to beat it along with my buddies.”

  The woman hesitated, her green eyes wide as she looked him over. Women usually liked what they saw when they looked at Cody, but she didn’t seem to be too sure.

  Maybe it was the bruises and blood, he thought with a twinge of regret. He certainly wasn’t at his best at the moment.

  “No,” she said at last, shaking her head so that her golden curls spilled about her shoulders. “No, that siren’s just a godsend. I didn’t have time to call anyone.”

  Even as she said the words, the police car with the siren flew by, going on for a few blocks before the sound faded. Cody straightened his suit and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the blood away from his mouth. All in all, he’d gotten away lucky. The thugs had been out to warn him, not to kill, and they hadn’t done too much damage. Aside from a few bruised ribs and a split lip, he was all in one piece, still mobile and still had his teeth.

  It was a shame about the suit, though. He frowned mournfully at a rip he’d found in the sleeve. Too bad hit squads didn’t warn you when they were coming so you could wear your old clothes for the occasion.

  He glanced back at the woman, noting the stubborn set of her delicate jaw. What she’d just done for him was only a little short of miraculous. For some reason, he couldn’t think of a proper way to show his gratitude.

  “Thanks,” he said a bit lamely as he pulled at the knot in his tie, forcing it back into perfect position. “You’ve probably saved me one horrendous cleaning bill.”

  She gazed around the dirty alley as though she still wasn’t exactly sure what she’d done. With a glance over his shoulder toward where the toughs had disappeared, he took her elbow and began to lead her back to the street.

  “That was totally insane, you know,” he said casually, eyeing her with a bit of a frown. “They had guns.”

  She glared at him, and for the first time he noticed her turned-up nose was covered with freckles. “Well, what did you expect me to do, walk off and let them kill you?” she demanded. “Once I looked down here and saw you in trouble like that, I couldn’t just ignore it.”

  He shrugged, running a hand through his jet-black hair. “They weren’t going to kill me. Just hurt me a little.”

  Perception flashed in her green eyes and she stopped in her tracks. “You knew them, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Sure,” he said smoothly, gently forcing her to move again. It would be a shame to be waiting here if the enforcement squad decided to come back and check on the cop situation. “We’re old pals. We get together now and then for a friendly chat.” A sudden grin flashed across his dark face. “Only sometimes the boys play a little too rough, that’s all.”

  Her eyes, wide and curious, met his. But she looked away without smiling back.

  “Speaking of guns,” he said as they neared the end of the long building. “Wouldn’t a nice little pearl-handled revolver work better for you than a baseball bat? It fits so much better in a pocket or a purse.” His hand tightened on her elbow. “I knew Las Vegas was considered a dangerous place by some, but I didn’t realize the local ladies had taken to toting bats when they came downtown. Have you had much occasion to use it?”

  “I wasn’t carrying this for protection.” She shifted the wooden stick from one hand to the other. “It’s for my daughter. I... just picked it up at the sports shop in the Landings Hotel. They were having a special....”

  Cody glanced at her ring finger and found it bare. Just plain old curiosity, he told himself when he caught himself at it. Whether or not the woman was married could hardly matter less.

  They stepped into the busy street. Cars crawled by in the heavy traffic. Despite the bright daylight, neon lights flashed a come-on, and the sound of coins dropping into slot machines drowned out the noise of the automobile engines. It seemed hard to believe this had been so close all along.

  The two of them stopped, facing one another. Foot traffic flowed around them, a constant stream of tourists and casino employees.

  The woman’s cool gaze flickered over Cody, assessing the damage for herself. “Those men play rough all right,” she agreed, frowning slightly. “You’re a mess.”

  He stood very still, watching her from under lowered lashes as she took a tissue from her purse and dabbed at a spot of blood on his jawline. Her face was intent on her task, and something inside Cody stirred, surprising him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but the gesture, her reaching out to tidy him, struck a chord that hadn’t been sounded for a good long time—some half-forgotten memory, some echo of childhood—and he felt touched in a way he hadn’t known he was still capable of.

  “There,” she said briskly when she was finished. “Let’s get you to the emergency center.”

  “What’s your name?” he asked her softly, still watching as though she were a being from some species he’d never studied before.

  She met his gaze and hers suddenly became guarded. “Kelly Carrington, uh...I mean, Kelly Stanton,” she said, flushing as she realized she’d led off with her maiden name. What on earth made her do that? “What’s yours?”

  “Cody Marin.” He said it proudly, his shoulders squaring unconsciously as he did so. There were people who knew that name in this town and respected it.

  But it wasn’t respect he caught in the flash of Kelly’s eyes. “Let me guess,” she said crisply. “You’re a gambler.”

  His half grin was crooked. “And you’re not,” he guessed without a doubt as to his accuracy.

  She gave a snort, as though the very concept were beyond the pale. “Okay, Mr. Gambler,” she said in a tone that told him all he needed to know about what she thought of games of chance and those who played them. “Let’s get you some medical attention.”

  She turned as though to lead him straight to a clinic, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “My car,” he said, motioning toward a red Porsche parked half a block away. “Why don’t we take it?”

  He watched her green eyes clearly mirror the thought processes as she quickly mulled over the possibilities. She was brave, but not totally foolhardy. He wanted to grin at her, but he stopped it, frowning slightly instead. He had to acknowledge that he was attracted to her, and—used to following up attraction into its logical consequences with hardly a second thought—he felt a pull in that direction. But he also realized, without fully admitting it even to himself, that she was from a world quite separate from his. A world so shunned by him all these years as to be virtually untouchable.

  But what the hell! He was a gambler, wasn’t he?

  That wasn't all he was. He'd been working hard to add to that image, working on his own property out of town, setting up a world class horse ranch. But he wasn't about to hand that to her as an excuse. No. Let her think he was nothing but a gambler. A woman like this would be happier with that explanation. Otherwise, she would have to deal with ambiguities.

  “I’m harmless,” he assured her softly. “And you’re the one with the lethal weapon.”

  This time she almost smiled, and her gaze clung to his for just a moment. Long enough to send a warm shaft of tantalizing promise down him, but not long enough to make him sure.

  “You can’t drive,” she protested. “You’re injured.”

  He shook his head. “I’m bruised and battered a bit,” he said dryly, “but able to function as a normal man. Believe me.” His raised eyebrow invested his statement with some suggestion. “Where’
s your car?”

  “It’s in the body shop, getting some dents ironed out. I was going to call a friend to give me a ride home.” She looked at him worriedly. “You’ve got about as many dents as my car,” she muttered. “Let’s go,” she added, coming to a brisk decision. “I’d better drive you to the doctor.”

  They walked side by side, but she didn’t meet his eyes again, and he wondered what made her so shy of the man-woman feelings that were obviously sparking between them. She’d probably been hurt. But who hadn’t?

  “I’ll drive,” he insisted when they reached his car. “It’s like getting back on the horse that threw you. I’d better do it fast.”

  She frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No. I usually don’t.” He gave her his best devil-may-care smirk, masking the pain that still throbbed along the wall of his chest. “I’m fine. Believe me. And if I pass out, you’ll be here to take over the controls, won’t you?”

  He swung into the driver’s seat, glancing over at her. She was definitely pretty, he decided. Not a beauty, like most of the show girls he knew these days, but attractive. Like a high school homecoming queen, all grown up now, with responsibilities dimming her innocence a shade. There shouldn’t be anything threatening in that. Should there? He gazed into her eyes. She met his stare with a clear, honest look that didn’t try to hide anything. And he felt threatened in a way he hadn’t for a long, long time.

  Sardonic humor had always been his best defense. “Listen, getting beat up is a way of life around here, just like racquetball is in other neighborhoods. It wakes you up, gets the blood flowing.”

  She didn’t think that was very funny. He watched the way she perched on the edge of her seat, looking as though she might jump out at any minute.

  “Relax,” he offered quietly. “I’m the victim, remember? I don’t ever do the beating part.”