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Power Play
by Beverly Long
Chapter 1
Trey Riker grilled a steak, tossed a salad and uncorked a bottle of wine. He ate outside, enjoying the quiet of the Vegas night. His place, twenty minutes from town in the foothills, was a continent removed from the blitz and glitz of the strip.
He’d had a rare day off and spent it digging post holes for the fence that he’d hoped to put up six months ago. But one shouldn’t complain about business being good. He and his three other partners, Royce Morgan, Rico Metez and Seth Pike, had opened Wingman Security more than four years ago and hadn’t looked back since. A few crazies in a basically good world spooked people, and both personal and property security were high priorities for many.
He tipped his wineglass up, drained it and considered a second. But the knowledge that he was due at the job at five the next morning had him pushing back from the table. He was never late, couldn’t understand others who were.
He went inside and locked up behind himself. Put his plate and silverware in the stainless steel dishwasher that he ran every three days, usually just for the hell of it. He’d bought his house two years ago. The 2800-square-foot ranch was probably too big for a single guy, but he’d loved the location. Every night he could sit on his patio and see the sun set. Every morning he could look out his bedroom window and see the sun rise.
He made sure the coffeepot was set up for morning and ten minutes later, he was in bed, lights off, listening to Bach’s Toccata in D Major when his cell rang. He reached for it, not recognizing the number. “Riker,” he answered.
“I had a hankering for Beethoven...”
“You wouldn’t recognize Beethoven if he came up and sat next to you,” he said, stretching his toes, settling in for the conversation. Anthony McGarry didn’t call often but when he did, it was generally a marathon. There was nobody better at taking a five-minute story and turning it into fifteen minutes of chatter. “Did you get a new number?”
“Yeah, made the mistake of giving it to a patient who I thought was just needy but, as it turned out, she was really, truly crazy. Hailey got tired of the phone ringing and was punishing me by making me get up with the baby.”
“Dr. McGarry, I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist.”
He was one of the best spine surgeons in the country. But didn’t like to talk about it. “How are the queen and the princess?” Trey asked.
“Magnificent,” Anthony answered. “Didi will be a year on Sunday.”
He knew that. Was genuinely happy for his friend who’d fallen hook, line and sinker for a fellow physician. Wasn’t his life. Maybe someday. If it was absolutely right.
“What’s keeping you busy?” Anthony asked.
“I put up a fence today.”
“What? You had some bubble gum, toothpicks and a letter opener?”
His friends frequently teased him about his MacGyver tendencies. Give him a Popsicle stick, a battery and some dental floss, and he can power up a small country. “Funny. I actually had real boards and nails. No challenge at all.”
There was a moment of silence before Anthony cleared his throat and said, “Hey, there’s this thing.”
Trey sat up in bed. Something was wrong. Anthony’s voice had changed. “What’s going on, my friend?” he asked.
“Listen, I hate to ask but I was wondering if you could do something for me?”
“Name it.” A lifetime ago, when he’d been a freshman in college and Anthony McGarry had been a sophomore, Anthony had saved Trey’s life. It took a long time to pay back that debt.
“Do you remember my sister, Kellie?”
“Uh, sure.” Trey had met her once. His freshman move-in day. She’d been a twelve-year-old with braces who was sobbing at the idea of her older brother leaving home for college. He’d been nervous about meeting his roommate, though, and hadn’t given the guy’s little sister much thought.
“She lives in Vegas now,” Anthony said.
Trey had not known that. “For how long?”
“About six months.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’m not sure,” Anthony said evasively.
Trey knew he was lying. Anthony had always thought Trey was a bit of a hound dog. Probably because Anthony had only dated his high school sweetheart, until that had ended badly in medical school, and then Hailey. He had some crazy idea that Trey had a different woman every night. Had teased Trey about needing a spreadsheet to keep track.
Trey hadn’t bothered to defend himself. He’d dated a lot of women. But the last time he’d checked, that wasn’t illegal.
But being an older brother himself, he understood his friend’s reluctance to bring his little sister into the mix. Friendship only went so far. “What’s she doing here?”
“She finished her doctorate in geosciences last May. Worked her butt off. I contacted Rodney Ballure to see if he might have something.”
Ballure had been the third roommate in their triple dorm room. Anthony and Rodney had always been tight but Trey hadn’t felt the same. Had good reason, but that was old news.
When they’d opened Wingman Security in Vegas four years ago, he’d known that Ballure was already in the area because he’d been involved with mining in Nevada since he’d gotten his degree. He’d never felt the inclination to look the man up. Had run into him once at a restaurant, had a couple minutes of very awkward conversation, but that had been at least two years ago. “And he did?” Trey said.
“Yeah. I really appreciated that. Damn hard to find that first job sometimes. Anyway, says she likes the work. But I’m worried about her. She’s normally really good about returning calls but I’ve left messages over the last few days and haven’t heard back.”
“Maybe she’s just busy,” Trey said, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He put the phone on speaker and picked up his jeans.
“She’s got two jobs, so that’s probably true,” Anthony said, his voice full of pride. “She’s got a lot of school loans. Won’t let me help her. Says I have my own loans to pay off.”
That was probably true. Mrs. McGarry had not had the resources to help her children with college expenses. She’d given them a great deal of love, however. And Trey, by virtue of being Anthony’s friend and roommate, had gotten included in the outpouring.
“I’d just feel better if somebody I trusted had eyes on her,” Anthony continued. “I thought about calling Rodney since he probably sees her at work but I think Kellie might not like it if I drag her boss into our personal lives.”
“Considerate it done,” Trey said. “What’s her address?”
Anthony rattled it off and her phone, as well. “But she’s probably at Lavender tonight. She’s a cocktail server there on Friday and Saturday nights. I did call there but they’re jerks about passing personal phone calls through to their employees.”
He’d never been to Lavender but he recalled that his partner Rico had mentioned it a few months back. New to the strip in the last year, it was building steam as a place to see and be seen. Had a chef from New York who was supposed to be amazing.
He squinted at the clock. It was a twenty-minute drive from his house. He could get there, make sure she was fine, and be back in bed by eleven. “I’ll call you within the hour,” Trey said.
“I owe you, man,” Anthony said.
Not even close. “Keep your phone on.”
Traffic was very light and he was circling the right block in seventeen minutes. But then he lost a few finding a parking spot. Finally, he was walking up the marble staircase to the second-floor restaurant. There was a young woman in a short black dress with a stack of leather-bound menus. “Table for one, sir?”
Anthony had said Kellie was a cocktail server. “Just the bar.”
She made a sweeping motion with her arm, ushering him through an oversize archway. The carpet got thicker, the music louder and the lighting dimmer. It was a big bar, with two long sides that came to an outward V in the middle. Lots of brass and glass and mirrors that made the most of it.
He took an open spot, three from the end on the side closest to the lobby. There were two bartenders, both males, both probably in their early thirties wearing dark pants and white shirts. One came his direction and slid a cocktail napkin with a lavender L on it toward him. “What’s your pleasure?” the man asked, his tone easy.
“Scotch, straight up,” Trey said.
He turned on his bar stool so he could see the tables in the bar area. They were low and surrounded by equally low couches and chairs. Lots of grays and violets and darker purples. He counted five, no make that six, different cocktail servers. Most had their backs to him as they took orders. They all wore black skirts and white shirts.
The bartender set down his drink. Trey threw a twenty on the bar. “I’m looking for Kellie McGarry.”
There was a subtle shift in the man’s posture. “Oh, yeah?”
Trey nodded. Took a sip. “Looking her up for a friend,” he said.
The man hesitated, then pointed at a server across the room. “Don’t give her a hard time, man. She’s had a rough night.”
What the hell did that mean? Trey wanted to drill him for information but at that moment, the woman he’d pointed at turned.
Long dark blond hair caught the light. Shimmered.
Three steps.
Her short black skirt was tight, her white sleeveless shirt maybe a little tighter. Three more steps.
Her tanned legs were bare and a mile long.
She was smoking hot.
And he felt wildly off balance.
She was no longer a gawky twelve-year-old. Maybe if he’d been at Anthony’s wedding seven years ago, but he’d been in the middle of a tour, unable to come home. If he’d seen her there, he now wouldn’t feel as if he’d taken a punch to the gut.
He watched her go to the far side of the bar and enter her order on a touch screen. She smiled at the other bartender.
Trey picked up his drink, leaving the napkin and his change on the bar. He passed the point of the V, kept going, until he was standing right behind her. She turned, tray in hand, drinks on tray.
Startled, she jerked but nothing spilled. “Excuse me,” she murmured, shifting to the side. Her eyes were hazel and her face was a perfect oval. Her hair, parted deep on the side, swept across her forehead. She wore very little makeup, didn’t need it. Her lips held just a hint of gloss.
“Kellie?” he asked.
She said nothing. But he got the feeling she was just about to run. She’s had a rough night.
He stepped back, giving her some space. “I’m Trey Riker,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’m friends with your brother, Anthony.”
Still, she said nothing. And the bartender was looking a little too interested in their conversation.
“I was his college roommate. He was the smart one. He stayed and I decided to go to war.”
“Anthony has mentioned you,” she said. She looked California and she sounded pure Texas.
That and her sexy painted toes peeking out of her black heels were a hell of a combination. But crashing upon that thought was the realization that he was having these thoughts about Anthony’s little sister.
Which was almost as bad as if he’d had the same thoughts about his own sister.
“Your brother gets worried when he doesn’t hear from you,” he said.
Something, maybe regret, maybe frustration, he wasn’t sure what, flashed in her pretty eyes. But then she summoned up a smile that would have made her orthodontist proud. “I hope you weren’t in the middle of something important when he sounded the alert.” She cocked her head, narrowed her amazing eyes. “I think he’s always been secretly envious of your life.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Actually, his brain felt really scrambled. “Are you sure he was talking about me?”
She nodded. “Absolutely. But I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. I thought you were from Texas like us.”
“Been in Vegas about four years,” he said. “I understand you’re pretty new to the area.”
She nodded.
“Anthony’s not going to sleep until I assure him that everything is just fine.”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I’ve just been so busy. Working, you know.”
“Sure.”
The silence stretched on.
“You’ve...uh...got drinks to deliver,” he said.
“I do.”
He stepped aside. She hesitated for only a second and then walked past him. He caught a whiff of a scent—something dark and complex. He went back to his spot, sat on his stool.
And sipped his Scotch. Trying to get his head straight.
He’d seen beautiful women before. Dated many. And he’d never had a reaction like this.
She delivered her drinks and moved onto a middle-aged couple who had empty glasses sitting in front of them. They smiled, then shook their heads. Next stop was a table of three young men. All had beer bottles in front of them, all seemed to be talking at the same time, waving their arms.
And then one arm reached out and a hand landed on Kellie’s hip.
He was half off his stool when she gracefully edged away, efficiently clearing up empties. She came back to the bar, set the bottles down and waited to get three fresh ones. Didn’t look his direction. He discreetly picked up his phone, clicked on the camera and took a picture of her. Then he sent the photo of Kellie to Anthony. He added, Eyes on little sister. Working at Lavender. Said she will call you soon.
Within seconds, he had his reply. Thank you. Now I can go to bed.
Which is where he probably should be. But Kellie was on her way to deliver beers to the table of drunks.
When she set down the bottles, she was careful to stand on the other side of the table, away from the idiot who wanted to play grab ass. The man kept his hands to himself but Trey didn’t like the looks he was giving Kellie. And when he said something that she appeared to ignore, Trey wanted to be closer so that he could hear.
Trey nursed his drink. Kellie moved away from the drunks and slid easily between other tables, clearing glasses, discreetly offering checks in little padded folders. It was fifteen minutes before she walked his direction.
“It was good of you to come check on me,” she said. “Really.”
He got the distinct impression she was trying to get him out of the bar. Wasn’t that interesting? “The bartender mentioned that you’d had a hard night.”
He could tell by the quick press of her lips together that didn’t make her happy. “I had a four-top that had two rounds of drinks and they walked out without paying.”
“Are you on the hook for that tab?”
“How much do you need?” he asked.
She looked startled. “You don’t even know me.”
“You’re Anthony’s little sister,” he said. “I would give him the shirt off my back. I can certainly float you some rent money.”
She stared at him. Her sexy mouth in the shape of a small O.
And he felt something shift. Something inside of him.
“Mr. Riker, I can pay my own bills,” she said, her tone a little frosty.
Damn. “If it makes you feel better, I’d have been willing to charge you outlandish interest,” he said, wanting to get back to where they’d been before he’d offered the money. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to offend her.
“Tell my brother that I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll call him...really soon.”
Trey picked up his phone, held it out to her. “I already did.”
She read the message. “Very efficient.”
It didn’t sound as if she meant it as a compliment.
“Well,” she added, “good night.”
He rather desperately wanted to run his hands through her long blond hair to see if it was as silky as it looked. That likely made him no better than the drunk at the table.
“Right. Good night,” he said.
He watched her walk away. Waited until her attention got snagged by a new table in the corner. Then he raised his hand, got the bartender’s attention, and pointed to his glass. “One more,” he said.
* * *
Kellie McGarry remembered Trey Riker. And given that she’d been twelve and had only met him once, somebody might think that was odd. But she remembered every trip to drop off Anthony. Every tearful goodbye.
It had been Anthony’s sophomore year. When they’d arrived at his dorm, Trey was already there, had already hung an ugly picture of flying pigs on his wall.
She hated that college. Hated that it was taking her brother away from her. It didn’t matter that they’d already been through the drill the previous year. Having him home for the summer had made it a fresh wound.