Two of Hearts

by Christina Lee

  “Come on, let’s sit down,” I said, grasping onto her arm.

  I tugged her over to the couch. “What’s happening?”

  “I started spotting a couple of hours ago. Kai already left for work; he had an early session,” she said, tightening her fists in her lap. “I just couldn’t bear telling him. To see that look in his eyes.”

  “It’s probably the same look you get and it’s just as painful for him, sweetie,” I said, knowing my brother, what a sensitive guy he was and especially knowing how much he adored his wife. “But spotting doesn’t always mean a miscarriage, right?”

  In my side view, I saw Shane move to the coffeepot and reach for a mug.

  “That’s right. And I already called the doctor,” she said, blowing out a shaky breath. “Still . . . that feeling of hope you carry with you, thinking maybe this time—”

  The tears spilled down her cheeks and I pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how hard this is day to day,” I whispered.

  “These little bumps in the road,” Rachel said. “God, they’re awful.”

  “What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing that they kept in close contact with Rachel’s gynecologist. “That the spotting is normal?”

  “She said that plenty of woman experience this during their pregnancies.” She let out a breath. “But she knows my history, so I’m to call her if it gets worse or if I start cramping. I’m scheduled for my first ultrasound in a few days anyway. And Kai will be with me, so I know I’m being silly. I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”

  “He’ll be grateful for the call,” I said. “Knowing my brother, he’ll want to come straight home.”

  “Maybe I’ll go visit him at the studio instead. So he’ll see that I’m okay.”

  “Good plan,” I said.

  “Sounds like you’ve got a good doctor,” Shane said. “She probably sees this kind of thing all the time. And plenty of couples come through it just fine.”

  When I looked over at my friend she was focused in on Shane, who was pulling milk and eggs out of the fridge. It was as if she was just realizing the significance of Shane being in my apartment, in the early morning hours, while we were both half-dressed.

  “Wait a second. I thought—” She leapt from her seat and stared at me, her eyebrows bunched together. “Are you guys back together?”

  Shane tipped his chin like it was up to me to inform my friend. Except I didn’t exactly know what to say. It was complicated. We hadn’t even talked it all the way through; we’d just had a lot of sex. A lot of hot and amazing sex.

  Before I could respond, Rachel’s hands swung to her hips, already in protective-friend mode. Her next question was aimed at Shane no doubt, because she’d heard me wrecked over him for the past five years. “How exactly is this going to play out?”

  “That’ll be up to me and Dakota to figure out,” Shane said, lighting up the burner on the stove.

  “Like you figured it out last time?” she said, her voice low and accusatory.

  “Rach,” I said, in warning.

  “I just want you to be smart about it this time,” she said, looking back and forth between us. “I want you to be together, but not if you’re just going to hurt each other.”

  “I don’t plan on hurting Dakota,” Shane said, cracking an egg into the sizzling oil. The same eggs he had brought over the other night, along with the milk and bread. Apparently he didn’t approve of the contents of my refrigerator.

  I took a deep breath and held it. I was sure Shane didn’t plan on hurting me last time, either, but it still happened. I watched as my friends engaged in a staring contest, a battle of wills.

  “Now sit,” he ordered, as if we were his pupils and he was the hot gym teacher. “Because I’m going to make you breakfast.”

  “What’s with Mr. Bossy Pants?” she asked me, taking a seat at the counter, and I shrugged. I wasn’t going to tell her what a turn-on Mr. Bossy Pants was in the bedroom. Already, I could tell my neck was turning a dark shade of scarlet just from remembering it.

  As Shane cracked another egg over the frying pan, she said, “And since when do you cook?”

  “Since I became an adult and had to learn to fend for myself. Which is more that I can say for your friend over here.” He aimed the spatula toward me, and I rolled my eyes.

  “I never have time and besides, it’s sucks to only cook for one person,” I said, joining Rachel near Shane, who had left a mess over the counter in his wake. Cracked eggs, drops of milk, wrappers of cheese. At least I was good at cleanup duty.

  “Looks like I’m going to be the chef in this family,” he said, reaching for the slices of American cheese.

  I held in a gasp at his words. Words that sounded so permanent. Rachel quirked an eyebrow at me.

  But Shane seemed oblivious. He went on preparing breakfast while Rachel and I passed each other bewildering looks across the table.

  “If you’re going to feed me, at least go put on a shirt so I don’t have to stare at all that muscle,” Rachel said and then mouthed oh my God to me behind his back.

  If anything, I was glad we could lighten the mood and take my best friend’s mind off of her sadness and troubles for a little while.

  “I don’t hear you complaining about Dakota’s lack of pants,” he said over his shoulder as he reached for the milk. “You plan on busting in on us every morning?”

  He dodged the potholder that Rachel aimed at his head and all I could think was that I wanted this, right here, this friendship and trust and contentment, until the end of time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  SHANE

  I rounded the corner toward the Golden Arrow and clenched my jaw tight. The street had been overrun by a thick line of people holding signs and shouting in the direction of the casino. A protest was happening right before my eyes.

  What in the hell was going on? I attempted to keep my gaze on the road while I slowly drove by, listening to voices and reading the signs that had been printed on large poster board and fastened to thick wood.

  KEEP OUR HERITAGE ALIVE! HELP US PERSEVERE! one of the signs read, and I hissed through my teeth.

  Another read, CASINOS RUIN NATIVE AMERICAN FAMILIES.

  Dakota was going to freak. How had it come to this?

  As my car rolled past this restless group of people, I felt pissed and sick at the same time. My phone was already buzzing with a heads-up from Grayson. He had left a message that I hadn’t gotten to listen to yet on my drive in.

  Two reservation sheriffs were stationed on each corner in an effort to keep the protesters from crossing the street to the casino property. Still their intentions were clear. They wanted to send a message to passing vehicles on the busy strip, and create chaos and confusion for those entering the casino.

  I pulled into the underground garage and unrolled my window to greet Uncle Elan’s son, West, who was stationed in the ticket holder booth, probably to deal with unhappy and confused patrons. His young staff, some still in high school, seemed a little freaked. “How long have they been out here?”

  “A couple of hours, at least,” he said, his voice stiff. I could tell it would be a struggle to get any information out of him. If Dakota thought she had it hard, sometimes I had it doubly so. The staff who were familiar with me were cool, but most others kept their whispering and opinions to a minimum around me. “It’s definitely messing with business. Some cars have entered the garage only to turn around and head back out.”

  Despite his rigid response, I attempted to talk to West anyway. “The public asking questions?”

  “Almost every single passenger, which is why I took over the booth,” he said. “Been telling them it’s reservation business. Because it is.”

  I nodded. Message delivered loud and clear.

  I had just left Dakota a couple of hours ago, so I knew she’d already be at work. Still I asked, hoping she had arrived safely. “Boss lady here already?”

  “Both of them,
” he said, nodding. “Grayson drove them in together.”

  I was thankful for that. No telling what the protesters would do had they seen their cars driving down the strip. It might’ve become dangerous.

  My thoughts swam to West’s father. Would something like this satisfy him? Would he see this protest as another opportunity to encourage Mrs. Nakos to shut down? To prove his point that this division, this unrest was hurting the Native American people?

  I needed to keep my eyes open, my suspicions sharp. “Your dad aware of this?”

  “If he is, he didn’t hear it from me,” he said. “Believe it or not, I want to keep my job here. Fully support this family. And if my father was pushed to decide, he would, too.”

  “Good to know,” I said, and he narrowed his eyes.

  I parked and then headed to the outside lot where I leaned against the fence that enclosed the property. Staring across the street to the line of protesters, I definitely recognized a couple of former employees holding signs. I noticed how some seemed fired up, shouting their intentions to passing cars, while others looked tired, bored even. That was confusing. Why had they come?

  I examined the signs, which looked professionally made. I considered walking across, asking why they decided to organize and where they had their posters made, until I saw a local news crew pulling up beside a police officer.

  Before I headed back inside, I scanned the scene one last time. A long table stationed behind the protesters was lined with snacks and water bottles, which required forethought and organization. When my eyes landed on an ex-employee from maintenance, he met my gaze head-on, as if he was proud about his involvement.

  I walked back to the garage and rode the elevator to the second floor. The first person I spotted was Stuart, who looked sullen and preoccupied. Stuart was always a calming presence, so to see him rattled made me realize how the protest was probably affecting the rest of the staff.

  “You holding up okay?” I asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

  He nodded. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Dakota around?”

  He slanted his head toward the center of the floor where Dakota stood talking to a couple of flustered-looking servers. She seemed to be putting on a brave face, but I could tell by the way her fists were clenched by her sides that she was merely holding it together.

  “It’s unfortunate they have yet another thing to add to their plate. She and Mrs. Nakos are stunned, to say the least. We all are,” he said, his teeth clenched together. “Never in all my years would I have guessed I’d have seen that kind of spectacle outside.”

  “A news crew just pulled up,” I said. “I’ll find Grayson and—”

  “Dakota has already advised him not to allow the cameras inside.”

  My girl was smart. As soon as there was a face for the viewing audience to villainize, it would become something altogether different.

  “Who do you think is organizing that protest?” I asked.

  “Hard to tell,” he said. “Herman from maintenance was certainly angry enough to do it. He had complained straight after Mr. Nakos’s death that the missus was never as vocal or outspoken about Indian issues as he had been.”

  Stuart straightened as an employee I rarely saw emerged from the lounge and sauntered toward the kitchen area. His jaw was clenched and his eyes darted away from Stuart and myself. “That’s Leo. He’s been across the street talking to Herman during breaks. I think he might be the next one to quit.”

  “What’s his beef?”

  “Same as Herman’s. Doesn’t think Dakota or the missus are being genuine.”

  I shook my head.

  “Then he probably needs to go. And maybe you should tell employees to leave the property on their own time.”

  “Already done,” he said. “Hope Herman doesn’t start pulling them in one by one.”

  “Think he used his own money to make those fancy signs?” I asked.

  “Doubt that.” Stuart’s eyebrows shot up. “You saying this has been organized by somebody else?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I just know that what’s happening out there seems well planned. Professionally made signs aren’t cheap.”

  “Well I highly doubt Herman has that kind of money.”

  And suddenly I knew I needed someone else in the loop. Somebody who’d be able to keep a level head while looking out for this family. “Just so you know, Stuart, the information I’ve been looking into?”

  “The stuff you don’t want boss lady worrying about?”

  “Right, at least not yet, because I don’t have any concrete evidence,” I said, lowering my voice. “I can’t help thinking that Mr. Nakos’s murder wasn’t random. That maybe it was intentional.”

  His eyes widened and his hand reached up to clench at his heart.

  I grabbed hold of his shoulder to keep him steady. “Got any ideas for me?”

  “I’d ask Uncle Elan about the threats they were receiving around the time of the sacred-ground case,” he said in a low murmur.

  “Will do,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you keep this on the down low.”

  “Of course,” Stuart said as panic flitted through his eyes right before he tamped it down and squared his shoulders.

  I looked around the floor at uneasy gazes, some employees turning away from my probing eyes. The picketing had certainly produced its desired effect. “And keep your eyes peeled for anything else suspicious.”

  As I passed the game table heading toward the area where Dakota seemed to be defusing a heated discussion, Sam lifted his head in my direction. A longtime blackjack dealer, he was one of the Nakos family’s most loyal employees.

  “You good, Sam?”

  “This continues and business doesn’t pick up,” he said, his voice low, his eyes sorrowful, “some of us will have to look elsewhere.”

  “Why is that?” I said.

  “Before you know it, shifts will be dropped, tables portioned in half. Happened at another casino when customers dropped off. I have a family to feed.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Sam. You’ve been here a long time,” I said, keeping my eye on Dakota. I didn’t doubt her ability to handle her own staff. I just knew that people could be unpredictable, especially when they’re upset. “Having picketers outside the building doesn’t help, but this family is doing their best to keep us afloat.”

  “Business is already suffering,” Sam said, his eyes following my line of sight. One of the servers had burst into tears, and Dakota was rubbing her back.

  My gaze darted around the floor, noticing that it did look less crowded than usual today. West had said as much as well. Shit.

  I clapped Sam on the back and then strode toward Dakota just as she dismissed the servers she was speaking to. The employee who had been crying was now smiling and wiping her eyes, the other girl leading her to the staff locker room, so it seemed like everything had been resolved.

  When I made the motion to grasp Dakota’s hand, she flinched. “Not here.”

  She turned abruptly to walk to her office and I followed, ignoring the irritation and hurt I felt about the way she’d just responded to me. I decided to give her a pass because I knew she was under a great deal of stress.

  After I shut the door behind me, I turned to see her standing motionless at her desk, staring at the warrior painting that her father had hung across the room. Whether she was trying to remember him or gather strength from it, I didn’t know.

  Swallowing down my hesitation, I approached her and then pulled her trembling body into my arms. I kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Dee.”

  She inhaled deeply into my chest. “It keeps getting worse.”

  I definitely didn’t want to add more to Dakota’s plate. Not until I knew the full extent of the events of her father’s death. I tightened my grip. “How’s your mom?”

  “She’s in shock,” she said, pulling away and then rustling some papers at her des
k. “She’s up in her office, trying to rally the finance team.”

  Before she became the owner, Mrs. Nakos had always kept the books and trained her daughter to do the same. Since her husband’s death, she and Dakota had divvied up the responsibilities, with Mrs. Nakos continuing to work closely with the offices upstairs and Dakota, down on the floor where her father had spent most of his time.

  “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered, and I couldn’t tell whether she was talking to herself or to me.

  “Maybe your mom . . .” I said, and then stopped my train of thought. “Never mind, none of my business.”

  “No, go ahead and say it.” Her eyes glistened with interest.

  “You should encourage your mom to be out on the floor more,” I said. “Maybe it would help the staff to see her.”

  “Funny you should say that, because I was just heading up to have the same conversation with her,” she said. “About us being more readily available to the staff down here.”

  “Good thinking, baby,” I said, sliding my fingers up her neck to her cheeks. I stared into her eyes and right as I was about to slant my lips against hers, she jerked back.

  “No, Shane,” she whispered, her hands bracing my chest. “Not now.”

  Her words were as effective as a slap across the face.

  We were in her private office with the door closed. It wasn’t like I was going to throw her down on the desk. I was just kissing my woman. But maybe she still wasn’t mine. Not yet.

  “What the hell, Dee?” My jaw ticked and I tightened my grip on her.

  “We can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

  “Can’t what?” My stomach churned. Was she changing her mind about us?

  “I can’t do this. Not here.” Her eyes pleaded with mine. “I can’t let anybody get the idea that we’re together.”