Books by Fern Michaels
Fancy Dancer
No Safe Secret
Wishes for Christmas
About Face
Perfect Match
A Family Affair
Forget Me Not
The Blossom Sisters
Balancing Act
Tuesday’s Child
Betrayal
Southern Comfort
To Taste the Wine
Sins of the Flesh
Sins of Omission
Return to Sender
Mr. and Miss Anonymous
Up Close and Personal
Fool Me Once
Picture Perfect
The Future Scrolls
Kentucky Sunrise
Kentucky Heat
Kentucky Rich
Plain Jane
Charming Lily
What You Wish For
The Guest List
Listen to Your Heart
Celebration
Yesterday
Finders Keepers
Annie’s Rainbow
Sara’s Song
Vegas Sunrise
Vegas Heat
Vegas Rich
Whitefire
Wish List
Dear Emily
Christmas at Timberwoods
The Sisterhood Novels
Crash and Burn
Point Blank
In Plain Sight
Eyes Only
Kiss and Tell
Blindsided
Gotcha!
Home Free
Déjà Vu
Cross Roads
Game Over
Deadly Deals
Vanishing Act
Razor Sharp
Under the Radar
Final Justice
Collateral Damage
Fast Track
Hokus Pokus
Hide and Seek
Free Fall
Lethal Justice
Sweet Revenge
The Jury
Vendetta
Payback
Weekend Warriors
The Men of the
Sisterhood Novels
High Stakes
Fast and Loose
Double Down
The Godmothers Series
Getaway (E-Novella Exclusive)
Spirited Away (E-Novella
Exclusive) Hideaway (E-Novella Exclusive)
Classified
Breaking News
Deadline
Late Edition
Exclusive
The Scoop
E-Book Exclusives
Desperate Measures
Seasons of Her Life
To Have and to Hold
Serendipity
Captive Innocence
Captive Embraces
Captive Passions
Captive Secrets
Captive Splendors
Cinders to Satin
For All Their Lives
Texas Heat
Texas Rich
Texas Fury
Texas Sunrise
Anthologies
The Most Wonderful Time
When the Snow Falls
Secret Santa
A Winter Wonderland
I’ll Be Home for Christmas
Making Spirits Bright
Holiday Magic
Snow Angels
Silver Bells
Comfort and Joy
Sugar and Spice
Let It Snow
A Gift of Joy
Five Golden Rings
Deck the Halls
Jingle All the Way
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
FERN MICHAELS
HIGH STAKES
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Books by Fern Michaels
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
DEADLINE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ONE STEP AT A TIME
LEAVING LA LA LAND
CRASH AND BURN
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Fern Michaels
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-4067-5
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4068-2
eISBN-10: 1-4201-4068-X
I’d like to dedicate this book to three wonderful, amazing, fearless women. To Julianna Triplett, who left us way too soon. Rest in peace, darling girl. To Julianna’s mother, Suzanne Triplett, who truly is fearless, and to my dearest friend Claudeen Doll, who invented the word fearless. Thank you for being in my life.
Fern
Prologue
Dennis West thought it was going to be a beautiful spring day, even though it wasn’t quite six o’clock in the morning. The dark night had turned the new day into a dizzying shade of pink and lavender. Plus, he’d gotten up at four thirty, which had to mean he needed to get started on what was sure to be a special day. Dennis believed in things like that. He took them as omens. Everything happened for a reason. Everything.
Now all he had to do was sit back and wait for whatever was going to happen to actually happen.
Carrying his morning coffee in one hand and the early edition of the Post in the other hand, Dennis made his way out to the postage stamp–sized courtyard of the Bagel Emporium to drink his first cup of coffee of the day. He was lucky this morning; one little bistro table was still available. He immediately laid claim to it, spread out the paper, and removed the lid from his coffee cup. He then settled his backpack under the minuscule table, rolled his shoulders, and stretched his neck. It was the same ritual that he practiced every morning. Now he was ready to drink his coffee. He took a healthy gulp, burning his tongue in the process. He ignored the temporary pain and scanned the headlines and everything above the fold. Nothing earth-shatterin
g there. Nothing earth-shattering below the fold, either. He leaned back on the flimsy chair and settled in for some serious people watching. It was his absolutely favorite thing to do in the whole world. He loved, loved, loved coming up with little scenarios as people moved past him, some making eye contact, others so zoned out, they were like zombies. Sometimes he even gave the strangers names. Yes sirree, this hour was his favorite hour of the day.
Dennis was so intent on his people watching that he didn’t hear his name being called. He did, however, whirl around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He looked up to see a tall, lanky guy around his age, with straggly hair, unshaven jaw and cheeks, and bloodshot eyes staring down at him.
“Dennis! Well, damn, this is a surprise! Never expected to see you here! Man, this is early! Great to see you!”
Dennis tried to see past the stubble, the red eyes, the straggly hair, and the dirty clothes. His eyes popped wide. “Toby! What the hell!”
“That’s the best you can come up with? What the hell! I know it’s been a bunch of years, but, damn, Dennis, am I that forgettable?”
“Jeez, no, Toby. I was doing what my mother used to call woolgathering. Watching people. It’s kind of what I do. What brings you here to the nation’s capital? When I saw you at our last reunion, you were working in New York, at some secret think tank, and making bookoo bucks. You slumming or something?” Dennis asked curiously.
“It’s a long, sad story, pal,” Toby said, sitting down on the spindly chair opposite Dennis.
Tobias Mason. Smart as a whip, highest IQ on the planet. The guy could discuss quantum theory but couldn’t balance a checkbook. Not one ounce of street smarts. Not even half an ounce. They’d been study buddies back in the day. Two geeky nerds who never quite fit in. As close as they’d been, they had somehow drifted apart after graduation, Toby in demand for every think tank in the land and Dennis to find his way doing what he loved, gathering news to share with the world. As far as he knew, they’d both succeeded, he with a Pulitzer to his name and Toby doing all that top secret stuff no one would ever see or hear about.
“Ah . . . Toby, do you dress like that for work, or are you . . . what?”
“Actually, Dennis, I’m homeless at the moment. Gee, it’s good to see you. What are you doing these days? At the last reunion, you were working at some small weekly paper in Maryland. This is Washington. Are you on vacation?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We can discuss me later. Let’s go back to your being homeless. What does that mean, Toby?”
“It means I have no home. I’ve been living in my car for the past week. I quit my job six months ago to follow my fiancée, who is no longer my fiancée, here. She kicked my ass out last week, saying I wasn’t earthy enough for her. What does that mean, Dennis? Earthy? Does she want me to plow or dig in the earth? Plant stuff? Grow stuff? I asked her what it meant, and she said if she had to explain it to me, then I was truly hopeless.
“I paid for the move here, and we lost out on our lease in New York. I had to pay that off. Then there was the robust security deposit on the new place here, as well as first and last month’s rent. Carrie—that’s my ex-fiancée’s name—wanted new furniture because, she said, our old stuff didn’t go with the new place. I was flat-out broke when she kicked me to the curb. When I said I was homeless, I was until yesterday, even though I slept in my car last night. I called my brother for a loan, and I got a studio apartment in Crystal City. I can’t move in until noon today, though. I’m going to be roughing it for a while, using a sleeping bag until I get a job.”
“Why didn’t you call me, Toby? I would have helped you. That’s what friends do for each other.”
“If I had known where you were, I probably would have, but I didn’t know, so the matter is moot. Did I say that right? Anyway, maybe I wouldn’t have called you. I was too embarrassed. She used me, Dennis. And then she just tossed me out like the trash. She did leave me six dollars in our checking account. I was going to marry her! Do you believe that?”
Dennis shook his head at that declaration to show he couldn’t believe it, either.
“I think she’s looking for a rich guy, one of those lobbyists. She was a hostess in a supper club back in New York and making squat. I paid for everything, even her credit cards, which she had maxed to the hilt, and now she’s cavorting around town with fifty-year-old guys who travel in limos and wear wing-tip shoes. Wing tips, Dennis!” Toby screeched. “That’s not even the worst. You want to hear the worst?”
All Dennis could do was nod.
“I love her. I’d take her back in a New York minute. How screwed up is that? Meaning I’m screwed up.”
“Yeah, I get it, Toby. I’m no authority on women, even though I’ve had several relationships that haven’t gone anywhere. I’m still out there looking for the right one, if there is such a thing as the right one. But I know a guy who is an expert on all things women. At least he says he is. I can introduce you to him. His name is Jack Emery. One of the smartest dudes I know. After you, of course. Maybe he can help you.”
“Nah. Thanks for offering, though. This is something I have to work out on my own.... I have a job interview tomorrow. The pay is a hundred thou. Ginormous signing bonus, but I have to commit to two years. If I take it, I’ll be good. Right now, I still have over a hundred bucks in my pocket, enough to get my good suit cleaned today, get a haircut, buy a new white shirt, get my shoes shined, and a few other things. I might even get my car detailed, because it stinks from my living in it.”
“Can I help, Toby?”
Toby leaned across the little table. “Thanks, but no. Just be my friend. To be honest, Dennis, you’re the only friend I ever had. I don’t know why that is. I guess people just don’t like me, or they can’t relate to me.”
“That’s not true, Toby,” Dennis objected, but he knew that it was. “I’ll always be your friend. We don’t have to see each other every day or be on the phone or texting to stay friends. Each of us has to live our life as we see fit. Friends, true friends, are a bonus in life. Here’s my card, and my cell number is on the back. Call me anytime of the day or night, and I’ll be there for you, Toby. Promise me you’ll call if you need help. And don’t go doing anything stupid, like calling your ex or begging her to take you back. That’s a sign of weakness, and you are not weak. You weren’t weak before, and despite everything, you are not weak now. You need to believe that. Real men do not grovel.”
“But I am weak, Dennis. I love her. You should see her, Dennis. She’s beautiful. She looks like an angel. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over her. I’m serious. That’s how much I love her.”
“Used to love her,” Dennis said firmly. “From here on in, Carrie is someone you used to know. No more, no less. Repeat it after me, Toby, until you can’t say it anymore.”
Ten minutes later, his coffee cup empty, Dennis stood and shook hands with his old friend. Then he hugged him. “I mean it, Toby. Call me anytime of the day or night. I’ll always be there for you. Good luck on the job interview.”
“See ya, Dennis,” Toby called over his shoulder.
“Yeah, see ya, Toby,” Dennis muttered as he headed back into the Bagel Emporium for another cup of coffee and something to eat. He needed to think about what had just transpired.
It wasn’t until Dennis was back at the little bistro table, sipping at the scalding coffee and nibbling on a Danish, that he realized he hadn’t gotten Toby’s new apartment address or his cell-phone number. He banged his fist on the little table in frustration.
Five seconds later, his fist shot in the air. For crying out loud, he was an investigative reporter, wasn’t he?
There was not a doubt in Dennis West’s mind that by the end of the day, he would have all the information he needed in regard to Tobias Mason.
But it never happened.
Chapter One
Twenty months later . . .
The elevator on the newsroom floor of the Post pinged; then the doo
r slid open for the Fearless Four reporters, as they had been dubbed, to exit. They were greeted with banners, streamers, and shouts of “Welcome home!” Leading the boisterous crowd was the owner of the Post, Countess Anna de Silva, who hugged the weary reporters one after the other and whispered her own personal greeting in their ears.
A mini-buffet and a table full of assorted beverages beckoned. Ted, Espinosa, and Dennis headed in that direction; Maggie stayed behind, which could mean only one thing to Annie. When Maggie Spritzer, with her incredibly whacked-out metabolism, ignored food, it had to mean that she was truly tired to the bone. Or sick. Or even homicidal.
“I just want to go home, shower, cuddle with Hero, who probably thinks I abandoned him, and sleep for a week. Can I have a car service take me home, Annie? Otherwise, I am going to fall asleep standing up right here. I need to sleep for a week. A whole week.”
“Anything you want, dear. Anything,” Annie said, putting her arms around the red-eyed, frazzled reporter. “You all deserve the best the Post has to offer. You will all find a very nice bonus in your next paycheck by way of thanks.”
“Just doing our jobs, Annie. Guess that means you’re okay with the series on the shabby treatment of our veterans. I think we shamed the current administration to the point where they don’t know what to do.”
“When I read the last segment, I about went up in smoke. I had our lawyers go over it with a fine-tooth comb. They said we’re spot on.
“Maggie, you know everything there is to know about me and know that I am no snob. But that man and I inhabit social and financial circles that, except for the Las Vegas casinos, are worlds apart. I did see that he was in the Babylon, once, and instructed Bert to comp him, a friendly gesture to a visiting fireman. But I also instructed Bert that under no circumstances was I going to meet with the Donald.
“The man has too much bluster for my tastes. I do, to be sure, admire the extent to which he has demonstrated an ability to accomplish his goals, though I am not sure I approve of some of the things he has done to get where he is today. Now, he does have a most beautiful wife. Third time is the charm, I suppose. That’s about all I know of Mr. Donald Trump.”
High Stakes Page 1