TWO DAYS LATER, with the eastern sky just beginning to lighten with the coming of dawn, Logan placed Janice’s overnight case next to his duffel bag in the trunk of his Mustang. The children were staying at a neighbor’s. If all went well, Logan expected to have Janice back home by the time Kevin was out of school the following afternoon.
For the one night they’d be together, he’d made reservations for adjoining rooms at the Vegas hotel where Ray had gambled away Janice’s security.
He wished instead they’d be sharing a single room with a king-size bed.
His jaw clenched. Not gonna happen, he reminded himself.
In the passenger seat, Janice snapped her seatbelt in place. “This is the first time I’ve gone away and left the children.”
He twisted the key in the ignition, gratified by the low rumble of the engine’s response, and glanced at Janice. “Then it’s high time you had a vacation.”
“I’ll probably worry about them the whole time I’m gone even though I know Debbie is perfectly capable of taking good care of them. Silly, isn’t it?”
“Nope. Sounds exactly like a typical mother who loves her kids.”
Her lips curved into one of her gentle smiles. “Thanks for coming with me. I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone.”
Reaching over, he rested a reassuring hand on her thigh. Her skin warmed his palm through the cotton fabric of her skirt, the spaghetti tank top she wore bared shoulders smoothly tanned by the summer’s sun. Her dark hair, freshly washed, gleamed in the reflected light of the rising sun.
The car had already filled with her subtle floral fragrance, a light perfume that made him think of the garden she’d tended so lovingly, a garden that would soon belong to another woman. Another family.
If he could, he’d bring Ray back to life—and drive his fist right through the guy’s jaw for having put Janice through so much pain. As it was, Logan would have to concentrate extra hard on his driving to avoid being distracted by the lovely woman sitting next to him.
Keenly alert to both what was happening inside and outside the car, Logan let the big engine under the hood eat up the highway miles.
Sitting back, Janice tried to relax and enjoy the ride. It wasn’t easy. Anxiety gnawed at her stomach, making her wish she hadn’t bothered with breakfast. What would happen if the casino manager refused to negotiate? If they took her to court? That would drain everything she had and eat into whatever income she could generate.
Unwilling to spend the entire trip to Vegas fretting over her precarious future, she shifted in her seat and said, “I assume you’ve been to Las Vegas before?”
“Once. There was a pipe and drum corps competition there a few years back.”
“Did your band win?”
He grimaced. “Second place. A group from Seattle beat us out. Bad judging.”
She laughed. “We’re not just a little competitive, are we, and maybe a tiny bit prejudiced?”
“Certainly not,” he scoffed. “Everyone I know thought we performed better than they did. We should have won.”
“I’m sure you should have, too.” Logan never did anything half-way, she realized. He’d take playing his pipes just as seriously as he took his work as a firefighter putting out a fire. In both cases he’d make sure he won, beat down the enemy. It was simply who he was, and she loved him for it.
Startled by the thought, she drew in a sharp breath. Had she truly gone that far? Two months widowed and she’d already lost her heart to another man?
Why not? she wondered. Hadn’t Ray walked away from her both physically and emotionally long before his death? Hardly a surprise that she’d attach herself to the first man who paid her any attention.
But Logan was far more than that. He was kind and caring with her, wonderful with her children. And his kisses—
Despite the apologies on both sides, those kisses had to mean something. Hers certainly did. All the more now that she realized how far into love with Logan she’d allowed herself to slide.
Which meant she had to be all the more careful not to step over the line, both for his sake and hers. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—burden Logan with her financial troubles. Nor did she want to risk a broken heart.
A lump caught in her throat, and she realized she might already be too late to prevent her own heartache.
Struggling to focus on something else, she asked, “So did you try your hand at gambling in Vegas while you were there?”
“I dropped a few quarters into the slots, and saw a show or two. I’m not much for throwing my money away.”
She nodded. “Too bad Ray didn’t feel the same way.”
Slanting her a glance, he smiled. “Try not to worry, Jan. I’ve got a good feeling about this trip. Things are going to work out. You’ll see.” His grin broadened. “For what it’s worth, Emma Jean predicted we’d both come home winners.”
Fighting an unwelcome press of tears, she hoped Logan was right. But she didn’t dare give credence to Emma Jean’s earlier prediction that she and Logan had matrimony in their futures. Surely that was too much to hope for.
SINCE HIS LAST TRIP to Las Vegas, the hotels along the strip had become bigger and taller and even more glittering. Despite the heat of midafternoon, pedestrians thronged up and down the street in search of excitement. A few managed to get their thrills by dashing through the heavy traffic, risking life and limb.
Logan shook his head as he finally managed to turn left across the traffic into the hotel parking lot, narrowly missing a taxi that had barreled straight in front of him. This was a crazy town. If it weren’t for Janice, he’d be happy to do an about-face and head back to Lake Almador right now.
“What time is your appointment with the casino manager?” he asked as he wedged the Mustang between a Mercedes 500S and a pickup truck.
“Three-thirty. I hoped that would give me time to wash up and change into something that looks like I’m on the brink of poverty. Maybe it would go quicker if I just showed him my checkbook.”
His lips twitched. “If I’d known your plan, I would have brought my old painting clothes. The ones with the holes in them.”
“Oh, well, if this doesn’t work we can always try panhandling on the strip. Where do people get so much money they can just throw it away on a roulette table?”
Logan didn’t know the answer to that one. Maybe for some it was that same adrenaline high he got when the fire tone sounded. He knew the risks and was willing to take a chance with his life.
Ray had understood the risks, too. So why the hell had he blown his money gambling, and then virtually walked into a hell hole of fire despite Logan’s warning shout that the roof was about to collapse?
Too bad he’d never get the answer to that question.
Getting their gear out of the trunk, Logan escorted Janice toward the hotel entrance. He’d noted a sign down the street announcing the temperature was a hundred-and-ten degrees. Even at ninety degrees, it was brush-fire weather in Paseo, a danger every year in early fall. Here, there wasn’t much brush to burn.
Cool air and a room full of slot machines with ringing bells and cascading coins dropping into metal trays greeted them as they stepped through the entrance to the hotel and casino. They made their way through the maze of machines toward the registration desk, that area marginally quieter than the casino, the sounds muted by plush carpets, potted plants and marble columns, more slot machines discreetly placed around the perimeter.
“This is incredible,” Janice whispered, as though in awe of the opulent display. She caught his arm. “I’m not sure I can afford to stay here for even one night. Maybe we should—”
“Honey, the rooms are cheaper here than they are at the seedy motels downtown. They make all the profits they need at the tables.” He headed directly for the registration desk.
Janice, he noticed, lingered back from the counter, uncomfortable, he supposed, registering at a hotel with a man who wasn’t her husband. She wasn’t the kind who did tha
t sort of thing. To Logan’s chagrin, however much he appreciated her high standards and morals, this was one time he wished Janice was a little more liberated. One room—and one bed—would do them both just fine, if she were willing.
And he had no right to be thinking that.
Paperwork completed, he declined the help of a bellboy and turned to see Janice standing right where she’d stopped at the edge of the carpet. Except now her face was as pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and staring straight ahead.
He glanced around the lobby but didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary except a guy in drag followed by an entourage of groupies. A dinner club performer, he surmised, and not all that unusual in Vegas.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when he reached Janice.
She swallowed visibly. “I want to go to my room. Please. Now.”
“Sure.” He juggled their bags so he had a free hand, and he looped his arm around her waist. “Are you okay?”
She simply shook her head and headed off in the wrong direction. He wheeled her around to the elevators. They rode up with three other people, nobody making eye contact, nobody talking. He got out on the seventh floor, knowing a fire ladder would reach that high, and ushered her toward their rooms.
She still hadn’t spoken when he’d opened the door and let her inside. Instead, she walked directly across the room to stare out the window.
“Okay, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
It took a long time, but she finally turned around, a desperate look in her eyes, a wild look.
“She’s downstairs. I saw her.”
Maybe the long drive had slowed his mental processes but he didn’t get it. “Who’s downstairs?”
“The blonde I saw at Ray’s funeral. The one who wears purple thong panties and Mango Madness lipstick.”
Chapter Ten
Janice couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart felt as if it were going to explode. Alternately, she went hot and cold, sweat beading on her forehead, between her breasts, then a blast of the air-conditioning chilled her, sending gooseflesh racing down her back and across her bare arms.
“Are you talking about the woman Ray was seeing?” Logan’s eyes narrowed and his brows lowered into a concerned line.
She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and nodded.
“She’s downstairs?”
“At the car rental counter. She w-works here.”
His big hands closed around her shoulders, holding her gently. “You can’t know it’s her. Vegas is full of blondes.”
“I know.” Dear God, at the funeral Janice had thought the woman was a co-worker, a city employee. A friend of Ray’s. Only when those awful panties appeared, the telling lipstick, had she realized the total depth of Ray’s betrayal. “She was his mistress.”
He pulled her into his arms. But she was rigid, as fragile as an icicle and just as cold. Even his heat couldn’t warm her.
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” She wanted to tear the woman’s eyes out, to brand her with a big scarlet A. But mostly Janice wanted to know why she hadn’t been enough for her husband. Why she had failed as a woman.
“I think you ought to leave it alone, sweetheart. It’s the past. You need to get on with your future.”
She barked a pitiful imitation of a laugh. “Some future. Ray and that—that woman left my future on the blackjack table, or wherever they played their games. How could he have done that to me? To his own children?”
“Gambling’s an addiction for some people. Maybe he couldn’t help himself.”
“That’s no excuse for taking up with th-that blonde.” She shoved away from Logan and wiped her eyes, which were dry and grainy with fatigue. “I’ve got to see Mr. Bonelli, the casino manager. And then—” She shook her head.
“And then?”
“I can only deal with one problem at a time. Right now I need to wash my face and change clothes. So please—” With her fingertips, she touched his cheek, hoping to reassure both of them. “Please go. I’ll be all right. Really I will.”
He caught her hand, kissed the backs of her fingers. “I’ll unlock my side of the adjoining door. If you need me—”
“I’ll know how to find you. Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for being here.”
He picked up his duffel from the double bed where he’d dropped it, studied her a moment as if reluctant to leave, then walked to the door. With his hand on the knob, he said, “I’ll change, too, and be ready when you are.”
“Give me a half hour.”
He nodded and left. A moment later she heard the door rattle in the adjacent room. Only then did she allow a sob to rise in her throat.
Ray’s death and the subsequent funeral had been painful days filled with conflicting emotions; she suspected today would be even more difficult. Thank goodness Logan would be there to hold her if she came apart.
ARNOLD BONELLI’S office was as posh as the lobby had been, a thick carpet, an oversize desk and a wall filled with TV monitors that silently displayed various sections of the casino. The manager, who had dark, slicked-back hair and a generous girth, appeared typecast as a Mafia don. But his smile seemed warm enough as he ushered them into his office, his demeanor unthreatening.
Janice could only hope Mr. Bonelli didn’t believe in breaking people’s knees if they couldn’t pay off their debts.
She shook his hand and introduced Logan, exaggerating slightly by referring to him as a representative of the Paseo del Real Fire Department.
“I was sorry to hear of your loss, Mrs. Gainer,” he said when the formalities were finished. He gestured to the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Mr. Gainer was one of our regular patrons.”
She took the seat offered her, and found herself nearly swallowed by the upholstery. She scooted to the edge of the chair. “A little too regular, I gather.”
Logan sat next to her. Noting her posture, the straight line of her spine, the determined tilt of her chin, he considered warning the casino manager that he was about to meet his match. No way was Janice going to fork over a dime of the money her husband had lost at the casino’s tables without a battle. She would protect her interests and those of her children, even at the cost of spilling her own blood, he suspected.
But instead of warning Bonelli, Logan relaxed, ready to watch the show. Amazing how the modest dress she wore with a matching jacket in a pale green made her appear invincible—a Joan of Arc in cotton and silk.
Bonelli took his seat behind his desk. “I had an occasion or two to speak with your husband before his untimely death. I usually make an effort to meet our high rollers.”
“What I don’t understand,” Janice said, “nor would the mayor and other officials in Paseo del Real—is how you allowed a firefighter to run up the kind of debt Ray managed. I would have thought you’d put limits on your, ah, patrons who obviously couldn’t afford to lose that much.”
The manager tented his fingers beneath his chin. “I was unaware of your husband’s occupation until recently, Mrs. Gainer. And until the last few months of his life, Mr. Gainer had always paid his debts in a timely fashion. I had no reason to question his request to extend him additional credit.”
“Until now,” Janice said. “I don’t have enough money to pay his debts, Mr. Bonelli, and it’s unlikely I’ll have enough in the foreseeable future. As I see it, I’ll either have to declare bankruptcy or make some financial arrangements with you to reduce my obligation.”
Logan smiled at the way she’d laid her cards on the table. She was betting she had a winning hand.
“Arrangements?” Bonelli questioned.
“Are you aware my husband died a hero’s death?” she asked.
The manager’s gaze slid to Logan, almost as if he was measuring the hint of a threat in Janice’s voice, then he returned his attention to Janice. “I am now. Following your phone call, I did some checking.”
“It seems to me it would be a PR disaster
if the casino forced the widow of a brave firefighter who died in the line of duty into bankruptcy,” she continued. “The news would certainly leak out. Your patrons might question how they would be treated if—”
Bonelli held up his hand. “I understand what you’re saying.”
“While the amount of money involved is substantial for me and my children—” she emphasized the word none too subtly “—compared to the daily receipts of a place like this—” Shrugging, she let the thought hang in the air like a sharply honed sword. “I’m sure you’ll agree, my family and I would create a sympathetic picture if the newspapers got hold of the story. Casino Sends Widow into Bankruptcy would make an unattractive headline.”
Logan swallowed another smile, this one filled with admiration. Janice was one tough negotiator, and he reminded himself not to go head-to-head with her in any contract dealings. He’d far rather have her on his side.
Arrangement, phooey! She was aiming to get herself entirely off the hook.
Bonelli leaned back in his chair. “I assure you, we have no desire to add to your difficulties, Mrs. Gainer. Although we don’t have a set policy in matters of this sort, we are allowed a certain amount of flexibility—in the interests of good public relations, you understand.”
Logan nodded. Bonelli recognized Janice had dealt herself a royal flush. He was ready to fold.
Janice’s heart leapt up into her throat. He was going to settle!
“While the amount is substantial by any definition, an organization of our size is better able to handle such a loss—”
“And is insured for that loss?” Logan asked.
The tiniest hint of a smile played at the corners of the manager’s lips. “Sound business practice requires every organization carry certain types of insurance to protect against unforeseen loss.”
A buzz started in Janice’s head. She wanted to jump up and click her heels together but restrained herself. Instead she simply enjoyed the giddy sense of relief as it fizzed through her veins like potent champagne.
By the time she shook hands with Mr. Bonelli and said goodbye, she realized she’d come out of her financial crisis with money in the bank, a solid nest egg to provide herself with security and her children with a chance for an education. The remaining credit-card debts Ray had incurred were still huge but at least manageable.
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