Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She GoesA Promise for the BabyThat Summer at the Shore

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “You don’t have to protect your father.”

  Vivian gave a snotty, wet giggle. “It wasn’t a perfect childhood, but he did his best.”

  “I wish I could have been there for you.”

  “I wish you could have been there, for both of us.” They sat in silence on the phone for several seconds before Vivian asked, “Did you marry? Do I have cousins?”

  “I married, and when I divorced I changed my name back to Chin. You have two cousins, Conner is twenty. Carmen is eighteen. You should come visit over a holiday, when both of them are home.”

  Vivian thanked the fates that had led her aunt to change back to her maiden name so they could reconnect later in life. “I would love to meet my cousins and see you again. Maybe next Thanksgiving or Christmas. I can bring the baby.”

  “Hopefully, you can bring your husband, too.”

  A wish Vivian echoed. She respected and liked her husband. Marriages had been made on less, after all, and she had to admit that she hoped theirs might eventually be built on more. Karl’s quiet righteousness wouldn’t be easy to love, but it would be rewarding. And the woman he gave his heart to would never have to worry about his devotion.

  They said their goodbyes and Vivian hung up the phone with a new sense of hope. Karl was not her only connection to stability in this world. Even if they were on the other side of the Rocky Mountains, she had friends and an aunt. Soon she would find a job and get an apartment. And whatever relationship she and Karl developed wouldn’t be based on her feelings of dependency and helplessness.

  The clouds must have broken because the computer screen became impossible to read for the glare. Vivian closed the laptop, put Xìnyùn back in his cage and headed out for a walk in the sun.

  * * *

  KARL GOT TO work on Tuesday morning having spent a pleasant Sunday and Monday with Vivian. Sunday, after he’d gone to Mass, he’d taken her to brunch and then to the Field Museum. As they had gone upstairs to look at the rocks and gems, Karl realized how much he felt as if he could be himself when around her. Actually himself. Not the silent, unfeeling lawyer or the smiling, hand-shaking politician, but himself. Someone who could guffaw at stupid jokes and be vulnerable without being weak. The person he’d been in Las Vegas when all he’d wanted to do was make Vivian smile.

  Monday felt as if they were a regular married couple expecting their first child. He came home to a home-cooked dinner, they talked about their days while eating, cleaned up, and then he worked while she knitted. Okay, so it felt a little like a regular married couple in a 1950s sitcom—separate beds included—but he wasn’t going to turn his nose up at roast chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli. Dinners like this every night couldn’t last, but he would enjoy them while he got them.

  Something about Vivian was lighter on Monday night. He didn’t feel right saying a burden seemed to have lifted off of her soul—especially since she still had a twinge of secret about her person—but her skin looked less tight around her face, and her eyes were brighter. He wouldn’t have thought contacting an aunt and emailing a couple of friends would be so rejuvenating, but then he’d never felt absolutely alone in the world as she had.

  Their relationship was complicated. Until she found work of her own she was reliant on him, and he was surprised at how little that bothered him. Not that he wanted her to depend upon him, but when she’d first said she was pregnant and broke and unemployed, he’d felt as though someone had wrapped a noose around his neck, thrown it over a tree and at any moment would kick the horse out from under him.

  The noose had disappeared without him noticing. He hadn’t even realized it was gone until they were in the echoing silence of the only empty space in a busy museum and he could take deep, relaxing breaths. She’d smiled when he grabbed her wrist and they’d finished touring the museum holding hands.

  It was a pleasant memory that had carried him through to today when he picked up the CD left on top of his desk. The law department must have sent someone over with it first thing Tuesday morning because it hadn’t been here on Monday. He loaded the disc onto the computer and began searching for files. File after file was full of black where information had been redacted from the scanned documents.

  He took a deep breath before he called for his assistant. The smell of cigarette smoke preceded her entrance into his office. “Did they send another disc, Greta? Perhaps one without half the information redacted?”

  “There was a note on the disc.”

  He picked up the jewel case and found the note, which was nothing more than a sticky with the excuses of “attorney-client privilege” and “work papers” written on it.

  “The bastard didn’t even have the decency to type it,” he muttered. The lawyer, Ken Jorgenson, was skirting the line of complying with his subpoena and blatantly ignoring legal courtesy.

  “What was that?” Greta asked.

  “Nothing. I’ll need Kevin Jorgenson on the phone as soon as you can get him.”

  “The courier who dropped off the CD said Jorgenson left for his annual fishing vacation last night.”

  Coward. Jorgenson had known what he was doing and left some poor underling to deal with the angry phone calls.

  “Track down whoever Jorgenson left behind to take the heat. It’ll give me someone to refine my anger on. Schedule a meeting for after lunch.”

  * * *

  “BAD DAY?”

  Karl looked up from the computer, wincing when his neck protested the change in position. Malcolm leaned against the office door frame, his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. Working for the FBI had given Malcolm a decidedly off sense of humor.

  “You know it is.” Between staring at the computer and trying to guess what the redacted words were, Karl had a headache to match the crick in his neck. “What law school Jorgenson went to that would give him the idea he could withhold this information from me by claiming attorney-client privilege is beyond me. Their accreditation should be revoked.”

  Malcolm’s smile widened. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “There’s good news?”

  “Sure. I found out why your wife was fired from her job in Vegas.”

  Karl didn’t remember telling Malcolm that Vivian had been fired, and only Malcolm would think that was good news. Karl found himself in the awkward position of not wanting to know for fear he’d have to care. And, as ashamed as he was to admit it to himself, this was why he hadn’t tried to find out the information on his own. “And the bad news?”

  The smile was gone. “Your lovely wife—and I know she’s lovely now because I’ve seen pictures—was fired because she cheated the casino out of money while dealing a table.”

  Karl set his pen down on his notepad and minimized the computer window. Vivian’s secrets were worse than he’d suspected. “Explain.”

  “After you as good as told me not to bother probing, I knew I had to figure out where your wife came from.” Malcolm could never pass a rock without turning it over. “If Middle Kingdom hadn’t been so cagey about my inquiries, I probably would’ve left it alone. Given how closely they were holding on to their secrets, you should be impressed it took me less than two weeks to get the information and I didn’t even have to go there in person.”

  Karl stared impassively at Malcolm, who laughed in response. “I’ve had hardened criminals try to intimidate me, Karl. You’d be better off trying your luck with Greta.”

  Karl sighed. Since when had everyone in his life become immune to his silent stare? “She’d only mother me in response.”

  “One of the new paralegals, then. Anyway, Vivian Milek, née Yap, was dealing roulette when an associate of her father’s sat at the table. There were some serious chips on the table when Vivian shifted, blocking the view of the camera.”

  “And her father’s associate took th
e casino to the cleaners, as it were.”

  For the first time, Malcolm looked unsure of his information. “That’s the strange part. The associate didn’t win that much. Probably the only reason anyone gave the video a second look was that someone else at the table made a fuss over the bet.”

  “So, she didn’t cheat.”

  “The casino investigated. Her father owed the man thousands of dollars—”

  The wheels turning in Karl’s head clicked into place. Vivian hadn’t gotten fired because her father gambled, but because she’d tried to help him get out of his hole.

  “And the video is clear, especially when compared to every other video they have of your wife dealing. Successful or not, the man sat at her table because he expected her to help him cheat, and she knew that was her role.”

  “So these crimes are alleged. She’d be in prison otherwise.”

  “Alleged is lawyer-speak. As far as a government dick like me is concerned, she’s either guilty or she’s innocent. Middle Kingdom is pretty certain she’s guilty. She’s been added to their black book and is banned from walking into any casino in the state. She’d be lucky to find employment in Nevada, period. The casinos take cheating seriously—especially by an employee.”

  Karl leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and closed his eyes. Unwittingly, Malcolm had answered more than just the question of why Vivian got fired. Karl now knew why she’d been so desperate to get out of Nevada and why she wasn’t looking for a job on a riverboat casino. Vivian was a hot potato no casino would ever touch again.

  When he opened his eyes, Malcolm was looking at him with pity. “Are you sure she’s pregnant with your kid? She’s a fine-lookin’ woman, and someone who would accept cheating as payback might accept more physical forms of payment.”

  “I’m sure she’s pregnant.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  VIVIAN DIDN’T REALIZE someone else was in the apartment until Xìnyùn started to whistle. When she turned around, Karl was standing by the bar, still in his coat and scarf.

  “I didn’t hear you come in. You must have shut the front door just when I shut the oven on dinner. It won’t be ready for another two hours. I didn’t expect you home so soon.” She knew she was rambling, but seeing Karl lifted her heart, especially after the past couple of days. Despite their talking about friendship and the night of near sex, Sunday at the museum had been the first day she’d really felt as if they could be friends and actually maintain a relationship through Jelly Bean’s birth. Topped off by reconnecting with her aunt Kitty and the email correspondence with her friends, she was ready for whatever relationship she and Karl developed.

  Especially relationships that involved hand holding. Or more near sex. Or actual sex.

  “I’m not staying. I have to go back to work.”

  “Oh.” He wasn’t still wearing his coat and scarf because he’d wanted to see her before taking them off. He was still dressed for the outside because he was going back outside. “It’s snowing.”

  A stupid, nervous thing to say. Of course he knew it was snowing. It had probably been snowing when he came in.

  “I’ve lived in Chicago almost all my life. I don’t mind the snow.”

  “I finished your hat yesterday.” She rushed past him into the living room and dug the green-and-brown fisherman’s cap out of her knitting bag. When she held it out to him, he just stared at it. “The color matches your eyes, and even though you seem impervious to the cold, I think you should hide your superhuman powers from the masses.”

  She smiled at him and he continued to stare at the hat. Her throat tightened. They had laughed at a similar joke at the museum. What had changed such that he wouldn’t even take the stupid hat?

  “If you’re worried about the wool, it’s really soft. I bought it on a whim a year ago, not sure what I would make with it and I couldn’t sell it before coming.”

  “Vivian,” he said, still not reaching out to touch the damn hat. “How do you cheat at roulette?”

  Her legs buckled and her butt bumped against the edge of the couch on its way to the floor. “How did you find out?”

  It’s not like it had made the papers or anything. Middle Kingdom had promised her they’d keep the incident a secret, so long as she never tried to work at a casino again. When she’d asked what would happen if they were called for a reference, the men around the table had been silent. She’d been stupid enough to hope their silence had meant they’d at least not mention the cheating.

  “I have former FBI agents working in my office. They get curious.”

  “I didn’t do it. And they could never prove I did it, either.”

  “Which is why you’re not awaiting trial, I assume. Cheating a casino is a felony.”

  Her heartbeat pounding in her ears meant she had to stare at his mouth to know what he was saying. “They couldn’t even prove I intended to do anything.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what actually happened, rather than what they could or couldn’t prove.”

  Why wouldn’t he sit down? This conversation would be easier if he wasn’t looming over her.

  “I agreed to the scheme. I wouldn’t have, but I didn’t have enough money to cover everything my father lost, and, well, Frank liked the idea of having a dealer in his pocket so he was cutting my dad a deal. Everything was going according to plan. Frank and his stooge sat at the table and we played some normal rounds. When the appointed time came, I moved to block the camera, like I was supposed to. Only when I moved back, I didn’t let the extra chips stay.”

  “How does the cheat work?”

  She sighed. “It’s called past posting. You place your bets and, when the marker lands, you place a late bet. The dealer calls you on the late bet, but if you’re good, what the dealer doesn’t see is that you slipped extra chips under a winning bet at the same time you pull the late one. If you have a team, the person trying to place the late bet puts the extra chips under his partner’s bet. It’s less suspicious that way.”

  “And your role?”

  “With the 360-degree cameras, past posting is pretty hard to pull off. All I had to do was move my body such that I blocked the camera. I did, and then I changed my mind. When I moved my body again, I removed the extra chips. Frank saw and would’ve kept his mouth shut, but his stooge balked and we got caught.”

  “That’s why you were at the bar the night we met.”

  “Yes. I didn’t lie on Saturday. I just let you assume the wrong order.”

  “You lied by omission.”

  She wanted to reach out and strike something. Karl was the obvious target, but she’d break her hand before she cracked his granite facade. “I hoped you wouldn’t find out.”

  “The classic hope of every criminal.”

  “Why are you coming after me?” She gripped the edge of the coffee table, desperate for something to keep her stable when the floor was crumbling beneath her. “Why don’t you go after Frank and his stooge criminals? They threatened me when I got off work that night, so that I was afraid to go home.”

  “Why don’t you call your father a thief for stealing all your money?”

  “Because he’s my father.” The rug she sat on absorbed her voice; she could barely even hear herself. “But, yes, he’s also a thief. When I came home from the hotel the next morning, after I’d spent the night with you, everything of value I owned was gone. Even when I missed my period, I thought I would be okay. I had a job, an apartment and benefits. And I figured you would probably provide some money for the child.”

  She looked up, because she wasn’t, and would never be, a coward. “But then they fired me and told me never to look for employment in Nevada again. They offered me a severance package if I could tell them where my father and Frank were, but I didn’t know.”

  “Do you not want to
be found because you’re afraid of what Frank will do to you?”

  “No. He threatened me, but I asked around. Frank’s been cheating casinos for years and has never gotten caught, but he’s also never done anything violent.”

  “So, why are you hiding?”

  “I’m afraid my father will ask me for money.” It was the story of her adult life—and would have been the story of her childhood, had she had money as a kid.

  “You don’t have any.”

  “But you do.”

  He raised an eyebrow, the first sign of movement in his face since he’d confronted her. “You would steal from me for your father?”

  “I’d like to say no, but...after Aunt Kitty left, it was just my dad and me. His schemes and plans always sounded like a game. ‘Vivian,’ he’d say, ‘this week’s winnings are going into your college fund.’ He knew I wanted to settle down somewhere, get a real job and live a real life.”

  “And you believed him about the college fund?” He sounded so skeptical that Vivian wondered if he’d ever believed a family member’s lies because he wanted to, even if his heart knew the truth.

  “I had the money I’d earned working. It was enough for four years at UNLV, plus a little extra. I did well on my SATs. I had good grades, even if they were from four different high schools. I was going to make it. And then one day he came home and told me my college fund—the fund that I’d saved—was gone. He’d invested it all in a no-fail scheme. My future was gone before I had one.”

  “And still you let your father talk you into cheating at roulette.” His voice was cold. Not distant, but as icy as the wind cascading down the Chicago streets and freezing her to the bone.

  “I changed my mind,” she pleaded. She’d changed her mind because cheating meant submitting to the life her father lived. She wanted to stay in Las Vegas, where she had a job, apartment and security. She didn’t want to wander again, living off schemes. This one’s gonna hit it big, Vivy, and then we’ll be living! “Frank gave me this look, and I knew if I gave in this once, he’d use it against me again and again until he owned me.” She dropped her head between her knees. Being punished for something she hadn’t done wasn’t fair.