by Camel Press
As though he was reading her mind, Benji squeezed her hand and said, “Well, we won’t be like that.”
For a man of science, he sure didn’t see the facts.
The doorbell chimed and Cat’s heart leapt in her throat.
“Oh, God. At this rate, that’s probably a flaming bag of dog poop.” She hurried out of the bedroom but Quinn met her in the hallway.
“Don’t worry, that’s for me.”
He flung the door open. A tall, willowy, raven-haired beauty was braced against the threshold. Her double-D chest was already inviting itself in.
“Quinny, Quinn, Quinn.” A big smile spread across her face. “You are one lucky bastard, you know it?”
“Come on in and tell me all about it.” He held the door open and she sauntered in, her stilettos clomping with each slow, deliberate step.
She passed by, giving Cat’s bathrobe a dismissive glance. The woman’s outfit was as flashy as her short, spiky black hair. She wore wide-legged trousers and a tight white t-shirt. Stretched over her large breasts was a set of scarlet suspenders. They were a bold choice but judging from the vamp lipstick and eyebrow ring, she was going for bold.
“Webbs, this is my sister Cat. Cat, Webbs.”
“Half-sister,” Cat said, her smile thin-lipped.
Webbs fingered the long strand of faux pearls around her neck and eyed her suspiciously. “I know you. You’re the reporter who had the poker game ….” She looked around the apartment and snapped her fingers. “Oh my God, don’t tell me. This is the place, isn’t it?”
Cat rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. They followed on her heels. She sank into the couch and said, “This is it. If you want to tell me off, take a number.”
Webbs waved her slender hand through the air. Her long fingernails were painted blood red. “Nah. I’m a Toronto fan anyway.”
“Thanks, but that’s not really the reassurance I was looking for.”
“I’m sure it sucks being all over the news but it’ll blow over; this shit always does.” She took an envelope out of her back pocket and smacked it up against Quinn’s broad chest, leaving her hand there until he took it. “Of course, until that happens, you’ve got one rich brother. You’re my only client that’s actually made money tonight, sugar lips. All my other stops are pickups.” She rubbed her thumb against the pads of her fingers.
Cat froze. Her eyes flashed back and forth from the towering Quinn to the almost as tall Webbs. “Hold up. Quinn, is she a bookie?”
Webbs seemed to give this some thought. “Actually, I prefer to be called a sports broker. The word ‘bookie’ conjures up this image of a shady ogre wearing a stained wifebeater and kicking in teeth.” She stuck her foot out and tugged her pant leg up. “These are Christian Louboutins and I love them too much to get some deadbeat’s blood on them.”
No wonder she was almost as tall as Quinn, those Christian Louboutins came with a six-inch heel. They were also made of Italian leather. Cat felt a twinge of envy.
Sports brokers must make a lot more money than sports writers.
She tore her eyes away from the expensive shoes and glared at her brother. “Quinn, I can’t have bookies in my apartment. Do you realize what could happen if someone sees her coming in here? I mean, God only knows who’s watching my apartment anyway.” She hurried over to the window, peering out into the street. A car passed by and a man walking his dog. “We’re probably on the news right now. The media is just waiting to make this situation so much worse, not to mention that I’ve got a detective on my ass who thinks I’m hiding something.”
Quinn laughed, carefree as a kid on Christmas. “Wrinkle cream. Economy size. Look into it. This is why people think I’m your younger brother.”
Cat gritted her teeth. “Do you know how this must look? Some shady chick comes into my house handing over cash for my team’s bloody playoff loss?” She turned to Webbs. “No offense.”
“Might want to refill the Paxil while you’re at it,” Quinn added.
Webbs stepped closer. “Offense not taken but you need to slow your roll, chickadee. It really isn’t that big of a deal.”
“If the league has any reason to think I’m betting on games, I’m toast. Crispy, charred toast.”
Webbs crossed her arms under her massive chest. “You’re not exactly Pete Rose. I doubt anyone will care.”
“Have you watched the news lately?”
“Bets or no bets, you have no effect on the game.”
“It’s a violation of the ethics code, which is a fireable offense.” She shook her head at Quinn. “Why do you want to ruin me?”
His dancing eyes finally softened. “I don’t.” He sighed. “I think all the stress is making you paranoid. Nobody’s watching your freaking house.”
“You do look stressed,” Webbs said. She pulled a business card out of her back pocket and grabbed a pen off the coffee table. “I’m going to write a coupon code on here. If you punch it into the website, it’ll give you a bunch of vouchers for the gaming ship I work at, the Snow Bird. You should come down sometime, blow off some steam.”
“Oh sure, hanging out at the casino. That should help repair my reputation.”
Webbs smiled a big, toothy grin as she passed her the business card. “There’s more to do than gambling. Maybe a couples’ massage for you and your handsome boy toy back there.”
Cat hadn’t even noticed that Benji had entered the room until now. He was leaning against the back wall.
“It’s fiancé, actually. Benji,” he said.
Webbs nodded. “Aw, how nice. Then you two should come check out the wedding chapel. I bet even a classy chick like you would be impressed.”
Cat gave her a thin, polite smile. “I appreciate that but we just moved from Las Vegas. The last thing we want to do is get married in a casino.”
“Well, hoity-toity, your highness, but the least you can do is give it a look on the ship’s dime.” She ripped the business card out of Cat’s hands and wrote another code on it before handing it back. “This one will get you a free dinner at the ship’s five-star restaurant.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I know for a fact there’s no game tomorrow so I’ll schedule you for a four p.m. massage with Lars. He’s Swedish but his massages don’t have to be.” Webbs winked at her.
Benji cleared his throat. “Tomorrow’s a travel day for the game in Chicago. She’ll leave with the team.”
“Actually I was thinking about taking an early flight to O’Hare on Monday morning instead,” Cat said.
Benji gave her a curious look. She shook it off. “I’ll explain later.”
“Well, great,” said Webbs. “Four p.m. with Lars, you can check out the chapel and then I’ll make a reservation for two at Les Fleurs des Iles. I recommend the steak, but I think you’ll find they’ve got a great menu.”
“Wow, thanks … I guess.” Cat narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What, do you get a percentage of every couple you bring in or something?”
She laughed. “Let’s just say any sister of Quinn’s is a sister of mine.”
Quinn jerked his head toward the door. “Enough playing wedding planner. I got a little more business to discuss. We can go into my office.”
“Uh, that’s my office—your guest room.”
Quinn rolled his emerald eyes. “Whatever. Follow me.” He shut the door behind them.
Cat rolled her own green eyes at Benji. “Is it just me or do you get the feeling he’s slowly easing us out of our own apartment? Like we’re going to come home next week and find this place crawling with go-go dancers and that our keys no longer work?”
“Yet we’ll still have to pay rent?” Benji ran his hand through his disheveled black curls. “Yeah, I could see that.”
“You know his Harley was parked in my spot when I came home? I had to park in one of the guest spaces down by the office and walk all the way across the parking lot.”
“I can beat that. When I g
ot home from school, he was in our bathroom taking a bubble bath.”
She curled into his arms. “Regale me with the tales of being an only child.”
He stroked her hair. “Well, for starters, the concept of sharing was lost on me. My toys were mine and mine only. Sadly, this might be the reason I fail to qualify as an attentive lover.”
She giggled.
“And had my family celebrated Christmas, I’m sure I would’ve had gift after gift to unwrap. I always got more than the prescribed daily gift during Hanukkah.”
“Unless you were naughty.”
“Ooh, I’ll show you naughty.” He brought his lips to hers and she kissed them, savoring the best moment of her day.
Chapter 12
It was still dark out when Cat’s eyes flipped open for her first day off in a week. She squinted at the alarm clock.
5:43.
Benji was sound asleep. Days of the week didn’t mean much to her during baseball season, but to a teacher they were everything. Sunday was Benji’s favorite. It was the only day when there were no early or late hour labs for the nontraditional students—the classes that he, as the biology department’s low man on the spindle pole, always got stuck teaching. Benji wouldn’t wake for several hours and that’s when they’d usually go out for pancakes.
Cat took a deep breath and debated how long it would take her to fall back to sleep. Wedding nightmares had stepped aside to allow her work troubles to terrorize her slumber. Last night she’d been tied to a stake on the pitcher’s mound in front of a packed, cheering Soldiers Stadium. She’d woken up just before a hooded executioner had thrown the flaming match on the kindling beneath her. She longed for the nights when all she’d had to worry about was being strangled by her own veil or stampeded by a horse-drawn carriage. She took one more look at Benji—his breathing was still slow and deep—and slowly crept out of bed. Grabbing her pink robe off the door hook, she tiptoed out the bedroom door, closing it softly behind her.
She peered down the hallway. Seeing that her office door was closed, she wondered if Quinn was in there asleep or still out on the town. The Buffalo bars closed at 4 a.m. but that didn’t mean he hadn’t found an after-hours party. Quinn made friends as easily as he made trouble. She crept to the office door, placed her ear against it, and smiled when she heard snores.
She started the coffee pot while her laptop cued up at the kitchen table. Once she had a warm mug in her hands, she searched the news for any updates on Damien Staats.
“What are you doing up so early?”
Startled, Cat jumped and hot coffee splashed onto her hands and the table. “Benji!” She wiped it off with the sleeve of her robe. It stained the pink flannel with soft brown blobs. “You scared me.”
“You didn’t have that nightmare again, did you? The one where you explode after the wedding rice is thrown at us?”
“Not exactly.”
He went into the kitchen and came out with a mug of his own. “Because I already told you that the ‘birds will eat the wedding rice and their stomachs will burst’ thing is just an urban legend. Birds will and do eat rice with no adverse effects.” He took a sip of coffee. “In fact, it’d be raining bloody feathers in Asia if that was true.”
“That’s lovely imagery for six in the morning, thank you.”
“Speaking of birds, what time do you want to head down to this Snow Bird Casino?” Benji pulled out the chair next to hers.
“What?” Cat shook her head. “I just said that to get the bookie to leave. I’m not really spending a perfectly good off day on a smoky, skanky gaming ship.”
“It actually looks kinda neat.” He pulled her laptop over and typed in the web address. “There’s shops and stuff. I was thinking we could make a whole day of it, you know, hang out at the riverfront. We never get a shared day off when the temperatures aren’t subzero.”
Cat scrunched her nose. “I don’t know.”
“There’s a French restaurant.”
“How good could it be? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Okay then … there’s Lars, the Nordic God of Massage. You gonna leave him hanging?”
“Oh.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “Well, I don’t want to be rude, I guess we could check it out.”
“Oh God, that feels good,” Cat moaned. “Right there.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed under the flutes of the tranquil, new-age music.
“You are holding much tension in your neck muscles. Have you been under stress lately?”
Cat would’ve uttered a bitter little laugh, but the massage had temporarily filled her with wellbeing. “You pay attention to sports, Lars?”
“I like bandy.”
“Bandy?” Cat had taken a Sports of the World class at Lincoln State University, but none of the information she had picked up had provided useful … until now. “That’s like hockey meets soccer, right?”
He chuckled. “I suppose you could say that. It is very popular in Sweden.”
“I’ll have to check out a game next time I’m in Stockholm.”
“It is played outdoors in the wintertime. I suggest you dress warmly and bring a thermos of Glögg.”
“Hmm. Sounds a lot like Bears’ games.”
“So you were referred by Maeve Webster?”
“Maeve?” Cat giggled upon realization. “Oh, Webbs. Yeah.”
“She is very nice.”
“Yeah, for a bookie, especially.”
The stereotype of a thug wearing a dirty tank top and breaking kneecaps that Webbs had mentioned was exactly what Cat had imagined. She had no idea they came bold and beautiful.
“She told me you work for the Buffalo Soldiers?”
“I’m the team reporter.”
“You must know George Hudson then.”
“The owner? Of course.”
“He’s one of my clients.”
“George Hudson comes to the Snow Bird?”
“Oh no, not anymore. I also make house calls.”
“He ….” Cat’s ringtone interrupted the serene music. She stiffened under Lars’ powerful hands. “That’s my cellphone.”
“Do you need to answer it?”
She groaned. “It’s right on the chair. Can you check the caller ID for me?”
His hands left her shoulders as he took a step away. “Uh-oh. Buffalo Police Department. Do you—”
“No. It’s just this detective who wants to ask me all these questions that I don’t have the answer to.”
“Police trouble? I suppose you really do need a massage.”
The pressure of his strong hands reappeared on her upper back. Cat sunk into the head hole in the massage table.
“Tell me Lars, what’s Swedish for nervous breakdown?”
“Nervsammanbrott.”
“Good to know.”
“My, my. Don’t we clean up nicely?”
Cat turned at the sound of the sultry voice.
“Hi, Webbs.” The bookie was wearing a fully sequined silver top, paired with skinny, white leather pants and silver metallic wedges. She fit in perfectly with the décor of the flashy casino. Cat suddenly felt underdressed in only flats, black leggings and a gray tunic tee, but Webbs didn’t seem to notice.
“The lovely Miss McDaniel. How was your one-on-one with Herr Sjöberg?”
She could still smell the leftover lavender remnants of Lars’ massage oil. “Just what the doctor ordered. I wish I could make it a weekly thing.” She looked down the glittery casino hallway. The hum of the slot machines in the distance combined with the bright red carpet and silver walls zapped what little tranquility that remained from her massage. “Have you seen my fiancé? He said he was going to look for the bingo room and meet me here as soon as I was done.”
“I haven’t but if you want I can tell the security guards to keep their eyes peeled for a Professor Hottie.”
“That’s him.”
“No, that’s him.” Webbs pointed behind her. “Does he always
light up like that when he sees you or should I be flattered?”
Cat turned around to see Benji’s smile for herself. “Hi.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and nodded a hello to Webbs. “How was the spa?”
“Very nice.” She took a moment to take in the busy casino scene. “It’s kinda hard to believe it’s located in here.”
Webbs crinkled her nose. “I know this place is a little ‘People of Walmart,’ but just wait until you see the chapel. I swear, it’s downright romantic if you’re into that whole lifetime monogamy shebang.” She checked her watch. “I need to skedaddle out of here but I’m glad we got a chance to meet up again. I wanted to tell you not to worry about your brother being one of my clients. I’m pretty good about keeping things on the DL.”
Cat had a feeling she wasn’t talking about the baseball definition of DL, which was the disabled list. She took a cautious survey of the ship. “Somehow I think that’s nothing compared to me spending my off day in front of the sportsbook section of a gaming ship.”
“Oh please. Would G-Hud fire you for that?” Webbs scoffed and followed it up with a conspiratorial giggle.
Cat turned to Benji, who shrugged. She narrowed her eyes at Webbs. “What’s so funny?”
“Surely you know that before he owned the team, the G in G-Hud stood for Gamer, Gambler or Ganked on any given day.”
“What do you mean? He came here?”
“Nah, this ship has only been in business for a few years. But I used to work at a place down the river that’s own by the same guy and it was nothing for him to come in and drop a hundred thou in one night. And that was just here. Who knows what he was throwing at the Seneca casinos?” Webbs tapped the red carpet with her shiny toe. “He was singlehandedly responsible for that casino’s last remodel. The man had a serious gambling addiction.”
Benji frowned and asked Cat, “How does a guy like that buy a baseball team?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t. His dad, Milburn Hudson, owned the Soldiers but he retired a few years ago and passed the team down to George. I don’t understand how I’ve never heard this before. It’s pretty big news.”