Lucky Stiff (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 2)

by Deborah Coonts

  With the coffee calling my name, I put my feet on the floor, wrapped myself in a blanket, and went in search of caffeine and a hug.

  “Good morning,” Teddie said when he met me halfway to the kitchen wearing pajama pants and a grin, a steaming mug of my favorite brew in his hand. “I was just coming to wake you up—I was looking forward to it.”

  “I could jump back in and pretend I was asleep.” Cupping my hands around the mug, I breathed deep, then took a sip. Like an addict anticipating the first hit, my body danced in joy. For too long now I’d been running on a high-octane mix of caffeine and alcohol. Cleaning up my act was in my near future—either that or the crash and burn was going to be spectacular.

  “Come here,” Teddie said gently as he took my mug, setting it on a side table, then wrapped me in a bear hug.

  Before we’d even slept together, Teddie had told me the waking-up part could be almost as good as the going to bed part. He was right.

  I nuzzled his neck. Warm and prickly with a day’s growth of beard, he smelled masculine, sensual—full of promise. This time I didn’t resist nibbling his ear.

  “Keep that up, you are going to be late for work—very late,” Teddie groaned, as he slipped my blanket from around my shoulders then dropped it to the floor. Swooping down, he scooped me up and headed toward the bedroom.

  I looped my arms around his shoulders. “What time is it?” I asked, not really concerned—it couldn’t be that late.

  “Almost eleven.”

  “What?” I wiggled to get free. “Put me down. I don’t have time to play.”

  Dropping my legs, he held me against him so my toes barely touched the ground, then he kissed me. Long and deep, it took my breath away. “You sure?” he asked.

  I groaned as he kissed me again. “I’ve got to go. Any other weekend and I’d leave Miss P to hold them off, but not this one—I can’t.”

  “Okay.” He set me fully on my feet. “You go take a shower; I’ll work on breakfast.”

  Humming snatches of tunes from last night, I stepped into the cascade of water Teddie called a shower. Large enough for the two of us—and several of our closest friends—I delighted in the stuff of a mans shower. Who knew they still sold soap-on-a-rope? And this back scrubber thing? Was this part of the normal routine or was it wishful thinking? Since there was only one kind of shampoo and no conditioner, I had no choices to make, so that part was easy.

  My eyes squeezed tight to keep the shampoo out, I reached for the soap. I found the dish, but the bar was missing. Drat. I felt a blast of cool air as the shower door opened.

  “Allow me.” Teddie said, as he stepped in beside me.

  Quickly, I washed the shampoo out of my hair. Opening my eyes, I took in all of him—shit-eating grin, a bar of soap, and... all.

  I was so going to be late for work.

  * * *

  EVEN though I practically ran, I was still an hour late. Miss Patterson seemed nonplussed when I arrived, out of breath and out of gas—while incredible, sex in the shower was no Breakfast of Champions—I needed food.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been calling like crazy. I started to think they might have run you over for real this time.” Although she tried to sound angry, she couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry.” I sagged into a chair across from her, my legs stuck out in front of me. How to explain? “Teddie’s home,” I said, unable and unwilling to elaborate.

  “In that case, you are forgiven.” A huge grin split her face. “How is Mr. Kowalski?”

  “Exhausting.” I said, but couldn’t hide my smile.

  “You’re a lucky girl.”

  She managed to keep a straight face even when I rolled my eyes and groaned.

  “I’ve fired people for saying that,” I said starchily.

  “Promises, promises.” Miss P looked very professional in a herringbone black and white blazer and hot-pink sweater. She’d broken out her zebra cheaters, but even the matching accessories and her smart manner couldn’t hide her distress. She hadn’t been sleeping—fatigue worried her edges.

  “Has Jeremy called in?” I asked.

  She gave me a stern look. “Why don’t you check your phone?”

  I did. Seven missed calls—all from Miss P except for two from Jeremy, the last one was an hour ago. “He’s helping me chase some leads; I can’t tell you all of it—the last bit I don’t know yet, but we’ve pretty much got this Neidermeyer thing nailed down.”

  “For real?” Miss P’s voice was quiet, pregnant with hope.

  “We’ve narrowed it down to two suspects—Jeremy isn’t one of them,” I said, which was more than I should have said. I know full well the perils of raising false hope—but I couldn’t stand another moment of seeing her so miserable.

  With a deep sigh, she sagged back in her chair. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t break out the party favors just yet. Soon, though. I get the feeling things are coming to a head.” I glanced in my office and groaned. The paper fairy had visited again—my desk was covered. Somebody ought to shoot that damned fairy. “Have I missed anything important today?”

  “I’ve got it under control,” Miss P fired back, her manner brusque. “Except for the Big Boss.”

  “What’s up with him?”

  “I couldn’t tell you, but he’s got his knickers in a twist for sure.” Miss P looked at me over the top of her cheaters. “He’s been calling down here every half hour since I got here.”

  I jumped to my feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?” As I leapt for the door, someone opened it from the outside.

  The Big Boss. “Lucky, where the hell have you been?” he snarled.

  I live my life on the theory that the best defense is a good offense. “On my few free hours away from this loony bin,” I said. “I’ve actually been trying to get some shut-eye and some meaningful sex. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have sex in the shower without killing yourself?”

  That stopped him mid-bluster, proving my theory.

  “Oh, well. In that case . . .” He ground to a halt, staring at me.

  Impassively, I held his gaze.

  My father was the first to look away. “If I said good for you, would that be appropriate?” he asked, clearly at a loss.

  “Works for me,” I said blithely, as I gave him a lopsided grin.

  He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the hall. Ever the gentleman, he threw a “please excuse us” over his shoulder to Miss P. “I know what hard wires you to the pissed-off position—you need food,” he said, turning his attention back to me.

  The man always could read me like a book—I guess we had that whole genetic-empathy thing going on.

  “So where’s the fire, anyway?” I asked, as I let him lead me along.

  “It’s your mother.”

  Why did I know that?

  I ran down the usual list. “Is she sick? Dying? Have the citizens of Pahrump hung her in effigy? Are they calling for her blood?”

  My father threw me a shocked look. “Of course not.”

  “Then food first. Mother can wait.”

  * * *

  EVEN though I wanted breakfast, Nebuchadnezzar had the lunch buffet out. Quickly I heaped my plate—I didn’t really care with what—then took the chair across from the Big Boss at our usual table by the window. Before I took a bite, I asked my father, “Will you excuse me a moment. I need to make a call. It’s important.”

  At his nod, I stepped outside into the garden and dialed Jeremy.

  “I came up zeros,” Jeremy said without pretense, when he answered. “I checked his place a couple of times—no car, no lights. If he was there he was hiding. I swung by Neidermeyer’s place—nobody there, inside or out.”

  “Isn’t her house in a gated community?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Jeremy’s flat tone didn’t invite any more conversation on that topic.

  I didn’t need to become an unwitting accomplice, so I let that one alone. “What about the Lovatos’?” I
asked.

  “On a hunch, I staked out their place for the rest of the night. My hunch didn’t pan out—Jimmy G didn’t show up, but neither did the Mrs. I gather the Lovatos are not a happy couple?”

  “From what I’ve seen, I would say that was accurate,” I said, as I glanced at my father through the window7. He was waiting to eat until I returned. “Glinda’s a tough cookie.”

  “I’ve seen her. Many guys I know would be proud to have her biceps. I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, that’s for sure.” Jeremy sounded half grossed out and half in awe.

  Personally, I thought Glinda Lovato only inspired fear. “How do you know she wasn’t at the house?”

  “A car was missing from the garage, then Daniel left alone to take his daughter to school.” Jeremy’s voice dropped. “After he left, I thought the house was empty. I was right.”

  “Okay, well then,” I said, stalling for time. I had no idea what to say in response to his insinuation that he’d done a little recreational breaking and entering. “Are you going to keep looking for Jimmy G?” I finally managed.

  “Of course. I’ll keep an eye on his restaurant, and I’ve got some other lookouts combing the city. I’ll let you know if we find him, but what about Mrs. Lovato? Her absence is... timely.” Jeremy sounded worn out. I tried not to feel guilty.

  “If we don’t find her beforehand, Glinda has a job at Tortilla Padilla’s fight tonight,” I said. “How do you feel about trying to shake her down?”

  “And risk serious injury? Did you know that not only is our lovely Mrs. Lovato a bodybuilder, but she’s a rising star in the world of cage-fighting?”

  “I’ll bring a Taser.”

  * * *

  THE Big Boss eyed me over a tumbler of whiskey as he took a big gulp.

  “Drinking at noon, not a good sign,” I said, as I settled in across from him and gazed at my plate, the food now cold.

  “I needed something to settle my nerves.”

  “What’s Mother done this time?” I asked, bracing myself as I picked at my salad.

  “She’s acting very strange.” Apparently worry didn’t affect my father’s appetite—he dove into his plate of food. All those calories and they never seemed to show up in any of the usual places. Too bad that trait didn’t trickle down the genome.

  “How can you tell?” I pushed my salad away and eyed the other offerings on my plate. Cold pizza would have to do. “Strange is her MO.”

  “Okay,” my father said through a mouthful. “She’s acting stranger than usual. She won’t take my calls and, according to Trudi, she’s barricaded herself in her room and won’t come out.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Cold pizza was as bad as it looked, so I stabbed a piece of cantaloupe. “Remember when she brought my whole class to Mona’s Place on take-your-child-to-work day?”

  My father choked, then grabbed for his glass of water. After he’d fought some air into his lungs, he said, “I’d forgotten that! Half the mothers in town canvassed the neighborhoods to get signatures on their petition to fire the principal and to kick you and your mother out of the county.”

  “She stayed in her room a whole week that time,” I reminded him. I waved my fork with the cantaloupe for emphasis. “She could hide. I wasn’t so lucky—I had to go to school and face the music. My first real lesson in life.” I popped the bite of fruit in my mouth for emphasis.

  “You think that’s what she’s doing? Hiding?” Still at least two fingers of bourbon in his glass, he pushed it away.

  “Or licking her wounds,” I said. “Give her a day or two; I bet she’ll come around.”

  * * *

  THE Big Boss opened my office door with a flourish and a grin. Riding on a high of familial warmth, I stepped through. The frantic look on Miss Patterson’s face brought me up short.

  “The Ferrari you checked out last night? It’s gone missing. They can’t find it anywhere!”

  I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Shoot! I forgot the damned car!”

  “You forgot a quarter of a million dollar car?” Her eyes, large and round... and amused... looked at me over the top of her glasses.

  “With all I have on my plate and with as little sleep as I get, I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached,” I groused. It was a car, for chrissake! It’s not like I ran off all our whales or alienated the Hollywood crowd, or something truly catastrophic. “Your precious hunk of Italian machinery is snuggled safe and sound in the garage at the Presidio.”

  “And the keys?” Miss Patterson asked, apparently unwilling to let me off the hook that easily.

  I waved my hand airily. “Somewhere at home... at Teddie’s. I’ll call him, perhaps he can bring the car around.”

  My father chuckled behind me. I whirled on him. “And how many cars have you... misplaced? I seem to recall a gull-wing and a blonde . . .”

  That wiped the grin off his face... almost. “Are you going to introduce me?” he asked, effortlessly changing the subject.

  “What?”

  He tilted his head toward Brandy, who, to be honest, I hadn’t noticed until he drew my attention to her.

  With the look of the devout in the presence of the Pope, she stood at attention by her desk. I didn’t know what I would do if she dropped to her knees and asked to kiss the Big Boss’s ring. Shoot her maybe . . .

  “Sir,” I said, extending my arm toward my new assistant. “May I present Brandy Alexander, this office’s newest addition?”

  The Big Boss held out his hand. “Young lady, I’m Albert Rothstein.”

  Her voice having flown, Brandy nodded then wiped her hand on her pants before reaching for his.

  “This is my boss,” I added, probably unnecessarily.

  “I hope you have as wonderful a boss as I do.” Brandy said to me, finding her voice, as she grasped the Big Boss’s hand.

  Boy, I could use some of her suck-up. And she was wise enough to suck up to the right person. Clever girl.

  “Nice to meet you, Sir,” Brandy said to the Big Boss.

  “You take good care of my—”

  I cleared my throat, interrupting him.

  “Our Head of Customer Relations,” he said, recovering nicely. “She’s the grease that keeps the wheels moving around here.”

  “Yessir.” Brandy retreated back to her desk.

  Miss Patterson, her face a mask, said nothing.

  Before I thought about it, I squeezed my father’s arm and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Mona will be fine. Give her some space.”

  He nodded, then left, leaving me with both of my assistants staring at me.

  “What?” I asked. “He’s dating my mother. I’ve worked for him since I was fifteen. The lines get blurry, okay?” Not waiting for any editorial comments, I retreated into my office.

  * * *

  TEDDIE answered his phone on the third ring. “Hey! You caught me just getting out of the shower.”

  “Two showers in one morning?”

  “Just reliving wonderful memories,” he said. “And, as I recall, we didn’t do a whole lot of... showering... before.”

  “No. And we were lucky we didn’t break something.” I fell into the whole flirting thing with unexpected ease, proving once and for all you can teach an old dog new tricks. For some reason that made me feel better.

  “We need to work on our technique, I’ll grant you that,” Teddie said, his voice warm, inviting.

  “Speak for yourself.”

  He laughed that laugh that made me tingle all over—like we both had a wonderful secret to hide—which we did.

  “You don’t want more practice?” he asked, pretending to be wounded.

  “Practice sounds perfect.” I shifted the phone to my other ear as Miss Patterson peeked in the doorway. I motioned her inside. “But, right now I need to talk to you about a car. You wouldn’t happen to be headed to the hotel, would you?”

  “You read my mind. I’m meeting Reza at Babel for a run-through. Want to come watc
h?”

  “That depends,” I said. “On you and a certain Ferrari.”

  * * *

  TEDDIE delivered the Ferrari and smoothed over my faux pas, so that was one less thing on my plate. I owed him.

  Leaving Miss P to handle the office, I launched myself into the day. With Brandy dogging my heels, I headed off on my rounds. This was my young assistant’s first major fight weekend. Layer that with a major club launch and this would truly be a test of her metal. By dawn tomorrow either the heat would have tempered her to steel or I’d be looking for a new assistant.

  “First let’s stop by the Kasbah,” I said over my shoulder as I cleared a path through the crush of people already filling the lobby. “I’d like to check on our fighter-in-residence.”

  Carmen answered my knock. “Hey,” she said, greeting us with a wan smile and motioning inside.

  After yesterday the rooms resembled a mausoleum—not a child in sight. I introduced Brandy then asked, “Where are the kids?”

  “Arrianna and Charles took them to the movies.” Carmen looked tired and worried. “Those two are real treasures. Thank you for sending them our way.”

  “I thought you might get along.”

  “My husband offered them a deal,” she explained. “Our foundation will pay for medical school for both of them if they will come work at the clinic for four years after they’ve completed their training. Of course, that’s contingent on tonight.”

  The woman looked so distracted I couldn’t resist giving her hand a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Don’t mind me—I’m a worrier.” She shook her head. “After all these years you’d think I could handle this better. My husband knows what he’s doing, but I still wonder whether experience is enough to make up for the fraction of a second his reflexes have lost to age.”

  I didn’t think there were any words to offer her comfort. In the game of life, sometimes you just roll the dice and hope for your number.

  “Is there anything my office can do to make your evening more enjoyable?”