by Black, Regan
“And you do?” Wyatt was ready to toss Agent Pickering and her FBI pals and the big payday right out of his room. “Cordell is the problem,” he insisted. “Not Evelyn.”
“Aside from the money she needs, there’s the matter of a dead security guard they found downstairs an hour after she checked in.”
“This entire endeavor has turned into a nightmare.” The premise had been tricky enough to start with. He shoved away from the table. “I suppose you have Evelyn gamely smiling into a security camera near the scene. Naturally, you suspect her.”
“She was in the building and she knows the layout and placement of all the security measures. We are monitoring the situation while the local authorities work the case.”
She was pulling his chain to get a reaction. Fine. He could play that game, having learned from the best gamers in the military chain of command. “What details do you have?”
“We are monitoring the situation,” she repeated pointedly.
“You’re crazy if you think she’s capable of murder.” He could walk away, he’d done it before and landed on his feet. So what if he was a little lame on one side. There were better ways to get his business off the ground. “You’re looking at this all wrong.”
“Again, I’m open to clarification and insight.”
She wasn’t. Cordell was Pickering’s blind spot and now, with Evie, the federal agent was a junkyard dog with a fresh bone. “You trust me?”
“Within reason,” she allowed.
“Then trust me vouching for her. Evelyn is not a killer. She is not a criminal of any sort. Her interactions with Cordell are all on him.” Wyatt stalked over and drilled a finger to the tabletop. “She is the most honest, reliable, and genuine person I’ve ever known. And I can guarantee if she gave her word to be somewhere, she wouldn’t let weather stop her.”
Pickering flinched. “Noted.”
“I want your word that if I get Cordell to the rendezvous and you’re not there, I still get paid.”
Her lip curled. “You’ll get paid when he’s in custody.”
It was clearly the best he’d get from her right now. “If he comes to his senses and delays his plan, I’ll let you know.”
Pickering walked out of his room, leaving him antsy and frustrated. Evie was in the casino and a guard was dead. Wyatt scrubbed at his face. Please let that be an accident of some sort. According to Cordell’s schedule all of the people and pieces should’ve been in place by last night and taking out a guard wasn’t on the agenda.
And Evie had gone home for chains and returned to the casino.
No, that had to be a coincidence. He did not want Pickering to be right about her. Or about his blind spot. But there was no reason for her to help Cordell commit this robbery. The diamonds, on display in the jewelry store, weren’t even close to the poker room. No reason for Cordell to need Evie’s car, with or without chains on the tires. Baker and Karl were the trusted members of Cordell’s team. Baker would drive the getaway car. Wyatt was the navigator.
He would focus. He’d stay alert. And, as much as he wanted to, he absolutely would not track her down and ask her outright about Cordell.
That kind of mistake would be mission suicide on all fronts. He checked his watch. Next up for him was one last casino walk in a few hours. Pickering’s coffee chat was an effective reminder that the FBI would be watching him even more closely, along with Karl, if not Cordell himself.
Once that was complete, the twenty-four countdown to the robbery would begin.
* * *
Evelyn opened the curtains, a little stunned by the amount of snow that had fallen in the few hours she’d slept. It was still coming down, though the wind didn’t look so bad right now.
Thank goodness she’d been smart and come back last night. Not even chains would’ve gotten her out of her driveway today. If the clouds were any indication, conditions would worsen all day long. She used the in-room coffee pot for her first kick of caffeine and turned on the television for an update on road conditions while it brewed. A news reporter was outside, snow gathering along her shoulder and hood as she urged people to stay home.
Evelyn picked up her phone, her thumb hovering over the icon to call her dad. She just couldn’t do it. He was safe at home, with all the supplies he needed to ride out the storm. They could pick up their argument where they left off when the storm was over.
“Wyatt,” she muttered to the empty room. Her father would have to adjust his fantasy and learn to trust her judgment. Wyatt was not going to miraculously bail them out.
It stung, like wind-driven icy rain against her cheeks, the way her father resisted good ideas. He wouldn’t be impressed about her finalizing the sledding day for the hospitality team-builder. Maybe she should talk to Tate about a private loan to buy her father out of the business. Then Dale could retire and she could expand, intelligently, until Cottonwood Adventures was as much a destination in Deadwood as the Silver Aces.
None of her problems would be solved today. Her shift started in a few hours and she planned to do some yoga before breakfast. She needed the mental and physical reset before turning on the tip-magnet charm at the poker table. Especially on a day when the weather would drastically reduce their business.
Half-way through the warm-up her phone buzzed. She ignored it at first, assuming it was the normal report on guests, gambling volume, and players to watch. When the buzzing kept up, she paused to check. There were text messages from her manager and another general broadcast from casino security, along with responses from a few friends on staff.
She stared at the messages, switching back and forth, reading and rereading them. One of the guards had been found dead a few hours ago. The victim’s name wasn’t provided, but she counted several people on that team as her friends. The entire staff was being asked to cooperate with the law enforcement agencies investigating the situation.
She couldn’t wrap her head around it. Things like this didn’t happen here. The casinos in Deadwood dealt with their fair share of crime, but finding bodies wasn’t common. Fights. Petty theft, shoplifting, grifters. Those were the things the casino trained them to watch out for.
Giving up on yoga and forgetting breakfast, Evie showered and dressed for her upcoming shift. Taking only her cell phone and room key, she headed downstairs to figure out how she could help. If she could help.
The typical calm in the employee area had shifted to a solemn quiet this morning. Everyone was subdued. She stepped aside as a team of detectives passed her, escorted by Sheriff Russell.
The sheriff paused and urged the detectives to go on without him. “Evelyn.”
“Yes, sir?” She looked up into the tall man’s weathered face and suddenly felt better. He had a calming, confident effect, which was one reason why he kept getting re-elected.
“Is your dad all right?” he asked. “I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
She smiled. “Dad’s fine. I went home last night to get the tire chains and came back rather than take a chance that I couldn’t get here for my shift today. He told me about the break in.”
“Did you look around?”
“Yes. I didn’t see anything missing.”
“Glad to hear it. I planned to drop in and take a closer look in the daylight but with the storm and now this, ah…”
She saved him from finishing that sentence. “Dad’s fine out there,” she assured him. The last thing she wanted was to think about a dead body in the building. “I can’t imagine anyone will give us any more trouble while the snow is coming down like this.”
“Fingers crossed, you’re right. It’ll be white-out conditions soon. You’re riding it out here?” When she nodded, he excused himself. Stopping short, he turned back. “Did you check in before four a.m.?”
“Yes,” she replied immediately. “The front desk will have the exact time.”
“Good, good. And did you go anywhere besides your room or leave your room at all after you checked in?”
He jotted her answers in his memo pad and tucked it back in his shirt pocket. “Be careful in the poker room today. The people who didn’t get out are bound to get a little stir crazy.” With a sad smile, he hurried after the detectives. She didn’t envy him at all.
In the breakroom, Sarah caught up with her immediately. “It was Stan,” her manager said quietly. “He…he died from a head injury.”
Evelyn sank into the nearest chair as her knees gave out. She thought of Stan’s wife and the baby who would never know his dad. “Someone attacked him?”
Sarah glanced around. “They don’t know the whole story yet, Evie,” she said with heart-wrenching sympathy. “I know the two of you were friends.”
“Was anyone here not friends with him?” Stan was that kind of approachable, the friendliest kind of guy willing to lend a hand if you needed to move a couch or needed help with a flat tire. She’d known him since high school, though he’d been two years ahead of her. “Stupid question,” she said. “The detectives wouldn’t be here if it was an accident.”
Sarah shushed her. “We don’t want to speculate or raise more rumors,” she scolded softly. “Can you take your shift today or do you need to go home?”
Evie pulled herself together. “I’ll be fine by the time I’m needed on the floor. It’s not like I could get out of here if I wanted to.”
“We won’t be at capacity,” her manager said. “If you get overwhelmed, just say the word and we’ll adjust.”
“I appreciate that, but busy is better for me right now.” She looked around at the others milling about in the breakroom. “What can I do to help you?”
Sarah pursed her lips. “Are you feeling creative? We have about seventy-five conference attendees who didn’t make it to the airport before the runway closed.”
“I thought evacuations were yesterday.” It still blew her mind that it had become an issue.
Evie had never seen such a panic around a storm. The Black Hills and all of the businesses in and around Deadwood had been coping with weather events since forever. She knew her disappointment was more about losing out on tips. Dumb and completely the wrong priority, especially in lieu of Stan’s death.
“They hemmed and hawed and then it was too late,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Can you help me organize a couple of poker tournaments? The hotel is comping some spa packages, but that won’t appeal to everyone.”
Evie could organize a rafting or hiking trip in about fifteen minutes flat and she worked this problem with a similar mental checklist. It was a matter of number of people involved, skill levels and interests, along with location options. “I assume you’ll want to keep this out of the main poker room?” she asked.
“Definitely. We’ll use the ballroom. Plenty of room to set up several tables.”
“Got it.” Evie was thinking about the numbers. “What about dealers?”
“If you’re willing to take the lead, I can shuffle staff around to make it work.”
She was more than willing to work in an area where Wyatt wouldn’t see her. It would be almost as good as keeping her promise to stay home until the storm passed. She had no reason to feel guilty breaking her word, especially not with him, but old habits die hard.
“Then I’ll get on it. This is a great idea,” Evie added as she stood up. Her knees were steady again and she was filled with purpose, relieved to focus on something other than her dead friend and her problems at home.
“Fabulous,” Sarah said. “Head over to hospitality and they’ll help you get everything in place.”
Her new focus failed her as soon as she entered the casino floor, mindful that Wyatt could be out here too. How long would he be in town? She hadn’t asked because knowing how many more chances she had to run into him was dangerous. A gamble. He’d said he loved her and she believed he did care. Or had once cared.
Didn’t matter. Aside from her father, Wyatt was the only man in her life with the ability to hurt her. Deeply. He’d done it once and she couldn’t give him room to do it again.
She wasn’t proud of herself for cutting off typical relationships. As if anyone else would have a chance while she was still hung up on him. It was embarrassing really, and probably why she didn’t talk about it. Eleven years really should be enough time to get over her high school ‘sweetheart’. Acceptance was the first step toward full recovery. The sooner she accepted that she’d never worked through her feelings for Wyatt, the sooner she could move on. For real this time.
And what if he stayed in Deadwood? He said he looked you up.
She cut off that annoying little voice in a hurry. It was bad enough that Wyatt was in town, and worse that he was staying in a casino. Her casino. Whatever crazy twist of fate that brought him back into her sphere was irrelevant.
But if he planned to stay…
Her imagination hijacked basic logic. They might rekindle their friendship, he might convince her father to take a chance on her plans. And pigs might soon be flying through the blizzard bearing down on the area.
She couldn’t count on Wyatt’s plans or anyone else’s. Her goals and ideas took precedence. She was sufficient and capable and… and still hopelessly hung up on a man who’d broken her heart.
Annoyed with herself, she clutched her phone, lifted her chin and thought about the seventy-five people who would soon be wandering around searching for distraction and entertainment.
Turning down the hall to the hospitality office, she almost plowed into Jack Thornton, a hospitality manager on the guest relations side the Silver Aces operation. He caught her shoulders and steadied her.
“Hello, Evelyn.” His eyes roamed over her face and his hands withdrew slowly. “We heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, um, thanks.” He’d asked her out last week. His dark hair and eyes made him pretty much the opposite of Wyatt, but he was fit and friendly and had only been in Deadwood for five years or so. There was no lumpy, old emotional baggage between them. Suddenly she couldn’t recall why she’d turned him down. “Sarah sent me over for the ballroom set up.”
Jack’s eyes lit up. “So we’ll be working together today?”
“Looks like it.” A pleasant sensation swept through her as she smiled back at him. This would be a great day. “I was thinking—” An alert made her phone vibrate in her hands. “One second.”
She skimmed the email message quickly and a happy cheer burst free, startling Jack. “Sorry.” Finally, Tate Cordell had reached out. From the tone of the email, he’d made a decision to invest in Cottonwood, despite not seeing the area firsthand. She pressed her lips together hard to keep from squealing with joy while she dashed off a reply.
This was exactly the kind of investment she needed to elevate the family business and provide tours and services year-round. According to the email, the package she’d sent with testimonials and proposals, along with her thorough business plan impressed him. The number he provided as his initial funding was twice the total she’d hoped to secure and he asked when and where he could wire the funds. Right now worked for her, if only so she could ogle the bigger bank balance online until the storm passed. She sent him the details for the wire transfer.
“Evelyn, are you all right?”
“I am!” She hooked her arm in Jack’s and did a quick do-si-do turn in the hallway. “I just got the best news.”
“Well, you certainly deserve that,” he said.
“Thanks.” She knew he didn’t mean it as a downer, but out of respect for Stan, she dialed down her celebration. “Let’s get going,” she said. “I’ve been working on some long-term solutions for the family business,” she explained as they took the service hallway to the ballroom. “It looks like it’s all finally coming together.”
“I’m happy for you,” Jack said. “Cottonwood is a great enterprise.”
He couldn’t have offered a more perfect response. “Thank you.”
In the ballroom they quickly formed a plan to give the stranded conference attendees a decent place to hang out, play for low to zero stakes, and network. “They might as well get more than they came for,” Evie said.
Jack walked over to the corner to the right of the doors. “We’ll keep beverage service and a buffet going in this corner. Games over there,” he pointed to the opposite corner.
“Sure thing. I’m thinking with this size group, we only need three poker tables and two for black jack.” They discussed the rest of the layout and tables for mingling. “You have enough wait staff.”
“We’re compressing services across the board. It’ll work.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Do you really think we’ll get six feet of snow?”
She glanced up from the update she was sending to her manager. “Are you afraid of cabin fever setting in?”
“More like a power outage,” he admitted, pulling out his own phone. “According to this update, the preliminary stage of this storm ends just after noon today and we’ll be in the thick of it.”
“Come on, Jack. You know the casino is prepared for any crisis.”
“Sure.” His gaze moved to the doors. “I just don’t like the idea of being snowed in.”
“Trust me, if it’s half as bad as they’re predicting, you’ll be happier inside than out.” She was still floating high on the knowledge that her business had been saved to worry about weather or stir-crazy customers. “Now that we know how many tables, I’ll go get what we need. Think we can open to the group around ten?”
Jack nodded absently while he keyed details into his phone, presumably passing along the schedule and information to his staff.
She practically floated out of the ballroom, the smile on her face a permanent fixture as she crossed the casino. It was remarkable how quickly her concerns and frustrations evaporated. One email promising money and she positively glowed inside and out. Her mind gleefully ran the numbers from modest to bold to outrageous, prioritizing her expansion plans. Thanks to various marketing podcasts and years in the local outdoor-adventure industry, she could justify each and every change she planned to make. Neither her father nor her new investor would have cause to doubt or worry.
