by Destiny Ford
My heart twisted. “Someone went to the trouble of vandalizing Inked AF, stealing cumbersome pieces of Axel’s prized artwork, and then threw them in the trash?”
“Seems like it,” Hawke said.
“That makes no sense.”
“I’ve found that most things people do make little sense.”
Fair point.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know,” I told Hawke.
“No problem. You can pay me later.”
I raised a brow. “I didn’t realize we were on a payment system.”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, “I’m keeping a tab.”
My brain wasn’t sure it wanted to be there when he decided to collect. My body was on board in every way.
“Are you going to the Halloween party at the town hall next week?” Hawke asked.
Geez, this Halloween party must be a serious event if everyone was asking me about it. “I am,” I said. “Annie invited me.”
I could almost feel him grinning through the phone. “Then I might start helping you pay down your tab there. I’ll see you soon, Kitty Kate.”
Oh boy. I was committed to going to an event where both of my not-boyfriends who were more than capable of doing bodily damage to each other would be present. It would be an eventful evening, I was sure.
I stopped by Aaron Storm’s house on my way back from dinner.
He opened the door, the lines of his face pulled back and strained. He seemed upset. “Hi, Aaron,” I said tentatively. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it felt like I’d intruded on something.
“Oh. Hi, Kate,” he said. “Come in. I totally forgot to email that list to you but I can get it now.”
He pulled up the list on his computer and jotted down the names on a piece of paper. “I hope this will help.”
“I’m sure it will.” I took the paper and started to glance at the list when Aaron’s phone rang and he frowned at the number.
“I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
As he walked out the door, I heard him say hello and mention something about evidence. My ears perked up at that, but once he was out of his office and the door was shut, I couldn’t hear anything else.
I looked at the list he’d given me and Ride of Thunder, the piece that had been sold at the auction I’d attended with Hawke, was at the top. I pressed my lips together, my reporter instincts running wild. Aaron had to be up to his eyeballs in this robbery mess and sculpture price manipulation, I just didn’t know his motive and reasons.
I shifted so I could see him better as I tried to figure it out, and noticed Aaron gesturing wildly, a frustrated expression on his face. I had about a hundred other questions for him, but as he came back into the room I realized I wasn’t going to get to ask them right now. He scribbled something on a notepad on the desk: Forty-three west Stardust Street. It was obviously an address.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he said, ripping the paper off the notepad and putting it in his pocket. “I’d like to talk to you more, but I have a pressing matter I need to attend to. I hope you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure,” I said. “I hope everything is okay.”
He pressed his lips together. “Me too.”
I left the house, pulled around the corner in my Jeep, and waited for Aaron to leave. Wherever he was going, I was going there as well.
Chapter Twenty-One
I followed Aaron, hanging back so he wouldn’t notice my Jeep. It was a common SUV in a non-descript color, no hot pink cars for me, so it shouldn’t stand out—especially not to a financial planner who wasn’t used to being tailed, but I was still careful. A couple of hours and another state later, we’d crossed the border into Wyoming. It was a good thing I’d had a full tank of gas when I started this unexpected journey. We pulled up to a beautiful home with large white columns, surrounded by towering evergreen and maple trees. It looked like it doubled as some sort of event center. Aaron got out of his car and grabbed his suit jacket, putting it on as he walked in the front doors. I examined the building, certain that I’d be seen if I went through the front. There had to be another entrance, especially if it was used for events.
I got out of my Jeep and went around the side of the massive structure. I found a staircase with a door at the bottom, tried the handle, and it was unlocked. I thanked every deity I could think of for that small favor.
The door opened into a hallway. I started down it, trying to look like I belonged there when a woman dressed in a deep purple cocktail dress with shiny dark hair and perfectly applied makeup walked by, gave me a once over, and rolled her eyes. “I told them to have the girls go in through the back, not the side. Come on, you need to get dressed.”
I had no idea what was happening, but I’d learned a long time ago that you get more information by playing along than by trying to explain, so I followed her to a room full of six other girls, all in various states of undress, as they got their hair and makeup done.
“I’m Pam,” she said, the authority clear in her tone. “I run the back end of things, and we need to get you a costume.”
She walked to a rack in the middle of the room and pulled two costumes off, flipping them around so I could see them both. I fought not to roll my eyes. “This is pretty stereotypical for Halloween.”
Her lips slid into a knowing grin. “But the players love it, and your tips will be through the roof.”
Players? Tips? What in the world was happening here?
I looked at the costumes, trying to decide between them. I grabbed the black one.
“Good choice,” Pam said. She pointed to a chair and I settled in for whatever came next.
The makeup artist had done my makeup and hair. Heavy black liner highlighted the fake eyelashes that framed my eyes. She’d contoured my face so my cheekbones looked like Angelina Jolie’s, something I was not sad about and needed to learn to do on my own. And she’d topped it off with a dark red lipstick that sparkled like blood red roses dripping with rubies. My hair was teased, curly, and approximately the size of the state of Montana.
The black lace corset I was squeezed into was studded with red crystals. A black leather skirt that definitely would not have met Utah’s three inches above the knee length requirement, swished around the tops of my thighs, and barely covered my butt. The heels were about six inches tall but they felt like they were around seventy. And the whole ridiculous outfit was topped off with a headband of red and black sequined devil horns.
Between the makeup and the costume, I wasn’t sure if I was trying to draw attention to my face or my body, but thought I’d probably manage both. If someone tried to touch me when I hadn’t asked them to, they’d get a swift kick to the ass with some very sharp heels that could easily double as weapons.
“What exactly are we doing here?” I discreetly asked one of the girls I was walking next to down the hall.
“We’re basically décor and entertainment,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But it pays well.”
The idea of being described as décor and entertainment got my hackles right up.
“I’m Sandra, by the way,” the girl said.
“Kate,” I said, managing a smile. “Décor and entertainment for what?” I asked.
“The game.”
I must have looked at her like she’d started growing carrots out of her ears because she gave me a strange look back. “Gambling,” she said slowly, like she needed to lengthen her speaking patterns for me to comprehend.
“Gambling?”
The girl shook her head and sighed. “Sometimes the entertainment agencies are lax when it comes to giving girls information about events. Yes. It’s a series of poker games and we’re here to wander around the tables, flirt with the players, look pretty, and keep them distracted and entertained.”
The feminist in me rose up, incredibly unhappy with my costume and role for the evening. The reporter in me calmed her down by saying cool your tits, Kate Saxee, we’re undercover.
We walked into a room dripping with chandeliers and four poker tables set up throughout the space. A bar with an attendant stood in the corner, and the room was full of men dressed in everything from expensive suits to hoodies and jeans. They were the who’s who of Utah. I recognized several of them, and a few had also attended the super-secret auction I’d been to with Hawke. Based on the overlapping attendees, I had a feeling the auction and game were connected.
I watched as men came in, got their chips, and settled at their tables. I’d played a little in college—strip poker, mostly—but I certainly couldn’t compete in the games these guys were about to start, and I definitely didn’t have the bank account for it.
“Just be flirty and smile a lot,” Sandra whispered. “And don’t be surprised if your ass gets slapped.”
If my ass got slapped, there would be a very quick end to this undercover situation and probably a broken nose.
I looked around the room and while I didn’t see Aaron Storm wandering around, my eyes quickly caught on another set of shoulders I’d recognize anywhere.
Hawke.
His eyes met mine from across the room, surprise flitting across his face. I got the impression Hawke was rarely caught off guard, so his expression entertained me. He made his way over to me, taking my arm and leading me slightly away from the group. “Nice costume,” he whispered.
I made a face. “I was only given two choices.”
He raised a brow. “I’m certainly glad you chose this one.”
“Well, you could have corrupted the angel if I’d chosen option two.”
He thought about that for a minute. “Good point. Wear the angel next time.”
I gave him a sweet smile and tried not to roll my eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Following a lead. Have you seen Aaron Storm around?”
“Ron Storm’s son?” Hawke asked, confusion playing across his face. “I thought I saw him at one of the tables by the door.” He looked around and nodded toward a table with about six men sitting at it, chatting. Aaron kept glancing around the room like he was waiting for someone. “What are you looking for?” Hawke asked.
“I think Aaron’s been controlling the market for his dad’s sculptures. I was over at his house to ask him some questions when he got a call. He looked upset and started talking about evidence, then he hung up the phone, told me he had something urgent to attend to and needed to leave. I followed him here.”
Hawke’s expression turned wolfish. “Interesting. We should have a chat with him.”
I gestured up and down my body. Hawke’s eyes followed, and held. “That’s why I’m here, in this ridiculous get-up.” I paused, looking him over in his exquisite suit, perfectly coiffed hair, and his no BS expression. “What are you doing here?” I asked. He was definitely in work mode. I wanted to know why. “Just a little October weekend gambling? Did you bring the Ferrari this time?”
He took my arm gently, moving me over to a more private area so it appeared that we were doing something illicit and should be left alone. Given that he looked like someone had put a ten thousand dollar suit on a statue of a Greek God, I kind of hoped we would be. He put an arm against the wall, leaning into me, managing to shelter and claim me all in one movement. “I’m in the middle of an investigation I’ve been working on for weeks.”
I raised a brow. “Does this have anything to do with the auction we went to?”
“Yes.”
“Were you using the auction to get an invitation to this gambling game?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
I lifted a brow. “Well, apparently you didn’t need to spend a hundred grand on some trinkets. You simply needed to waltz in the side door looking lost and in need of a costume.”
His eyes ran over me, taking in every inch of my body and leaving a trail of fire in his wake. “I lack the attributes that would have gotten me as easily admitted as you were.”
I let my gaze fall from his wide shoulders to muscular thighs, and everything in between. I begged to differ with him on that count.
His eyes heated at my perusal. “Careful, or you won’t be wearing that costume long, and neither one of us will get the answers we need.”
He pressed me against the wall in a heated kiss, his lips dancing with mine in a promise of things to come. I forgot about the robberies, work, and pretty much every other thing on the planet until his lips were no longer grazing my skin. My chest heaved with deep breaths and Hawke’s lungs didn’t have it any easier.
“I want to drag you down the hall to an empty room.” His voice was husky and carnal and my hormones were screaming.
I took a deep breath, attempting to calm myself. “That won’t help either of us figure this mystery out.”
He closed his eyes, his expression that of a man who was at the end of his rope. “When this is over, you’re mine.”
“Or you’ll be mine,” I said. “We’ll see.” I gave him a wink.
He flashed a wicked smile and moved away from the wall.
To be honest, I still wasn’t sure who I actually wanted to be mine, but Hawke was hot, looked carved from marble, and standing right there—and that was mighty tempting.
Hawke moved away from me and I made my way around the room, complimenting men, twirling my hair, swishing my hips, and being as charming as possible. I loathed it. I wanted a game where women were the power players and the men were the ones being trotted around like walking candy.
The games had been going on for almost an hour and I was still trying to simultaneously watch, and not be seen by, Aaron Storm. He seemed—uncomfortable wasn’t the word...maybe unsettled. I wondered why. Most of the men were caught up in their play and the money they were winning or losing.
I was flirting with a well-known Utah businessman, playing my part, when a new player walked in, all dark hair, huge arms, and thighs the circumference of watermelons.
Drake.
Of course. Because my life needed an extra level of complicated right now.
I glanced at Hawke, who narrowed his eyes in Drake’s direction.
I followed Hawke’s gaze back to Drake, and saw Drake’s attention resting on me, his deep blue irises heated from within. He walked over to me immediately.
“I was wrong,” he said, taking my hand and guiding me away from the table and a crap ton of tips. “My work is going to be interesting tonight.”
I gave him a sideways glance. “It doesn’t really look like you’re working.”
“It doesn’t look like you are either,” he said, his eyes dropping the length of me and slowly lifting back up.
I scoffed and whisper-hissed, “Do you think I’d wear something like this in public by choice?”
He licked his lips slowly, one corner of his mouth hitching up. “I’ve seen you wear skimpier things.”
I blushed, recalling the night I’d been heavily under the influence of a controlled substance and invited him over to my house.
“I bet we can still make the chocolate in your cleavage work,” he suggested, referencing our previous conversation at the Tribune, his eyes warm with desire. “I just need to grab some candy.”
I ignored the cleavage and chocolate comments. “This is work for you? Because it looks like an illegal poker game to me.”
“If it were in Utah, it would be illegal. Wyoming is a bit of a grey area—which, I imagine, is why the games are held here.”
Utah’s gambling laws were the strictest in the nation. No monetary wagers were allowed at all, even among friends, and if you wanted a lottery ticket, you had to be prepared for a road trip because you couldn’t get one in the state. If the poker game had been held in Utah, it wouldn’t have lasted long. “So this is an ongoing game? Who plans it?”
“A game runner organizes it, from what I understand.”
“Who’s the game runner?”
Drake lifted his shoulders. “No idea. I’ve never met them; I only know the runner is the one in c
harge.”
I scanned the room, taking in all the Utah power players at the tables. “How are people invited?” I knew Hawke had to work to get an invitation.
“I was recommended for the game by another Utah House of Representatives member, so that’s how I got in. A lot of business and political negotiations take place off site. This is one of the locations.”
I was accosted with irritation. “I find that rather hypocritical considering the predominant opinions on gambling by the Utah religious majority.” In Utah, politics was frequently controlled by religion, and gambling was considered a sin by the Mormon Church. I was shocked a game like this was allowed for any sort of networking.
He shrugged as we sat down on a comfortable couch, far away from the game tables and noise. “Some people are orthodox when it comes to religion. Some aren’t.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a buffet, Drake. You don’t get to pick and choose what rules you follow in a religion. You’re not deciding between chicken and roast.”
“Actually, you do get to choose,” he said, leaning closer to me. “Everyone has different viewpoints on right and wrong, and all churches give members leeway to have opinions and make their own choices. The way I see it, religion is really about being an upstanding person who helps others, and deciding what beliefs work for you personally to help you achieve your good human goals.”
I knew all about that. Drake was not one of the strict Mormons, but he pretended to be to fit in and win elections. The problem was I didn’t know exactly what his beliefs were, or which of the rules had more meaning to him than others. It kind of seemed like religion should be an all-in sort of thing. I didn’t like the obfuscation that came with justifications like Drake’s, but I saw his reasons for it. “I’d like to know where you fall in that category.”
He eyed me, rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek like he was trying to decide what to say next. “I saw a photo of you the other night in a red dress,” Drake said, a muscle working at his jaw. “There wasn’t much dress.”
