by Destiny Ford
I swore. A big one. And not quietly. He’d seen the photo The Ladies posted of me leaving with Hawke, those covert Lady asshats! Jackie had probably sent it to him personally. “The Ladies need to mind their own business.” The problem was that they had no business to mind, and their lives were so unsatisfying that they resorted to gossip and talking about other people because they had nothing interesting happening in their own lives to discuss instead. The gossip smacked of jealousy and unfulfilled dreams. If I were nicer, I’d feel bad for them for their lack of life achievements, but considering I was constantly the subject of their ire, I wasn’t feeling in a particularly compassionate mood.
“You weren’t with me in that dress,” Drake said, and I couldn’t tell if his tone betrayed anger or hurt—or both. It was also pretty clear that he hadn’t seen Hawke yet and didn’t know my red dress date was right across the room. “And if you had been,” he continued, “you wouldn’t have been in that dress for long.”
Hawke had given me the same speech when he’d picked me up in his fancy Audi, and we almost hadn’t left my house.
I took a deep breath. “Again, I was working that night.”
Drake blinked. “So when you’re working with me, I get you wearing Rice Krispie treat confetti. When you’re working with Hawke, you look like you’re about to rip your clothes off and go straight to bed.”
“Two totally different situations,” I said without apology. “Both predicated on something that related to my job.”
Drake’s eyes went up and down my current costume, complete with the corset, skirt so short it showed my frilly black and red panties when I moved too fast, and devil horns. “And this is work as well?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “If you don’t screw it up for me. Be quiet, go flirt with some angels, and pretend I’m not even here.”
He breathed out a long sigh. “Number one, pretending you’re not here will never happen. You haunt my waking and sleeping hours.”
I scowled. “I don’t really think that’s a compliment.”
“Two,” his eyes darkened and his whole body shifted, radiating sensual energy, “I’m much more interested in flirting with the devil tonight.”
If that wasn’t a double entendre, I didn’t know what was.
I leaned in closer to him, my breasts pressing against his hard chest, and whispered, “There are plenty of devils here to choose from.” I got up slowly, and walked away from him. And it took a serious amount of willpower to do it.
I wandered the room, trying to figure out the connection between Aaron Storm and this game. I’d been watching him all night. He’d wandered the large room, talking to people like they were all old friends—and they probably were. He was a financial planner. Maybe he was inviting wealthy clients to play and taking a cut of the game percentage? But what did he mean when he’d mentioned evidence on the phone? And what did his dad’s stolen art have to do with it all? I was lost in thought, when I suddenly found myself between my two potential love interests by the bar.
“Hi,” I said, looking from Drake to Hawke and trying to act like this was all totally normal. It totally wasn’t.
“Did he bring you here?” Drake asked conversationally, tilting his head toward Hawke. Drake’s tone was so even and contained that I knew he was anything but calm.
“I brought myself here.” I smiled and ordered a Utah staple, a Sprite-spiked fruit punch. I wanted something much harder, but I needed all my synapses firing at full power for this evening.
Drake shook his head. “I don’t believe it. There’s no way you’d wear that outfit in a place like this without peer pressure.”
I took offense to that. “I’m excellent at my job and I do what I need to in order to get information. Not unlike you,” I said pointedly, reminding him he was currently networking at a place that was definitely not sanctioned by his religion.
“I think she looks great,” Hawke offered, purposely provoking Drake.
“Of course you do,” Drake said, a muscle working at his jaw. “You’d have her in something like this all the time if you had your way.”
“Nah,” Hawke said, tipping back his glass and swallowing what looked to be a sip of whiskey. “I’d have her wearing much less.”
I could actually see Drake’s blood pressure rising in the vein at his temple. His face was frozen into a falsely composed mask that was trying very hard not to break. “You’re dangerous and you put those around you in danger. She’s not the one for you, Hawke.”
I held up my hand between both of them, annoyed as hell. “First of all, I’m the only one who gets to decide who the one for me is, so back off, Drake. Second, the men in my life don’t pick my clothes, I do, and I’m usually wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so deal with it. Third, I’d really like to know what the bad blood between you two is. Care to enlighten me?”
Both Hawke and Drake immediately clamped their mouths shut.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, pressing my lips into a line so nothing would come out that I might regret later. “I have a job to do, and I’m going to get back to it.” I turned and looked them each dead in the eye. “Stay out of my way. Both of you.”
I walked off and spent the rest of the night trying to gather information and figure out more about the game. I’d learned that the stakes were high and people had lost and made thousands and tens of thousands of dollars tonight. Most of the people in attendance had been to the games before. There was someone behind the whole thing—a game runner who organized each event. I wasn’t sure who that was, but looking around the room, Aaron Storm seemed like a pretty good bet for that position.
An hour later, Pam came in and announced the end of the evening’s play. She then informed the attendees that the game runner wanted to say a few words. My eyes went directly to Aaron Storm, and I waited for him to stand up and start speaking.
A hush fell over the crowd and everyone’s attention swung to a doorway on the other side of the room. An exquisite woman wearing an emerald green gown that hugged each of her stunning curves and looked like it was made of pure silk, walked into the room. She was a study in refinement, grace, and she practically dripped money. The dress complimented her skin tone perfectly. Her cheekbones were high, her frame slender, and she had brilliant red hair and gorgeous green eyes that had been just as pretty the first time I’d met her. At Aaron Storm’s house.
The game runner was Cadence Storm, Aaron Storm’s wife.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It took a few seconds for the shock to wear off. I glanced at Aaron Storm. His face lacked all expression, but a muscle was moving at his jaw like he was highly irritated.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Cadence said, a kind smile flashing across her lips and warming her eyes. “You can settle up your accounts with Pam, and in a few weeks, invites will go out for our next event. Keep in mind that patrons who show their appreciation are significantly more likely to be invited back. Thank you for coming, and we’ll see you next time.”
Cadence was the game runner? Was she working with Aaron on the games? She had to be! I didn’t have long to stay stunned because Cadence walked off to the side of the room before exiting. The game players went back to their conversations and some got up to wait in line to settle their accounts with Pam.
I immediately followed Cadence out the door and down the hall to another room where she was talking with a woman. A burly man wearing a suit, ear piece, and gun holstered at his waist, stood behind her. He was unmistakably some form of security.
“Cadence,” I said, a question in my tone.
She glanced up, startled. It took her a minute, but she eventually recognized me. “Kate Saxee? From the Tribune?”
I nodded.
Her eyes widened. She turned to the woman and security guard. “Can you give me the room?”
The woman and Cadence’s security guard walked out the door.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said, the surprise evident
on her face. “Are you working with one of the entertainment agencies we hired?”
I laughed. “No, I was following a story lead and it led me straight here.”
A streak of anxiety crossed her face. “A lead about what?” Her tone was full of caution.
“The robberies in Branson Falls.”
“Oh dear,” she said, her face falling as she sat on a chaise lounge in the corner of the room. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but things got out of hand.”
I sat across from her, trying not to seem too eager for answers to the story I’d been chasing. “What exactly happened?” I asked. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
She took a deep breath, her hands worrying over each other in her lap. “I’ve been working with Betty Turner.”
My jaw dropped. “Betty Turner? The same Betty Turner who was robbed a couple of weeks ago? The same Betty Turner who had an anonymous potato casserole dropped off at her house?”
Cadence nodded. “Betty and I met during a painting event at the craft store in town.”
I knew I’d seen Cadence somewhere before! She’d been the woman walking out of Get Crafty with Betty Turner the day I’d followed the Speedy Superheroes! She’d been wearing a beanie cap at the time or I probably would have remembered her striking red hair.
“My family lives in another state, and with the kids, I wasn’t getting out much. I needed to make friends and have a social life outside of being a mother and wife. I decided to attend a painting event at the craft store one night and that’s where I met Betty. She was widowed and her family didn’t live close either, so we started talking and bonded. Craft night became a weekly thing.”
“How did craft night turn into a gambling ring?” I asked, confused.
Cadence closed her eyes and took a deep breath like she’d been holding in the truth for too long. “Betty used to run a gambling game in California when she was younger. It was lucrative and she was very successful. She confided in me that she wanted to do it again, but she wasn’t as young as she used to be and she needed some help.”
You could have blown me over with a feather. Betty Turner, sweet widow and anonymously dropped casserole food critic, had run a gambling game in one state, and started another successful game targeting players who lived in one of the strictest moral states in the union? I would have had an easier time believing that Keanu was an actual unicorn.
Cadence continued, “I was desperate for something to do. Anything. I’m a mom, and I love being a mom, but it’s not all I want to be.” I could hear the guilt in her tone and my heart went out to her for feeling like she was stuck in a specific role and couldn’t embrace any others. “I’m more than just my kids. I double majored in college. I had dreams and goals before I met Aaron. But then I fell in love and everything changed. And not in the direction I wanted, but what Aaron wanted.”
“So you changed your goals and life path for him?”
She sighed and picked at a piece of string on the couch. “He’s very traditional. He wanted a wife who would stay home, raise the kids, and take care of the household while he worked. I thought his perspective stemmed from the fact that he was young and that kind of attitude was simply what he’d been taught. I thought that as we got older he’d eventually change his mind, but he never did. I’ve been stuck at home, helping him live his dreams instead of pursuing my own. It was suffocating me, and I knew it. I have interests and passions and I haven’t been able to pursue them for years because I’m expected to stay at home and support him instead. Betty’s proposition was perfect for me. She does the game organizing, finds the locations, vets the invite lists, and chooses the people who will be invited to gamble. I simply have to be there to manage the night, keep things calm, deal with tempers, and be the face of the game.”
I knew what feeling unfulfilled could do to a person. I was glad Cadence had taken her happiness and future into her own hands, but based on what she’d said about Aaron, I wasn’t sure he was going to see it the same way. “This is a big game, and it’s been a large part of your life for a while now. How did you hide it from Aaron?” He seemed like a pretty savvy guy, and considering he was a financial planner and they had one of the biggest homes in town, I guessed he’d be difficult to keep a large influx of money from.
“He knew I went to craft class once a week. Betty and I would discuss business afterward for an hour or so. I told him I was spending time with her because she was lonely.”
“What about when you have to be gone on poker game nights?”
“We only host the game once every two months,” she explained. “I tell Brian I’m going for a spa weekend with my girlfriends. It’s not a total lie. After the game, I always spend a day at the spa. The games are full of entitled, brash, and frequently unkind men. I need time to decompress before going home to my family.”
That made sense. If I were her, I’d take longer than a day. “If you don’t like the players and the game is stressful for you, why did you keep doing it?”
She thought about the question for a minute before answering, “It’s not all the players, just some of them. And I’m the game runner so if any player makes me uncomfortable, I note it, and they don’t get invited back. I have control here, in a way I don’t have control in other areas of my life. Running the game gives me a purpose, and makes me feel alive in a way I’ve never felt before.”
I could understand that. She was doing something she knew her husband didn’t approve of, and rebelling in a way. There was probably also an adrenaline factor to it since she was doing something illicit…and possibly in a grey area of the law. “How are these games not illegal?” I asked.
She nodded like she was expecting the question. “For two reasons. One, we hold the game in Wyoming, and social gambling among friends isn’t outlawed here like it is in Utah. Two, because we work off of tips instead of raking the pot and taking a cut of the winnings as a commission,” she explained. “That’s why Betty needed me as host—to help get tips because that’s how we get paid.”
Understanding dawned. “So that’s why you asked for tips at the end of the evening tonight.”
“Yes. If people don’t tip, and tip well, they don’t get invited back to the next game. And they know it. My games are safe, exclusive, and full of wealthy individuals spanning everything from politicians to the CEOs of Silicon Slopes. An invitation to one of my games is in high demand, and isn’t easy to get.”
If the game was connected to the auction like Hawke thought it was, then that’s why he’d gone there before attempting to get an invitation here. He was showing them he had money, interest, and could play with the big boy crowd. I still wasn’t certain how the two were linked though.
“Isn’t forcing a tip for an invitation a little like blackmail?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I view it more like a ticket fee. People who pay for the ticket get to come, people who don’t, don’t get invited again.”
I couldn’t argue with that. A lawyer probably could, but I couldn’t.
“So you split the tip money with Betty,” I confirmed.
Cadence nodded. “We also pay the girls from the entertainment company ten percent of the tip pot and it’s split evenly among them. They keep any additional tips they were personally given.”
That’s what Sandra was talking about when she told me how to act to get better tips.
“How much tip money are we talking about here?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It depends on the game, what players are there, and how generous they’re feeling, but usually we make at least fifty thousand a game, sometimes a little less, sometimes more.”
My mouth fell open. I was obviously in the wrong business.
“Aaron never found out about the money?” If not, this didn’t bode well for his financial planning skills.
“I set up an anonymous LLC for the business in Delaware so it couldn’t be tracked to me through a social security number. All of the money is deposited
into a Delaware business bank, and my accountant takes care of everything. I consulted accountants and lawyers and made sure the game and everything about it was legal and above board before I got involved. The game has to be held in Wyoming, and has to be considered strictly social among friends. As long as we’re not taking a cut from the pot, we’re only earning money on tips, and we make sure to pay our taxes on those tips, we’re fine.”
Interesting. I knew about anonymous LLC states, but had no idea those gambling loopholes existed. That still didn’t explain the robberies, or how the auction Hawke and I had gone to was involved with the game. “So how did the robberies and Ron Storm sculptures get involved?”
Cadence took deep breath and let it out, disappointment showing in the lines of her face. “The mob started threatening us.”
I lifted my hand, palm up, to stop her for a moment. “Wait a minute,” I said, trying to compose myself. “The mob? Like the actual mob? We have one of those in Utah?” I truly had no idea, and I was an investigative reporter who covered things like that. I should have known about something as monumental as organized crime infiltrating the state.
Her shoulders slumped like she was carrying a heavy weight. “Betty previously had dealings with them when she was running the California games. Once she moved to Utah and stopped her game, they left her alone. But word moves quickly in dark markets, and it didn’t take long for the mob to find out she was involved in running a game again.”
“What does the mob have to do with poker?” I asked, still baffled.
“The mob wanted to be our enforcement to make sure debts were paid, to head our game security, and for intimidation. They force their services on people. Betty and I didn’t want their help and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Betty was adamant that we not cave, but the mob approached me separately from Betty and threatened her if I didn’t cooperate. I knew my family was probably next on the list of people who would be put in jeopardy. I couldn’t stand the thought of Betty being hurt, and they told me I’d have to pay them to stop that from happening. Betty would know if I was taking the money from our joint business account, and I couldn’t take it from my family account because Aaron watches our investments daily and would notice it immediately.” She breathed out a deep sigh. “So I came up with another option.”
