“Was that one a little pistol or what?” Cowboy tapped Eddie’s forearm and then sucked down a long drink from his cocktail, a whiskey and Coke.
“Oh, yeah!” Eddie bellowed out an agreeable laugh. “Hopefully, I’ll run into her again.”
“Don’t kid yourself.” Cowboy’s tone hinted at the disappointment Eddie felt when Rio was ushered away. “You and I...we’re out of her league.”
“Story of my life.” Eddie let out a chuckle just as the rightful contestant claimed the seat next to him—a short, balding, overweight fellow.
* * *
Rio surveyed the conference room on the fourth floor of the Federal Complex. While waiting for Gabe, Eddie entertained Bradley and Rivera with his version of last night’s poker games. Switzer, on the other hand, his face had long since turned into a scowl.
“She was so convincing as Scarlett Butler that even I, knowing the truth, bought into the charade.” Eddie looked faintly amused. “I think Laraquette missed her calling.”
“As what...a hooker?” Blake Switzer’s words breezed past Rio with a biting chill.
Eddie rumbled like a volcano.
The need to subdue Eddie’s anger didn’t give her time to think about her own. “It’s okay.” She mouthed the words to him.
Without Eddie’s distraction, she could’ve been a lot harder on Switzer. She already didn’t like the way he looked at her. He wanted her. She knew that. But the thought grossed her out.
“Oh, yeah.” Bradley joined in on the roast. “You should’ve seen the sad faces when the pit boss took her away.” With a slight snicker, he confirmed Eddie’s claims, having been placed as an undercover operative inside the casino.
Rio’s mind pushed the unwanted thoughts of Blake Switzer aside, replacing them with the woes that Eddie LaCall could prompt.
Thanks a lot, Bradley. That’s all LaCall needed—someone egging him on. Okay, Rio, knock it off. Time to focus.
The door swung open. Gabe walked in and tossed a manila file onto the table. Pulling the chair out at the head of the table, he grumbled. “Laraquette, LaCall, what do you got for me?”
The poker games. That’s where her mind should be. “There’s something odd going on with the tournament.”
“Like what?” Gabe asked, sitting.
“Well, I can’t quite put my finger on it.” Rio fought to tame her unnerved resignation. “But there was something off at the tables I’ve played at.”
“You know what I found interesting?” Eddie said, but didn’t wait for anyone’s answer. “There seemed to have been one very lucky player at each of the tables I was assigned.”
Dickie King entered the conference room pushing a cart with a projector on it.
Gabe glanced over his shoulder and turned back quickly. “How so?” he said to Eddie.
“It’s hard to say, but a couple of the players around me were either really good at bluffing—” He gave a vague shrug that suggested the supposition didn’t carry much weight with him. “Or they were extremely lucky.”
“While they may be pretty good at bluffing,” Dickie said, positioning the projector and plugging it into the light socket behind him. “It’s not likely that either notion is responsible for what’s been happening.”
Rio made the connection that Dickie must have photographs and he was about to share them.
Images splashed against the far wall. Instantly, Rio recognized the scene. Pictures of the poker tournament, up close and personal.
Dickie hurried toward the front of the room, tapping his pointer on the back of each chair that he passed. He placed the stick against the wall, in the middle of one of the player’s faces. “See this guy right here?” he mused. “When he has good hole cards or the flop compliments his hole cards, he focuses on the dealer. On the other hand, when his odds are weak, he eyes the other players trying to coerce them with intimidating stares.” Dickie grunted out a hearty laugh. “The reaction he gets from the other players determines whether or not he puts his money where his mouth is by bluffing.”
“Interesting.” Blake Switzer growled. “But what’s so illegal about that?”
Careful. Rio issued Switzer a silent warning. Eddie could tell him a thing or two about getting snippy with Dickie King. He, like everybody else that had, ended up regretting it. The whiz kid wasn’t the violent type. Instead, he took great pleasure in making those who rubbed him the wrong way look like an idiot.
“Nothing.” Dickie shrugged, squared his shoulders and hardened his tone. “Merely food for thought.” He turned toward the projections, fast-forwarding to a shot of the corner of two hole cards. Aces. “These hole cards are not the Intimidator’s. They were dealt to someone else at the table. Throughout the match, Lucky here was also dealt numerous, various pairs and face cards. Where do you think he placed when the match was over?” Dickie inquired, glancing around the conference table with eyes that wondered if any of them had a clue.
“Lucky didn’t move forward,” Eddie said. “I remember him well. The only time he cruised past the come-out bid was when he was the big blind, and nobody raised those initial bids.”
“The Intimidator figured that out early on, too. He started raising the blinds and the only time Lucky ever considered stepping up to the plate was when he had a pair of aces in the hole.” Dickie began painting a rather disturbing picture. “There was even an incident when Lucky was intimated into folding with a pair of aces in the hole, while another stared him in the face on the initial flop.”
“So Lucky had the cards laid out for him but he didn’t take advantage of it.” Rio rationalized out loud, tapping her fingertips on the arm of her chair. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She looked around the table. Were any of her colleagues on the same page?
“Dickie, could you summarize your findings for us?” Gabe cleared his throat. “In layman’s terms.”
“Sure,” Dickie said easily. “Basically, the cards at certain tables are being laid out in deliberate fashion.”
“You’re accusing the tournament officials of rigging the games?” Blake Switzer scoffed.
“Not at all.” Dickie’s sights traveled quickly to Switzer and stared him down. “I don’t believe the tournament officials are behind this sham,” he said with a measure of indifference.
“What?” Switzer’s voice barked out and Rio nearly leaped out of her chair. “You just said the cards were tampered with.”
“But I never said the tournament officials were responsible.” Dickie’s indifference had changed to smugness.
He knew something Switzer didn’t. Ha.
“If not them, then who?” Gabe’s tone had gone from impatient to anxious.
“Do I have to do everything around here?” Dickie perched his hands on his hips, his pointer dangling at one side like a sword. “Who the hell knows?” He waved his hand without the sword at Rio and Eddie. “That’s what your dynamic duo here is supposed to figure out.”
Dickie’s frustration seemed to mount as he gathered his things. By the time he got to the door, he looked ready to explode.
“Thanks, Dickie,” Rio said. “You gave us exactly what we needed.”
“No problem, Laraquette. Glad I could help,” he said to her with a bit of friendliness invading his tone. He disappeared into the hallway without bothering to say goodbye.
“So what are your thoughts?” Gabe directed his inquiry at Rio.
“Well, ideally, either Eddie or I would get into one of those hot seats,” she said, thinking out loud. “But if not, then we’ve got to disrupt the flow of the cards. Somehow.”
“As soon as you figure out your next moves, detail it in writing on my desk.” Gabe issued his orders, closing the subject on the poker tournament, and turned to Switzer. “What have you got for us? Any updates on Laraquette’s stalker?”
Switzer shrugged. “The latest letter was composed from the Sacramento Bee, Seattle Times, Dallas Morning News, the New York Times and Life Magazine,” he uttered the facts with
a slight hint of arrogance.
“Life Magazine?” The thought boggled Rio’s mind.
“And that means what exactly?” Eddie’s words came calmly, but the intensity glaring from his eyes wilted Switzer’s superior attitude. The man shriveled like a raisin.
“I don’t know.” Switzer scanned the room restlessly.
Eddie threw his hands up. “So that’s your update? You know where the pieces came from, but you’re not any closer to determining who assembled the letter?” Eddie’s jaw twitched as he challenged Switzer to an aggressive stare down.
Switzer was no match for Eddie, not even on his best day. His feeble attempt at severing the connection was laughable. Clearly, Eddie intimidated Switzer. When Switzer was finally successful at breaking free from Eddie’s wrathful glare, he sheepishly scanned the faces around the table.
Switzer fixed a gaze on Rio and it radiated hatred that went way beyond a simple unrequited crush. Geez. You’d think she’d betrayed him personally when she slept with Eddie.
Did Switzer know? But how?
Damn it, LaCall! The censure soared across her mind. If he was guilty of kissing and telling, she was going to kill him.
“Laraquette...” Switzer’s insistent voice cut into Rio’s thoughts. “I’m doing everything I can to find out who’s behind those letters.”
“I know you are.” But was it enough? “Let’s just hope for the best.” With her life possibly on the line, the idea of an inadequate savior didn’t thrill Rio. She needed a hero. She left Blake’s fretful gaping and sought out Eddie’s warm and sensuous gaze.
He could be her hero.
Her face flamed with the fiery thoughts. But the cold splash of anger slathered over Eddie’s face—and all of it directed at Switzer—yanked her back into the game.
Eddie’s scowl eased as his head turned slowly toward Gabe. “I just want you to have it on record, here and now,” he said. “If anything happens to her—” He directed a pointed finger at Rio. “I’m going to hold your boy personally responsible.” Finally, Eddie’s accusing finger landed in Switzer’s direction.
“You and me both.” Gabe agreed with a laugh.
“What can happen?” Switzer muttered under his breath. Rio heard it. She suspected that everybody else did, too. “With a protector like you hovering about.”
Let’s hope you’re right, Switz. Rio prided herself on being fearless, but that didn’t include a dose of stupidity, not even in its smallest measure. As if the slashing of her tires wasn’t enough, the second letter she’d received had taken a malicious turn. It was much more menacing, more threatening than the first.
“I want this stalker arrested before the poker tournament ends.” Gabe’s undeniably harsh tone matched the fierce look he’d fixed upon Switzer.
That offered Rio a measure of relief. She’d always been able to count on Gabe. And now, with LaCall up to who knows what, she thanked her fortunate luck that she could depend on her godfather’s loyalty.
Especially since she couldn’t be entirely certain about LaCall’s true intentions. But Rio had to be convinced of her own suspicions, which at this point she wasn’t. She needed to be careful not to falsely accuse a cop of wrongdoing. She could very well ruin an innocent man’s career—not to mention his life.
Sure, LaCall was up to something, but whether or not it was “no good” remained to be seen.
* * *
Gabe Dalton liked to keep the mini-blinds cracked open on the windows at the front of his office so he could see what his unruly bunch was up to out in the bullpen.
When he’d taken the assignment of overseeing the FVC Unit, he’d known it wouldn’t be a picnic—it took a special kind of cop to volunteer for this type of undercover work—but sometimes he felt like a third grade teacher who was constantly faced with putting the naughty students in time-out.
He didn’t make it a practice of pushing them too far. At the end of the day, they were good at what they did. They always got their criminal.
This could not be the time they failed. Rio wasn’t just an agent assigned to his detail, she was his goddaughter. He’d watched her grow up right alongside his own daughter, even thought of her as his own just as much as Michelle.
Gabe eyed the phone on his desk for a few seconds before single-handedly scooping up the receiver and punching the available line-two button. He dialed a number from memory and waited for his daughter to answer.
Since hearing from Rio about Michelle’s prediction that something was going to happen to Rio’s car, he thought it best to see what else she had to say.
Michelle answered, and after the standard “hellos”, Gabe cleared his throat. He wasn’t altogether comfortable with his daughter’s ability, but he didn’t deny it. She’d proved her talent on more than one occasion.
“Sweetheart, what are you seeing these days?” He fueled his voice with as much professionalism as he could. Somehow, it made it seem more legitimate.
“Pertaining to what?” The uneasiness in her voice traveled across the airwaves and nipped at Gabe’s confidence.
“Well...” He snatched a clicker pen off his desk and started clicking it. He found the action therapeutic. “Rio said something about you warning her about her car.”
“So I was right,” she said without an ounce of inquiry. That didn’t surprise him. “Is Rio okay?”
“Yes. She’s fine.” He propped the receiver against his shoulder and gave his forehead a little massage, and then said, “She’s a little shaken, but she’s okay.”
Of course, the slashed tires weren’t the only thing shaking Rio, but Gabe wasn’t at liberty to say that. Truth be told though, he’d put money on Michelle already knowing the particulars.
“I guess I don’t need to tell you that somebody’s watching Rio.” Intensity charged her tone. “Their intentions are not honorable.”
Gabe felt a chill dash down his back. “What do I have to do to keep her safe?”
“Maybe you should send her over to the casino for a while.”
“Casino?” he asked anxiously. “Why would you say that?”
“She is undercover there, isn’t she?”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Now, Daddy—” Her tone chastised him. “You know Rio would never compromise a case by discussing it with a civilian.”
Well, that’s true. Rio didn’t mind bending the rules to suit her needs, but she’d never bend them far enough to break the case’s ability to stand up in a court of law.
“Just send her to the hotel...with her knight,” Michelle urged. “He’ll protect her.”
“How am I supposed to send them to the hotel?” It didn’t take a psychic to know that Vegas was booked. “Can you magically make a room at the Golden Sunset appear from out of nowhere?”
“I think that if you get off the phone with me and call the Sunset right now, you might be surprised at what you’ll find.”
* * *
Rio stared at Gabe sitting on the opposite side of the conference room table from her. She sifted through the possibilities, trying to solve the enigma of why he’d been able to secure not one but two hotel rooms at the Golden Sunset, when she and Eddie hadn’t been able to find a single room in the entire city only a couple of days ago.
That man was good. Either that, or he had an inside track.
“You two go undercover deep,” Gabe said to Rio and Eddie. “Stay at the hotel for the next few days. Perhaps our guy will shy away from the casino’s crowded scene.”
It was a long shot, but it was all they had to work with right now. A public locale was probably the safest place she could be until they identified and arrested the stalker.
Gabe looked at Bradley. “Put someone at all the entrances of the Golden Sunset...just in case he gets adventurous.”
If the stalker was going to get adventurous, not to mention bold enough to follow her into the Golden Sunset, she hoped LaCall’s room was near hers. Not that she needed his protection. She was capab
le of taking care of herself. But still, it helped knowing he was nearby and on her side.
Gabe got up and left, signaling the meeting was over.
“So I guess we should head on over to the casino,” Eddie said with a wink.
She wished he wouldn’t do that. Resisting temptation was going to be hard enough without him offering it on a silver platter.
Rio pushed herself up from the table and strolled toward the door with Eddie following close behind. “I need to grab a few things from home first.”
“Can I drive?”
Opening the door, she cut her eyes at him.
“Rio, I’ll need your room number.” Blake’s tone chilled with a bitter quality. He stood on the opposite side of the room and stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact with either of them.
She looked at him. “Yeah, me, too.” Sometimes, she wondered about Switzer. He knew very well that Gabe hadn’t told her a room number.
“We’ll contact you as soon as we check in,” Eddie said, but Rio got the feeling that he wouldn’t readily share that news.
They moved into the hallway and headed for the elevator and the parking garage. Silence filled the space between them as Rio’s focus settled on the space around her. She tried to crawl inside the mind of a stalker.
What was their next logical move?
Logic. That was giving the freak too much credit. This maniac wasn’t thinking logically. Nobody in their right mind slashed tires and sent threatening anonymous letters to a Fed.
Until the guy was caught, Rio didn’t see how this could turn out good.
CHAPTER 12
EDDIE hadn’t received the best hole cards during this leg of the tournament. But he was good at reading people, and that helped him bluff his way into a top position at the table.
Henry, for instance, was an aggressive player. Any competitor who raised the bet with a large wager before the flop came down, Henry was always there to call their bluff. That strategy didn’t pan out well. Henry was one of the first to bust during the round.
Pierce, on the other hand, was always intimidated by raises before the flop. He, more often than not, folded unless the raise was small or he was the big blind. At that point, he probably figured he’d already invested enough to spend a little more. Sometimes it worked, but most times Pierce was typically intimidated into folding before the river card.
Vegas, Baby Page 10
