Vegas, Baby

by Sandra Edwards

  Marcia was an exceedingly assertive player when she had optimum hole cards. Not a natural bluffer, when she put her money on the table Eddie knew she had the cards to back it up. She would’ve gotten a lot further in the tournament if she’d only understood the dynamics of human interaction. Too bad she hadn’t seen what Eddie saw—the inherent reflexive reaction most people projected in response to certain events. Like the way Marcia responded to her hole cards.

  Charles, the dominant player, wanted to control the table in the worst way. He didn’t like Eddie, it showed in his small black eyes that glittered like a snake’s. Charlie was, in fact, on the verge of losing control over his emotions. If he didn’t check himself soon, he could end up a victim of elimination before this round of the tournament was over. Charlie was close to crossing the line where trumping Eddie became his top priority.

  And that, Eddie knew, would lead to Charlie’s downfall.

  But Eddie couldn’t worry about Charlie’s inadequacies at the poker table, not when there was so much more on the line. Like the potential threat to Rio’s life.

  He couldn’t see her from his current position, a table off in the corner. And that pulled his worries to the front of his mind. He didn’t like not having her in his sights. How could he protect her if he couldn’t see her?

  Bradley had promised to keep an eye on her. And while Eddie trusted his word, the guy’s pledge offered little in the way of relief.

  “We will break for the evening after this hand.” The dealer offered a welcomed announcement to Eddie and the other players around the table, indicative of their oohs and ahs.

  Eddie chuckled his approval, scrutinizing the players around him. The pair of deuces he had in the hole offered little encouragement, considering. Nevertheless, he remained in the game since he was in the big blind position. Three or four calls, including the dominator of the group, came around the board and Eddie checked, feeling he had nothing to lose by riding it out to see what fate had in store for the next three cards.

  He capped his emotion, prohibiting a single muscle on his face from moving when another deuce and a pair of threes landed in the flop. Eddie was in a fairly good position to finish the round with a full house.

  While his boat would consist of low cards, it was a risk he could afford since his opponents had cast dismal looks of dismay as the flop came down. All but Charlie, the dominator. Eddie wondered what the odds were that Charlie had a pair in the hole.

  Pretty good, he decided.

  Then again, Charlie had been fidgeting anxiously. An unconscious display of his uncertainty regarding his hole cards. There was always the chance he had a couple of face cards or an ace in the hole. Then again, he might even have the other deuce.

  A likely scenario since he’d think he had a viable hand—one worthy of challenging his opponent. Yet, still a hand weak enough to cause him unintentional concern.

  What the hell. Eddie tossed a thousand-dollar chip into the pot. A significant bet at a table where the big blind was currently at a hundred bucks.

  That act scared off Marcia, Adrienne and Henry. They folded, leaving only Eddie and Charlie at the table.

  Charlie studied Eddie and then checked his chips. He didn’t have much more than a thousand. After a brief bout of nervous hesitation he threw in the chips, as if overpowered by a desperate need to see his opponent’s hole cards. “Call,” he stated in a commanding voice.

  Eddie cast a dismissive glance at Charlie as the dealer declared the time had come to show their hands.

  With snide conceit, Charlie flipped over his hole cards, revealing an ace of spades and the other deuce.

  God, I’m good. Eddie congratulated himself with a sharp laugh. He flashed Charlie a triumphant grin and revealed his cards.

  The man who’d once thought himself the dominator of the table eyed the pair of deuces lying in front of Eddie. Color drained from Charlie’s face and he closed his eyes while Eddie raked in the pot.

  Charlie was done for.

  “That’s it for this evening, folks. Please check with a tournament official or a pit boss for tomorrow’s table assignments,” the dealer proclaimed, then walked away from the table.

  A security guard moved in quickly and stood over the unused portion of the deck and the participants winnings as if guarding it all was his only mission in life.

  Eddie gave the guy a quick nod, cast one more glance over his chips and then strode away.

  Strolling through the casino, he scanned the tables looking for Rio, and practically walked right into Naomi’s arms.

  “Eddie, darling...I was watching the match. You were fabulous.” She moved toward him with puckered lips.

  Eddie turned away and she ended up kissing his cheek instead of his mouth.

  “Darling?” she urged him stiffly, under her breath.

  Eddie checked his anger a split-second before he grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door. He couldn’t allow Naomi the opportunity to blow this investigation.

  Plus, he didn’t want her in Rio’s face. Naomi’s presence goaded Rio. Eddie didn’t know why that pleased him. Why should he care that Rio turned a slight shade of jealous every time she saw Naomi?

  * * *

  Rio peeked out the bay window in her hotel room at the Golden Sunset, wondering if the tower across the way—on the opposite end of the property—was where Eddie had been assigned a room.

  Immediately, she sensed the threat that hovered just beneath the surface of her wandering thoughts.

  Of course, he’d find his way to her room sooner or later. Maybe not tonight, or the next, but soon he’d wind up there—just maybe not the reason she wished for deep down inside.

  As far as Rio could see, she was in far more danger of succumbing to LaCall’s charms than being attacked by some nut. But blindsided? That was another matter. Which is why it was a good idea to keep LaCall close by.

  If it came down to LaCall or the stalker, she’d rather brave her new partner’s seductive disposition than a crazed maniac’s madness any day.

  She went downstairs and quickly discovered that her assigned table’s round had been canceled. Had they canceled Eddie’s too? Was this just a random incident? She went to find him.

  She hadn’t expected to see Eddie and Naomi holding hands walking through the casino. Rio stiffened, momentarily abashed. They were headed in the opposite direction and didn’t see her. Thank God.

  Her first instincts beckoned her to charge after them and rip his hand away from Naomi’s. The fury almost choked her.

  Where the hell had that come from? She looked away hastily and spotted the Caribou Lounge off in the corner. She moved restlessly toward the bar—better to invade the liquor instead.

  “I need a shot!” Rio slammed her hands against the bar. “Something hard, strong, and fast-acting.”

  The bartender studied her face, as if sizing her up. Casting a slight dismissive nod, he grabbed a bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other, and filled it with a colorless liquor.

  Unwavering, Rio clutched the miniature glass and poured its contents into her mouth. As she swallowed, she hoped the liquid courage would force out the hurt, right alongside her fascination with Eddie LaCall.

  “Another?” The bartender asked and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused at the prospect of her going for seconds.

  “Yes.” She sat the glass back on the bar and waited for the liquor to work its magic.

  A trace of licorice lingered in her mouth. Nasty. Yuck.

  “Hey, check this out.” The bartender drew her attention as he shoveled a scoop of ice chips into another shot glass.

  The liquor was clear when he started pouring it over the ice, but the second it hit the glacial chips it clouded.

  Rio was the next thing to turn cloudy as white fire traveled through her veins. “What is this?” She pointed at the shot glass, quickly forgetting about her pain and heartache.

  “Ouzo.” She barely heard his response as she downed the secon
d shot.

  The chilled liquor stung her throat and mouth. She felt her entire face pucker from the unpleasant flavor, and yet it filled her with an elated sensation of peace. Rio squealed an enthusiastic, endorsing cheer for the effect.

  The fire coursing through her veins flushed heat against her cheeks. Damn. When’d it get so hot in here? Her mind fogged in the disorder. She closed her eyes, hoping the haze would clear.

  If anything, it amplified.

  “Scarlett.” A vaguely familiar voice breezed past her ear.

  Rio opened her eyes and glimpsed over her shoulder. Oh, it’s you. What the hell was his name? She worked with him, player that he was. But his identity rested on the tip of her tongue, just outside her reach.

  Think, Rio. Think. She knew his name. What was it? Think.

  She pushed her brain harder, until the answer lit up like a firefly. Bradley.

  Chris Bradley stood there looking all judgmental and shit.

  Yes, I am drunk. Amusing herself if no one else, she let out a slight snort.

  He picked up the empty shot glass and scrutinized it before setting it back on the bar. “Never known this to be your answer.”

  “Thanks for reminding me what an idiot I am.” She snatched up the miniature glass and turned back to the bartender. Determined to keep those unwanted and weak feelings at bay she slammed the glass down onto the bar. “Another please?”

  “One more and that’s it,” the bartender’s voice had taken on an authoritative tone. “Three’s my customer limit.”

  “That house rules, or yours?” Rio didn’t care about the origin. Nothing mattered right now except getting her hands on another shot.

  The one medicine guaranteed to keep her weakness at bay.

  * * *

  Eddie smacked the ‘stop’ button in the elevator and fished Dickie’s special cell phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and powered it on, scrambling any microphones within earshot, and then gave Naomi the hardest stare he could muster.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” He moved to the other side of the elevator, putting as much space between them as possible.

  “I’m trying to show you that we belong together.” Naomi stood her ground, hands on her hips. The girl had guts, he’d give her that—and a whole lot of obstinacy.

  “Look—” Eddie had a hard time controlling the frustration seeping out in his forceful tone. “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I’m working here.”

  “I can help,” she said eagerly.

  “No, you cannot.” He nipped that idea in the butt. “And you very well could’ve blown my cover in there.”

  “Well, whatever it takes to make you see the error of your ways.” Naomi gave him a flippant shrug. He’d seen that look before. She’d always been quick to dismiss the importance of his job.

  Eddie pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You are going back to Phoenix. Am I clear?” He hit the ‘stop’ button again and the elevator started moving.

  “I don’t have to if I don’t want to,” she said.

  “If I see you again, here in Vegas...” He sucked in a deep breath, willing his anger to subside. “I will have you arrested.”

  Something dark and dangerous burned in her eyes—if only for a split-second—and then drained them of the usual brightness in their sky-blue hue.

  If it’d stayed a little longer, he might’ve felt sorry for her. But as it stood, he just wanted her to go away. He had enough to worry about without adding a scorned lover to the mix.

  * * *

  Rio wrapped her fingers around the newly refilled shot glass. Just one more. If three was the limit, then this one would surely do the trick.

  A hand moved in, trapping her own around the miniature glass. She recognized the bronze skin, and that made it harder to take its forcing her to leave the shot on the bar.

  Rio swallowed at the lump crystallizing in her throat. It stayed put. Her skin tingled from his touch and her pulses spun. She closed her eyes, torn by conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to run, the rest of her wanted to fall into his arms.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.

  Rio’s head swirled with dizzying doubts. She’d like to believe it was the liquor. She could almost buy that—if it wasn’t for the desire burning her soul.

  Damn it. Why couldn’t she be stronger?

  “Well...?” his voice hardened and his eyes demanded answers.

  “I’m thinking.” She tried to toughen up her voice, as if that’d help her avoid getting caught in his gaze. Why was he here at the bar anyway? Why wasn’t he doing his job? “Aren’t you supposed to be playing poker or something?”

  “Or something,” he said, giving no indication of what he was actually supposed to be doing.

  “Didn’t lose your girlfriend, did you?” The timing was nearly as perfect as the tone of her delivery. Even Eddie laughed. It was all she could do to keep from jumping up and down.

  “Not for lack of trying,” he said, undaunted by her smart-mouthed remark.

  She tried to catch her snorting laughter, but it escaped even through sealed lips.

  “You don’t believe me?” He gave her a nervous chuckle.

  “Oh sure.” She fixed her grip on the miniature glass and broke free of his hold. “What’s not to believe?” She gave him a plastic smile, waved the glass at him in a cheering gesture and then downed the shot.

  “You shouldn’t believe that I’d lie to you about a girlfriend.” His voice took on a sharp tone. “That’s for sure.”

  Doused in defeat, Rio closed her eyes. So this is what it felt like—buying into a man’s lies.

  He offered a lame excuse, and her heart, mind and soul accepted it because she wanted to believe its plausibility.

  Nuts. Absolutely nuts.

  She had to figure out how to get the sane Rio back—the one who wasn’t overcome with this fantastic fascination for her partner.

  CHAPTER 13

  RIO awoke to darkness and a pounding inside her head that she recalled having only one other time in her life—the day after high school graduation.

  She moaned and a distinct drumming echoed in her ears, adding fuel to the fire.

  “You probably shouldn’t move too much.” Eddie’s suggestion came from somewhere within the darkness. “Or talk,” he added with a clever bite that stung Rio’s already wounded psyche.

  She ignored him and rolled onto her stomach. “Oh, God...please make it stop.”

  A clanging noise, sounding a lot like a spoon against the side of a glass, echoed through the night. Rio dragged a pillow over her head.

  “Here,” he sounded closer. “Drink this.”

  Images of her childish behavior—getting drunk because of some guy—stalked through her mind.

  She peeked out from under the pillow.

  Why was he still there after that horrid display? Probably trying to kill me, I’ll bet. She fancied knowing him better than he did.

  “Take it,” he said, more forceful this time.

  Her stomach turned at the thought of drinking anything—alcoholic or not. “What is it?”

  “A taste of the hair of the dog that bit you.” A soft laugh accompanied his response.

  Rio mustered every ounce of courage she’d ever thought of possessing and pushed herself to sit up. A tall order, considering that once in an upright position the spinning was bound to get worse. She leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, his tone softer now.

  The bed moved, like he was sitting down. She did as instructed. His silhouetted figure sat in the shadows beside her, offering her a glass of something that looked an awful lot like what she’d been drinking earlier—white and cloudy.

  The whole world was reeling right along with her stomach. Another moan escaped her lips. Feeling trapped inside a crazy mental bubble, her confidence waned and she clutched the
edge of the bedcovers up toward her chin.

  “Trust me.” He offered her the small glass filled halfway with his proposed cure—or poison.

  “Nuh-uh...” she murmured, shaking her head at a snail’s pace.

  “What do I gotta do?” he asked helplessly. “What’s it going to take for me to get you to trust me?”

  A lot more than what you’re doing. I’ll tell you that. She grabbed the glass and raised it to her lips. Eyes closed, she swallowed knowing she had a fifty-fifty chance of keeping it down. Well, maybe forty-sixty...possibly thirty-seventy.

  “It won’t take long now.” His tone suggested he had much more confidence in his concoction than Rio did.

  Still harboring ill-feelings, she snapped at him. “For what? Dying?”

  Oddly enough, the pounding subsided and the drumming in her ears dissipated.

  “Feeling better already, I see.” The amusement in his tone complemented his dry sense of humor.

  “For the record—” She gained a measure of confidence as the clouds cleared. “—you can’t play the trust card every time you want me to do something that I don’t want to do. It’s not going to work.”

  “Why can’t you trust me, Laraquette?” he asked, standing. “I told you things I’ve never told anybody.” Eddie paced the length of the bed. “Not even my mother.” He stopped and she sensed his glare, even in the darkness. “I showed you the tears that reside in my soul for my sister.”

  “Oh, I do trust you. I trust you with my life. Believe that.”

  “I hope you mean that.” He sat back down in the chair by the bed.

  “And I hope I don’t end up with my faith being misplaced.” She wasn’t forgetting that Eddie LaCall was up to something, and she still didn’t know what.

  “You need to get some rest. You had a lot to drink tonight,” he said, turning the conversation in a different direction. She didn’t miss that.