by Jana DeLeon
What was he thinking? Was he worried?
Because if he hadn't been before, now might be a good time to start.
Jake studied his cards in confusion. The hand just wasn't there. The best he could hope to make of the mess was a pair, maybe a three of a kind as a long shot. Which wouldn't have bothered him at all if things were going the way they were planned. According to the rules of poker, Jake should fold this hand and hope for better on the next round. According to the laws of Mallory, this hand should still yield something better than what the rest of the players held.
But Jake hadn't pulled a winning hand all afternoon.
He'd watched Mallory serve the drinks and touch all the players as she went. She'd even given Silas the extra whammy, but the man had continued to play good poker, belying Mallory's touch. The rest of the players were back in a slump. It wasn't that Jake's hands had been bad-just not good enough to edge Silas out on anything.
It was almost as if he and Silas were playing straight up - no Mallory involved.
Jake folded when his turn came and tried to control his frustration. He needed to get a grip. Yesterday, he would have cheerfully sent Mallory to Antarctica if it meant removing her from his table. Now, he not only wanted her at the table, he needed that supernatural bullshit of hers to start working.
Jake was way better than the average poker player, but he'd seen enough of Silas's ability to know he wasn't going to beat him in a straight-up match.
And that left him with nothing.
Chapter Ten
Mallory paced back and forth across her tiny living room, watching the road for Jake's white rental car. Where was he? She looked at the clock again. Two minutes after six. Calm down. He's only two minutes late.
She sat for a moment on the edge of the couch, but sitting made her jumpier than the pacing. Hopping back up, she grabbed her work gloves and was just about to go outside to Scooter's shop and cut something in two when Jake's car rounded the corner and pulled into her driveway.
She glanced out her kitchen window at the pier she and Scooter shared, but his boat wasn't at the dock. Obviously the trout were biting. With any luck, she and Jake would come up with a new plan and he'd be gone before Scooter had a chance to get in the middle of it. Of course, that meant Jake needed to have come up with a plan on his own, because Mallory had drawn a huge zero on that end. Unless one wanted to sink to the Reginald St. Claire method of dealing with those who had a winning streak that ran a bit too long.
The players had no sooner settled into the afternoon game when two of them rushed from the room, clutching their stomachs as they exited the casino. According to her uncle's "rules of play," each player was limited to a maximum of twenty minutes away from the table at any time other than breaks. If at any given time a player ran over the twenty-minute mark, half their chips were automatically forfeited to the dealer.
Which put Reginald up about forty thousand for the moment and made Mallory wonder what the hell he'd dropped into those drinks.
Jake brought the car to a stop in front of her garage and hopped out, giving her a nod as he crossed the lawn to the porch where she stood. "Scooter's gone?" he asked, and looked over at the cabin about thirty yards from Mallory's.
"Yeah, for now. But he'll only be out as long as the fish are biting or until he runs out of beer. All he took was a six-pack, so we don't have that long."
Jake shook his head, and Mallory could see a look of begrudging admiration on his face. "I've never in my life seen a human being drink that much and still function like normal."
Mallory laughed. "Well, Scooter's normal is not as far a stretch to cover as the rest of ours, but yeah, his drinking ability is definitely at a professional level. I'm pretty sure he was single-handedly responsible for last quarter's profit increase at Coors." She waved one hand at the door. As Jake stepped onto the front porch, T.W. rose from his sleeping spot in the corner and angled off toward them.
Jake stared, his expression a mixture of confusion and surprise. "What the heck is that?"
"T.W.'s a basset hound."
"I didn't think they could live to be a hundred, and why does he keep twisting his head that way?"
"He's deaf as a doornail, but refuses to believe it, so he keeps twisting his head, thinking he'll be able to hear better out of the other ear."
T.W. came to a staggering stop in front of Jake, sniffed his pants legs, then lay down on the porch in front of his feet, obviously exhausted from all that strenuous activity. Jake stared at the dog for a moment then looked up at Mallory. "Did you do that to him?"
It took a minute for Mallory to understand what he was asking, then she broke out in laughter. "God, no. He was like that when I adopted him from the animal shelter. On his last leg in more ways than one, you could say. But he's perfectly safe. My bad luck doesn't seem to apply to animals."
Jake looked down once more at the dog and nodded. "What's T.W. stand for?"
"Train Wreck." Mallory grinned, and stepped inside the cabin, motioning for Jake to follow. As soon he stepped inside behind her, the entire cabin seemed to grow smaller, as if his mere presence had filled the room.
There were a million things in the world she had to worry about at that moment, not the least of which was Silas Hebert, Jake's bust and her money, but for some reason Mallory couldn't focus on any of them. Having Jake in her house made her feel strange, an uneasy nervous kind of anxiety, and it took her a minute to realize that he was the first man besides Scooter, Harry, or J.T. who had ever crossed the doorstep.
Of course there was also the fact that the cabin was all of three rooms. And since her couch doubled as her bed and she hadn't bothered to roll it back in, Jake quite literally was standing in the middle of her bedroom, looking around with undisguised interest.
"I like your place," he said finally, and Mallory stared at him in surprise.
"You're kidding, right?"
"Not at all. I'm into simple and functional. This is perfect for one person, and since you've combined bedroom and living, you only need to buy one television."
Mallory scanned his face, waiting for the punch line, but Jake just stood there, in the middle of her tiny cabin, wearing a look of genuine approval.
Which made him even sexier than before.
"You want something to drink?" she asked as she took the three steps into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
"No thanks."
She bent down and stuck her head inside the refrigerator, willing the cool air to chill the flush that had started to climb up her body, creeping up her toes toward places better left chilled. She grabbed a Coke can and rubbed it across her forehead, wondering if rubbing it anywhere else would help the problem or cause more trouble.
Deciding she probably didn't want the FBI to know she'd felt up a Coke can, she pulled herself away from the cool air and walked back into the living room, plopping down on her recliner. "Sit anywhere," she said, and waved a hand at Jake.
Jake considered his options for a moment, apparently as uneasy about the bed situation as she was, then finally selected an antique rocking chair in the corner.
"Do you have any idea-?"
"I have no idea-"
They both started speaking at the same time, then stopped and Jake motioned for Mallory to continue.
"I wondered if you had any ideas on how to work around this?" Mallory asked. "I've been racking my brain all day and I can't come up with anything."
Jake blew out a breath. "I was hoping you'd figure out how Silas is beating your bad-luck touch and we could go back to the original plan."
Mallory slowly shook her head. "I just don't know. It's almost like I never touched him. But it worked on all the others, so I don't know how he managed to get out of it. This has never happened before."
She started to continue when her cell phone rang. Glancing at the display, she saw the number for J.T's Bar. What now? "I should probably take this," she said, and flipped the phone open to answer. "J.T?"
<
br /> "Mallory, I've got something to tell you," the bar owner said. "And it don't look good."
"What's up? Is Father Thomas in some kind of trouble?"
"If only it were that simple. No, I'm afraid you might be in some kind of trouble."
She sucked in a breath. "Why? What's happened?"
"Stanley's been steaming open mail again. And this time he steamed open an overnight envelope for none other than Silas Hebert."
Mallory felt her back tighten. "What did he find?"
"He found a bunch of information about you - personal information - pages and pages of it. What the hell is going on, Mallory?"
"I don't know exactly," she said, deciding that her words weren't exactly lying. "But I'm going to find out."
"Now, don't you go doing anything foolish."
Mallory sighed. "According to you, I already have. Do me a favor and don't tell Harry about this. He'll only worry, and he's got enough to worry over without me adding to it." She flipped the phone shut and stared at Jake.
"Silas Hebert received an envelope of information on me today."
Jake stared at her for a moment. "How do you know?"
Mallory waved one hand in dismissal. "We have a local postmaster who doesn't exactly have an appreciation for federal law. Don't even ask."
Jake gave her a pained look. "I won't."
"So we know for sure that Silas is checking on me. But why the personal history file? What possible difference could it make?"
"I don't know, but I think it's time we found out."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm tired of standing around and waiting for Silas to make the next move. If tomorrow's play goes along the same lines as today, I could be out of the tournament long before Friday. Which means neither of us gets what we need. At this point, I don't have anything to lose by taking chances."
Jake rose from his chair. "I'm going to try to break into his hotel room. Maybe get an idea of what angle he's taking. Maybe figure out how he's managed to turn you off. He's got to be cheating somehow, but damned if I can pick it."
"Cheating," Mallory repeated. "You're right-that has to be the answer." She looked up at Jake and nodded. "Do you think he'll have anything in his room that will indicate how he's doing it?"
"That's what I'm hoping."
Mallory jumped up from her chair. "Then what are we waiting for?"
"Whoa," Jake said, and raised his hands up to stop her. "I said I was going to break into Silas's room. You're not going anywhere near the man. It's too risky."
"Really? And how do you propose to break in? According to the local buzz, most of the players, Silas included, are staying at the St. Claire Hotel just outside of New Orleans. I happen to know for certain that there are no ground-level rooms and the hotel has one of those fancy digital door entry systems. You're not going to be able to pick a lock there."
"But you can?"
"Not exactly. But you said you had nothing left to lose, right?"
"At this point, not really."
Mallory grinned. "Then I know just the right people for the job."
Jake wasn't sure how she'd convinced him to go along with her plan. It was crazy-suicide-professionally and perhaps personally. If his boss ever found out he'd used a civilian to break the law, much less three of them, he'd never work in law enforcement again.
But desperation did strange things to people, and Jake had pretty much crossed that line by the end of the day. Which is why an hour later, he found himself wedged into the back cab of Scooter's Dodge pickup, bouncing along a "shortcut" to the hotel while Mallory alternated between discussing the plan with Scooter and checking in with someone named Amy, who had been stationed at the hotel and was feeding them information on Silas's location.
"Silas just came downstairs for dinner," Mallory said, and flipped her phone shut. "He's eating at the nicer of the two restaurants, so we'll probably have an hour and a half or so to get in and out."
Mallory began discussing the night's event with Scooter, making plans for a quiet entrance, which mostly consisted of Mallory explaining to Scooter what a quiet entrance was. Jake hoped he'd been off the beer long enough to decipher it because his driving hadn't exactly been an indication of sobriety. He was just about to suggest that maybe talking and driving wasn't a good idea for Scooter when they pulled into the back parking lot of the ten-story hotel.
Jake scanned the parking lot as they pulled to a stop near the rear entrance of the hotel and was relieved to see there were no other people or cars around. They'd no sooner exited the truck when the pretty little blonde who had been dealing at the tournament hurried over to them.
"He's ordered the works - salad, appetizer, wine, everything," the blonde said. "You've got plenty of time."
Jake stared at the girl in surprise. "You're Amy?" He looked over at Mallory, trying to control his aggravation. "It's one thing if your uncle wants to hire children to deal, although I have a huge problem with it, but I'm not going to involve them in this mess. It's bad enough I'm involving you."
Mallory laughed.
Amy glared at him. "I happen to be twenty-three, and I'm not showing you my ID, so don't even ask." She turned to face Mallory and grumbled something he couldn't quite make out and probably didn't want to.
"Don't sweat it, Amy," Mallory said. "You can take care of him with your long-term plan."
Amy glanced back at him, giving him a quick up and down. "I guess so," she said. "But it's a shame you were right in your assessment."
Another woman calling him an asshole. He was really collecting notches in his belt, and not in a good way. "Can someone please tell me the plan for this three-ring circus?"
Scooter looked up from the bed of his truck and pulled out a drill. "This baby is ready to go," he said.
Mallory nodded and started walking toward the back door of the hotel, Scooter and Amy trailing along. Jake sighed, then fell in step behind them. This was going to turn out bad. He just knew it.
When they reached the door, Scooter crouched down and studied the lock for a moment, then changed the tip on the drill to something thinner. He poked the drill bit inside the lock and started to drill.
Jake stared at Mallory, certain she'd lost her mind. "This is your plan? It's one thing to break into Silas's room, but the hotel? He's ruining the lock. Someone will know there was a break-in."
Amy rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, pretending an intense interest in Scooter's destruction of the lock. Mallory looked over at him and smiled. "You have to trust me. Scooter is the absolute best at these things. By the time he's done, we'll be in the building and the only thing management will ever know about this door is that the locking mechanism stopped rotating and their keys won't work. There will be no sign of tampering-at least not from the outside."
"And when they remove the lock and see the inside?"
"They won't remove the lock. They'll call Scooter to fix or replace it. Scooter built a good portion of this hotel and installed all the hardware. They call him about most everything except changing lightbulbs."
Jake stared at Mallory in surprise. He took another glance at the hotel, a beautiful structure with complicated angles and balconies jutting out all over the face. Scooter had built this? He hadn't seen the man without a beer since he'd met him. Hell, he'd drunk two before they left Mallory's cabin. How in the world had he put down his brewski long enough to build a hotel?
He heard a loud click and Scooter looked up with a grin. "That's it." He rose and twisted the knob. It turned easily and he opened the door a crack, peering inside. "The manager's office is the first one on the left, but remember, as soon as I close this door behind you, it's locked permanently. You'll have to come out a different way."
Mallory nodded. "That's not a problem. Scooter, I want you to take your truck and head around front. Once Amy gets me the room key, you two grab some seats at the bar and keep an eye on Silas. Do not let him see you. If you haven't heard from me by the time t
hey bring Silas the check, call me on my cell so we can clear out. Then make sure Silas takes the elevator, and we'll head down the stairs."
"Sounds good to me," Scooter said. "All this work has made me thirsty."
Mallory peeked into the hotel and gave the others a nod. "Let's do it," she said, and eased through the doorway, Amy trailing behind her. Jake took one final look around the parking lot, said a silent prayer, and stepped after them.
The master key Scooter had provided for the interior locks worked like a charm on the manager's office, and the three of them slipped inside. Amy hurried behind the desk, booted up the computer, and started hacking into the hotel network. Jake stood anxiously near the door, watching through a tiny crack to make sure no one was coming. He tried not to think about exactly how many laws they were breaking.
He heard Amy give a small cry of triumph and looked over to find her grinning at Mallory. "I told you," Amy said. "Piece of cake."
Mallory just nodded. "Well, you can eat cake later. Get the card so we can get the hell out of here."
Amy pulled open the drawers on the manager's desk and scanned through them. "There aren't any room cards here."
Mallory gave her a look of mild panic. "There has to be room cards. Don't tell me every card in this hotel is at the front desk."
Amy shrugged. "It's no big deal." She reached into her pocket, pulled out a tiny pink wallet and removed a Visa card from it. Then she typed some more into the computer and slid the Visa through the magnetic card reader. The light at the end of the reader turned green, and Amy handed the card to Jake. "I'd better give this to you - just in case Mallory's in a demagnetizing mode."
Jake slipped the card into his jeans pocket.
"Okay," Mallory said to Amy, "You get to the bar with Scooter and keep an eye on Silas."
Amy nodded. "Silas is in Room 514. Be careful. And good luck." She stepped past Mallory, completely ignoring Jake, before slipping out the door.
"You ready?" Mallory asked.
Jake nodded. "Let's get this over with."
