Stacked Deck

by Tracy Watkins

  Little Miss No Answer.

  All he knew for sure about her and about last night was that he was in some deep shit and he had no idea what it was. Or how to get out of it.

  He paced, something he’d gotten used to doing during the last twelve hours, and glanced down the hall in the direction she’d taken. Imagining her in the shower, plotting whatever it was she had come here to do.

  He couldn’t see anybody wanting to kill him, so it had to be her or Giambi the hit men were after. Giambi had sensed something was wrong with her right from the beginning. He must have known it the first second he laid eyes on her. That’s why he didn’t trust the background check. This woman had big trouble written all over her.

  One way or another, he intended to find out her story before they left her villa.

  When he heard the shower running, he slipped down the hall and into her bedroom. He rifled through her drawers, through her purse, looking at her ID, passport, driver’s license. All of it said she was Anne Hurley. And all of it looked new.

  He looked hard at the driver’s license. She was, according to it, in the third year. Yet the hair style, the look, was now. This stuff could all be fake, he thought. Everything about her could be fake.

  The closet contained nothing but clothes. He felt everything that had a pocket. Nothing, but the clothes were all new. Some still had the tags.

  He shook his head, realizing he was thinking more like Giambi every day. Maybe paranoia was contagious.

  When he was about to leave the room, he glanced at the mirror on the far wall and, from that angle, the mirror reflected the bathroom and the shower with its glass door and walls.

  He could see her there, surrounded by steam, her hands working her hair, face turned up to the water. Naked. He felt a jolt in his groin.

  When she turned away, her back to him, he lingered, his anger mixed now with an unbidden erection.

  Get your shit together, dude, he told himself. Not like you don’t see naked women on a regular basis. She’s nothing but a hot piece of misery.

  JD swore all the way down the hall, using every choice phrase he could think of.

  He was filthy and probably stank like a junkyard dog. He looked at the pool out her back doors. He wanted to jump in, but he wasn’t going to chance it. No matter what she said about this place being safe someone might be waiting for him out there.

  Suddenly he felt tired. He needed sleep but that would have to wait. More coffee. Maybe some eggs.

  He got up and went into the kitchen. He rounded up the coffee beans, a grinder and set about getting his caffeine going. Then he pulled the eggs out and set them on the table, along with butter and muffins.

  He went down the hall and into her bedroom again.

  “How do you want your eggs?” he yelled over the rushing water.

  “Scrambled light will be fine. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  He had a hard time being as angry with her as he knew he should be. As he went back to the kitchen, he mocked himself for his attitude.

  JD focused on breakfast. There were times when he envied those guys who could focus all their energy on whatever task they were pursuing. He couldn’t remember a time, since he was eleven or twelve, that he wasn’t getting distracted by some female. Some were worse than others. But this was a cat of a different stripe. There wasn’t anyone to compare with Anne Hurley, or whoever the hell she was.

  He knew, with a touch of truth, that, were Mama Wese alive to meet Anne Hurley, she’d have liked her. One strong woman to another. Mama Wese as the kids had always called her, butchering her actual name—Louise—had been feisty as a hornet, hard as hickory when her dander was up. Nobody tangled with her and walked away without regretting the encounter. But to JD, when he behaved, she was soft as new cotton and warm as the morning sun.

  Anne Hurley was that kind of woman.

  You’re an idiot, he told himself, shaking his head. The woman in that shower is taking you down and all you can think of is how you’d like to get it on with her. C’mon, moron, wake up. All this work to get back in the race and this had to happen.

  He cracked another egg and dropped it in a bowl.

  Chapter 14

  B eth, lost in the luxury of the shower’s pulsations, was thinking that somehow the near disaster of the night had to be turned into a positive. She just had to make an adjustment in her strategy. And she had to be careful about getting involved with JD beyond what the assignment demanded of her.

  Sobering thoughts tumbled through her mind about her dad, Giambi’s blackmailer and the threat to the AthenaAcademy.

  The hit attempt added yet another layer of worries. With the police in Vegas all over the attempt on her life, it was unlikely the two events were connected. She doubted anyone could have followed her movements and her change of identity then arranged a hit attempt in such a short time. Yet the possibility of a connection still gnawed at her. It was way out of the realm of probability, but she couldn’t absolutely rule it out, either. It was too dedicated an attempt. But who had been the actual target?

  Even though all of that was going through her mind as she showered, on another level she was trying every which way to sabotage her growing interest in JD. Playing him was one thing, getting involved with him was another. He was a potential interference to her goals and she had to play the game with him without emotion.

  She never had been very good at keeping her emotions in check.

  A half hour later, she walked into her living room wearing white shorts and a lavender shirt. The cause of half of her worries sat on a kitchen bar stool, looking tired but still awake.

  “I feel so much better. It’s all yours. I left some towels on a hook behind the door.”

  “Thanks.”

  He served her a plate of scrambled eggs and a muffin. The eggs were a little dry, but she was thankful for the food.

  “Looks great. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  He left to take a shower while she ate, alone.

  Before she took her last bite, JD emerged wearing nothing but a white towel. She put her fork down and watched as he walked across the room. She found herself staring at this race driver as if he were some sort of god.

  “Now,” he said, raking his hand through his wet hair, “are you going to be straight with me?”

  She took a sip of coffee for strength. “Yes. As much as I can be.”

  JD sat down on the white sofa. “So, let’s start with your real name. What is it?”

  “That’s not important. What is important is that I’m here because Giambi has something I’m after.”

  “Not the racing team, or the driver.”

  “No.” She could at least be honest about that.

  “Then his suspicions about you were well-founded?”

  “It’s what keeps him alive, his suspicions.”

  “The way you went after that shooter, all that martial arts stuff. Your facility with a gun. Shooting like you’ve been doing that all your life. Cool, giving orders. Who do you work for?”

  “What you need to worry about isn’t who I work for, but what I’m actually doing, because it’s going to have an impact on your future.”

  “Why is it such a big secret?”

  “Because it has to be.”

  JD stared off into space for a moment, then turned and gave her a dead-serious look. “This better be good. Otherwise I’m done with you.”

  “And doing what?”

  “I’m going somewhere safe. Then I’m calling Giambi and letting him know you’re a fake.”

  “This is a two-way street you and I are on,” she explained. “I know a lot more about you and Giambi than you can imagine. And there’s a quid pro quo.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t play games with me. Trusting me will serve your long-term purpose. And I need to trust you.”

  Good, she thought. Now we’re putting this relationship into perspective. This little thing they had going on between
them was a means to an end and she told herself repeatedly to keep it that way.

  She continued, “Let’s understand each other. You’re a racecar driver with a bad temper and a messed up past, trying to get back in the game with the help of a gangster. I’m here to see to it that particular gangster stays alive and gives me some information I need. You can help me and in return I can help you get back behind the wheel.”

  He stared at her, lips clenched skeptically. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his miserable luck. His stare morphed into a glare. “I didn’t know he was mobbed up. I knew he had a past and he’s Italian and all that, but he insists he’s not a gangster.”

  “Whatever he is, he’s very close to being kicked out of Monaco and that is the least of his problems. I really think those guys were after him and not us.”

  “Are you part of his problems?”

  “Maybe the solution to his problems. I’m not in Monaco on vacation or to buy in to a race team. I’m here on an operation. There are only so many things I’m at liberty to tell you. As much for your own good as mine.”

  “Why exactly are you here?”

  “To get some vital information from Giambi that he wouldn’t necessarily be willing to give me. And I need you to help me get it.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Somebody’s blackmailing him. Has been for a long time. Did you know about that?” She stood up, walked over and sat next to him on the sofa.

  “No. I don’t know anything about it. You’re telling me somebody is stupid enough to blackmail a guy like Giambi?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hell, when he picks up the phone, he can have a dozen hit men at his disposal.”

  “I know. He’s had them at his disposal in the past. And one of those hit men may be the origin of his blackmailer. Why do you think he’s out begging for investors? That casino not only generates a ton of legitimate profit, but Giambi also runs millions in laundered money through there. He takes his own cut. Yet he’s always on the verge of financial ruin. Doesn’t that seem a little odd to you?”

  He thought about that for a moment. “I guess I never gave it much thought. It costs a fortune to build and run a racing team. Having investors, sponsors, is just how it’s done.”

  “You need to pay more attention to Giambi’s reality.”

  “Why do you care if he’s being blackmailed? Just who do you represent? You CIA or what?”

  “Let’s just say I’m part of an investigation. We’re not after Giambi. But his past intersected with someone we are very interested in finding. We’re after the people, or person, who’s blackmailing him. When we find out what we want to know, if you cooperate, we can make sure you come out of this with your career ambitions in tact. Did you know about his money laundering?”

  “No. Like I said, I don’t know anything about his financial activities.”

  “When, and if, any of the bad news about these activities gets into the public arena he’s going to have major problems getting established in Eastern Europe, or anywhere else. And your dreams of getting back into Formula One will be over.”

  “I’ll find someone else. Those guys from Hollywood—”

  “They can’t back you. Not enough cash, and no sponsor will want you because you’re connected to Giambi. Face it. If he goes down in flames, you’ll crash and burn with him.”

  JD leaned his head back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “You’re saying I’m finished. No way out?”

  “There’s one way out. If you help me get into his private files.”

  He turned and looked at her. Sincerity on his face. “I was your target right from the beginning, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when he finds out, I’m dead. Or when you get what you want, maybe then I’m dead.”

  “No. Nothing like that.” She stood up and sat in a floral chair across from him.

  “C’mon. We’re being honest here, right? I’m just a means to your end. Any way you look at it, in the end I’m a dead man. Whether it’s the guys who were chasing us, you and whoever you work for, or Giambi and his henchmen—I’m finished.”

  “That’s not how I work. You’ll be protected. In fact, the only way you can come out of this is with my protection.”

  “Why am I less than excited about all of this?”

  “You’re in it now and there’s no way out but for you to trust me. We saved each other last night. We had to trust each other with our lives. I’d say that’s a good start.”

  “Couldn’t you have chosen somebody else? He’s got all kinds of people close to him.”

  “No. Giambi treats you like a son. He’s the king and you live in his castle. You were the perfect choice.”

  “He might treat me like a son, but he trusts no one.”

  JD focused his attention out the window. She didn’t know if he was buying her story, but at this point, he was her only hope.

  “You have access like nobody else. A guy like Giambi doesn’t trust many people. Only those he has a tight hold on, or who have a powerful incentive to be loyal. You have a powerful incentive. As far as he knows, without him, you’re going nowhere.”

  He turned back to Beth. “You say you want to know who’s blackmailing him. Who would care, other than Giambi himself?” He shook his head. “I don’t get any of this.”

  “It’s not important that you understand, just that you help me. I’ll tell you what you need to know, when the time comes. Until then, you’re just going to have to trust me.”

  Her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number that flashed on the tiny screen. She showed it to JD.

  “It’s Giambi,” he said.

  “You answer it. I’ll put it on speaker phone. Just stick to the story. We were chased. We crashed, but got away and now we’re back.”

  JD followed her instruction.

  “Okay, but where are you now?” Giambi asked when JD had finished his story.

  “I’m with Anne here in Monaco.”

  “Well, I’m at the shop looking at my car,” Giambi bellowed. “It’s totaled. A complete goddamn wreck.”

  “They catch the people who chased us?”

  “No. Nobody caught anybody. I was worried somebody might have kidnapped the both of you.”

  “No,” Beth said. “JD held them off. We’re banged-up a little, but that’s all. It was scary.”

  “I imagine it was. We’ll find them. Don’t worry about that.”

  “I hope so,” Beth urged. “They were some evil men.”

  “They cost me one of my prized cars. It’s a damn mess.”

  He went on about the condition of his car, then wanted to know the details of the chase, but Beth cut him off. “We’ll talk about it later. Are the police involved?”

  “Yes. They’re with me now and I have to fill out a report.”

  “Keep us out of it if you can.”

  Giambi hesitated for a moment. “Somebody was driving the damn thing.”

  “You could tell them it was stolen.”

  “I could,” he said slowly.

  “Good. Let’s leave it that way for now. I really don’t need the bad press.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t.”

  She motioned for JD to hang up.

  “Okay, then,” JD said. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  Giambi tried to say something, but JD cut him off and disconnected. “Nobody talks to Giambi that way. He’ll be calling back.”

  “We’re not going to answer. He’ll be out there for a while filling out the report, fretting about his car, right?”

  “Most likely. Why?”

  “We need to go to the casino. I’m moving in with you, remember?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We had a hot night and became fast lovers.”

  “You make me wonder if you’re not a little crazy. And I still have no idea who you are, or what you’re really after. I have no way to know if I can tr
ust you. I’m just as much in the dark as ever. If all you’re doing is trying to find out who’s blackmailing him, why wouldn’t he want to know? And if he does know who it is, why wouldn’t he want you, or whoever you’re connected to, involved?”

  “Many reasons. My knowing would put him in jeopardy with the blackmailer.”

  “And my role in all of this?”

  “I assume he has a private office?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to get in there.”

  “Nobody gets in his office unless he’s in there, except me, on rare occasions.”

  She retrieved her tattered bag from the previous night and pulled out the cloner and antenna. “This tiny antenna and cloner activate and pick up the signal from a card reader. When I was sitting next to Giambi in the piano bar, I downloaded the info from his card. Does he use it to get into his office?”

  “Yes, but now I’m totally screwed,” he said, agitated.

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Giambi will turn on me. When that man turns on somebody, it doesn’t matter if that somebody is a relative or a best friend. He’ll take care of business.” JD grimaced. “Somehow I don’t see myself coming out of this mess alive, no matter what you say.”

  “I promise you, you’ll be fine.”

  JD hesitated for a moment, thinking. Then he asked, “Are you working for somebody trying to take over the casino? The Greek?”

  “No. I’ve told you enough already.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to play along.”

  “Yes. You really don’t have a choice.”

  “What if I cut out? Catch the first plane out of Nice and go back home.”

  “Not an option. If you run, Giambi will be convinced you betrayed him. He’ll send somebody after you. You won’t live long enough to grab a taxi out of the airport.”

  “You’re going to break into his office, into his personal computer. With my help. I don’t see that as a plan with longevity.”

  “JD. I’m sorry for your situation. But you have to trust me when I say I’m going to get you free of what’s going on here. Giambi’s my real target, not you. It’s your only play.”

  His look was sober and less than friendly. “You are going to get me killed.” He grimaced and shook his head despondently. “But before you do I’m going to jump in that pool of yours and try to cool down.”