“Ask for her cell number,” Faye suggested helpfully.
Not.
Owen watched her with a narrowed, steely glare and she gave as good as she got. Then, so fast she might’ve missed it, something else flickered in the depths of his brown eyes.
Not annoyance. Not suspicion. Desire.
Her already erratic heartbeat went haywire.
Alison looked away quick, afraid he might glimpse the same emotion in her stare.
Time to go.
She stood and gathered her chips with all the dignity of a queen. “Then I suppose I won’t play in your casino anymore this evening.”
“Hang on, Chica,” Faye said. “You haven’t finished this hand.”
The turn of the card revealed the Queen of Hearts.
With Alison’s King and Ace, that gave her twenty-one.
Well, shit.
She glanced up at Owen Rockford once more and saw him frowning down at her winning hand.
Right. Most definitely time to go.
Alison snatched up her new winnings, shoved them in her purse and fled from the table as if the hounds of hell were hot on her heels. Given the harsh sound of Owen’s voice as he called after her, they very well could’ve been.
She’d always believed in luck.
Tonight, however, it seemed her luck had just run out.
* * *
Owen sat on his stool, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“No.” Faye cleared the table from the last hand. “Why?”
He arched a brow, silent.
“You mean her?” Faye cocked her head toward the direction where the woman had just fled. “Sorry. She’s not usually like that.”
“You know her pretty well then?”
Faye met his eyes. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Rockford?”
He slid her “Closed” sign into the center of the table and gestured for Faye to follow him. “I think we should talk. In my office.”
Her tone defeated, she followed him. “Yes, Mr. Rockford.”
He couldn’t imagine Faye being involved in her friend’s scheme. Hell, she’d worked at the Lucky Ace for years, had seniority and benefits. It would be stupid for her to jeopardize all that for a lousy swindle. Still, she had information on the gorgeous cheat.
Information he intended to get.
They stopped outside his office door while he swiped his key. The minute he opened the door however, Peaches rushed out, tackling him to the wall with slobbery dog kisses. Damn. He’d forgotten about Shelby dropping the dog off. He pushed Peaches off and took a hold of her collar, grumbling. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”
Chuckling, Faye knelt to pet the dog. “What do you mean? She’s adorable.”
“Take her home, if you want.”
“Can’t.” Faye laughed as Peaches showered her with kisses too. “My landlord doesn’t allow pets.’
“Hmm.” He led the dog and Faye inside his office then shut the door. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” She took one of the chairs in front of his desk while he took a seat behind it. The dog trotted over and made herself comfortable on a towel Shelby had apparently left behind. “So.”
“So.” Faye glanced over at Peaches, who stared at Owen with pure puppy love. “Aw. I hope you two will be very happy together.”
“Funny. Listen, don’t start with me, all right? This is serious, Faye. From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re in cahoots with a felon.”
“Excuse me?” She wrinkled her nose. “You mean Alison? No way. She’s not a felon.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she’s not.”
Peaches whined and he made the mistake of glancing over and next thing he knew, Owen had a lap full of drooling dog and a persistent paw batting his leg for attention. Not exactly helpful toward the ‘stern boss’ look he was going for. “How well do you know this Alison?”
“Well enough.”
“What’s her full name?”
“Alison James.”
“She live her in Vegas?”
“Yes.”
“Age?’
“Twenty-eight.” Faye frowned. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Mr. Rockford?”
“You? Nothing. Yet.”
“But you think my friend’s done something wrong?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I see.” From her now prickly demeanor, she didn’t appreciate his inquires. “I don’t like this line of questioning. I’m not a rat, and I don’t feel comfortable handing out other people’s personal information. If you want details, I suggest you contact Alison directly.”
He was about to tell her that was exactly what he’d like to do, but his cell phone started buzzing in his pocket.
“Hold on.” Cursing, he held up a finger while he pulled it out and saw Shelby’s photo. Great. This dog was about to drive him crazy and they hadn’t even spent one full night together. “Tell me you’re still here at the casino.”
“Hello to you too, Owen,” Shelby said, all sunshine and snark.
“Shelby…” He put all the dire warning he could muster into his tone, not easy with a persistent mutt growling for his attention. “Look, I need you to come get Peaches. I know I said I’d try it for a couple of days, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”
“What? Why not? Seriously, Owen, you can’t just return her like a pair of bowling shoes.”
“She’s interfering with my work. I’m trying to have a serious discussion with an employee and she won’t stop bugging me for attention.” As if on cue, Peaches batted him once more, this time hard on the thigh and narrowly missing a very important, very sensitive spot. Owen caught her paw and kept ahold, giving the pooch a dark glower. “No. Bad girl.”
Shelby continued, unaware. “I left a towel. If she’s misbehaving, order her back to it. She’s very obedient.”
He tried and failed. Peaches remained steadfastly at his feet.
“Please. I really can’t right now.”
“Fine.” Shelby sighed. “I’m at the shelter, but I’ll come all the way back and get her if you really can’t take her right now. I’m not shredding your paperwork though. This is only a temporary hold. I still think you guys would be great for each other and I plan to have you try this again later. Agreed?”
Resigned, he hung his head. “Agreed.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Owen hung up and stared down at a now quiet and forlorn-looking Peaches. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s not you, it’s me.”
Faye snorted from across the desk. “I’ve heard that one before too, girl. Don’t buy it for a second. Look, can I go now, Mr. Rockford?”
From her belligerent expression, he’d gotten about all he’d get from Faye tonight. “Fine. But I will be investigating your friend, and her spontaneous winning streak.”
“She's not cheating. I would know if she was and I wouldn't be friends with any cheat. But she's a math whiz.” Faye tapped the side of her head. “She's smarter than most, so plays better than most.”
Owen's eyes narrowed. “Card counting?” Counting cards in your head wasn't illegal, but it gave players a distinct advantage and was highly discouraged in the casino.
Faye shrugged. “I don't know what she's doing. You'd have to ask her yourself.”
Faye left without another word and Peaches whacked him on the leg again, looking toward the door then him again.
“What is it now, huh? You need to go out?”
The dog stood up and danced around excitedly.
“Okay.” He grabbed the leash Shelby had left on the desk and clipped it to Peaches’ collar. “All right, girl. Let’s do this so I can get back to work.”
They ducked out of the office and headed through the back service halls to the side employee entrance and the alleyway beyond. There, the dog tugged him down the dark street to the employee parking lot and a patch of grass. While she relieved herself,
Owen looked around absently, his mind busy trying to figure out how he could find out more about his crafty new cheater, Alison James.
Beneath the orange glow of a streetlight in the distance, a figure seated on a bench near the bus hut caught his attention. A figure with long red curls tied back in a ponytail and a form-hugging black suit.
Her. It’s her.
His blood thudded thick through his veins and his body went on high-alert. While he watched, Alison pulled a manila envelope from beneath the bench and tucked it inside her jacket.
His breath hitched, caught, rushed out in a loud exhale.
Damn.
Seems his sexy little cheater had a whole lot more going on than just counting cards.
* * *
Alison pressed the envelope tighter to her side and stared straight ahead at the busy street in front of her. She still couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched, even though she’d left her handsome henchman back inside the casino. The knowing look in his warm brown eyes had indicated he had far more information about her than he let on and that scared her more than she could say.
Was he working for the people she was running from? Did he discover what happened in her past?
No. How could he?
She sighed and crossed her legs. She was being ridiculous. There was no way a casino boss like Owen Rockford would have access to that kind of top-secret information.
Still, he suspected she was up to something. Something bad.
On edge, she decided to walk instead of waiting for the next bus back to her apartment.
As the distance between herself and The Lucky Ace increased, the knots of tension between her shoulder blades eased. Several blocks away and after a quick glance around to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she slipped the envelope from inside her jacket once more and ripped open the top. Inside was a single folded sheet of paper with a message typed across it. The message was chatty, friendly. If anyone read it they would think it was a message from one friend to another catching up on daily life. But to Alison, it was much more than that. Skimming it, she searched for the secret words of warning:
It’s sunny in Seattle.
Nothing. Not a mention of Seattle or the weather at all.
Good.
Her stiff posture relaxed as she tore the letter into pieces and tossed it in a nearby trashcan then continued on home. She was still safe. The past hadn’t caught up with her.
Yet.
No doubt it would someday though. How could it not? Not with billions of pharmaceutical dollars on the line, not to mention patient’s lives. All because of one error. An error she’d discovered and taken to her boss at Copernatech, only to find her concerns dismissed.
She waited at the corner for the light to change, hiding in plain sight amidst the tourists and partiers out for a good time. Maybe she should never have gone to that reporter with the information—information that would’ve brought Copernatech to its knees. Thinking back, it probably hadn’t been her smartest move, but she couldn’t let all those innocent people die because of a mathematical mistake.
No. This way, only one person had died so far. The reporter. A suicide, the coroner had ruled, but Alison knew better. That hadn’t been a suicide, that had been murder.
Murder by a pharmaceutical company that would do anything to remain profitable.
So much for her extraordinary math skills earning her a good living. Instead they'd been the reason she'd found the error in the first place—most people wouldn't have had the expertise to catch it—and that had almost cost her her life. Still might, if she wasn't careful.
“Excuse me. Sorry.” A tourist jostled her in their haste to cross the street, jarring her from her thoughts. She hustled across Las Vegas Boulevard along with the rest of the crowd then headed south toward the basement apartment she rented from her kindly little old landlady, Ms. Baker.
Alison took one last look back at the flashing neon lights of the Fremont Street Experience as she left. This sure as hell wasn’t where she’d pictured herself in five years. Back before Copernatech, she’d planned to get a secure job, buy a house of her own, find a good man and get married.
Now?
She snorted and kept moving, focusing on the sidewalk beneath her feet. Well, now she just kept running, kept hiding, kept avoiding detection to stay alive for as long as she could. After the drug company had broken into her place and stolen her research, she knew there was nowhere safe to hide, no one safe in which to confide. Her life these days had become an endless blur of temporary havens, temporary people, temporary lies.
A niggle of unease bored into her newfound relaxation.
Maybe I’ve stayed here too long. Maybe it’s time I moved on again.
Her pulse beat in time with her footsteps as the crowds thinned and residential lawns and fenced in yards took over. Birds called in the cool night air and the smell of fresh-cut grass and fertilizer tickled her nose. Honestly, she’d stayed here longer than anywhere else in the past eighteen months, hoping to build a nice nest egg for herself with her gambling winnings, something to sustain her when the time came for going seriously underground. Unfortunately, after what had happened tonight at the Lucky Ace, she was starting to think it might be time to skip town again.
Unexpected sadness welled at the thought of leaving the only friend she had these days.
Faye Wagner.
Always bubbly, always happy, always there to lend support.
Scowling, Alison crossed the final street and headed toward a non-descript beige house near the far corner of the cul-de-sac. Staying would only endanger both of them. If it was truly time to go, then she needed to do it. Fast and furious, like ripping off a bandage. It would take her a few days, maybe a week, to settle all of her affairs here and erase any tracks she might have inadvertently left behind, then yeah.
Time to go.
Definitely.
Thankfully, at least according to Caroline Biggs—her contact inside Copernatech and the sender of the letter—she still had time to spare.
Three
Five days later, Owen sat in the viewing room of his office going over the security tapes from the past week for at least the trillionth time. He’d need a new set of bionic eyes after watching all this crap over and over again, not to mention a lobotomy.
Alison James had been up to something the night he’d met her at the casino. All of his military-trained instincts screamed there was more to her than met the eye. But if she was a cheater, as Blake claimed, she sure as hell wasn’t very good at it. At least not based on what he’d seen on tape.
Exhaling loud, he scrubbed a hand over his face and went over the payout reports again. Sure, she’d won several times, more than most, but never in large amounts. He flipped a couple of pages ahead and scanned the columns of numbers. Or maybe his figures hadn’t captured all the tables she’d played at either.
And then there was that business with the envelope under the bench. Did that have something to do with the casino cheating? Was she part of some sort of ring that communicated with notes under public benches? He supposed it was possible. There had to be more to the cheating, because from what he could tell Alison wasn't winning the kind of money that Blake had indicated the casino was being cheated out of.
Head aching and vision blurry, he set the spreadsheets aside again an hour later. God, he hated math more than root canals. Still, the answers lurked somewhere in these tallies and totals. Pressing on his throbbing temples to relieve the pain, he closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair. What he needed was a resident egghead to handle all these calculations, someone who lived and breathed equations, someone to help him discern the identity of the real culprit.
His phone buzzed on the desktop and he squinted an eye open to see a picture of Peaches’ goofy grin, her tongue lolling out of one side of her mouth, and a message, courtesy of Shelby:
I Miss You. <3
Shit.
He swiped the message away to dism
iss it. A pet was yet another thing he couldn’t deal with at present. Having Peaches would only distract him from his work and right now, his work was what kept him sane, kept him going.
Speaking of work…
He sat forward and grabbed the phone, punching Blake’s speed dial button.
“Any luck finding out more information on Alison?” he asked once Blake answered.
“Do you have any idea how many people are named Alison James in Nevada? I sure as hell didn’t, until now.” Blake made some indecipherable sounds that Owen could only hope were directed toward Blake’s constant companion, Henry, before continuing their conversation. “If you want me to find out anything useful, I’ll need more than her name. Birth date, hometown, something.”
“Damn.” Owen rubbed his eyes. “Don’t have any of that.”
“Great.” Blake’s flat tone inferred the opposite. “Well, I’ll keep looking, but it’ll be difficult. And what the hell is up with having me put guards on a bus hut bench? Way to waste man hours, bud.”
“It’s not a waste, all right?” Owen sighed and sat forward. “The other night when I went out to walk Peaches I saw Alison there. She grabbed an envelope from underneath the bench. It must be some kind of drop off point. Not sure how frequently it’s used or even what it’s used for. Hell, maybe it was only a one-time thing.” He scowled, realizing how absurd the whole thing must sound. “I just have this feeling it’s worth doing some surveillance, okay?”
“Who’s Peaches?”
“What?”
“Peaches. Sounds like a stripper.” Owen could feel The Hurt through the phone line. “Are you dating a stripper? Because I’ve warned you about this shit and—”
“Hell, no. I’m not dating anyone, all right? It’s this temporary adoption thing Shelby wanted me to try, but I’m not doing it anymore. Not right now anyway.”
“Peaches is a thing?”
“Forget it.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Blake’s suspicious tone was soon replaced by sarcasm. “Anything else I can help you with tonight?”
Calculating Desires (The Rockford Security Series Book 4) Page 3
