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Annie turned into the Harvard Arms, an apartment complex aspiring to be a dump with its faded rock-and-cactus garden, cracked windows and peeling paint. The 1992 Toyota she’d paid eight hundred dollars for when they repossessed her Mercedes looked like the newest vehicle in the lot. Annie parked and let the car idle, reluctant to get out.
“Is this where Grandpa lives?” Maddy asked.
“We can’t stay here.” Annie’s stomach soured. This was no place for her little girl. Why couldn’t she get a break?
“Is that Grandpa? He has whiskers.”
Sure enough, Brett trundled down the concrete steps from the second story with a huge smile on his gaunt, wrinkled face. His wavy hair was gray and sparse. The years hadn’t been kind. He looked far older than fifty-five.
“Annie!” He opened her car door, leaving her no choice but to turn off the engine and get out.
Her father grabbed her so tight that Annie felt his breath hitch, as if he might cry. Maybe she’d been wrong to keep her distance all these years…. Her doubt dissipated as her father held her at arm’s length with that half grin he always used to give her just before he announced his latest scheme.
No. Annie had had enough of scheming men.
Her dad released her and opened the rear door, leaning in to see his granddaughter better. “And this must be Maddy. With those blond curls and bright blue eyes, you’re as beautiful as your mother was at your age.” Then her father ruined it by adding, “Do you play cards, Maddy?”
“No.” Annie gave him a scathing look. “No cards.” When his face fell, she had no trouble remembering why she’d kept her distance for six years. She took a deep breath. “Let me look at your place. If it’s fine, I’ll only be gone an hour or two.” She unbuckled Maddy from her car seat. “I hope your bathroom is sanitary.”
“It’s not the Taj Majal, but it’s clean, I swear.” He led them upstairs, smiling in a way that made Annie realize how much this visit meant to him.
To her dismay, she noticed Maddy’s lips moving as she climbed. She was counting the number of stairs to the top. Annie placed her finger briefly on her daughter’s mouth and the little girl pressed her lips together.
“Did you lose the house, Dad?” Annie knew she shouldn’t have bought it for him. She’d hoped her father would have changed. He was probably still hanging out with the same crowd of “could-have-beens” who wagered every nickel on the flip of a card and didn’t seem to care where they lived, what they lost or if they had enough to retire on.
“This is only temporary.” He looked up as a jumbo jet barnstormed Harvard Arms on its way to land at McCarran International Airport and shrugged apologetically. “You get used to that.”
“SORRY, I GOT BACKLOGGED, Carl.” Sam set the stack of candidate files on the man’s desk. Carl Nunes, Slotto’s director of human resources, stared at Sam, who stood like a kid in the principal’s office awaiting sentencing.
“It’s all right. We haven’t gotten the drug testing results back for most of these, anyway.” The fluorescent lighting glinted off Carl’s bald head as he turned the pile around with his short, plump fingers. “I hadn’t realized your stack had gotten so large.”
Like hell he hadn’t. But Sam knew when to keep quiet. He turned away, pretending to admire the photos of Carl’s family on a bookshelf by the door. The older man had three girls with toothy grins. Sam swallowed and sat in one of Carl’s plastic visitor chairs, his back to the bookshelf.
“My practice is more demanding now.” Sam had spent the early part of the week out at Lake Mead with his WaveRunner, practicing jumps.
“Good for you. We’ll always be here for you, Sam…as long as you’re here for us.”
As hints went, it wasn’t very subtle. Sam mumbled something reassuring and stared at his boots. Background checks were a lucrative business Vince had gotten him into after their stint in the war. Too bad Sam had to deal with Mr. College Graduate, I’m-better-than-you types.
If he took that job for Mr. Patrizio—
“Any surprises?”
This was where Sam usually said no, unfolded his invoice, handed it to Carl and bolted for the exit. Carl was so used to the routine that he was already hefting the files onto the credenza behind him.
Sam leaned forward with a creak of plastic. “Actually, there’s a problem with one.”
Carl’s pale forehead wrinkled. “What kind of problem?”
“Annie Raye. She’s got an arrest record.”
“Annie? There must be some mistake.” Carl didn’t need to search for Annie’s file. Sam had kept it on top of the stack. “Everyone loves her. I already approved her moving expenses.”
Damn if Carl didn’t sound like the forgiving type. “She was arrested for embezzling. I think that makes her a bad choice as your new finance director.” Sam pulled the invoice out of his pocket, smoothed out the creases and set it on Carl’s fake-wood desktop. “Should I pick up more files from Winona on my way out?”
“YOU HAVE THREE DOORS in this house.” Maddy looked up with big, blue unblinking eyes from the ball of Play-Doh she was rolling. Her short blond hair curled around her ears with a wildness reminiscent of Annie’s at that age.
“Have you started school?” Brett asked, unable to stop smiling. His granddaughter was as sharp as a tack.
“I went for thirty-three days before we left to come here. I was in Mrs. Guichard’s kindergarten class. We had twenty-one chairs in room sixteen.” She fluffed up her cotton dress before studying him again as if he were a lab specimen. “You have a lot of whiskers. So many I don’t think I could count them all.” Maddy reached up and touched his stubbled cheek, her fingers soft and warm.
Brett chuckled. He could listen to her talk all day. And if he played his cards right, he’d be able to. “I bet you learned a lot in room sixteen.” And taught her teacher a thing or two.
Maddy nodded. “We learned about numbers and counting. How come I haven’t seen you before?”
Brett swallowed past a lump in his throat. “You lived so far away.”
“We have eight houses on our street. You never came to visit, even at Christmas. I would remember.”
Annie hadn’t wanted him to come. He’d only visited her once after she’d been married. Brett might have screwed up his relationship with Annie, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. “The important thing is that you’re here now.”
His cell phone chimed.
“Where are you? I went by your house and you weren’t there.” Ernie’s anger vibrated through the phone.
Brett rented cheap, furnished apartments close to the Strip when he was working. He paid cash for the temporary space and registered under a different name. He’d been living in this dump for nearly a week. Being a career cardsharp was hard. If a casino identified him he’d be out of the game for good—banned with the aid of a security program that identified his features for the larger casinos, and a newsletter distributed to the smaller gaming houses.
“I needed a day off.” Brett tried to sound casual. He and his friends had just ten more days to raise twenty thousand dollars. He didn’t have time to sit and fiddle with Play-Doh, but he couldn’t let this opportunity with Maddy and Annie pass, either.
“Grandpa, I need yours.” Maddy stretched out her hand and waved it. He’d been helping her make a string of Play-Doh pearls on the coffee table.
“Who’s there with you?”
“No one.” Brett handed Maddy the dough ball and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. “It’s the TV.”
“Grandpa?” In the ensuing silence, Brett hoped he’d lost the connection. “She came back, didn’t she?”
“No.” Brett denied it too quickly. He’d wanted to ask Annie to help the moment she arrived, but she’d made it clear she disapproved of anything to do with cards. He clutched the small cell phone tighter. Although they could use her help, Brett didn’t want to risk losing her again. “Annie quit, remember? She won’t help us.”
“You shouldn’t assume anything. Chauncey needs this.”
Brett snapped the cell phone closed and returned to the living room. Chauncey might need money, but Brett needed his daughter back in his life. It was selfish of him to have wanted to see Annie again and to meet his granddaughter, foolish to think they could try to build a relationship when he’d agreed to such high stakes.
“How about an ice cream?”
“Isn’t Mommy going to be home soon?”
But Brett didn’t answer. He was too busy grabbing his car keys.
“I FAILEDMY BACKGROUND check?” Annie’s fingers were so numb from clasping her hands together, it was hard to believe it was a balmy eighty-degree October day.
“Annie, the committee made its final review of your application.” Carl paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, we’ve decided to pursue another candidate because of this blip in your background check.”
“What?” She barely had enough breath in her lungs to question the decision. “You said the job was mine. I packed up and moved.”
“I’m sorry. We’ll reimburse your expenses, but we can’t offer you the job.” His voice had lost its usual warmth and he wouldn’t look her in the eye.
The shock of losing something she’d thought was hers, had based so many life-changing decisions on and looked forward to, left Annie speechless. She’d sold everything of value Frank hadn’t already pawned or the courts hadn’t taken, and left Los Angeles with two hundred dollars and barely enough possessions to fill two suitcases. She’d thought she couldn’t sink any lower.
“You’re a qualified individual,” Carl was saying, when Annie’s mind was capable of comprehending. “I’m sure you’ll find something else soon.”
“There must be some mistake. May I see the report, please?” At least then she’d know why she’d failed. But really, there was only one reason not to hire her. She suspected she hadn’t run far enough away from Frank and the mess he’d made of her life.
“We don’t give out that information.” But Annie noticed a company logo on a piece of paper on top of a file with her name on the tab—an invoice from Sam Knight Investigations.
When she arrived, there’d been a tall man outside waiting for Winona to give him something. He’d had thick black hair and a face with features that probably inspired plenty of female fantasies, despite the gaunt look in his eyes, rumpled khakis and a well-worn polo shirt. He’d looked like an unscrupulous private investigator standing at the edge of a sea of sad gray cubicles. The secretary may have even called him Sam.
“I need this job, Carl. I can do good things for Slotto.” Annie smoothed her skirt and tried to compose herself, tried to sound like the qualified, unruffled businesswoman she’d been before Frank was arrested. “If there’s been a mistake, you’d still hire me, right?”
“Of course, if there’s been a mistake—”
“I’m sure there has been.” Standing, Annie cut Carl off. She was just desperate enough to face Sam Knight and get the truth out of him. If only he hadn’t left yet…
SAM PULLED A HOT DOG from the warming rack at the 7-Eleven across the street from Slotto, feeling pretty damn good about the morning.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, buster,” a woman next to him said. Sam had been called much worse than buster by more threatening babes, but this taunt threw him for a loop. The woman looked like a petite Swedish schoolteacher. Short ruffled blond hair, boring if well-filled suit, plenty of leg, pearls around her neck. Just the right combination of good girl and sex appeal.
Sam turned his back on her and filled a soda cup with ice.
She sidled closer to him, invading his personal space, whispering as if what she had to say was for his ears only. “You’re a disgrace to…to…the private investigator profession…and men in general.”
Wait a minute. He remembered seeing her in the reception area of Slotto. “Lady—”
“My name is Annie Raye. Ring any bells?”
She was sexier than he’d expected, the kind of woman who was hot and didn’t know it. He disliked her all over again. “How did you…? What are you…?” Smooth, Knight. He filled his cup with Pepsi.
Annie looked him up and down. “You deep-sixed my background check and I want to know why.”
He used to be polished with the ladies, in control, on top…or whatever position suited him. But that was before Iraq. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
She glared at him. Given her Hilary Clinton suit, she probably thought men could actually ignore her well-proportioned body and take her seriously. “How long did it take you to do my background check? A week? A day?”
He wasn’t going to admit fifteen minutes. But it had been one of the most enjoyable fifteen minutes he’d spent in a long time.
“That’s what I thought. You should spend more time getting the answers right. Now, call up Carl Nunes and let’s straighten this mess out.”
“You didn’t pass the screen,” Sam said lamely. What was wrong with him? He tried to sound firm. “There is no recount, no redo, no make goods. Not for embezzlers.”
“My husband…” Her cheeks lost some of their color. “My ex-husband is the crook. I was booked on suspicion, but no charges were ever filed against me. Didn’t your so-called background check pick that up? There’s no reason Slotto shouldn’t hire me.” Annie glowered at him, but the look was ruined by the bedroom huskiness of her voice as she whispered, “In fact, it’s illegal for you to even use that information against me.”
“It’s illegal in California, but we’re much more lenient in Nevada, sweetheart.”
She made a huffing noise. “That’s not a good enough reason, darling.”
He stared at her a moment, then cleared his throat. “How about this? Your father is a professional gambler, and probably a petty crook who hasn’t yet been caught scamming tourists.” There was no way Annie Raye could work in any field even remotely connected to gambling when her father made his less-than-successful living playing cards.
“Slotto doesn’t want to hire my dad.” She pushed out her lower lip, which was pink, plump and tempting.
Annie Raye represented everything a man wanted. Spunky, pretty with a cute little figure—all wrapped up in that virginal package that said home-cooking and flowered sheets. No wonder Carl Nunes had been fooled. But she couldn’t put one over on Sam.
He finally came to his senses and headed to the cashier.
Annie lacked the bravado to stand in his way, but she doggedly trailed after him. “I packed everything I own in my car, left at five this morning and drove four hours to get here. And do you know why?”
“No, and I don’t care. Go peddle your résumé somewhere else. I need breakfast.”
“A hot dog and a soda? No wonder you look like a truck ran you over.”
His hot dog was no longer hot. Wearily, Sam turned back to her. “You might get better results explaining all this to Carl or a reporter. Maybe Slotto is the type of company that would hire you just to escape bad press. Of course, you’d have to be willing to bare your soul and your past. But, hey, Vegas loves gamblers, right?” He found himself caught in her vivid blue gaze. There was more than anger in her eyes. There was fear, as well.
Sam may not have discovered all the skeletons in Annie Raye’s closet.
CHAPTER TWO
WHY COULDN’T SAM KNIGHT have been an old, cigarette-smoking P.I. Annie could easily charm? Instead, he was intimidatingly tall, with long limbs that outpaced and outreached a height-challenged woman like herself. His haunted green eyes hid a stubborn streak Annie hadn’t been able to break. And she didn’t want to acknowledge the solid curve of his biceps beneath the short sleeves of his shirt or the way her heart ka-thumped when his studied gaze roved beyond her face.
With one eye on Sam’s big black truck in front of her, Annie dug her phone out of her purse and called her dad. “May I speak to Maddy?”
“We’re doing fine, honey. How are things with you on the job?”
“Fine,” she lied. It wouldn’t be a lie when she convinced Sam to change his mind. “Is that…are you in a car?” Annie had to accelerate to keep up with Sam through a yellow light. “I forbid you to take Maddy to a card game.” Her father knew nothing about parental limits.
“We’re just going for ice cream. No cards for this little girl. I promise. Ain’t that right, puddin’?”
Annie’s heart lurched. He used to call her that. Back then she’d adored her dad and couldn’t wait to do whatever he asked. “Let me talk to Maddy.”
“I can’t turn this girl into a cardsharp in one afternoon, Annie,” he said, as if reading her mind. “And I’m not going to try. Here, talk to her.”
“Mommy, we’re going for ice cream.” Maddy’s excitement bubbled through the cell phone.
“Is everything okay, sweetie?”
“Yes, Mommy. We’re having fun. Grandpa borrowed a car seat from the lady who lives under him.”
Her dad said something Annie didn’t catch.
“Grandpa says I can hold the cell phone and call you anytime, okay?”
