Power Play

“Breaded, deep fried? Marinara sauce on the side?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Sweet,” he said. “Let’s go. Different shoes, I see.”

Her black skirt and brown hiking boots weren’t a fashion statement but she didn’t care. She was a geologist. Definitely more at home in boots than heels. “The other are in my backpack,” she said. They walked at an easy pace down the sidewalk that was much less crowded than it had been at five when she’d come to work but still had a fair amount of foot traffic. Vegas never really did sleep, with most of the casinos open 24/7.

He easily moved around her, taking a position on the sidewalk closest to the traffic. It reminded her that her dad always did that—told her once, when she was just a little girl, that a gentleman always walked on that side. It was only later that she’d learned the custom was a throwback to earlier days when wagons would slosh through the street, striking potholes filled with muddy water, and gentlemen took the brunt of it to protect their women from getting their long dresses ruined.

She didn’t want him to be a gentleman. She wanted him to be a jerk.

It took just minutes to reach Jada’s, and Trey held the door open for her. This wasn’t the kind of place with a hostess, but rather, guests found an available spot and settled in. As late as it was, most of the tables were full. There was one up front, near where the band was playing, and she led Trey in that direction.

“This work?” she asked.

“Perfect. Cheese sticks and Billy Joel. What’s better than that?”

Not the real Billy Joel, but rather a piano player giving it his best with a young woman singing.

“I don’t recognize the song,” she said, reaching for a menu that was in the middle of the table.

“‘This Night’ off his An Innocent Man album. Early to mid-1980s.” He held up a finger. “Here it comes.”

She listened. “Nice,” she said.

“More than that. That right there was based off Beethoven’s Sonata Pathétique. Billy Joel gave credit where credit was due in the album notes.”

His comment made her remember something that she hadn’t thought of since she was a kid. “When Anthony came home at Christmas his sophomore year, he, of course, talked a lot about college. Said it was going good but that his new roommate’s music was driving both him and Rodney crazy. Said it was CC all day long. Our mom, who to this day lives for rock and roll said, ‘I love Creedence Clearwater.’ Anthony practically rolled on the floor. When he stopped laughing, he said, ‘No, Mom. Classical crap.’”

Trey laughed and she realized that if he was handsome when he was somber, he was almost magnetic when he laughed. It reminded her of how Anthony had talked about his good friend Trey, who had women practically falling over themselves to get his attention.

She wasn’t going to be suckered in.

The waitress approached with water glasses. Trey ordered a burger and cheese sticks; she ordered a turkey and bacon croissant with a side of sweet potato fries.

“How did the rest of your night go?” he asked.

“Good. We were really busy, which always makes the time go faster.”

“I hear that you’ve got a good chef. Vegas has a bunch of those now. All the foodies are happy.”

“He’s a little volatile,” she said, smiling. “I like Armand, I really do. But he can get into a snit when customers complain. I don’t have to deal with it much since I primarily serve drinks.”

“Customers can be tough,” he said. “The other day I had a really unhappy guy. Said I made his property too secure.”

“Why would he say that?”

“Because he set off the silent alarm when he was sneaking out and didn’t realize it. His wife, who was sleeping, got the telephone call from the automated system. Since she was up, she decided to follow him. Right to his mistress’s condo.”

She laughed and he reached out a hand. “Let’s dance,” he said.

That would be a mistake. But she didn’t want to make a scene or do anything that would make him think she was suspicious. He was her brother’s best friend. The reasonable thing to do was dance with him.

She pushed her chair back, securing her backpack strap under the leg. And when she got on the dance floor, she made sure she could see their table.

“Afraid somebody is going to steal your shoes?” he teased.

She shrugged.

“They are pretty remarkable,” he added, then sighed. He pulled her into his arms.

She couldn’t answer. Her head was whirling. She was a physical scientist—a geologist. She understood many things. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out the energy field that seemed to pop up when she stepped into his arms.

He didn’t hold her too close but he was confident. Within a couple minutes, two other couples joined them.

“See, somebody just needs to get it going,” he said, his lips close to her ear. Her whole body hummed in response. She was five-seven but he still had at least five inches on her, making her head fit nicely under his chin. The music changed and he easily shifted tempo, slowing it down.

“I’m pretty sure they played this at my senior prom,” he said, his voice amused.

This song she recognized. Who wouldn’t? “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion. She’d been in middle school when Rose and Jack had sailed the ill-fated Titanic. “I loved that movie.”

“Of course you did,” he said easily.

Another couple edged onto the tiny dance floor. As she and Trey rocked back and forth, she told herself to breathe. Just breathe. Then realized that was a mistake when she drew his clean soap smell into her lungs.

“Who did you take to senior prom?” she asked, desperate to think and talk about something mundane. Anything so she didn’t focus on how good it felt to be dancing with Trey.

“Tracy Jones,” he said.

“Trey and Tracy. Cute. What happened to Tracy Jones?” she asked.

He smiled. “I’m not sure. We broke up that summer.”

“Haven’t seen her at any class reunions?”

“Never been to one,” he said. “Haven’t been back to Texas for many years.”

She loved going home. Loved getting to see her mom. “What’s your hometown?” she asked.

“San Antonio.”

“I love the River Walk. So much fun to take a stroll. Everywhere you look, people are having drinks or dinner or listening to music.”

“Easy place to lose yourself for a couple hours. When I enlisted, basic training was just around the corner at Lackland. So I became the unofficial tour guide to the city once other airmen found out it was my hometown.”

“I’ll bet your parents were glad to have you close again.”

“Parent. Raised by a single mom.”

“I see.” She had been, too. Because a drug-seeking addict had decided to rob a grocery store and had shot her dad when he’d responded to the call. “Did your dad...um...die?”

He shook his head. “Divorced. Still alive, at least I think he is. But my mom passed away when I was twenty-five. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She’d lost a parent. By the sounds of it, he’d lost both of his, one to death and the other to absence. “When’s the last time you saw your dad?”

“I don’t know. Couple years ago.” She felt the change in his body and when he missed a step, she knew that while his tone suggested that he couldn’t care less, Trey did indeed care.

She wondered if she should apologize for bringing up the subject, but just then, the server delivered their food to their table. They took their seats. She looped her backpack over her knee again. Trey lifted his plate in her direction. “Cheese stick?”

She started to reach for one and he pulled his plate away. “Are you crazy?” he joked.

She smiled, relieved that the awkward moment on the dance floor was over. “I’ll trade you five sweet potato fries for one cheese stick.”

He lifted his plate again. “I appreciate a woman who drives a hard bargain.”

They made the switch. She bit into her sandwich. Chewed. Swallowed. “So, tell me about the interest in classical music,” she said.

“It’s probably not all that different than people who gravitate toward jazz or the blues. I like most music. I just really happen to like classical.”

“Do you play an instrument?”

“Does the trombone in middle school count?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then, no. Well, that’s not true. I’ve taught myself how to play the keyboard. It’s pretty easy. All kinds of tutorials online.”

“Favorite composer?”

He chewed. “Impossible to answer. I have a few favorite pieces, of course. Schubert’s Ninth Symphony, Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto. How about you?”

“I’m woefully ignorant,” she said. “But I do love Canon in D by Pachelbel. Hailey walked down the aisle to that and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more lovely.”

“I was sorry to miss the wedding. But I couldn’t get leave. I did—” he stopped and smiled “—have a little input on the music so I’m glad to hear that it resonated with you.”

He seemed genuinely touched that she’d remembered the music. This was crazy. If Trey was part of it, she had no business being here. Wasn’t sophisticated enough or devious enough to banter back and forth without making a mistake and saying something that would get her into trouble.

It Trey wasn’t part of it, that was equally as bad. She couldn’t pick a worse time to become romantically involved with someone.

She took two more bites of her sandwich but then stopped. It hurt to swallow, to get the food past the lump in her throat.

“Food okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just not as hungry as I thought.” The anxiety that she had mostly managed to keep at bay for the last several days seemed to take on new life. She pushed her chair back. “You know, I should go.”

“But we’re not done eating,” he said, looking very puzzled.

“Yeah, I know. You go ahead and finish.”

He studied her, then took the napkin off his lap and deliberately wiped his hands. Then tossed it onto the table. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”

“No,” she said, too loudly, getting attention from the next table. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m going to make sure you get to your car safely,” he said. He threw enough bills on the table to cover their meals and a generous tip. They walked out of the restaurant and walked in silence.

“Careful,” he said.

She wasn’t quick enough to sidestep the puddle of dirty water that had pooled in a low spot near a flowering planter that had been overwatered. The water soaked into the bottom and sides of her boot. She kept walking. And within minutes, they reached the garage. “I’m right there,” she said, pointing to her Toyota that was parked maybe a hundred feet away.

“Okay.” He stayed by her side, until she got close enough to open the door. “Look,” he said. “I’m not sure what just—”

Her chest felt tight, as if it was hard to breathe. “What just happened is that I wised up. Listen, this is a bad idea.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Look, this might be a little weird with you being Anthony’s sister. But I’m attracted to you. I’d like to get to know you better.”

She shook her head. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “Earlier you said something about Anthony being jealous of my life. Your brother, he’s a great guy, but he can exaggerate. He’s got some crazy idea that I’m...”

“A stud?” she finished.

The parking lot was lit well enough that she could see the red creep up his neck.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “And if that’s what this is about, I’d like to offer a different perspective.”

He looked so uncomfortable that she almost relented. But that would be terribly foolish. This man had been Rodney Ballure’s roommate. For all she knew, they still hung out together.

“I’m not afraid of your reputation,” she said. “I’m just not interested.” She opened her car door, got in and shut the door. He made no move to stop her.

She started her car and drove away. When she looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, watching her.

Minutes later, she realized that she was shaking as she navigated the strip. Not because she’d been afraid of Trey. No, even though she suspected his motives, she hadn’t felt the least bit physically afraid of him. He’d seemed genuinely puzzled that she’d busted out of there.

The shaking came from the knowledge that she had absolutely no idea who she could trust. It made her crazy. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. It was so unfair that she’d stumbled upon a land mine through no fault of her own. And now she had to see it through.

She took a moment to breathe deeply. In and out. Five counts to each breath. After a minute or so, she felt better. More in control. She hung on to the steering wheel with both hands.

Lately she’d had a couple very intense panic attacks and they’d scared the hell out of her. The shaking, the not being able to catch her breath, the pounding headache.

The feeling afterward that she might just be quietly going crazy.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at the number. Miguel. He sometimes needed a ride to work and was good about arranging it in advance. It was not out of her way and she was happy to do it. But now, she let it go to voice mail. She’d call him back after a few hours of sleep. She felt unsettled enough that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

She lived north of the city, not quite in North Las Vegas, which was a separate town, but close. In twelve minutes, she pulled into her parking spot, in the eight-stall carport at the rear of the building. Everybody was tucked in beside her. She squeezed into her space, wishing the guy next to her had paid a little more attention to the lines.

Trivial things to worry about, a dent here or there. Her Toyota was eleven years old. Who cared about another scratch or two? She really just wanted it to keep running for another few years.

She got out, hitched her backpack over one shoulder and walked quickly toward the building. Heard a twig snap behind her and felt her heart jump in her chest. She whirled, saw nothing, but she still took off running toward her building. Fumbled with her key but managed to get it in the door. Whipped it open.

Pulled it shut behind her. Tried to catch her breath.

She was being ridiculous. She’d lived in this apartment for months and there’d been absolutely no hint of trouble. It was a very safe area. She was paying a premium for rent but it had been important to Anthony that she live in a secure building that had off-street parking.

She took the elevator to the second floor. As was her habit, she glanced out the window at the end of the hallway. Street side, there was an ornamental plum tree in bloom that the landlord lit up with a spotlight. It was lovely when she went by in the car but from above, the pink flowers and dark red leaves were majestic.

She stepped back fast and her heart was back to beating triple time. Rodney Ballure was down there, leaning up against a dark-colored car. She was sure he had not been there when she’d turned into the driveway. He had a phone in his hand.

It didn’t mean that he was a danger to her.

But there was absolutely no reason for her boss to come to her apartment in the middle of the night. No reason except for the information that she had in her backpack.

She wanted to run inside her apartment and hide under the bed. But she could smell the faint odor of smoke. None of her neighbors smoked—the landlord was a freak about it. Wouldn’t rent to a smoker.

But somebody could easily have a visitor who had lit up. Her door was shut—it did not look tampered with.

Was she being crazy?

Maybe. But a nagging little voice in her head warned her that she could not afford to make a mistake. She quietly opened the stairway door. Ran down to the first floor. Eased open the side door.

She had her keys. She could try for her car. But Rodney would hear the engine, would see her leave the driveway. If he followed, she was confident that she didn’t have the driving skills to outrun a determined pursuer.

Screw the car. There was another way. She crossed the yard between her building and the one next door at a full run. Got to the far side of that building and stopped. She was gulping in the cold night air. She wished she hadn’t given Trey back his jacket or had the good sense to wear her own. At least she could run in her boots, even if the one was wet.

Now what? Wait? Lurk back around behind, see what Rodney was up to?

If not that, then what? How far was she going to get without a car?

In the distance she heard two car doors slam. Then a car start.

And she prayed they wouldn’t catch her.

Chapter 4

Work seemed to drag on forever and that irritated Trey almost beyond reason because he was generally satisfied to be working. But he kept watching the clock. The job was easy enough—train the on-site security department at a small regional airport outside of Vegas. They wanted to do it on a Saturday because it was a slower day, since the vast majority of their freight shipments arrived Monday through Friday.

The six-person team was attentive enough and seemed smart enough that at the end of the day, he was satisfied they understood internal and external threats as well as response and containment strategies.

Just after five, he left the airport and headed home. It had been a long day on his feet and he was looking forward to putting them up and drinking a beer. The time had changed the previous week and the days were getting longer, so there was still another hour of daylight and it was a balmy 68 degrees. Spring in Vegas was hard to top.

He was a hundred yards from his exit, in the right-hand lane, with his turn signal on, when he decided to go straight. He was glad that there was nobody in the truck that he had to explain his indecisiveness to. He had every reason to go home, but he was headed to the crowded Vegas Strip.

To Lavender. To check on Kellie McGarry.

Who had haunted his dreams, which was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford, since he’d been able to grab less than an hour of sleep. He could not get her out of his head. Which had pretty much been his constant state since he’d first seen her across the room at Lavender.

After he’d handed her his card and walked out of the bar last night, he’d had every intention of going home. But then he’d hit the street and, even though it had been close to midnight, the sidewalks had been full of people. The usual suspects, of course. The ones giving out discounted tickets to something, offering sightseeing tours of the Hoover Dam or selling knockoff sunglasses or purses.

There’d been couples holding hands. And groups of young women, one in particular caught his eyes because they were all dressed in white, except one who wore all black with a white sash across her chest that said Bride. They’d been laughing like loons and he’d easily dismissed them.

It was the young men who got and caught his attention. Especially those who were loud and obnoxious and seemed to think that everybody on the strip was interested in how many four-letter words they knew. It reminded him of the drunk and his friends, of the terror he’d seen on Kellie’s face when he’d pulled the idiot off her.

So instead of going home, he’d taken up a post where he could see into the lobby of Lavender’s building to know if the drunk came back in through the rear entrance, and close enough to the front door to be able to put out a sharp elbow to his throat if he or his cronies chose that option.

When he’d seen Kellie coming down the wide staircase at the end of her shift, his intention had been to step aside, to never let her know that he was there. She’d passed within three feet of him but he was good at blending into the background when he needed to.

He’d been home free.

And then he’d seen her wrap her arms around herself, clearly cold. And she’d looked very alone.

And his pulse had been racing. Just at the sight of her.

He’d caught her before she crossed. And once he’d approached and offered his coat, he hadn’t wanted the evening to end.

He was intrigued by Kellie McGarry.

And he’d pushed, maybe a little too hard, at getting her to eat with him. When she’d agreed, he’d been happy and thought the three hours of guard duty well worth it. And...he knew it sounded crazy, but he’d been confident, when he walked into the small restaurant and heard the Billy Joel song with its foundation in Beethoven, that it was fate.

He’d thought for a minute that she was going to refuse his invitation to dance. But then she’d stepped into his arms, and he’d gotten a lungful of her scent, and pretty much been toast after that. She was gorgeous, obviously smart, given her educational accomplishments, hardworking and fun to be with. A great date.

He’d thought it had been going well until she’d suddenly pushed back from the table. Had seemed to think it was perfectly reasonable that he’d let her wander back to her car alone, in the wee hours of the morning.

The walk to the garage had been awkward. He’d had questions burning his tongue but he’d kept his thoughts to himself, at least until they got to her car. And then he’d just had to ask. He rarely got embarrassed but it had been pretty damn uncomfortable to stumble around the idea that Anthony had put Trey on some kind of sexual-hero pedestal. She’d made light of it but still he’d wondered. Nobody wanted to think they were just more of the same. But it would have been super weird if he’d tried to convince Kellie of that last night, after less than an hour in her company.

So he’d backed off. Had thought about asking her to wait, to give him time to get his truck so he could follow her home, but decided there was another way. After all, he had her address. He’d watched her pull out of the garage, and then hustled to his vehicle. But by the time he’d reached it and got under way, he knew he was at least ten minutes behind her.

He’d followed his GPS to her apartment building, verified that her car was in the carport and then driven home. Less than an hour later, his alarm had screeched and he’d been back on the road, headed for the job site.

All that added up to him being officially an idiot for not making tracks now, as his partner Royce Morgan would say, to his house, shoveling some food in and falling into bed for about ten hours.

Instead, he was headed into Vegas on a Saturday night. Traffic was heavy and parking was nonexistent. He finally pulled into a lot, gave the attendant the required twenty and an extra ten to park his truck close, and walked the two blocks to Lavender’s entrance. He went up the stairs and straight into the bar.

Hagney was the only one serving up drinks. It was early yet, and he figured more staff came on later in the evening. There were four cocktail servers. None of them were Kellie. He took a stool.

Hagney slid a napkin his direction. “This must be your new favorite place,” he said, acknowledging that he recognized Trey from the night before.

“Thought of something I needed to tell Kellie,” Trey lied.

“She’s not working tonight.”

Trey studied the man’s face. Something wasn’t right. “I thought she worked every Friday and Saturday night.”

“Well, she was a no-call, no-show tonight, which puts her in enough hot water that she’s going to be lucky to keep this job.”

Hagney was acting as if he couldn’t care less, which totally didn’t jive with the interactions between Kellie and Hagney that he’d witnessed the previous night. “Does she frequently no-call, no-show?” Trey asked.

Hagney shrugged. He looked at the napkin. “You want a drink or not?”

No, he wanted answers, but it didn’t look as if any were forthcoming. He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Take this. If you think of anything that might be helpful, I’d really appreciate a call.”

Hagney’s only response was to slip the card into his shirt pocket. Trey was out of the bar and back to his truck. The attendant looked at him as if he was a crazy man to have paid thirty bucks to park for five minutes. He didn’t care.