Lucky Streak

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SUNDAY MORNING DAWNED bright and early. Mike woke surprisingly rested, considering the events of last night-which ended as quickly as they began. Shaken by his behavior, Uncle Thomas headed home, leaving Jason at his brother’s house, something they all agreed would be okay for one night. Derek and Gabrielle took off. And Clara left after assuring Mike and Amber that Edward, though he refused to leave the boathouse, was calm and safe.

In the end, Mike and Amber ate a quick dinner alone and fell into bed exhausted, sleeping wrapped together until Mike’s alarm went off at 6:00 a.m.

He didn’t linger in bed, regardless of how much he wanted to. Instead, he showered and dressed then went downstairs to have a coffee with his cousin. Half an hour later, he went back up to wake Amber.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He stroked her cheek and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“It’s time already?” she asked, pushing herself up against the pillows. The motion shifted her shirt, leaving one ripe breast visible to Mike’s hungry gaze.

He groaned and raised the material, covering her before he succumbed to the urge to place his mouth on her sweet skin. “Yeah, it’s time. Jason’s waiting for me in the kitchen.”

“And you’re sure sharing your apartment with him in Boston is a good idea?” she asked. Poor Jason would get the couch.

Mike nodded. “Nobody will think to look for him there. It’s a big city, not a small town. There’s been so much unusual traffic here at my father’s, Jason isn’t comfortable staying here.

“I’m not surprised.”

Mike nodded. “I watched the national news this morning. The fact that he’s tested positive is making headlines.” Mike frowned, recalling how much his normally carefree, happy-go-lucky cousin had withdrawn into himself as he’d watched the scandal retold over and over as they’d had coffee this morning.

“Poor Jason.” Amber swept her hair out of her eyes.

“Poor Jason can inadvertently lead King Bobby here to you if he makes the right connections. That’s what worries me,” Mike said.

She shook her head, dismissing the notion. “You didn’t meet the King. He’s not that swift.”

“He isn’t that stupid or he wouldn’t have tracked you as far as L.A. Be smart,” Mike warned her.

“Okay, but I don’t think it’s me you need to worry about. I’m sure Thomas is already fending off the press this morning.”

Mike nodded. “But Thomas can handle himself. At least he can when he isn’t dumbstruck by a woman,” he muttered. “I never thought I’d say this, but it’s a damn good thing Edward disconnected his telephone line.”

Amber nodded. “I know. Nobody can call and bother him. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him,” she promised.

He couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his mouth. “I’ve seen you in action. I’m not worried about my father while you’re around to protect him.” Mike grinned, recalling Amber’s fierce expression when she’d forbidden his uncle Thomas from going near Clara Deveaux.

Her eyes lit up. “I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“Well, you earned it.” Before he could get all emotional, Mike cleared his throat. “Now, remind me of the rules we set up for once I’m gone.”

Amber folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll be fine. I know not to talk to strangers,” she said wryly, meaning the press, if they somehow showed up here.

“Okay, then.” Mike glanced at his watch. “I need to go, so humor me and recite the rules.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lay low. Don’t go outside unless it’s absolutely necessary. If it becomes necessary, don’t go out without looking out the windows first and make sure nobody’s lurking or watching the house,” she said, mimicking the instructions he’d given her more than once last night.

“Good. And if the press does show up?”

“Call the local police and then call you. You’ll make sure the cops take me seriously.” She exhaled a frustrated breath at being treated like a child.

“I’m a cop. That’s my job.” He leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her pouting lips before rising. “Be safe,” he told her.

She smiled. “You, too.”

He inclined his head. “I’ll call you,” he said and with a wave, he walked out the bedroom door.

AMBER REMAINED in bed long after Mike left with Jason.

I’m a cop. That’s my job, he’d said. The problem was, she wanted to be more to him than another person in need of protection. More than some poor woman he was helping so he could get her out of his life that much more quickly.

And despite how protective he was being now, she just couldn’t be sure his actions weren’t motivated by anything more than simply wanting to look after her. After all, she hadn’t missed the way he closed down whenever he remembered her Las Vegas past.

No matter how much she helped him or his family, she was beginning to doubt whether anything would be enough to overcome his feelings about her being a con and a cheat.

The rest of the day passed slowly, leaving Amber depressed, bored and feeling both useless and angry at herself for indulging in self-pity. She was a woman accustomed to being strong and working. A phone call to Paul earlier hadn’t helped her mood, either. He’d been forced to hire a part-time college student to replace Amber, something she understood, considering she’d left him in the lurch when she’d run from Vegas and King Bobby. And if that guilt wasn’t enough, Paul had reassured her that he’d been visiting her father daily in her place. She owed her friend more than she could ever repay.

She slept fitfully and when Monday morning dawned, the sky was as gray as Amber’s mood. She’d already cleaned and straightened as much of Edward’s house as he’d allow. Now she made herself busy wiping down the counters in the kitchen from the mess she’d created while making sandwiches for lunch. Amber stared out the window toward the lake, a place she’d come to love for its peace and serenity, elusive concepts where Edward Corwin was concerned.

Clara had shown up early this morning, refusing to leave at Edward’s demand. Instead, she’d followed him from chore to chore, telling him about her life over the past years. She’d left her only other employee tending the shop she loved, and she wanted Edward to help her look for new space for Crescent Moon. She said she planned to keep returning until Edward agreed.

“Good luck,” Amber said aloud.

But she admired Clara’s persistence in going after the man she wanted.

Unlike Amber, who was herself in limbo, unable to move forward the way she dreamed, or even live in the present with Mike. Until King Bobby’s threat was neutralized or one of Amber’s contacts called back with information on Marshall, she was stuck here.

Now a little stir-crazy, she was even tempted to help Clara find store space herself. According to the older woman, the press had invaded Stewart in search of Jason Corwin, disgraced Olympic hopeful, or looking for quotes from people in his family and his past. With so many strangers in town, she figured nobody would give her a second look.

MIKE WORKED the early shift Monday and returned to his apartment to find his cousin crashed out cold on the couch. As company, Mike didn’t mind Jason staying as long as he needed. But as a substitute for Amber, Jason Corwin came up short. Taking his cue from his cousin, Mike headed for bed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

He woke up the next morning to the loud sound of the TV blaring from the next room and immediately reassessed how he felt about his cousin’s visit.

Mike padded barefoot into the room, picked up the remote and hit the off button.

“Hey!” Jason grumbled, annoyed.

“Keep it down, will you?” Mike asked.

“Sorry,” the other man muttered as he leaned back against the sofa, hands locked behind his head.

“I know. Anything new?” Mike asked, realizing he’d overreacted. He was antsy without Amber here, something he hated to admit.

Jason shook his head. “Not in my life. I’m just waiting for the reporters to lose interest. According to my father, they’re out in full force. God knows what dirt they’ll dig up if they ask the right questions.” He rubbed his palms against his eyes.

Mike couldn’t imagine the pain his cousin must be feeling. “Everyone in town supports you. They aren’t going to give the press anything negative to print.”

“Except the Corwin curse,” Jason muttered.

“There is that,” Mike agreed.

Silence followed that pronouncement until Jason spoke first. “I feel awful leaving Dad to take the heat.” Jason ran a hand through his hair and rose from the couch. “I should just go back and face the music.”

Certain Jason wasn’t going anywhere, Mike sank into a chair. “I’d support that notion if your father wasn’t such a strong man. He can handle himself and you know that or you wouldn’t have gone into hiding in the first place. So just tell me one thing.”

Jason glanced over. “Name it.”

“Why aren’t you out there facing the press?” Jason was the risk-taking cousin. The rebel who didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. Or he had been.

“Because I want answers first. I need to know why the hell I tested positive. I have a hunch, but no proof. And since the Olympic committee is pretty strict when it comes to drugs, I don’t have a hope in hell of qualifying.” He slashed his hand through the air and sent a tall candlestick Mike’s mother had bought him onto the floor. “Oh, man, I’m sorry,” Jason said as he rushed to pick up the piece.

“Forget it.” Mike took the candlestick from his cousin’s hand and set it back on the table. “Look, anything you need, background checks of competitors, whatever, I’m here.”

Jason shot him a look of gratitude. “I know that. I just need time to process the fact that it’s probably over for me. And you need time with your new wife. Speaking of Amber…” He let out a wolf whistle. “She’s one hot babe.”

Mike bristled at the crass description. “Lay off,” he warned his cousin.

Jason merely laughed, which didn’t help Mike’s mood. “Since I’ve sworn off the opposite sex, you have nothing to worry about from me. All I’m doing is admiring my cousin’s taste in women. And from what I could see, the rest of the family agrees.” Jason slapped Mike on the back the way he used to when he and Mike were kids. “The only one who doesn’t seem happy about your marriage is you.”

Mike scowled, disliking the reminder. “Didn’t I tell you how we met? Why she’s running from a goon named King Bobby?”

Jason grinned. “Yeah, you did. But aren’t I proof that circumstances and people aren’t always what they seem?” Jason asked, his smile fading.

“That’s different,” Mike said.

“Because you want it to be different.” His cousin eyed him intently. “Maybe you should be asking yourself why.”

Mike’s cell phone rang, saving him from unwanted introspection. He answered the call, identifying the P.I. from Texas on the other end.

Five minutes later, Mike had all the sordid information he needed on the very married, very cheating King Bobby Boyd.

“You look like you got good news,” Jason said.

Mike nodded, acknowledging the rush of knowing he’d found what he needed to keep Amber safe.

“Does that mean you’re going back to your wife?” Jason asked hopefully.

“Just when did you or any other Corwin become advocates for love and marriage?” The minute the words escaped, Mike wished he could take them back.

Love?

Whoa.

Who’d said anything about love? He had, obviously, but it wasn’t what he’d meant. And though Jason looked at him funny, he wisely remained silent, leaving well enough alone.

“Earth to Mike,” the other man said at last. “I asked if you’d be leaving for Stewart soon?”

Mike shook his head. “Nope. There’s no reason. Right now Amber is in good hands and I have to work.” And not put himself in temptation’s path.

Jason snorted. “Yeah, you’re right. Uncle Edward is more than capable of taking care of Amber if this King Bobby character shows up. Unless you already know where to find him?” he pointedly asked.

Rhetorical question, Mike thought.

Short of an APB, he had no choice but to wait for the man to rear his large cowboy hat. Mike glanced at his cousin. “You said the press is already in town?” he asked.

“’Fraid so. Asking questions about the Corwin clan.”

“Which ups the chances of the Texan showing up in Stewart rather than Boston,” Mike said.

“Where, with a few targeted questions, he’ll end up at Uncle Edward’s at some point.” Jason shot him a regretful glance. “I was just buying myself some time. I’m sorry, man,” Jason said.

Mike groaned, picked up the phone and bargained for more personal time, promising his superior his firstborn, should he ever have one, in exchange for this being the last-if open-ended-time off for a long, long time.

Then, with Jason’s laughter and “I told you so” ringing in his ears, Mike headed back to Stewart and his hot babe of a wife.

MIKE ARRIVED at his father’s house feeling out of breath, though he’d had an hour in the car to unwind. But once he let himself think about the press swarming his hometown, he’d had an uneasy feeling that things were about to blow up.

“Dad!” Mike yelled as he stormed into the house.

“We’re in here,” Edward called.

Mike exhaled a long breath. Relieved, he took the steps two at a time-to find his father and Clara in the kitchen. “I thought…” Mike trailed off. “Where’s Amber?” he asked instead.

“Haven’t seen her. Not that I’ve had time to do anything more than listen to this woman’s yammering on about the past. Like I still care.”

A smile spread over Clara’s face. “Did you hear that? He admitted he once cared!”

“Ms. Deveaux, have you seen Amber?” Mike asked.

“This morning, when I arrived and then again during lunch. But not since, now that you mention it.” Clara’s brows furrowed.

“She’s not in the garage or the boathouse. I just came from there,” Edward said.

Clara walked to the sink and poured Edward water, though he hadn’t asked for any.

He accepted it and took a sip.

Mike shook his head. The connection between these two was the strangest thing he’d ever seen.

“Amber knows better than to wander off until her trouble’s resolved, doesn’t she?” Clara asked.

Mike sure as hell hoped so, considering he’d clearly instructed her to stay put.

“Amber told you about King Bobby?” Mike asked Clara.

He was surprised Amber would confide in a stranger about her problems, but then, she probably no longer considered Clara a stranger. Amber had an uncanny knack for bonding with people she’d just met. Like him, Mike thought, recalling their initial meeting in Vegas. The memory of that black dress and her curls hanging down her back set his body on fire all over again. When he got his hands on her…

Clara shook her head. “No, Amber didn’t say anything.” She waved her arm through the air. The tinkling sound of her bracelets followed. “I just sense there’s evil somewhere around her.”

“Just swell,” Mike muttered. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…general evil? Or evil right now?” Mike had no idea where Amber had gone and if Clara’s insight, whatever it was based on, could help him find her, he wasn’t too proud to ask.

“When I first said evil, I meant recent, but now that you’re asking, there may be more.” Without another word, Clara rose and headed out of the kitchen.

Mike followed her to Amber’s room. Edward followed and surprisingly for his father, he remained quiet. So Mike did the same. He waited, anxious and uneasy, but willing to give Clara the benefit of the doubt.

“Yes, I can feel her better in here,” the older woman said. “I wasn’t paying much attention to her needs earlier,” Clara admitted. “I was too happy to be here with Eddie again.”

Mike’s father stiffened, but before he could interrupt Clara, Mike clapped his hand over his father’s forearm. “Please. Wait.”

To Mike’s surprise, Edward relaxed enough to assure Mike he wouldn’t throw one of his tantrums.

“But I know she’s been bored and feeling useless. She mentioned as much at lunch,” Clara said.

“Useless? The house is spotless! I still can’t find Stinky’s favorite toy-”

“Hush!” Clara said. “A woman needs to be in charge of her life or else she feels powerless. That’s what Amber’s feeling.” She met Mike’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I should have listened more carefully for the hidden meaning. It didn’t come to me until now.”

“That’s okay. Anything she said that you can remember will be helpful.”

Because if she ran away or went to take care of King Bobby or Marshall by herself he’d throttle her.

Clara sat down on the bed and ran her hand over the comforter and a chill rushed through Mike. “The only thing we talked about was how I wanted Eddie to help me look for a new place for my shop. He’s being a stubborn cuss, but I’ll win yet. Amber also mentioned wishing she could go into town and check things out for herself…”

“That’s it! Thank you!” Mike hugged the other woman. “She went to town to clear the cobwebs from her head.” It was the most logical assumption.

Because Mike’s gut told him she hadn’t run off on him again. Why did he trust in her that way? he wondered.

He didn’t have time to figure it out.

“If she calls, find out where she is and tell her to stay put,” Mike told his father and Clara.

“She can’t call,” they both said at the same time.

Mike closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Dad, we are turning the landline back on,” he said as he ran for the door, ignoring Edward’s bellowing about evildoers finding him.

Paranoia, Mike thought to himself. A psychiatric symptom, he thought, giving Amber credit.

He’d find her. Then he’d give her hell for taking such a risk with reporters roaming around town. At first he’d only worried about them exposing her, but now he was worried in general. Because after the chill Mike had experienced at Clara’s words, there was every likelihood King Bobby Boyd was here, too.

And as a cop, Mike’s gut had been too reliable to ignore.

WITH ONE OF MIKE’S old baseball caps on her head and dark sunglasses, Amber strode through town. She’d even found an old camera in the garage that she’d hung around her neck, hoping to look like one of the media searching for information on Jason Corwin. Her disguise had worked.

She’d purchased a cup of coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts and wandered around the local streets, appreciating the fresh air and change of scenery. She’d noticed one or two For Sale and For Rent signs on side streets and she’d taken notes to pass along to Clara later.

The only close call she’d had occurred when she’d caught sight of Derek walking out of the law firm Englebert and Rowe. She’d forgotten that he rented office space from them. Luckily for her, he’d headed to his truck and driven away instead of sticking around. She toyed with the idea of going into the Diner on Main Street, and having a meal she hadn’t had to cook herself.

She walked past the front windows, planning to check the menu hanging there, when she caught sight of a large cowboy hat. Reflex and panic kicked in together and she backed against the brick siding, out of view.

“Anyone could be wearing a cowboy hat,” Amber muttered as she ordered her breathing to slow. But she couldn’t control the rapid-fire beating of her heart or the trickle of sweat working its way down the front of her shirt.

She edged closer to the window, hoping to get a better look at the face beneath the large brim. Between her dark glasses, which she refused to remove, and the glare of the sun, the man’s face wasn’t clear. But his huge size was.

“King Bobby, in the flesh.” Amber quickly backed against the wall once more.

Somehow he’d tracked her here, leaving Amber with a choice. She’d been faced with many potentially life-changing decisions in her time. She’d remained with the father she loved but the lifestyle she hated rather than live with a sense of normalcy at her grandparents’. She’d trusted in Mike, a man she’d just met instead of walking away from the most sizzling attraction she’d ever experienced.

Amber had taken a gamble on Mike and she couldn’t regret how that choice had turned out. And yet for the last week or so, she’d been hiding out from King Bobby, unable to find Marshall, living in limbo. Worse, she’d been unable to move forward with her husband, assuming he’d want her when this was over.

Well, no more. Her father hadn’t raised her to be a coward. She was going to face King Bobby Boyd and reclaim her life. Once and for all.

IF KING BOBBY HAD HATED Boston, he hated this little dinky town of Stewart even more. Everything was small and scrunched together. Hell, even the service in the only diner in town wasn’t up to the King’s standards. Nobody came over to take his order and his choice of beer on the menu consisted of piss water.

“Hey, little lady, bring me a rack of your best ribs,” he called to a plump waitress rushing between tables.

She gave him a nod, then disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors.

So far his mission here was a bust. He’d tried asking questions about Amber or Detective Michael Corwin, but people in town weren’t talking. They’d clammed up, thanks to the hometown athlete who’d been caught cheating. Numbnuts, King Bobby thought, without bothering to learn the man’s name. If he was going to cheat, he should have had the brains not to get caught.

About the only thing this town did have going for it was its loyalty to its own. Nobody was talking to strangers, and King Bobby, with his ten-gallon hat, didn’t look like a local. He didn’t sound like one, either. These darn people had a stupid-sounding accent, he thought.

But if he was going to locate Detective Corwin’s family, he had to find someone willing to talk. Since the locals were keeping mum, he’d just start asking the reporters if they’d heard of the Corwins.

“Here you go.” The waitress interrupted his planning as she set down his meal.

He glanced at the plate and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “What in the name of Texas barbecue is this?” he asked, staring at the tiny baby backs slathered in sauce. Looked like little peckers, they did. “They’re wet,” he added.

The woman scowled at him. He’d hate to be the poor sap she came home to at night. Women like her were the reason men got themselves mistresses.

“Well, of course they’re wet. They have barbecue sauce on them,” she said. As if he was dumb. And blind.

“In Texas, the only thing wet in a barbecue is our whistle after we drink beer.” Another sore subject, given his choices in this joint. “Barbecue is dry rub, honey. And the ribs look like they were ripped off a prize hog, not off some pet piglet in a tutu.” He laughed at his joke.

She didn’t. “Hey, Mel, there’s a problem with the ribs!” she called into the kitchen before turning back to King Bobby. “And I’m not your honey.”

“Don’t I know that,” he muttered.

She started to grab his plate, but he stopped her.

“Never mind. This is obviously as good as it gets around here.”

“Never mind,” she screamed back to the so-called chef.

“Honey-I mean, little lady, can you bring me whatever’s on tap?” He tried for a little more respect.

“Damn out-of-towners,” she muttered under her breath as she went to get his beer.

He tucked his paper napkin into his shirt, ready to pick up the poor excuse for a rib, when a female voice interrupted him.

“Mind if I join you?”

He glanced up. And into the eyes of the woman he’d been chasing halfway cross the country. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Amber Corwin, the Little Lady Thief.”