Lucky Streak

CHAPTER THREE

“I’ VE GOT YOUR FATHER.”

Amber hadn’t believed Marshall when she’d picked up a call from him on her cell phone while she was making coffee for Mike. She’d immediately hung up and dialed the nursing home, asking them to put her father on the line. He no longer had a phone in his room, since there really was no need. Carole, the day nurse, told her that Marshall had taken him out for lunch to meet Amber.

In the early days at the home, all her father had asked for was a weekly outing with Amber or Marshall, something to make him feel he still had the freedom to visit his favorite places with people he enjoyed. It had seemed a small thing to put Marshall’s name on the list of people allowed to remove him from the home for outside visits. Only Amber, Marshall and Amber’s closest friend, Paul, the bar owner who’d been her best friend since childhood, were allowed access. Paul was the second emergency contact.

As the days wore on and her father seldom roused himself from staring vacantly into space, the outings stopped. She only came to visit and talk, hoping to catch a spark of something in his expression. She’d forgotten about the list she’d given the home of people allowed to take her father out.

Marshall hadn’t. J.R. had told him about Mike’s winnings and that’s what Marshall wanted. Mike’s one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in exchange for her father.

Sweating in the un-air-conditioned taxi, she grit her teeth on the half-hour ride to the restaurant where Marshall had brought her father, wondering how her life had turned around so quickly.

One minute Amber had been feeling that everything was right in the world. She’d met Mike at the right time, when she was not only ready for a change, but needed one desperately. Marshall and the card-counting life she so despised were behind her. Instead, she’d go home to Boston with Mike, get settled and bring her father to a local nursing home nearby. She could get a job at a Boston hotel, get hired on as a concierge again, and somehow between them, she could make things work.

But as soon as her cell phone rang, she knew she’d been spinning fantasies that could never come true. Unless she got the chance to explain and make Mike trust her again when this was all over.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the cab came to a stop in front of the restaurant. Amber tossed the driver a generous amount of money, grabbed the hotel laundry bag full of cash and jumped out of the car.

She started to run, then caught herself. Marshall thrived on his opponent’s fear. If he sensed weakness, she’d lose whatever little bit of leverage she might possess. It was bad enough she was dressed in yesterday’s rumpled cocktail dress, her hair a tangled mess. She could, at least, act calm and unruffled.

Drawing a deep breath, she walked inside and headed to the back of the restaurant where her father sat in his favorite chair, staring at nothing in front of him.

Ignoring Marshall, Amber walked over to Sam and kissed his cheek. “Are you okay, Daddy?” she asked him.

No reply. Not that she expected one. It was enough that he was here and safe.

“Of course he’s okay. Mezze Luna is his favorite restaurant. As you can see I ordered him pasta Bolognese, his favorite meal. Join us.” Marshall gestured to the seat next to him.

Amber sat stiffly. She didn’t want to have an argument in front of her father because he tended to get upset if the dynamics around him were unfriendly. Until she had him safely back in the home and Marshall’s name removed from the list of visitors, she had to play the game.

“Would you like something to eat?” Marshall asked.

“No, thank you.”

“Really? I’m sure you and your new husband worked up quite an appetite last night,” he said, not bothering to hide the disdain on his face.

She narrowed her gaze. “How did you know about that?” She thought she’d lost J.R.

“The same way I knew about the money. J.R. was keeping an eye on you and he’s good at his job. You’re not just my meal ticket, Amber. I care about you and I promised your father I’d look after you. Didn’t I, Sam?”

Amber didn’t look at him. Whenever she’d thought of getting married, she’d always imagined her father walking her down the aisle of a beautiful church, packed with family and friends. Not a quickie Las Vegas ceremony. Ironically, it wasn’t the lack of frills that bothered her, it was the seedy way Marshall made her actions sound in front of her only parent. That and the fact that Sam couldn’t have been there, but she’d come to terms with his illness. She just resented Marshall’s using him as a pawn in his game.

“I’m not hungry, so let’s get on with it. I brought what you want. Now I’d like to take my father back to the home.” She placed the white bag on the table and rose.

“Not so fast,” Marshall said, ice in his voice. “Your father is still eating. Is it good?” he asked Sam in a softer tone.

Amber wasn’t fooled. Marshall obviously had more on his mind than her father’s meal.

“Besides, I’m not finished with you yet,” he added coldly, proving her hunch correct.

Her stomach rolled, but she refused to let her panic show. She lowered herself back into her seat. “You got your money. What else could you possibly want?”

“You. Me. One more game.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I already told you I’m out.” Her voice rose to an unsettling pitch.

“You made my favorite meat loaf tonight?” Sam interrupted, from beside her. But he wasn’t talking to Amber.

He was talking to Amber’s mother, the woman he loved, and the days he returned to when he spoke at all. At times like this, he was having what the nurses called a bad day. Something-or in this case someone-had rattled him.

“It’s pasta,” Amber said in a soothing voice.

She shot a frosty glare at Marshall.

“It was your tone that got to him. Don’t blame me.” He held up both hands as if he had done nothing wrong.

Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth to keep the vile words inside her from spilling forward.

“One more job,” Marshall said pleasantly. “That hundred and fifty grand is my stake. I owe some nasty men two-fifty. Once I pay that back and I know my legs and other body parts will remain intact, you can go and never see me again.”

She should only be so lucky. “And if I refuse?”

He patted Sam’s hand. “Your dad and I go for a ride.” He leaned in closer to Amber and whispered in her ear, “And you never see him again.”

Amber knew she was cornered. But she wasn’t giving up without going for whatever she could, first.

She snatched the money bag back. “Half now and half before we buy in tonight. I want to get my father situated and safe first.” She’d have to find another nursing home, she thought. One where Marshall had no access to him. She couldn’t risk something like this ever happening again.

“Not a problem. When your father finishes eating, we’ll go together. We’ll take your father back, then you can go home and get cleaned up for tonight. I’ll watch TV and wait, then we can head out, get a few drinks first to loosen up, and do our thing.” He smiled at her.

She forced a smile back.

In other words, she was screwed. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight and she’d have no chance to contact Mike until this mess with Marshall was over. By that time, she doubted he’d ever want to hear from her again.

MIKE HAD BEEN CONNED. Hours later, after combing the coffee shops, restaurants and the casino of his hotel, after he’d spoken to the few remaining hotel staff who’d been on duty last night, and after he’d spent the better part of the day scouring all the places he and Amber had visited together in the hopes of running into her again, Mike had to face the truth.

She was gone.

He still shook his head in disbelief. He’d acted like a gullible kid, not a trained cop who knew better than to pick up a strange woman, drink enough to dull all his senses except his hormones, marry her, share the combination to his safe with her and sleep with her. In that order.

He’d had a good buzz going, but he hadn’t been completely intoxicated. He’d thought, really believed, he’d seen something honest in her eyes and felt something real between them.

If he was superstitious, he’d say that was the problem. He’d felt something for her, something he’d wanted to explore more deeply. And because he had, his father would say the damn curse had kicked in. He’d lost his fortune and his future love.

If he were superstitious.

At the moment, though, he just felt damn stupid.

Once he got home, he’d have the resources to track Amber down. Until then, he settled for asking Jillian, back at the station in Boston, to run a check on the name Amber Rose from Vegas. A few hours later, Jillian reported back. All he knew was that there was no Amber Rose in the criminal system. Either she’d been clean until she wiped out his hotel safe or she was that good.

Any further information would have to wait. Mike wasn’t about to explain about Amber to anyone else, a necessity if he wanted any cops in Vegas to do him the professional courtesy of digging into her past. That would mean sharing his stupidity. And he damn sure wasn’t ready to do that. Not with strangers and not with the friends he’d come to Vegas with.

But he wasn’t finished with his wife. Not by a long shot, he thought, fingering the marriage certificate on the table. The next time he had a few days off, he’d return to Vegas and do some digging on his own. He’d find Amber, if that was her real name, and get himself a quick explanation and an even quicker divorce. But both of those things depended on his finding her.

Unfortunately, he had to be in court first thing Monday. Amber Rose would have to wait.

WITH AMBER BY HIS SIDE, Marshall used Mike’s money to buy into the game, located in a penthouse suite at an upscale hotel. As Marshall exchanged Mike’s money for chips, Amber tried to console herself with the thought that Mike had promised her that if he won at slots, half would be hers. So in reality she’d only stolen half his money. Borrowed would be a better term. But changing her words didn’t ease her guilty conscience.

It was all Mike’s money and she hadn’t intended to take any of it. But she and her partner had an agreement. And if tonight went the way it was supposed to, she’d be able to pay Mike back every last cent and hopefully buy herself a second chance with him.

Marshall had his slick image going tonight. He’d greased back his hair and donned a white jacket so he’d look like Andy Garcia in Ocean’s Eleven, at least in whatever mirror he viewed himself in. When Amber looked at him, she only saw a lying bastard.

“Since everyone’s here, let’s get started,” Marshall said.

Bobby Boyd, a used-car dealer from Texas with a ten-gallon hat and enough bluster for one hundred men, nodded. “Texas hold ’em, boys. No one beats King Bobby at his favorite game.”

He’d called himself King Bobby at least a dozen times since their initial introduction. Bobby Boyd owned a number of used-car dealerships throughout Texas or so he claimed along with the title of millionaire. Google would tell all…if she cared to find out. She didn’t.

“Remember, little lady, if your boyfriend here wins, King Bobby will hook you up with your choice of one of the finest vehicles in all of Texas,” he said to Amber.

He let out a huge guffaw of laughter, presumably because nobody beat King Bobby at Texas hold ’em. Ergo, she’d never see one of his cars.

“Ain’t my man sweet?” Emmy Lou, a Dolly Parton look-alike, only older, asked.

“He’s a…king,” Amber managed to say with a smile.

Emmy Lou preened and hugged King Bobby tight. “Give me room, woman. The King needs to breathe if he’s gonna win.”

What happened next passed in a blur of shuffling, dealing and big and little blinds. Amber needed to pay attention so she could signal Marshall, but she was having trouble focusing on anything but Emmy Lou. The woman had probably been beautiful once, even if it had been in an overdone way, but age and lifestyle had obviously taken their toll. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face lined and dry, makeup caked in the cracks, while her breasts drooped so low, her cleavage had long ago stopped being an asset. She appeared oblivious to all these facts as she clung to her man, one who obviously took her for granted.

Whether she was his permanent squeeze or his bimbo of the night, Amber didn’t want to know. Either way, the woman’s life was sad and pathetic. And as Amber looked from her own cleavage across to Emmy Lou’s and met the other woman’s red-rimmed eyes, she saw a glimpse of what her future would have been-would be-if she didn’t stick to her plan to get away from Marshall as soon as this one last game ended.

“Whoo-wee! King Bobby caught himself a nine on the river!” Bobby swooped forward and gathered the pot of winnings from the middle of the table.

Amber cringed. When she glanced around the table, she realized she’d spaced out on more than just one hand.

During a break, Marshall stormed over and grabbed her arm. “Get your shit together or this is over. And if I go down, you don’t get your hundred and fifty grand to pay your husband back, either,” he ground out under his breath.

“I’ll be fine.” She jerked her arm away, her stomach cramping.

“You’d better be or your father won’t.” He tossed out that little reminder before rejoining the table.

The game restarted and Amber kept her attention where it was supposed to be. Soon, Marshall was raking in chips. He didn’t take every hand or else King Bobby and the rest of the table would know something was up. She didn’t overdo her signals to Marshall until the men grew drunker and louder and the stakes rose higher.

Grateful they’d passed the halfway mark and knowing she was due for a performance, she strode to Marshall. “Baby, you’re winning!” she cooed. “Don’t forget that gorgeous diamond necklace I saw in Aladdin’s. Just think how that piece will look around my little neck.” She wrapped her arms around him, letting her cleavage nearly spill from her slinky dress to display exactly where the necklace belonged. And to distract the other men from their hands.

“It ain’t over yet, little lady. King Bobby’s just warming up.” The heavy man rubbed his hands together and tipped his hat backward off his ruddy face.

“Come on, King Bobby, give a lady a break.” Amber deliberately pouted at him.

Marshall cleared his throat. “Move over, baby. Let the men play.”

Sulking, she stepped back.

“Hey, you look familiar.” Howard, one of the men at the table, said, staring at Amber. “I recognize you from Beverly Hills.”

For a split second Amber froze. She and Marshall had one hard-and-fast rule. If something seemed off, they cut their losses and ran. The money wasn’t worth their lives if they crossed the wrong people. Nothing that extreme had happened. Yet.

Catching herself, Amber gave her best bimbo giggle and said, “Isn’t that funny? He thinks I’m from Beverly Hills. I must look like a star!” Amber said in her ditziest voice.

Marshall rolled his eyes. “I’m laughing, baby.”

“Because I don’t look like a movie star?” she asked, insulted.

He shook his head. “Because you’ve never been outside Vegas.” Marshall turned to the dealer. “Are we going to play?”

Howard didn’t appear satisfied, but the antes began and he refocused on his cards.

She let out a huge sigh of relief. When she saw a chance for Howard to win, Amber let Marshall’s opportunity pass in order to keep Howard’s mind on his cards and not where he’d met her once before. She didn’t need her real world colliding with her fake one. Not tonight, when the stakes determined both hers and Marshall’s future.

Over the next half hour, Marshall’s pot grew larger, King Bobby grew nastier, and Howard kept passing her covert glances that made her uneasy.

A quick tally in her head told her Marshall had won what he needed and she was halfway to paying back Mike. They were almost there.

“Bobby, honey, were you able to get us into the Country Club for dinner?” Emmy Lou asked. The exclusive restaurant in the Wynn hotel was world famous.

“Damn, woman, can’t you see I’m busy? Call the concierge and find out if she made us a reservation if you want to. But let King Bobby be.” He tossed her his cell phone.

“That’s it!” Howard rose from his seat.

“Don’t tell me this yahoo won again,” King Bobby muttered. “It’s enough that guy’s messing with the King’s mojo tonight.” He gestured to Marshall.

A skittering of dread rushed through Amber and the hair on her arms stood on end.

“No, I just remembered where I saw her before.” Howard pointed to Amber. “I may not remember the name, but I never forget a face. You were the concierge at some hotel in Beverly Hills.”

Amber breathed in deep and forced a silly giggle. “Me, a concierge?” She turned to Marshall. “Baby, he thinks I’m smart enough to be a concierge.”

“Lord, a man can’t concentrate tonight what with these women gaggling like geese and this guy worried about where he met some two-bit whore before,” Chuck, another man from somewhere in the Midwest, said angrily.

“He’s got a point. I fold,” Marshall said, tossing down his cards.

Amber didn’t need to count again to know they didn’t have all the money they needed. At least, not enough for her to return to Mike with a semiclean conscience, an explanation and a plea for forgiveness.

“That’s it for me.” Marshall rose.

“But honey, the necklace-”

“Maybe another time.” He gathered his chips, cashed in, ignoring her tapping foot behind him and King Bobby’s loud complaints that Marshall wasn’t giving him a chance to win his cash back.

Once he was finished, Marshall grabbed her arm hard enough to leave a bruise and guided her out the door while saying his goodbyes all at the same time.

It wasn’t easy, but Amber held in her angry explosion until they were safely in the car and out of earshot of anyone from the game.

“How the hell could you walk before we won what we needed?” she yelled at him.

He started the car. “In case that genius brain of yours missed it, I won what I needed.” He dug into her large purse, pulled out the wad of big bills he’d stuffed in there and counted out the bundles. “Here.” He slapped seventy-five thousand dollars onto her lap.

“That isn’t enough.”

“Too bad. You were fingered and we had an agreement. Cut and run at the first sign of trouble.”

Amber was so furious she could barely think straight. “That idiot Howard wouldn’t know what to do with the information anyway. It didn’t matter. There was no danger. You just wanted to play chicken with my cut!”

He turned toward her. “Chicken?” He shook his head. “I’m just being damn smart. I’m out of hot water. But what are you going to do? Go back to your husband with half his money and explain why you ran out on him?” He laughed at her predicament. “Or are you going to hide out here in Vegas? I don’t much care. But I wasn’t about to make your life any easier. Not after you screwed me by walking out of mine. And after all I’ve done for you.” He shook his head and put the car in Drive.

She clamped her mouth shut tight. He’d left her twisting in the wind on purpose. Giving her the option to return to Mike with half the money or run away from him for good, assuming he didn’t track her down and press charges. The man was a cop, after all.

She squeezed her temples with her hands. Neither option held much appeal.

AMBER KNOCKED on Mike’s hotel-room door, her stomach churning with cold fear. Facing him again wouldn’t be easy, but even if he turned her away, she owed him an explanation. That and another seventy-five thousand dollars, she thought, wondering how in the hell she’d raise that kind of money while paying for her father’s care.

Maybe Mike took MasterCard.

Or maybe he’d understand and let her pay him back over time. She seemed like a different woman than the one who was spinning fantasies of a new life with Mike just this very morning.

Five minutes later, someone from housekeeping arrived with a cart to clean the room, and informed her the guest had checked out. Amber returned to the elevator, disappointed but not completely defeated.

She had his full name and knew he was a cop who lived in Boston. She stepped through the lobby, engrossed in devising a plan to find him, when she caught sight of a ten-gallon hat and the big man wearing it.

King Bobby Boyd stood at the concierge desk talking to Amber’s friend Caroline. Beside him stood Emmy Lou. Their game had been in a room in another hotel. None of the high-stakes players knew where anyone else was staying. For all she knew, King Bobby could be staying at the Bellagio, too. It suited his larger-than-life taste. He hadn’t been pleased at the outcome of the night and Amber didn’t want to have a conversation with him now, not with seventy-five thousand dollars hanging from the large handbag on her shoulder.

Not wanting to be seen, Amber ducked behind a pole, and when a large group of people passed by, she strode out among them, hoping to get lost in the crowd.

“Amber, honey!”

Amber recognized Emmy Lou’s distinctive Texas drawl and her stomach rolled in a panic. Gut instinct told her to run, so she did, ducking past all the people in the cab line, slipping a twenty into the valet’s hand and grabbing the first open taxi, ahead of the line of people waiting.

“Just drive,” she told the man, not sure where she wanted to go yet. Her heart pounding, she needed to calm down and think.

First she had to find out why King Bobby had been at the hotel. Had he been asking about her? She pulled out her cell phone and searched her contacts for the direct line to Caroline at the concierge desk in the Bellagio. Although it had been a while since she’d had to utilize them, Amber had friends like Caroline all around the country, especially in L.A. and here in her hometown. In her former job, she had to be connected to anyone who could find anything at all hours of the day or night. She’d prided herself on the ability to hunt down the most obscure item any guest desired. If she couldn’t find it, she had a network of other concierges who might. All she’d had to do was send out an SOS and she’d have hundreds of people helping her out. The person who found the item was owed a favor. Amber had thrived on those challenges.

She missed her old job and her old life. A life she’d worked hard for, one she’d been proud of instead of the one she lived now.

Caroline answered quickly. “Caroline du Zutter, Bellagio concierge, how may I assist you?”

“Caroline, it’s Amber Rose. I know its been a while but-”

“Your ears must have been ringing! I’ve had the most interesting day involving you.”

Amber leaned forward in the cab. “Keep driving,” she said to the taxi driver. “I’ll let you know where to go soon. Sorry, go on,” she said to Caroline.

“Two people came by looking for you today. The first was a gorgeous hunk of a man who asked if you were registered at the hotel.”

“Mike,” Amber said aloud.

“Detective Michael Corwin of the Boston P.D. to be exact.”

Amber swallowed hard, memories of the man still strong in her mind. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. He didn’t ask me. He asked Nikki, who was just finishing her shift from last night. She’s new. She said she didn’t know you. He left his card and said if she heard anything to contact him. Then she asked me when I came on duty. I played dumb.”

“I owe you, Caroline.”

“Hey, until I spoke to you and knew what he wanted, I wasn’t giving you away. But I have to tell you, Nikki pointed him out as he was leaving. That is one gorgeous guy. Any chance you want to share information on him?”

Amber forced a laugh. “Not yet. Who else was asking about me?”

“A big loud Texan. He was booking dinner reservations when his wife started calling your name. I turned and didn’t see you, but she was upset you didn’t stick around. That’s when the Texan asked her what she expected, considering he’d been fleeced. I didn’t know what he meant and I don’t much care. The man’s so full of hot air, you can’t believe anything that comes out of his mouth, little lady,” Caroline said in a poor imitation of King Bobby.

This time Amber laughed for real. “Good call. A friend of mine pissed him off. Nothing to worry about.” She crossed her fingers to cover her lie. “So nobody gave anything away, that’s a relief.”

“Well…” Caroline’s voice rose in pitch. “The man started ranting about how he was connected, that if he didn’t get answers, he’d call in favors and we’d all be in trouble. I didn’t believe him. He blows too much smoke.”

Amber’s stomach cramped because King Bobby did strike her as dangerous. If he had any kind of underworld connections, she’d be in big trouble if he blamed her for his losses last night. “Then what happened?” Amber asked.

“Remember Danny Heath?” Caroline said the man’s name with disdain.

“The bellboy from hell.” Amber recalled him too well from the old days, when Danny had worked at the Crown Cladler.

“One and the same,” Caroline said. “He heard the Texan talking and insinuated he knew something about you. Before I could blink, the big guy slipped Danny a fifty and Danny told him you used to be a concierge in Beverly Hills. I sent him off on an errand before he could give anything more away.”

“You’re a lifesaver. You have my cell number, right? Can you keep me posted if anyone else comes looking for me?”

“ASAP,” the other woman promised.

“I owe you,” Amber said again.

“Hey, you’re the best at digging there is. I’m sure I’ll collect.”

“Anytime,” Amber promised, disconnecting the call.

Deep in thought, she pinched the bridge of her nose. King Bobby knew her first name and her former occupation. And after Howard had told everyone she was from L.A., Amber knew Bobby could eventually track her down. But it would take a lot of time, money, patience and a reason for him to waste them all.

Pride was a darn good reason and King Bobby was loaded with it. What did he suspect? And who was he after? If he even sensed that she’d been in on Marshall’s scam…She shivered at the thought.

She pulled out her marriage license and smoothed out the wrinkles on the paper. “Michael Corwin born in Stewart, Massachusetts, residing in Boston,” she read to herself. She bit the inside of her cheek, conjuring up her sexy savior.

Just the thought of him set her body tingling.

Her first priority, as always, was her father and keeping him safe. She needed to settle him into another nursing home immediately.

When she’d chosen his current home, she’d also strongly considered another residence that was as clean, safe…and affordable. She’d move him there. And she’d make sure that the only visitors allowed would be herself and her friend Paul.

Paul had lived in the house next door to her grandparents when she’d lived with them as a teen and they’d been best friends ever since, keeping in touch over the years. He was like the brother she’d never had and he’d be more than willing to take care of her father for her. Most important, she could trust him to keep her whereabouts a secret.

With the cash resources she had saved and allocated for her father’s immediate care, Paul would be able to handle getting her dad settled while she got herself out of town.

Once she was safely on a plane to Boston, she’d have plenty of time to figure out how to handle Mike.

SHE’D BE BACK. It was only a matter of time, Marshall thought. Not because Amber loved the life the way he did, but because they were a team. She’d been raised at her father’s knee and she’d learned all the tricks of the trade, but she had something extra. She’d been blessed with a memory as gorgeous as the rest of her.

And she was his. Oh, sure, she’d married that cop and at first that pissed Marshall off. But he realized she needed a wake-up call. She’d done the same thing once before, gone to live her life in L.A., but she’d come back.

To him.

As soon as she needed someone to lean on, she returned to Marshall. She’d be back again when that stupid, straight-as-an-arrow cop broke her heart. And he’d be waiting with open arms.