Authors: Jules Barnard
I pull on sweat pants and a tank top, hobble into the kitchen, and attempt to pour Cheerios without spilling every last one on the floor—which I’ve been known to do first thing in the morning. A knock sounds at the front door.
Cali left for her new job before I woke, along with Jaeger, and Tyler is nowhere in sight. He’s been missing a lot lately. Apparently the day his mom, Maggie, showed up they had some kind of confrontation about him not returning to work. No one’s sure what’s really going on with Tyler.
I’m the only one home, so this lucky guest is getting a bedheaded welcome. At least I’m not in my bathrobe.
I jerk open the sticky door to find Lewis standing on the other side. My face bursts into a wide smile, until I notice the worried look on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Cali,” he says, his voice tight. “I went into work. She’s not well.” He glances at my pajama tank, and very likely my nipples poking through the thin material. My face heats, my mind flashing to what he did to them just a few hours ago. He clears his throat. “We should go. But maybe—” He waves at my top. “—put something over that?”
I run into the bedroom and grab a light sweatshirt. If Lewis canceled his other obligations to return, something terrible has to have happened.
My heart races, hands shaking as I grab my phone and purse and glance in the mirror. My hair is channeling the eighties, but I can’t worry about that right now. I flatten it with my palms and race back to Lewis. “What’s wrong with her?”
He closes the front door, his hand on my lower back, urging me to the Jeep. “I don’t know. They took her to the hospital.” He looks straight ahead, mouth tense. “She’s very sick.”
How can life be so normal one minute, and a disaster the next?
Lewis and I arrive at the hospital to discover Cali is in the ICU.
My best friend in the entire world almost died this morning.
The notion has my stomach clenched in pain, and the danger isn’t over. Cali had a reaction to Molly, or Ecstasy—whatever—some crazy club drug I had no idea she was into. She can be wild, but Cali doesn’t do drugs; at least, that’s what I thought.
Cali’s mom worked in the casinos. She got an earful, growing up, about the danger of addictions. She said she’d never do that stuff. And in the morning, before work?
None of this makes sense.
It’s two people at a time in the ICU and her mom and brother are in there. They let me peek inside, but Cali’s asleep with fever and I don’t stay long. Lewis and I wait in the waiting room for word.
I spend all day and night on a polyester hospital chair clinging to Lewis’s arm, freaking out, not knowing if the medication the doctors gave Cali to counteract her reaction to the drugs will work. Maddie said Cali aspirated after she got sick and passed out. If she hadn’t been at work when it happened … if she’d been alone … I won’t let my mind go there.
Head tipped onto Lewis’s shoulder, eyes closed, I feel my cell phone vibrate. I almost drop it in my haste to check the text, eager for word from Maddie.
Jaeger: She’s awake. Room 12.
Jaeger is here in the hospital? I don’t stop to figure out how he got into the ICU. I’m running toward the room, Lewis’s heavy footsteps a second behind me.
Maddie is the first person I see when I walk in, then Cali propped up on pillows, her reddish-blond hair plastered at odd angles to her head. She’s upright and clear-eyed, with dark circles under her eyes, but alert.
I blink back tears and walk to her bedside as the others leave to give us room. “You’re awake.” I smile, my hands fidgeting with her blankets. She swats them away and I choke back a sob. She’s sassy. She’s going to be okay.
Jaeger peers in from outside the door, a strained look on his face. The way he’s hovering, I imagine that’s how he found a way to sit with Cali all night along with her family. Who would say no to a guy so clearly distraught, and so tremendously large?
Cali’s smile drops as her gaze catches on Lewis. A lot has changed over the last couple of days. Cali doesn’t know Lewis and I are in a relationship, but it’ll have to wait until she’s rested and home.
For now, I have a few questions. “Cali, how did you get mixed up with this?”
She flops her head against the pillow. “Not you too. I drank a damn mocha yesterday morning, that’s all.”
She explains at length, for the second time apparently, how she didn’t take drugs willingly. She was drugged. By Jaeger’s ex-girlfriend, or someone his ex knows. The same ex who’s squatting in Jaeger’s house, forcing him to crash at our place. Jaeger thinks his ex is responsible for having someone put drugs in Cali’s mocha yesterday morning when she got a lift to work from a friend.
What is it with people not backing off when someone’s moved on?
The police don’t believe Cali’s story as easily as her friends and family do. After a few days in the hospital, she’s released and immediately arrested.
It’s a freaking mess.
Jaeger paid her bail (because he’s apparently loaded) and she’s home resting, while I’ve had to return to work.
I check my watch. Only one more hour until my shift ends and Lewis arrives. He’s given me space these last couple of days to take care of Cali, but I miss him.
The casino hosts a celebrity golf tournament every year and with the huge crowd this week, it’s one of those rare times I don’t mind serving the rear of Mont Belle Lounge. I’m slammed and earning a ton of tips, and not only from the regulars. I’ve served several celebrities, my last a retired offensive lineman, who was kind of an ass and demanded I bring him a fresh beverage after he thought his lime garnish frayed. He still gave me a ten-dollar tip.
Celebrities have an image to uphold. No one wants the rep of a cheapskate. That shit gets around, as Cali and I know from watching entertainment news religiously.
A middle-aged man and his wife replace the offensive lineman at my table. They’re a nice-looking couple. She’s petite and blond, the man dark-haired and tall, with broad shoulders. He’s fit and too attractive to be anything other than another celebrity.
I immediately approach their table, because these people get cranky if they’re made to wait for more than ten seconds. “Can I get you something to drink?” I plaster on a wide smile, which I’ve learned results in better tips.
The man blinks, his gaze cutting to his wife before he clears his throat. “My wife will have the house white and I’ll have the special on tap.”
Okay, maybe not celebrities. The VIPs order top-shelf, not house wine.
“I’ll be right back with that.” I lay cocktail napkins on the table and spin around. My breath catches.
Drake is standing in front of me, inches from my face. “Genevieve, I need you in one of the suites.”
Throat clenching, pulse kicking into a sprint, it takes me a few seconds to find my voice. “Can’t, I’m swamped.”
He smiles blandly, wraps his long, thin fingers around my arm in a bruising grip, and proceeds to drag me from the table. “Let’s talk over—”
“Is there a problem?” The man at my table stands. He’s a foot taller than Drake.
“Of course not,” Drake intones, his voice a cultured murmur as he casually releases me. “How are you tonight, Mr. Kendrick?”
The man’s expression is tight. “Good, until you tried to take our server.”
“Well.” Drake’s cold eyes flicker to me. “I wouldn’t want to diminish your experience at Blue.” He bows shallowly, his shoulders taut along with his smile. He turns so the customer can’t see the glare he cuts me. “I’ll find another waitress. Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Kendrick.”
I glance awkwardly at the couple and take off for the bar.
I’ve heard crickets from management about the sexual harassment claim. Filing the report didn’t stop Drake from grabbing me just now, and that’s bad. Very, very bad. He hasn’t touched me since his threats near the elevator, but tonight he tried to get me alone in another suite. Why would he do that after I told management about him?
Because he is in charge.
He’s testing me to see how far I’ll push back. If I push too much, I’ll lose my job. This mountain town is filled with people waiting for lucrative casino jobs to open up. The only reason Cali and I got in was because of Maddie’s connection. I’ll be back to relying on my mom and her money if they fire me.
I hate that. Hate that relying on my mom is my only option, but I despise Drake more. He seems to thrive on pushing me, testing me—scaring me.
I return with the wine and beer, my smile less carefree.
“Everything okay?” my customer asks, a concerned look on his handsome face.
“Yeah.” I swallow the lie. “Gets a little crazy on busy weekends.”
He glances at his wife, who returns his look with an encouraging smile. “Your name is Genevieve?”
I flinch at the use of my formal name. Fucking Drake. I hate that he did that to me. “Yes, but most people call me Gen.”
The man nods, pausing as if he wants to say something, but is unsure. “Have you worked here long?”
“Only the summer. I’m returning to school in the fall for a graduate program.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, his face otherwise expressionless. Too expressionless. Actually, he looks pale for a guy with black hair—and light skin. We have the same unusual coloring.
“What did you say your last name was, Gen?”
Wait, why is he asking these personal questions? I stare without answering, my brain attempting to process something niggling the back of my mind.
The woman smiles warmly. “You look like the daughter of someone we know. You wouldn’t happen to be related to an Elizabeth Tierney?”
My mother’s birth name.
Most people aren’t aware of my mom’s real name, unless they knew her from around the time I was born—when she decided to reinvent herself. How do they know her? I’ve never met these people.
The man looks like he’s about to pass out. His mouth is tight, a low indentation on the left side standing out in relief. It’s not a traditional dimple. It’s subtle, as if only visible under extreme happiness or stress. I have one … in the exact same spot.
No.
No, no, no.
Thoughts tumble, dropping like an avalanche down a treacherous slope. A searing pain pounds a pulse behind my temple, clouding my vision, sucking the oxygen from the air—
“No.” The word comes out light, barely audible. My vision wavers …
Lewis smiles over me. Wow, I really love waking to him. A girl could get used to this. “Hey.” I smile. “I had the weirdest dream—”
Another face moves into view beside Lewis, and then I hear it. The noise. Voices, so many voices—bells, buzzers. The casino, not my bedroom. A security guard squeezes Lewis’s shoulder, talking into a walkie-talkie.
I rise abruptly and my head spins. Leaning over, I hold it in my hands.
I passed out?
I remember now. The man. The one who—who—
“Are you okay?” Lewis shakes off the security guard, his expression annoyed.
I look around. The entire lounge is staring. I tuck my legs under me and Lewis helps me stand. “What happened?” I ask.
He looks at my customer accusingly. “I was on my way to pick you up after your shift and saw you fall.”
I wince. “I think I blacked out.”
The strain of Cali in the hospital, then taking care of her—I haven’t slept much. And now …
Lewis glances uncertainly at the man, who I notice sports a bright red mark along his jaw. “I thought he …” He looks sheepishly at my customer. “Sorry.”
“Not at all,” the man says, still staring at me with concern. He pulls out a chair. “Would you like to sit?” The security guard seems to take this as evidence that all is under control, particularly once Maryanne walks up and waves him briskly away.
“I can’t sit. I’m working,” I say absently.
“Snow,” Maryanne barks, “go home before you fall over.
Again.
” She shakes her head and lays on the charm to customers ogling us a table away.
“I’m sorry if I pushed you earlier. For your name,” the man says. He places a hand lightly on the shoulder of the petite blonde. “I’m Jeb Kendrick and this is my wife Simone. I’m an old friend of your mother’s. I didn’t have recent pictures of you and wanted to make sure I had the right person. I hoped to talk to you about something of a personal nature. You are Genevieve Tierney …?”
I take in his features, the small, dark mole on the side of his cheekbone—mine is lower, the center of my jaw, and Mom always called it my beauty mark. Light brown eyes, oval face, black hair next to very fair skin. The physical features are somewhat wrong, but the coloring is exactly the same. He knows my mom. Her
real name.
The one she changed twenty years ago.
I shake my head and grab Lewis’s arm. “No.” It’s the only word I have for this man. I drag Lewis out of the lounge toward the employee entrance.
“Gen,” Lewis says once we’re on the casino floor. “What’s going on?” He looks over his shoulder at the guy staring after us, the man’s expression troubled.
I lose it halfway to the basement door. Tears stream down my face. It’s been a stressful week, but this? I always wondered if I’d meet him someday.
I can’t deal. Not now. Not ever. Panic tightens my chest, my breathing short and wheezy. If this is him, he abandoned me. He’s out of my life. Door closed.
Lewis holds my shoulders and stops me. He touches a tear with the pad of his thumb and pulls me to the side of a slot machine, wrapping his arms around me. I grip his shirt and plaster my face in it.
Lewis witnessed all the bullshit with Drake. He even accepted the truth about my mother and father—but that was when my father was an unknown quantity. If this person is who my instincts says he is, this is huge.
Who knows for sure what my mom was to my father? The only thing I know is that she had me and he left us. My worst fear and the only logical explanation is that I’m the result of some fling, a one-night stand.
God, what does this guy want? I don’t want to know the sordid details. I’m not supposed to know.
“Did that guy do something to you?” Lewis asks. “I hit him. I thought he tried—but his wife said he did nothing, and you didn’t seem upset when you woke. Now I wonder—” His voice is deep, a little scary. “Did he touch you?” Lewis’s voice cracks on the last word.