Here Comes Trouble (24 page)

“Ah. Fresh start a few thousand miles away. Good choice.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Things tend to work out the way they do for a reason. I don’t know that I’d have ever stepped out from his shadow to build my own life. Now we both apparently have what we wanted. It’s not a bad thing, Brett.”

And it was clear that she meant it.

“I just didn’t—”

“Want the pity party. I know. That’s not you. And, for what it’s worth, I’m kind of glad it worked out like it did, too.” He snugged her closer against his body. “Purely selfishly speaking.”

She giggled, which made him smile in return. He framed her face with his hands and kissed her. “I guess we’re both a couple of misfits, finding our own place,” he said.

“Something like that, I guess.”

“I like this place, Kirby. Your space. You. This. All of it. I couldn’t have said what it was that was going to make me feel content, or at peace. Or excited about life. About what I was going to do next. I should have never stayed in that world as long as I did, but I didn’t know where to go. I just knew where I wasn’t going. And that was into business with Dan.”

“The guy who came to see you?”

“Mmm hmm,” he said, bussing her on the nose, then hopping over to the stove when his sauce started to boil. “Turns out he’s not as happy for me as I thought he was.”

“Oh?” Kirby had picked up her knife again, but put it right back down. “In what way?”

“He was thinking I’d get over this…ennui, or whatever you want to call it, and come back and work with him. I worked for his dad as a kid, and with him off and on the whole time I was playing cards. His dad retired about five years ago, moved to Palm Springs. Dan runs their home building and construction company now. And though I enjoy aspects of it, it’s not really want I wanted to do full time, or how I wanted to make use of my degrees.”

“Which are?”

“Architecture and design theory.”

“There wasn’t a way to join his world to yours? They sound related.”

“Not the type of business he does, no. And…frankly, maybe I always knew that I wanted to get out of the desert, take on a new challenge. Vegas and the surrounding counties aren’t exactly known for their architectural brilliance, at least beyond the magnificence of the resort casinos. And I don’t have any interest in commercial building.”

“What did you want to do?”

“That’s just it. I only knew what I didn’t want to do. And I guess Dan thought he knew me better than I did, and figured I’d finally realize that I was destined to work with him. Things aren’t apparently going so well right now, and I’ve offered to help him out, but he’s too proud to accept a loan, much less an outright gift.”

“I understand the feeling.”

He smiled briefly. “I know you do. And I’ve tried to be more discreet and creative in the way I offered help, but…let’s just say it was a sore subject which has been closed for a long time.”

“Until this morning?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked over, surprised.

“It’s obviously eating away at you. You’re a nurturer, Brett. You take care of people. You want to help Dan because you love him. He can’t accept your help because it makes him feel less of a man, less of an equal. I don’t know what it’s like being in Vegas with you, where you’re like some kind of rock star poker legend, but I’m guessing it can’t be easy on him. So…I guess I kind of understand where he’s coming from. But it’s a shame he can’t see the rest, about your future, I mean. Have you told him?”

“About?”

“The rest, whatever it was you discovered today. About the house and whatever that means to you.”

“I told him about you.”

She looked up; now she was the one with the surprised expression. “You did?”

He nodded. “I wanted him to meet you. And for you to meet him. It’s important to me.”

“Do you think that’s part of why he begged off tonight? I mean, first you turn him down on going back to work with him and I’m guessing he see’s me as an obstacle to that.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, wow, the charity event. He knows you’re helping me? I mean, not directly, but in finding a way to drive guests to the area, to the inn?”

“Not the particulars, but yes.”

“It’s no wonder he stayed away.” She put her knife down. “Maybe you should go over there, talk to him. Spend the evening hanging out, get room service or go out.” She lifted a shoulder and smiled that half smile of hers. “Be anywhere other than here playing house with me.”

She’d said it affectionately, easily. But that’s what they were doing. Playing house. Only he didn’t want to play at it. Not forever, anyway.
Slowly, Hennessey
.
She’s had a lot of experience with temporary. Let her get used to the idea of you becoming permanent
. Hell, he still needed to get used to the idea. There was no need to rush anything, anyway. She wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he. She’d realize that sooner or later. He would find his niche here. And it if it was all meant to be, it would all figure itself out in time.

So there was absolutely no reason for him to switch off the burner, cross the short distance to the counter where she was chopping, put her knife down, then scoop her up against his chest and kiss the daylights out of her. But that’s exactly what he wanted to do…so that’s exactly what he did.

“What was that all about?” she said, half laughing, half out of breath when he finally let her feet slide to the floor.

“That is because this is amazingly good.”

She beamed a smile, her eyes shining with true affection. “It is kinda, isn’t it?”

“Thank you,” he said, “for suggesting time with Dan. If you’re truly okay with it, then I think maybe that’s not a bad idea. Can we maybe shoot for lunch together—all three of us—tomorrow? I’ve got stuff in the morning, but we should be done by noon, or shortly after. If you want, maybe come up to the resort and we’ll have lunch there? I don’t mean for you to do any extra work.”

“You just don’t want to risk me cooking for him,” she teased. “Which, good plan. But I think this salad will keep until tomorrow, so maybe that, some ham sandwiches, and I can pick up one of Mrs. Hanson’s pies.”

He’d been ready to tell her not to take on the extra bother. Until she’d gotten to that pie part. He was a sucker for pie. Which, apparently had shown on his face, because she laughed.

“Strawberry rhubarb. You’ll never be the same. Warmed up, with ice cream, it’s like sin on a plate.”

He moved his pan off the burner and then wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Funny, that’s how I think of you.”

Her mouth dropped open, then closed, then she rolled her eyes, but there was the most becoming bloom of pink staining her elegantly sculpted cheekbones, he couldn’t help but laugh.

She waved him out of the kitchen. “Go on,” she said. “I’ll clean up here. And if lunch doesn’t work out tomorrow, no worries. I’d like to meet him, though, so I hope he’s okay with the idea. I’ll come to the resort if you think neutral ground is better.”

“I’ll call you later this evening, let you know for sure.” He crossed back to her, eliciting a squeal when he took her by the hips and sat her up on the counter beside the butcher block. He moved between her thighs and took her face in his hands again, planting a kiss that held both the passion he had for her right that second along with the building excitement he had for their potential future. “I want to tell you everything, about the house, my plans. I want you there, for all of it, involved right alongside me.”

She still looked a little stunned by the kiss. In a good way. A very good way. “Uh…okay. Good,” she said, finally finding her voice. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

She still didn’t get where he was going with this, that the partnership he wanted with her wasn’t about business or friends helping each other out. All of which was wonderful, but the partnership he was interested in was the fully invested one. He knew she’d worked with her ex, so he was going to have to take care in how he presented it to her…but if she shared his vision, nothing could stop them.

He kissed her again; then he groaned and pressed his forehead to hers. “I really want to stay. Eat, talk, maybe take another shower.” He wiggled his eyebrows again so they tickled her forehead, making her giggle in that way that was coming increasingly more naturally to her.

“The shower’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

Now all he had to do was convince her he wasn’t going anywhere, either.

B
rett had tried to reach Dan on his way up to the resort, but he hadn’t gotten an answer on the room phone or Dan’s cell. He might have been telling the truth about being wiped out and was already asleep, but it wasn’t even eight in the evening. And the time change was only two hours. He ducked into the first set of elevators, hoping no one on staff noticed him or any of the early arrivals for the event. One in particular he hoped to avoid. The very last thing he needed at the moment was—

“Ah, Mr. Hennessey, here you are, at last.” A beefy hand shot out to prevent the elevator doors from closing. They reopened to show a smiling Maksimov standing just beyond the threshold.

Brett was sorely tempted to hit the
CLOSE DOOR
button again, but knew he’d have to deal with Maks sooner or later. He’d just been hoping for the latter. He really wanted to talk to Dan, see if the two of them could get back on even ground. That whole situation had really taken him by surprise.

“Could I persuade you to join me in the lounge for a drink? Or perhaps we could talk in your suite, if it’s privacy you prefer.”

The suite was out. And perhaps a public setting wasn’t a bad idea, anyway. “Nothing for me, but let’s go ahead and have our little chat.” Brett exited the elevator and fell into step beside the much shorter, stockier Russian. “Or we could skip this part and just go right to where I politely decline your offer.”

“You haven’t even heard me out yet,” he said, a smug smile creasing his wide, perpetually shiny face.

“I don’t need to. I appreciate the gesture, you coming all the way out here,” he said, straining to be polite. He had no real reason to be any longer, other than it was never wise to burn a bridge you didn’t have to. “But I’m not coming back to the tables, Maks.”

“Except here, where you are playing again.”

“It’s for charity. One time only. I’m retired and I’m planning on staying that way.”

“And yet, there are so many other worthy organizations who could use help from someone like you. Perhaps you have a specific one in mind? We would be happy to help. In fact, I must admit, Rudov wasn’t happy when you chose to allow the Bronfield brothers to oversee this event. We have worked tirelessly for you in the past. And we were the first to make you very generous offers when you were starting out.”

“And I believe I’ve filled those very generous coffers back up. Several times, in fact.” He paused just outside the entrance to the lobby pub. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, as I hope you appreciate what I’ve done for you in return. I’m working with the Bronfields because they have hotel interests in places other than Vegas and were best suited to handle things this far afield. No personal slight was intended.”

Maksimov paused outside the door, and his smile widened as his eyes hardened. This was the more familiar side of Rudov’s hired hand that Brett had been hoping to avoid.

“Perhaps you don’t understand the offer we are making you.”

“I believe I do,” Brett responded, hoping the shorter man understood him. “Please tell your boss that I am flattered by the continued attention and his persistence. But I am no longer available, regardless of the beneficiary. If you decide to stay on for the event, I hope you enjoy yourself. But please don’t feel as if you have to for appearances’ sake. I know Mr. Rudov relies on your assistance, so if your time would be better utilized back in Nevada, I’ll certainly understand.”

Now even the smile faded. “I don’t relish the idea of disappointing Mr. Rudov again. Surely, given your generosity here, you could see your way clear to supporting the good works of a needy organization out west. After all, it is your hometown. Giving back, and all that. We would make the appearance well worth your while, donating your media fees to whatever charity you name.” He lifted a hand to stall Brett’s reply. “This sport has given you wealth beyond what most could measure.”

Brett could have mentioned that he’d earned that money by playing the sport but didn’t bother wasting his breath.

“There are others, after you, young and eager.”

“Perhaps you should be focusing your largesse on them, then.”

“Oh, we are. But it takes time to groom the new talent, expose them properly, build their names. Most don’t stay in the sport long enough, and none have shown even a glimmer of your particular talents.”

“As you said, it takes time. But better to focus on the future.”

“You’d think you would want to be part of that grooming process.”

“Perhaps you missed the part where I’ve given seminars, many for free, for that very purpose, over the past few years. Trying to eliminate the online scam sites and to help bring more organization and a better profile to the sport. I’ve given at the office, Maks. Now I’m done.”

The smile returned now, only it was the kind that made a person’s skin crawl. Reptilian, was the word that came to mind. “In this game, in this sport, you are only done when you lose too much to come back. It breaks your heart, this game, and your spirit. That is not the case with you. You will not be walking away, as you claim. Perhaps for a time, but it will bring you back.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a sterling silver business card sleeve. He depressed a button and some hidden mechanism pushed a single, engraved card from one end. He extended the card to Brett. “When that time comes, it is strongly suggested that you contact us first. We will work together again, as we have in the past. It will be good for all concerned.”

Brett took the card merely to expedite the end of this little tête-à-tête.

“And you have much to be concerned about, Mr. Hennessey.”

Brett had already taken a step back in preparation for heading back to the elevator, glad that their business had been concluded without the whole charade of drinks at the bar. But as he paused and looked back, his gaze narrowed. “Care to explain that comment in more detail?”

“I only meant that there are always those who will rely and depend on you, no matter how far you run. In fact, I believe I noticed one of them here in the hotel, earlier. A friend of yours, I believe. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I overheard him on his phone, while dining a table or two away, looking to find some action on the event this coming weekend. Perhaps he could use your assistance there?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Brett said, quite honestly, but the hairs on the back of his neck had prickled a bit at the comment. Maks could be lying to try to get a rise out of him. He wasn’t surprised at the veiled comment; it hadn’t been the first time. And he hadn’t been the only one who was more than a little persistent in trying to woo him back for another round or two. Maks, and his boss, Rudov, were just the only ones he didn’t like. Their association had ended a long time ago; though he had played more than a few events at their resort in the intervening years, he’d done no work for them personally in promotion or marketing. Only now that they weren’t getting any piece of him did he fully realize to what lengths they were willing to go to get any piece of him back. He could have told Maksimov that that approach alone had already cost him any opportunity that might ever arise. Not that one would.

“Perhaps you should have a little talk with your friend.” Maksimov slid the silver case back inside the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit jacket. He lifted a shoulder as if to say that it mattered not to him, one way or the other. “I will be staying through the weekend. We will talk again, I am certain.” With that, he tipped a hand to his forehead and turned away from both the pub entrance and the first bank of elevators, strolling through the remainder of the lobby and out the rear doors that led to the private villas.

Brett watched him exit; then he finally turned to the elevators, thankful that no other untimely intrusions occurred, breathing a little sigh of relief when the doors slid shut without further obstruction. He glanced at his watch. Half past. Surely Dan was still up. His friend could nurse a bit of a grudge, but now was not the time to let him wallow in his dissatisfaction. Brett would find some way to make him understand why he’d made the choices he had, and also find some way to help him out. If Maks was telling the truth, then Dan was in far more desperate straights than Brett had realized. Dan would listen to him this time. He wasn’t leaving until they had a working solution. To both the business and the friendship issues.

The door opened to the top floor, which housed three suites in this section. His was the larger one at the end of the short hallway. He patted his jacket and realized he’d left the inn without his wallet, which had his other key card in it. So he rapped on the door. “Dan, it’s Brett.”

He didn’t hear anything, but the suite door was thick. Premium rates got you as quiet a room as possible. He knocked again, harder this time. “Dan,” he said again, as loud as he dared without risking annoying the other occupants of the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure there were any, but thought it best to err on caution’s side.

He was just considering heading back down to the lobby for another key, willing to risk pissing his friend off further by letting himself into the room, when the door cracked open. The safety latch was in place.

“Not exactly a hotbed of crime here, you know,” he said lightly. “You want to let me in?”

It was dark beyond the small crack of doorway. “I thought we agreed to put this off a day. I’m beat.”

He also wasn’t showing his face. “What’s going on, Dan?”

“Sleep. Or it was, anyway. Till you came banging. Shoulda gotten my own room. What, she kick you out or something?”

“No, I came to talk to you. About…well, everything.”

“Can’t it wait until I get some sleep?”

He either sounded extremely fatigued or a little drunk. Or both. He and Dan had shared a few beers after a particularly grueling workday, but neither of them were drinkers by nature. So he didn’t really know what to think. Had he really been that upset? Or were things just that bad? He remembered what Maksimov had told him downstairs. Not that he’d put it past the man to lie, but Brett had a niggling suspicion there was more to that story. “Come on, it’s not even nine p.m., which makes it seven back in Vegas. You’re not that jet lagged. I thought we could take some time before the true craziness descends in the next day or two to catch up and maybe talk things through a little.”

He waited. Dan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t close the door in Brett’s face.

“I feel like I’m standing out here begging for a nightcap; come on.”

He thought he heard a short snort. Then the door closed, but just long enough for the safety latch to come off. When the door swung back open, Dan was holding the knob but standing just behind the door in his boxers.

“Mind if we turn a light on in here?”

Dan’s response was a short grunt. Fortunately Brett’s hand was already reaching for the light switch before the door shut behind him, sinking them both into full darkness. A moment later, soft lighting on low tables situated just beyond the foyer area flickered on, bathing the stylishly decorated main room in a warm glow. Perfect mood setting for that late-night date a guy might bring back to the room, but not much to go on for a regular conversation. He moved into the living area and reached down to turn on one of the end table lamps.

“Can we just—not,” Dan finished lamely, as Brett switched on the more high powered lamp.

He turned to see Dan squinting in the sudden light, holding his hand up like a shield. But not shield enough to keep Brett from seeing the nasty bruise on his cheek and the split at the corner of his mouth.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Ran into a door,” he retorted. “Can I get you a beer? Why the hell not,” he answered himself, “you’re paying for them. Did you know they stock the damn fridge? And I don’t mean the minibar. I don’t think this room even has one of those.” He scuffed bare feet across the thick carpeting as he headed into the more dimly lit kitchen area. It was more a wet bar with a Jennair in the middle, and a full-size Sub-zero fridge lodged at one end, then it was a full-fledged kitchen, but it screamed luxury nonetheless. “Wait, what am I saying?” he added dryly as he opened the fridge door, ducking his head a little at the bright interior light. “Of course you know they stock the fridge. You’re used to this shit. How in the hell you’re tired of the shit, I have no idea. Pretty sweet deal,” he added, fishing out two long necks and closing the door with an audible sigh. He grabbed a dish towel and screwed the tops off. “Of course, I guess there’s the irony that you score the best free stuff when you can actually afford to pay for it, but why go there?”

Brett was still standing by the couch, watching his friend. Who was clearly at least a little drunk, and definitely no less bitter than he’d left him a few hours before. Possibly more so. “Some door,” he said, gesturing to Dan’s face with the bottle he’d just been handed.

Dan turned and flopped down in the nearest chair, propping his feet up on the engraved crystal surface of the free form hardwood coffee table now situated between them.

Brett took the couch and propped his feet as well. He took a slow pull from the bottle, trying to figure out the best way to ease into any semblance of rational, constructive conversation. “Ran into Maksimov,” he said, deciding that perhaps it was better to start neutral and wind his way back around to the real topic at hand.

“I’m sure he’s been laying in wait for you,” Dan said, the accompanying chuckle carrying more than a little edge. “He try and woo you back like I said?” He took another pull.

Brett noticed he wasn’t maintaining any kind of eye contact; rather he was looking at the bottle, or staring at his feet. “At least, and then some.”

“And you said?”

“No. I told you that.”

Dan lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug that said he really couldn’t care less. But Brett wasn’t so sure about that. He watched Dan start to pick at the label on the bottle, the digging motions proving there was more than a little tension beneath the lazy, drunken sprawl he’d adopted.

“Folks change their minds all the time.”