Читать книгу Power Play - Beverly Long - Страница 12

Chapter 3

“Be careful,” he said quickly, pointing to the traffic behind her.

Be careful. He was right. She needed to be very, very careful. “It’s late,” she said.

“I don’t need that much sleep,” he said. “And—” he looked at his watch “—I don’t have to be at work for another two and a half hours. Actually, now I think I’ll just stay up. I probably should get something to eat.” He put his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Ever since you said cheese sticks earlier, I’ve been a little obsessed.”

Maybe it was the drink she’d gulped down on an empty stomach, but his offer sounded so good. Fun. And she desperately wanted not to overthink it. To write it off as simply a cool thing to have a handsome guy ask her out.

But Anthony, Rodney and this man had been roommates. Best friends, to hear Anthony tell it. Would do anything for one another. Anthony had mentioned several times since she’d started working at the mine that he wanted to come see her, to spend some time with Rodney. Trey would naturally be part of that socializing.

Was it possible that he was part of something much worse? She’d seen no evidence of that, but then again, she was less than a third of the way through the documents. Had he stuck around for hours and was now inviting her for a late dinner because he had some idea of what was in her backpack?

How was that possible?

She wanted nothing more than to run to her car, to seek the safety of her little apartment, but since lately she’d been in the business of turning over rocks—not as a geoscientist but as an amateur detective—maybe the smart thing to do was better understand Trey’s interest. “A bite to eat might be okay,” she said. She did not intend to get into a car with him. “There’s a little bar around the corner. They’re open until four. Really good burgers and sweet potato fries. I suspect there might be a cheese stick or two somewhere in the kitchen.”

“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.