Читать книгу Holiday Homecoming - Mary Anne Wilson - Страница 9

Las Vegas, Nevada

One month earlier

“I’m not going back to Silver Creek,” Cain Stone said. “I don’t have the time—or the inclination to make the time. Besides, it’s not my home.”

The man he was talking to, Jack Prescott, shook his head, then motioned with both hands at Caine’s sterile penthouse. It was done in black and white—black marble floors, white stone fireplace, white leather furniture. The only splash of color came from the sofa pillows, which were various shades of red. “And this is?”

The Dream Catcher Hotel and Casino on the Strip in Las Vegas was a place to be. The place Cain worked. The part of the world that he owned. His place. But his home? No. He’d never had one. “It’s my place,” he said honestly.

Jack, an angular man, with almost shoulder-length dark hair peppered with gray, who was dressed as usual in faded jeans, an open-necked navy shirt and his well-worn leather boots, leaned back in the semicircular couch to face the bank of windows that looked down on the city sprawling twenty stories below. “Cain, come on. You haven’t been back in years, and it’s the holidays.”

“Bah, humbug,” Cain said with a slight smile, wishing that the feeble joke would ease the growing tension in him. A tension that had started when Jack had first asked him to return to Silver Creek. “You know that for people like us there are no holidays. They’re the heavy times in the year. I look forward to Christmas the way Ebenezer did. You get through it and make as much money as you can.”

Jack didn’t respond with any semblance of a smile. Instead, he muttered, “God, you’re cynical.”

“Realistic,” Cain amended with a shrug. “But is it so important to you that I go to Silver Creek now?”

“Like I said, it’s the holidays, and that means friends. Josh is there, and Gordie, who’s at his clinic twenty-four hours a day. We can get drunk, ski down Main Street or take on Killer Run again. Whatever you want.”

Jack, Josh and Gordie were as close to a family as Cain had had as a child. The orphanage hadn’t been anything out of Dickens, but it hadn’t been family. His three friends were. The four of them had done everything together, including getting into trouble and wiping out on Killer Run. “Tempting,” Cain said, a pure lie at that moment. “But no deal.”

“I won’t stop asking,” Jack said.

Cain stood and crossed to the built-in bar by the bank of windows. He ignored the alcohol and glasses and picked up a pack of unopened cards, one of several. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors behind the bar before he turned to Jack. He was tall, about Jack’s height at six foot one or so, with dark hair worn a bit long like Jack’s, and brushed by gray like Jack’s. His eyes, though, were deep blue, in contrast to Jack’s, which were almost black.

Cain was sure he could match Jack dollar for dollar if he had to, and just as Jack didn’t look like the richest man in Silver Creek, Cain didn’t fit the image of a wealthy hotel-casino owner in Las Vegas. Few owners dressed in Levi’s and T-shirts; even fewer went without any jewelry, including a watch. He had a closet full of expensive suits and silk shirts, but he hardly ever wore them. Still, he fit in at the Dream Catcher Hotel and Casino. It was about the only place he’d ever fit in. He didn’t fit in Silver Creek. He never had.

He went back to Jack with the cards, broke the seal on the deck, and as he slipped the cards out of the package, he said, “Let’s settle this once and for all.”

“I’m not going to play poker with you,” Jack told him. “I don’t stand a chance.”

Cain eyed his friend as he sat by him on the couch. “We’ll keep it simple,” he murmured. He took the cards out of the box, tossed the empty box on the onyx coffee table in front of them and shuffled the deck. “We’ll cut for it. I’ll even let you pick high or low to win.”

“What’s at stake?” Jack asked.

“If you win, I’ll head north to Silver Creek for a few days around the holidays.”

Jack took the deck when Cain offered it to him. He shuffled the cards again, then put them facedown on the coffee table. But he didn’t cut them. He cast Cain a sideways glance. “How much time does this cover—your not returning to Silver Creek?”

“Forever, or until I decide that I want to go back.”

Jack hesitated. He wasn’t a gambler like Cain. He’d been born to money. Cain had been born to nothing, and finally had something. Cain was used to gambling in every sense of the word. And he was used to winning. “High card wins?” Jack finally said.

Cain nodded.

“Okay.” Jack picked up a third of the deck and turned the bottom card up so they could both see it. An ace of hearts. Usually the best card in the deck. But not for Cain this time. “Two out of three?” he suggested.

Jack laughed. “Hell, no, I’m standing pat.”

Cain sat back, raking his fingers through his dark hair with a rough sigh. “I thought you would.”

Jack stood and reached for his suede jacket. “When will you be home?” he asked.

Cain glanced up at him. He wouldn’t argue with Jack about where home was. Instead, he spoke truthfully. “I’ve got a lot to do here. I’ll call you and tell you.”

Jack didn’t move. “When?” he repeated.

Cain held up both hands, palms out to Jack in surrender. “Okay, okay, let me check my calendar.”

“Oh, sure, what calendar? You sleep, you work, you eat. Take out the work part, and you can eat and sleep in Silver Creek.” He grinned. “And we’ve got the best snow this year. The skiing is fantastic.”

Cain never skied anymore. Once the sport had been his lifeline. He’d sneak out of the orphanage and head for the mountain to Killer Run—the Killer, as they’d called it. At dawn it had been all his, and he’d savored the freedom of it. “Did you ever get the land with the Killer on it from Old Man Jennings?” he asked, remembering that some time ago Jack had said he wanted to include the run in the runs at the resort, for advanced skiers.

Jack shook his head. “No, the old man’s as stubborn in death as he was when he was alive. His heir doesn’t want to part with it.” He smiled slightly as he shrugged into his jacket. “But I can change that.”

Cain stood to face Jack. “I’m sure you will,” he said. “Okay, I’ll be up sometime between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.”

Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m holding you to it, Cain. I’ll tell Joshua and Gordie and the four of us will be together for a few days.”

“You do that,” he murmured as he walked with Jack to the elevator.

Jack turned back to Cain as the elevator door opened. “I can’t wait,” he said, and got into the car.

Cain didn’t move until the door had slid shut behind Jack, then he headed for his office off the living area. He’d figure how to get out of going back to Silver Creek later, but right now, he had work that wouldn’t keep.

He didn’t make it to the office before the phone sitting on the black enamel table behind the couch rang. He reached for it, glanced at the caller ID and recognized the cell phone number on the readout. “Jack?” he said as he answered it.

Jack didn’t hesitate. “Stop thinking about ways to get out of this bet. You can come up before Christmas. I’ll reserve a cabin for you from the twelfth with an open departure date.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jack said, and hung up.

Cain put the phone back and kept going to his office. He dropped into the black leather chair behind his glass-topped desk in the book-lined room and stared down at the Strip.

Going back. He exhaled, and speculated he should have stacked the cards. Anything not to be in the position he was now in. He’d have to go back to Silver Creek, stay a few days, then leave. But he knew with a certainty that after he left, he’d never go back to Silver Creek again.