Carly Phillips - Lucky Streak

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.

COURT HAD BEEN a breeze thanks to a green public defender straight out of law school. The guy didn’t know what he was doing, which meant Mike got out in time for lunch. He headed directly to the café near the station to meet his cousin Derek, who’d called early this morning, needing to talk.

Mike had a gut feeling his father, Edward, was causing trouble again, in one of his unpredictable irrational attempts to protect the family from the curse. It didn’t seem to matter that the curse had originated centuries ago and those who had perpetuated its belief were no longer wreaking havoc in his hometown.

The Perkins family had settled on the coast and made their money in real estate and shipping. Just recently, Mary Perkins, the descendant of the original so-called witch who had placed the curse on the Corwin family during the era of the Salem witch trials, was in jail for blackmail, conspiracy and a whole host of other crimes. Meanwhile, her granddaughter and namesake was in a mental institution until she was deemed fit to stand trial for arson. She’d burned down the Wave, a nightclub that had been an institution in the town of Perkins. Both women had used the Corwin curse to hold on to power in the town. With them out of commission, the younger Corwin generation, Mike, twenty-seven, Jason, twenty-six and Derek, thirty-two, hoped the old stories would die out. Unfortunately, their fathers wouldn’t let it. The older generation still believed in the curse.