Betting on Hope (35 page)

“Where’s Frelly?” Tanner asked.

“He went to get some aspirin,” Gauger told him. “He’s been on light duty since he was attacked and injured during an apprehension attempt here at the casino.”

“Right, I heard about that,” Tanner said. “He got bopped by a beet, right? How’s he doing?”

Gauger shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

“The crooks got away, didn’t they?” Tanner asked. “Did you ever figure out who that was?”

“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” Gauger said stiffly.

“Gotcha,” Tanner said. “Well, you can’t be too careful out there. If someone isn’t slinging beets at you, they’re slinging rutabagas. It gets dangerous.”

“Shall we get down to business?” Darla asked. Her voice was frosty.

“By all means,” Tanner said. “What have you got for me?”

The agents showed him the small camera installed in the pen they wanted him to use.

“It’s got a mike
and
a camera,” Gauger said. “So you gotta keep this piece exposed.”

“It clips to your pocket,” Darla said, showing him. When she had the pen securely fastened, she patted his chest.

“There you go,” she said.

“Sorry, Darla, really,” Tanner said, removing her hand. “I’m involved.”

“Since when?” Darla asked.

“Since you asked. Now—what if they take this pen away from me at the door? I assume I’ll be frisked.”

“We’re prepared for that.” The frost was back in Darla’s voice.

“Don’t be mad,” Tanner said. “There was never a way we were going to work. I don’t date law enforcement. It’s my only rule.”

“Card players have no rules.”

“We do,” Tanner said. “You’d be surprised.”

“As far as we know, you’ll be frisked,” Gauger said, raising his voice and glaring at Darla. “Don’t worry. We got lots of options here.” He handed Tanner a briefcase.

“Camera in there,” he said. “See? Here’s the eye. Put the briefcase facing this way out. It’ll pick up everything.”

“What if they open it?”

“They won’t see anything.” Gauger opened the briefcase to show him. The case looked empty except for a cell phone.

“Here.” Gauger handed it to him. “Camera in here, too.”

Tanner pocketed the phone. “You guys think of everything.”

“We got a baggie full of button models taped to the toilet tank cover,” Gauger said. “You take a leak when you get there. Then you try to stash the cameras around the apartment. If you can. They’re teeny, but don’t get caught. The manager says there’s plants all over the place. Stick some in those.”

“It’s more important that you stay in the game than get all these cameras to work,” Frelly said, coming through the door and holding a small paper bag. “One or two should be enough.” He had a big, purple bruise on his forehead as well as a black eye. The beet brigade had done a good job.

“Okay,” Tanner said, when he understood how to operate all the models. “You’re monitoring these from someplace, right?”

“Right. Us and the state guys and the IRS. We got maybe thirty, forty guys on the detail.”

Tanner’s jaw dropped. “You have all those cops
here
,
tonight?
Tell me again why you need me?”

Frelly sighed. “Big Julie plays a high stakes poker game every Saturday night by invitation only. So we got him already on operating a gambling establishment without a license. So that’s like, the starter crime. Then, depending, the penalties escalate. Like the stakes. If the stakes top five G’s, which is the part we ain’t sure about, he’s supposed to withhold taxes, which we know he ain’t, because he’s supposed to have a license, which we know he don’t. So do what you can to keep the pots high, that adds to what he ain’t paying to the IRS.”

“That’s an important point,” Gauger said, interrupting. “We can’t make a case if we don’t show that Big Julie is playing for huge dollar sums. So if those guys want to bet their Rolexes or boats or girlfriends—whatever they want to put in the pot—you up the ante. We got you covered.”

Felly nodded. “When the state guys and the IRS says we got enough, we come through the door. And then Big Julie goes to the big house for a long, long time.”

“Fine,” Tanner said, feeling almost sorry for Big Julie. He picked up the briefcase and headed for the door. “Let’s play poker.”

Hope got to the Desert Dunes just before nine o’clock, right on time. Her hands were damp and her arms had goose bumps as she punched the elevator button for the sixteenth floor at the Desert Dunes.
Adrenalin, okay—fear, not okay,
she reminded herself for the millionth time as the elevator ascended and glided silently to a stop in the empty hallway.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door of suite sixteen-oh-one, which Drake opened immediately.

“If it isn’t the shopper,” he said, grinning appreciatively at the red halter dress. “And look if all that spending hasn’t paid off. Sorry, sweetheart, but I gotta search you.”

“For what?” Hope asked, annoyed. “What do think I could possibly hide in this dress?”

“Something good, that’s for sure,” Drake said. He swiftly disarmed her of her purse, and opening it, checked its contents, divesting her of her two hundred thousand dollar stake. Then he patted her down.

“These games became a lot more fun since Big Julie started inviting women,” Drake told her, brushing down her skirt after he’d felt between her legs.

“Don’t count on seeing me again,” Hope said, flustered and irritated.

“Damn,” Drake said. “And I was just thinking about asking you out.”

Hope entered the suite she already knew well from her visits with Baby. Big Julie was at the kitchen counter, mixing himself a drink, and she went over to say hello.

“So you won your stake,” the mobster said as she approached him. “All’s I was hearing in the casino this week was about a lucky streak this dame was on. Her and Marty the Sneak, burning up the tables.”

“That was us,” Hope smiled back, “but it wasn’t all luck. And now I plan to win that ranch back from you.”

Big Julie laughed. “We’ll see. Meet Bucky here.”

Hope had already recognized Bucky Newhouse, the conservative player with high blood pressure. They shook hands.

“Help yourself to a drink, something to eat,” Big Julie said, waving his hand expansively to the buffet table. “Everybody else is in the living room. We’re just waiting for one more. New guy.”

Hope nodded, poured herself a mineral water, and headed into the living room to meet the other players and see how Marty’s bios matched the real characters. Fifteen minutes later she’d been introduced to everyone. In the middle of a conversation with Bobby Stackhouse (weak player, bluffs too much), she heard a slight commotion at the door.

The last player. The unknown one.

She turned back to Stackhouse to finish the conversation, when she heard a rumble of voices coming toward the living room. Big Julie led the way in.

“Everybody,” he said. “Meet our new player this week. Make him welcome, because we don’t want him to feel bad when we fleece him.”

The other players laughed and waved. Hope glanced toward the door.

“Tanner Wingate,” Big Julie said.

From across the room, Tanner’s stomach pitched to the floor. He couldn’t believe what he saw. What the hell was Hope doing here? Hope, in a drop-dead red dress, as pale as a sheet, staring at him with dark, horrified eyes.
This
is why she wanted that big stake? To play
Big Julie Saladino?

His shock and dismay were tinged with fury, but he smiled as the other players stepped forward to shake hands. He’d spent a week refining this woman’s card game so she could play with a
mobster?
Was she Mob, too? Or Mob wannabe? She and Baby were going to become Big Julie’s top lieutenants now? What the hell was wrong with her? Didn’t she realize how much trouble she could get into? She could get caught up in the FBI sweep tonight.

Why the hell was she here?

One by one, the other players stepped up. Bucky Newhouse, Alejandro Vargas, Sandy Schraf, Peter Wong, Mark Ladick—he remembered that one, the peanut allergy. Then the one who’d been talking to Hope—Bobby Stackhouse. Then finally, Hope stepped forward.

“We’ve met,” he said to Big Julie when he started the introduction. “What brings you to the game tonight, Hope?”

“Necessity,” she said. Her voice sounded calm, but she was still pale. “You?”

“The same.”

“Yeah, yeah, everybody’s gotta play cards. Come on, let’s sit down, get the game going,” Big Julie said, urging them both toward the table.

“Excuse me, Julie, I gotta use the head first,” Tanner said.
I have to get those cameras in the toilet tank. And think for a minute
.

“Sure, sure,” Big Julie said. “Down the hall.”

“I’ll go with you,” Hope said.

“What?” Big Julie asked just as Tanner said “Good.”

“I need the restroom, too,” Hope said, steel in her voice.

“It’s a one-holer,” Big Julie said. “You can use the can in the bedroom.”

“I’ll just wait for Tanner,” Hope said.

“Suit yourself.” Big Julie turned and joined the other players at the table. Hope and Tanner walked down the hallway.

“What the
hell
are you doing here?” he whispered, trying not to sound as angry as he felt.

“I’m trying to win the ranch back.” She sounded as angry as he felt. “Derek lost it to Big Julie in a card game. Big Julie said he’d let me try to win it tonight before he sells it. That’s why the uncles came out here. To improve my game. I
told
you. What are
you
doing here?”

Tanner stopped in the hallway and ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“The ranch is at stake? You’re getting kicked off the ranch? You
didn’t
tell me.
Nobody
told me. Jesus, are you kidding?”

Hope’s eyes snapped. “Do I
look
like I’m kidding? Why else would I be here? I met with Big Julie last week, and he said if I earned the stake, he’d put the ranch on the table. Why are you here? Do you
always
play with gangsters?”

“Not usually,” Tanner said. “Tonight’s a big deal. I—”

“Everything all right down there?” Big Julie called out. “You two can’t find the can, or what?”

“We’re good, Julie,” Tanner called back. “I’m just trying to persuade Hope here that ladies always go first.”

“The cards is getting cold out here.”

“Be right with you.” Tanner opened the bathroom door and motioned Hope inside.

“Listen,” Hope said when Tanner had shut the door behind them. Her voice sounded desperate. “I have a decent shot at winning this if you’re not at the table. Can’t you play Big Julie next week? I have to win the ranch
tonight
. Big Julie already has a buyer. They offered
two million
. The money’s in escrow. The title’s being transferred. The buyers are putting a destination resort on our land. We’ll lose
everything
. I have
one
chance to get the ranch back, Tanner, and it’s
tonight
.”

Tanner felt numb.

“Hope, I can’t,” he said. Hope stared at him, and he watched as the light dimmed in her eyes. “I have to play so that the winnings—”

 “I don’t care about the winnings,” she said. “You can have everything else. Just let me win the ranch.”

“I
can’t
,” he repeated. “I have to—”

“Just the ranch,” she pleaded. “Then I’ll leave the game, and you can clean up the cash. You don’t want the ranch, either.”

“I can’t let you win,” Tanner said, not wanting to look at her eyes anymore. “If I could swing the ranch to you, Hope, I would, but I can’t. Everything is set up so that—”

Hope turned her head. “That’s why you were practicing that card trick that day at the bar,” she said. Her voice sounded harsh and bitter. “I should have known then that no good would come from playing with you.”

“Hope, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll—”

“You
can’t
make it up to me, Tanner. If I don’t win tonight, the ranch is sold. Then everything is gone.” She shook her head, anger and resignation in the gesture. “If I had a buck for every time a card player ripped me off and said he was sorry, I’d own that damn ranch by now. I
knew
you were bad news, just like Derek.
Card players
. I can’t believe I let myself fall for your line.”

“
Hey
,” Tanner said, startled at her vehemence. “I didn’t rip you off. If you’d told me—”

“If I’d told you, everything would still be the same. You’d still be in this game, telling me that you can’t let me win the ranch and you can’t play Big Julie next week instead. If you think you didn’t rip me off, come out next week when we’re packing up, and ask Faith and Amber and my mom how they feel. See what they say.”

She flung open the door and went back to the living room.