Hooper, Kay - [Hagen 09] (9 page)

"Cross your fingers."

"Where is he now?"

"He had an excuse for a car parked out back, so I
trussed him up and put him in the backseat. There's a service road
leading to the main highway; I drove a little way along it and pulled
off. That's three ways onto this place I've counted," he added
parenthetically. "Security must be hell."

Dane was thinking it through. "The plate?"

"Top shelf of his closet. Kelly should find it
easily enough, I'd think."

"Okay. What'll we do with Seton?"

"I've considered that. Remember Tony from Baton
Rouge?"

"Of course I remember."

"I'll give him a call. He owes us one, so he'll be
happy to keep an eye on Seton until we can get the rest of this
cleared up. Two hours by car, and he's here."

Dane nodded slowly. "Good enough."

"I thought so."

"You have any trouble with Seton?"

"Did he try to be a cowboy, you mean? No. He came
along meek as a lamb."

Dane wasn't surprised. He'd seen hulking brutes who
bashed people's heads in for fun obey Skye without a murmur. "All
right, then. We go on from here as planned."

Dane met his host halfway back to the veranda, and
Garrett Kelly's brows lifted at the sight of him.

"We were wondering about you," he said
politely.

"I'm part cat," Dane told him in an easy, lazy
tone. "Never happy until I've found all the comers. Lost track
of time, I'm afraid."

"You should have worked up an appetite, then."
Kelly said.

"Yes. Yes, I certainly have."

Jennifer hardly knew how to respond to her mother's
inevitable questions after she returned from Belle Retour and Dane.
She was still trapped in that peculiar feeling of suspension, of
waiting, poised without breath on the edge of something. But she had
underestimated her mother. Francesca, after one penetrating look at
Jennifer, merely smiled and asked nothing.

That reaction bothered Jennifer, and when she went to
wash up before dinner she took the opportunity to look into a mirror,
searching for whatever it was that her mother had seen. But she
looked familiar to her own eyes, unchanged. A bit pale, perhaps, but
that was nothing.

Surely that was nothing.

She slept fitfully that night, waking often with a
start, her heart pounding. Morning brought her the grim awareness of
her own scattered emotions, and she made a determined effort to gain
control over herself. The result, and one she was all too aware
of, was that she achieved a kind of surface calm, beneath which
nothing changed.

She didn't want to think, and retreated to her study
immediately after breakfast to work. Since she was a freelance
commerical artist, she usually worked at home, and managed to immerse
herself in her routine. For at least several hours, she kept her mind
blank, trusting to automatic awareness of her work. But after lunch
she couldn't recapture that mood, and sat at her board, a
half-finished layout pinned before her.

Damn. She wondered who had triumphed In the test of
poker skill last night between Dane and Kelly. She wondered if Kelly
had let slip anything that might have told Dane the plate had been
recovered. She wondered if she'd ever see Dane again.

The last was a haunting question. She had met him only
the night before last, after all, and knew almost nothing about him .
. . except that by his own admission he was a gambler and a
thief. He was after something from Kelly, that much appeared
obvious. But what? A counterfeit plate, he had said. But what proof
did she have that such a thing even existed? She hadn't seen it.

Yes, Kelly had clearly been robbed of something –
but had it been a plate? And she had only Dane's word that whatever
the item was, it had been returned to Kelly.

The sheer force of his personality had carried her
along, unsettled but obeying, doubting his explanations yet
allowing him to half convince her he was telling the truth.

She realized suddenly, miserably, that he would make an
excellent confidence man; he had the uncanny ability to inspire
belief even in the face of doubt. And Jennifer couldn't help but
wonder if he was playing on her emotions like a master manipulator,
using her in some dark game of his own.

Her own response to him was easy to explain, she assured
herself. She had been out of control for the first time in her adult
life. That was why she had responded so wildly, why she had reacted
with such abandon. It hadn't been him, it had been herself. She had
been ... oversensitive to everything, including his touch, his
kisses. That was all.
All.

"Jennifer! Those trousers – "

"Jeans. I'm working, Mother." She picked up a
pencil, frowning, trying to look as though that was the truth.

"You have a visitor," Francesca said gently.

Jennifer felt her heart catch, but managed to keep her
voice even. "Oh? I wasn't expecting anyone." And she hadn't
heard the doorbell.

Her mother's laugh was throaty. "This one would
always be unexpected, I think. So handsome! And such charm, ah, I
knew he was your man!"

Wincing, Jennifer murmured, "Dane?"

"But of course. Such manners, that one. He asked me
if he might take you out this afternoon. Naturally, I said that he
had my blessing."

Jennifer slid off her stool, staring at her mother with
increasing alarm. It didn't surprise her that Dane had won Francesca
over so quickly; her mother was predisposed to love charming men
with gallant manners, and Dane was undoubtedly that. "Mother,
you didn't . . . you didn't say – "

Francesca lifted a scornful brow. "My baby, would
that be subtle? Of course, I did not say that I knew he was your man.
This is for him to tell
me.
And he will." She nodded
decisively. "But now, you must change."

"I will not," Jennifer said stubbornly. "And
I'm not going anywhere with him." She drew a short breath. "He's
a gambler, Mother. A
gambler."

Francesca didn't look surprised, but only thoughtful.
She studied her daughter for a moment, then shrugged carelessly.
"Then you must tell him that, my baby."

Jennifer tossed her pencil aside and squared her
shoulders. She turned away from her mother and left the room,
unsurprised when Francesca didn't accompany her. Holding on to
her fragile surface control, she went into the small living room,
determined to stop this insanity. But when she halted two steps into
the room and saw him, she couldn't seem to find the words.

He was standing by the fireplace, gazing up at a
beautifully framed sketch done in pastels that hung above the mantel.
The drawing was of Rufus Chantry, and he was, curiously, dressed as
Dane was dressed now, in light-colored sports jacket and pants with a
white shirt open at the throat.

"Yours?" Dane questioned softly without
looking at her.

"Yes," she answered, admitting to being the
artist.

He turned to face her, smiling a little but with
unreadable eyes. "A characteristic pose, holding a deck of
cards?"

Jennifer glanced past him at the sketch, and felt her
throat tighten. "It was the only time he was still," she
said, admitting nothing now.

Dane nodded. "I see. Your eyes are gray."

She looked back at him, caught off guard.

"The morning brought doubts, obviously," he
murmured.

She wondered if her eyes really did change color, or if
that was only his idea. "The doubts were already there,"
she said in an even tone. "I just took a long hard look at them.
"

"And condemned me without a trial?"

Jennifer felt something Inside her turn over with a
thud. Oh, he was good, she reminded herself fiercely. He was so good
she could feel herself responding to him, even now. That beautiful
voice of his controlled just a hint of sadness or bitterness; his
smile was crooked, his eyes shadowed and unreadable. Her impulse
was to blurt,
I'm sorry!
because something told her she had
hurt him with her doubts, but she held the apology back.

"I don't know why you're here," she said.
ignoring his question.

He came to her slowly, but made no effort to touch her
when he stood before her. "Will you go for a drive with me?"
he asked softly.

"I'm working." Tautly, she added, "Some
other time."

"We need to talk, Jenny."

"I've taken myself out of the game," she told
him.

"It isn't a game," he said, suddenly rough.
"If it was, I wouldn't be here. I
shouldn't
be here,
Jenny, because if Kelly found out – Look, I just want to spend
some time with you. Will you come with me?"

She could feel herself weakening, feel the surface
control melting away like a thin layer of ice heated from below.
Against all reason, she wanted to be with him. "I don't trust
you," she heard herself saying bitterly.

"I know." He took her hand and led her toward
the front door, as if he knew she would go.

Jennifer didn't protest. She allowed him to take her out
to his rented car, which was a gleaming white Ferrari, and put her
into the passenger seat. She watched him move around the car and
gracefully fit his big frame behind the wheel.

"Why do big men always drive sports cars?" she
asked idly.

Dane sent her a faint smile as he started the powerful
car and put it into gear. "Some macho thing, I suppose."

"Don't you know?" She was smiling despite
herself.

"I've never thought about it." He guided the
car out of the driveway and onto the main road, heading for Lake
Charles. "Personally, I just like sports cars. They're powerful,
maneuverable, fast." He sent her another glance, this one full
of irony. "Sometimes, the answers are simple ones."

"And sometimes they aren't." She watched his
hands on the wheel, beautiful and powerful, remembered them on her
body, moving her unbearably. She tried to block those Images and
sensations, tried to ignore them. It hadn't been
Dane,
she
reminded herself grimly; it had been she. Her lack of control. Her
emotions spilling over. "Did you win last night?"

"No."

"Was that intentional?"

He shrugged slightly. "I wasn't trying too hard, if
that's what you mean. I was sizing him up, studying him."

"He won?"

Dane nodded. "He came out ahead."

"Did he cheat?"

After a moment, Dane said, "When I told you that I
know how to spot someone else cheating, I meant that. It's part of my
reputation as a gambler. I made sure Kelly knew it. He doesn't need
to cheat, Jenny. He's good."

She half turned in her seat, looking at him. "Better
than you?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'll find out tonight."

Jennifer was trying to concentrate on what they were
saying, fighting to ignore her body's response to his nearness. Only
the gear console separated them, and she was all too conscious of his
big, powerful body so close. But it was just a memory; she didn't
really
feel
anything, she thought. "Do you have to beat
him? I mean, is that part of the plan?"

Dane frowned. "Kelly's had some business losses the
past year or so. He's close to bankruptcy. Like most gamblers, he
believes he can win enough to straighten out his finances. He's also
smart enough to know that It wouldn't be wise to try and win that
much from his usual poker cronies; he got into the neighborhood that
way, but if he kept beating them ..."

"No one would want to play against him?"

"Exactly."

"Which is why you're here," she guessed.

Nodding, Dane said, "An old friend of Kelly's is a
high stakes poker player, world-class. Kelly called him and more or
less asked him to find another gambler with money to lose. He called
me; we've played against each other down in Miami. I came out here
with him, and to that party night before last, specifically to be
introduced and invited to play poker with Garrett Kelly and his
group."

"Isn't that unusual?" she asked. "To come
all this way?"

"No. My reputation is that I'll go anywhere for a
good game. There are about a dozen of us like that, scattered
around the country."

"With money to lose."

Dane glanced at her again, hearing the note in her voice
that resonated with bitterness. Then he looked ahead, concentrated on
driving, and when he spoke, he kept his voice deliberate. "Kelly's
friend called me last week; I was busy at the time. Then I called him
back and told him I was interested."

"Because of the friend who wanted you to check
Kelly's safe?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"Yes. She'd already found out Kelly was a
high-stakes player, and thought I could get in there easier than
anyone else she knew. It was a good idea, and it worked."

She? The brunette, Jennifer thought, but didn't ask.
"And then you found the plate."

"Unexpectedly, yes."

Jennifer was silent for a few moments, working through
the information. "So your plan now is to strain Kelly's
resources so that he has to print counterfeit money?"

"He didn't pass any last night, but he doesn't have
much cash on hand; he keeps it in that safe. If I can push him right
to the wall, make him bet all the cash he has and then win it from
him, hell have to do something."

"He could be printing the money now."

Dane hesitated, then said, "If so, well know where
the press is hidden. I have a partner working with me, Jenny. He's
watching Belle Retour. One of us will have Kelly under observation
constantly."

Jennifer stared at him, baffled. "Dane, none of
this makes sense."

"Doesn't it?"

She felt tense, uncertain. "No. It's – it's
out of character for a gambler to be doing what you're doing.
Even a professional gambler. If what you've told me is the truth,
then you have to be something more. Something else."