Intercepted by Love: Part Five: A Football Romance (The Quarterback's Heart Book 5) (8 page)

A
ndie lay face
down on a paper-covered vinyl examination table. Natasha, her cosmetician, sectioned off her hair, exposing the patch of skin where she’d had surgery to relieve the pressure in her skull after her car accident.

“This is perfect, perfect.” Natasha felt around the area. “I’m going to have to shave it again, sorry.”

“Sure, I’ve been hiding a bald spot for a few weeks already. What’s a few weeks more?”

“The miniature digital voice recorders we have these days are the size of a cufflink. The only thing is you’ll be stripped and searched before they let you into the private game room. They will then give you clothes to wear, including underwear and shoes. Which is why hiding the device in your hair works so well. Sure, they’ll pull on your hair to see if you’re wearing a wig, but I doubt they’d go through every inch of your head.”

“May I see it?” Andie turned her face toward Natasha.

She showed her a tiny chip which was colored already to match her hair. It was a little thicker than a coin, but about the size of a game token.

“I’ll go ahead and shave that patch, then apply adhesive,” Natasha said. “I’ve even devised a covering with some real strands of hair.”

She slipped the recording device into a skin colored sack which was covered with human hair.

“Wow, it’ll be hard for them to see it,” Andie said. “But of course, if they were to feel for it, they might find it.”

“True, but because of your surgery, you’re missing a bit of skull there, so I can sort of jimmy this device in and stretch the skin across. It may be slightly uncomfortable, but let me know if it’s too tight.”

“I’m supposed to get that piece of skull replaced, but I keep putting it off. Too much going on.” Andie shrugged.

“I’ll say, but once we catch these guys, you’ll deserve a rest. We’re pretty sure it’s someone closely associated with the team, but until we catch them red-handed, it’ll be hard to build a case.”

“I just wonder why the elaborate game? Don’t most people place their bets online?”

“Those are small potatoes and people unaffiliated with the sport. Whoever’s manipulating the game got greedy when they hit huge odds at the Super Bowl. They’ve been itching to get back in the game. Betting on trades and draft picks is nowhere as lucrative as a live action game.” Natasha talked as she attached the digital voice recorder masquerading under a tail of hair. “Don’t be freaked out when they examine you. They’ll even check your vagina and anus, do a quick probe.”

“Ugh, I don’t like that.”

“Well, unfortunately, body cavity searches are part and parcel for both law enforcement and organized crime. Fortunately, they think you’re one of theirs, so they won’t hurt you. After all, someone high in their food chain had to have recommended you.”

“Who do you think it was?” Andie shuddered as a skittering of chills skipped down her spine.

“Just felt someone walking on your grave?” Natasha chuckled. “The key is to not think about it. If you go in there suspicious and trying to pin someone, it sets their guard up. People in this line of work have keen intuition. Something won’t feel quite right. So keep your brain out of it. Just do as you’re told, and we’ll get you out of there after the job’s done. Likely, you’ll be just fine, and you can go back to your hotel room like nothing happened.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Andie placed her face on her hands and swallowed hard.

“It is, for you. It’s all of us behind the scenes folks who have to do all the worrying. The key is to catch the guy giving the orders and tail the person who takes the chips from you. That’s our job.”

Natasha’s hands were competent and calming. After fixing up her hair, she swept it over her head and poured massage oil over Andie’s back. “If anyone’s watching, you went to a day spa.”

“All the way in the outskirts of town?”

“Yeah, you and your so-called husband aren’t wealthy and anyway, I doubt anyone’s tailing you other than our own people. They were concerned about you disappearing to the restroom a little too long.”

“I had belly cramps. Gas. It was embarrassing so I didn’t want Owen to hover nearby. It’s all better now.”

“Good. Get a good night’s sleep, put on your makeup like usual. Don’t wash your hair, obviously, then go to the Sparks Casino at halftime.”

“What should I wear?”

“Anything. No need to draw attention to yourself. You’re going to consistently bet on the line between zero and zero-zero until someone pulls you aside. Follow him or her. You’ll be given an earpiece and told what bets to place. The wheel will be rigged for you to win, so act excited and a little fey. Collect your winnings and meet the contact person. He or she will take you to a room where you’ll leave the chips.”

“That’s it? Is the contact person on our side?” Andie yawned as the massage loosened the knots in her shoulder.

“Don’t think or make assumptions. That’s key to surviving this.”

C
ade made
phone calls to Sylvia and Leroy, and not surprisingly, they hadn’t heard from Andie.

He’d called Roxanne and asked her to keep Bret for the next few days. He’d fly all the way to New York, if he knew she had headed that direction.

Why? Andie. Why didn’t you tell me? And where are you now?

There had to be a clue somewhere. He spread the pamphlets and hotel bills, key cards, and notes he’d retrieved from his mother’s room on the kitchen table and studied the handwriting. It looked similar to the ones on the notes he’d been getting.

He rushed into his room and pulled the notes from his pillow case. They fluttered out, unfolded. He could have sworn he’d refolded every one of them, which meant Andie had seen these.

Compared side to side, it was clear that whoever wrote the gambling instructions had also written the notes. It seemed to be a feminine hand, but then again, it could be faked, especially the exaggerated curly letters and exclamation points with circles in place of dots.

Had Andie decided to go after the person who wrote the notes? But how would she proceed? Who would tell her?

He scrolled through his phone and re-read her text messages. How could she have let him worry like this?

His phone jingled with a message from an unfamiliar number,
It’s me. I’m safe. Please don’t worry.

His heartbeat rocked and rolled. It had to be Andie.

Cade:
I have to worry. You disappeared and didn’t tell me where.

Andie:
I can’t tell you. Trust me, please. I’ll be back.

Cade:
Where are you?

Andie:
Don’t come after me. You’ll blow everything up.

Cade:
You know I will.

Andie:
Are you mad?

Cade:
No, I’m not. I read your note.

Andie:
So if I tell you I have a little surprise, you won’t freak?

Cade:
Of course not. I just want you back.

Andie:
I’ll be back. No worries.

Cade:
What’s your surprise?

Andie:
You sure you want to know?

Cade:
Not after you drop a little bomb like that. Of course.

Andie:
Well, okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Promise you won’t be mad at me.

Cade:
Promise.

Andie:
I’m baking you something.

Cade:
???

Andie:
You’re going to love it.

Cade:
I’ve no clue. What are you making?

Andie:
A little bun. Remember the lobster roll?

Cade:
You remember?

Andie:
I remember the buns.

Cade:
Okay… so you’re going to surprise me and go food trucking with me?

Andie:
Holy honey buns, I gotta go.

Cade:
I miss you, sweetsy.

Andie:
Miss you too. I’ll be back Monday.

Cade:
With your bun.

Andie:
Yep. Love you.

Cade:
Love you, too. Tell me where you are.

Andie:
Sorry, gotta go.

Yeah, right. Like he was going to let her go. Cade called the number, but she didn’t pick up. The phone had no voicemail set up, but it did have an area code. He typed it into a search engine and there it was, Las Vegas. Dammit. Andie.

Something about what Ronaldo said rang a bell.
Stay home and watch the game.

The hell he would. Andie was probably in Vegas to investigate the gambling ring. Which meant she was in danger.

Somehow, some way, he was going to find her and bring her back. She was nuts, but she was his nut.

I
t was game day
, Sunday, and Cade was on his way to Las Vegas after doing his research. He’d gotten up early in the morning and had flown to Chowchilla to see his sister. She confirmed what he’d feared. Andie was being set up. He wouldn’t put it past his sister to have told her bosses that Andie planned on working for the Feds.

How could Andie have fallen for this scheme? She was a naïve, innocent, trusting woman, and all she probably thought about was clearing his name and saving his mother. Gosh, what a sweetheart, but sweet and danger didn’t mix.

He hailed a cab to take him from the prison to the airport, unable to stop shaking his head and wringing his hands. Andie, his sweet and trusting Andie, loved him so much she would risk her life to save his family.

What had he ever done to deserve such an angel? He’d never been a praying man before, in fact, he knew next to nothing about God and Jesus, but he bowed his head in the taxi and prayed, visualizing Andie alive and well.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked before looking up, only to find that the cab had already arrived at the tiny municipal airport in Chowchilla.

“Praying for luck in Vegas?” The driver smirked as he opened the door for Cade.

“You got it. I need lots of luck, so help me God.” He handed his credit card to the driver and signed the electronic pad.

Even though adrenaline shot through his bloodstream and he hadn’t slept well for nights, a soothing calmness swept over Cade as he walked across the tarmac to the commuter jet taking him to Vegas.

He now knew how much he was loved, and how much he was capable of loving. And with God by his side, who could be against him?

T
oday was game day
. Sunday, the opening day of the new football season.

Andie sat in front of the mirror and wiggled her head from side to side, trying to see if the voice transmitter could be seen.

The hair attached to the skin pouch was a little darker than her real hair, but she could see the difference only if she stared.

“Owen, are you sure you can’t see anything strange?” She whipped her head back and forth.

He appeared behind her, fixing his tie. “Not a thing.”

“How do I know it’ll turn on?” She prodded the hard button glued to her scalp.

“Stop poking at it, it’s voice activated. Like right now, they’re probably laughing at you.”

“Ugh, fine. How long does the battery last?”

“Seventy-two hours in standby mode. Plenty of time.” He swooped over her and kissed her on the cheek. “Had fun today?”

“Yeah, it feels like my last day of school or something and all I have between me and summer is a killer final exam.”

Which was why Owen had taken her to church in the morning and sightseeing in the afternoon. They’d gone to the Mob Museum in downtown Vegas, and then out to a farm filled with all sorts of cuddly animals.

She had watched the films about the FBI and wiretapping, and got to handle a few simulated guns, including the gun which brought down Al Capone.

All of the activities, including petting animals at the farm and snacking on jams, jellies, and cheese helped keep her mind off the football game.

For a while, at least. Now that game time loomed, her stomach resumed its churning.

“Are we going to watch the game in here or down at the bar?” She fidgeted with her mascara brush, trying to shake off the clumps.

“Whatever makes you feel better. We don’t have to be down there until halftime.”

“Maybe we should take a walk. Or eat something. I wish I could take a nap.”

“Then take a nap. Lie down. I won’t bother you.” Owen grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “You want some alone time? I can go out for a bit.”

“Yeah, that’ll be good. I’ll meditate or something. Clear my mind.”

Owen peeked back from the door. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back when it’s show time.”

“Show time. Right.” She wiped her palms on her dress. If this was how actors and actresses felt before taking the stage, then maybe she wasn’t cut out for acting.

Had she really wanted to be an actress or was it something Declan wanted for her? Growing up, she was interested in ancient history, fables, and myth. Had that translated into acting, or was the only story she was interested in that of King David and his many wives?

Andie rested on the recliner and closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing, as Natasha had instructed, as a way to ward off stage fright.

Only it wasn’t working. Each brainwave crashed into the next and instead of slowing, her breathing skipped and grew faster. Add to that, the fiery snakes were tunneling in her mind and making her dizzy. Sweat prickled her, and she felt as if she couldn’t get enough air. The room broiled and her skin itched with creepy crawly sensations.

Gah! The ticking of the bedside clock, an antique, haunted her like a prop out of an Edgar Allan Poe movie.

She shouldn’t touch that prepaid phone. Cade was probably at the Flash Stadium in Hollywood, getting dressed to sit out the game. Even though he wasn’t taking the field, he would be there to support his teammates.

Andie grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV. Maybe she could catch a glimpse of him, or they’d interview him on the pre-game show. The announcers were gossiping about how Dick Davis, the former owner of the Flash, had gone missing. Fortunately, his wife seemed to have stepped up to take control of the team, at least in the interim before finding a new owner.

Andie’s eyes glazed over at the chitchat about the preseason stats, possible trades before the trading deadline and talk about the salary cap and cap hits.

Instead, she felt herself cradled in a snow cave, wrapped in a blanket and gazing into Cade’s bright blue eyes. All around them was white, and yet, she wasn’t cold. Warmth reflected from the bright shininess of the ice surrounding them, and they were high up on some mountain, cruising on mountain bikes. The pine scent of the air was peppered by the happy barking of a dog bounding beside them. Andie pulled up the front tire of her snow bike and shrieked with delight as she made a sharp turn down a bowl of white powder. The wind bit into her ears, and her hair flew up and around as she sped and jumped through the pristine snow. And then she was falling and laughing and spinning around and around, holding onto Cade—no fear, only joy and the sky a heavenly shade of blue. Love radiated between them, wrapping them in a cloud of lace, strewn with rose petals fluttering and swirling like confetti and frosting. Then she remembered. Cade and Red were lost on Watkin’s Peak in the jungle of moguls. He’d fallen down the face of the mountain.

No, no. I can’t lose you. Come back, come back.
She jerked and the sound of the football game blasted through her eardrums—the roar of the crowd and the announcer’s voice. Was it halftime already?

“I’m right here, I gotcha,” Owen said. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Are we late?”

“Just in time. Everything’s going to be great.”

“I dreamed about Cade. We rode bikes in the snow and he got lost. I remember something from before. I met Cade back in Itasca, when it was still snowing.”

Owen rubbed the back of her shoulders. “That’s wonderful. I’ll have you back to Cade tonight, if you want, or tomorrow at the latest.”

“It’s going to be over, isn’t it? The cloud Cade was under since he threw the interception. You know they were still talking about it at the halftime show?”

“That’s why we need to go through with this.” He offered his hand. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She let him pull her to her feet. She tugged at the tight, clingy pink dress to stretch it as far down as she could while slipping on a pair of spikey stilettos.

“Here’s your purse. Filled with C-notes. Of course we don’t get to keep any of it.” Owen handed her a Coach bag, one with pink handles and trim over the typical brown and tan “C” pattern.

“Guess they want me to start at the high roller tables.”

“Yep, number four, an unlucky number for a lot of people. It means the table won’t be crammed with looky-loos.”

“I’m not superstitious.” Andie clasped the purse to her side and walked out of the room with Owen. She was getting her memory back, and soon, she’d be playing with a full deck of cards. No one would call her naïve or brain-injured once she pulled off this sting and hopefully brought Barbara back from whoever had kidnapped her.

The lobby of the casino was decked out with colorful fountains and stone water walls. Shops full of expensive items, watches, designer clothing, jewelry, perfume, and luggage lined the gallery of the walkway toward the gaming rooms.

Cash machines lined the marble walls as they approached the banks of screens detailing the winnings for each type of game.

The casino was crowded with lots of foot traffic. Owen and Andie wove their way through the slot machines and between groups of convention goers. The obnoxious cacophony of electronic jingles and pulses chipped away at her veneer of confidence. Add to that the people milling around, some dressed in costumes of superheroes and pussy cats, and others wearing T-shirts identifying themselves as members of a tour group.

They entered the main casino, a playground filled with green felt tables and bodies crammed around them. Overhead lights directed them toward the different games. They walked toward the roulette section. Each table had a score bar showing the last results to give gamblers a false sense of control, as if they could somehow deduce the skew of a particular table.

Paying attention to the minimum bet amount per table, Andie counted four tables from the entrance and put four one-hundred dollar bills on the felt.

The croupier took the money and pressed it flat, giving her four one-hundred dollar chips. His beady eyes lingered on her cleavage as she adjusted herself on the padded chair.

Without dithering around, she placed her first bet on the line between zero and double zero—the numbers where the house takes everyone else’s bet.

The other gamblers eyed her and snickered, taking her for a sucker, since most people played the safer ones.

The croupier started the spin and announced, “No more bets.” The ball tick-tocked around the wheel, bouncing and rattling against the metal bars separating the slots, before settling on a number—thirteen.

Everyone at the table lost, as the croupier gathered the chips. The man next to Andie said, “You should try red or black first. They’re even bets. Win some first before going with the house.”

“I like green.” She lifted an eyebrow and chuckled, placing her second bet at the same spot.

“I can see why,” the man said. “With eyes like emeralds. Okay, I’ll bet with you.”

He placed his chip at the same spot.

The croupier gave Andie a sidelong glance and returned to exchanging chips for cash as another couple approached the table.

Andie glanced over her shoulder for Owen, but he seemed to have disappeared. His job was done, for now, or he was keeping an eye out. She didn’t expect to be approached yet. After all, she’d only placed her first unorthodox bet.

Again, the croupier set the wheel in motion, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent the ball the opposite direction.

Another loss. Andie didn’t care. She took her third chip and pushed it toward the same spot.

The man next to her put his hand over hers. “How about I buy you a drink? A green apple martini.”

The man hadn’t said the magic word yet, but then again, maybe he wanted to string out the drama until her last bet.

Andie shrugged, not trying to be too friendly. “I’m here to win, not to drink.”

“We bet your pretty green eyes and lost already.” The man put his arm around her. “I say you owe me a drink and an aperitif.”

Andie waited for him to say the code word, but since all he wanted to do was leer and pinch, she nudged him, trying to loosen herself. Where was Owen when she needed him?

“I believe this is my seat.” A deep, strong voice sounded as Cade wedged himself between Andie and the lech. “
Adios, amigo
.”

Every nerve in Andie’s body jumped and her stomach plunged. What was Cade doing here? So handsome and protective. He’d blow her cover.

The slimeball who’d been chatting her up turned away from them.

“Cade, what are you doing here?” Andie tried to keep her voice steady. Gosh, he looked so good and she missed him like heck.

“This isn’t the place for you,” Cade said. “Let’s go.”

“I already placed my bet.”

“Sir, you’re going to have to leave the table unless you’re playing.” The croupier tapped the felt near Cade.

“Fine. I’m playing. What’s the minimum?”

“Five with hundred max,” the man said.

Cade pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Give me twenty chips.”

“Not exactly the high roller, are you?” Andie jabbed his ribs.

“At least I’m playing with my own money.” He leaned toward her. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“Shut it. You’re going to blow my cover.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. After this spin, we’re going home.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh, honey, here’s your drink.” Owen placed a cocktail in front of Andie. “Did you run into an old boyfriend by chance?”

“Funny you should ask.” Andie chuckled and ran her fingers up Owen’s arm. “Cade and I used to date in kindergarten. Remember I told you about him?”

“Hooey, you did.” Owen pulled his lapels and guffawed. “He was the one who asked if he could stick his finger in your belly button.”

Andie giggled with a loud cackle and threw her hair at Cade. “You had the largest, most wiggly finger I’ve ever had in that itty witty belly button of mine.”

Cade’s lips tightened and his muscles tensed as Owen clapped him over the back. “You must have made one big impression on our little Miss Andie here.”

“No more bets,” the croupier said, glaring at Owen as the ball bounced and skittered to a stop on double zero.

“Double-zero! That’s my number!” Andie clapped and high fived Owen.

The croupier placed the marker on her chip while he collected everyone else’s off the table.