Hazard Play (6 page)

The answering machine was blinking when she returned home. She pressed play.

“Contessa, something came up and I have to leave for the day. You won’t be able to get in touch with me this evening. I'll talk to you when I get back.”

It was just as well. “I wonder what you’re up to?” Probably getting more information on that poor man. Or maybe he was buying ropes to tie Lucius and throw him in the trunk. “Not if I have anything to say about it!” 

Pyewacket began his nightly ritual of winding around her legs until she paid attention to him. She grabbed the cat comb and knelt to groom his long black coat. That accomplished, she fixed his evening food and he settled in front of the bowl to dig in.

She arranged with Mary Steubner to come over and care for Pyewacket. Nothing left to do except decide what to take. She wished he’d call. She was saving up a few more questions about the job.

It was eleven, late by Greenview standards, when the doorbell rang. A quick look from the peephole revealed Bailey. She opened the door. “I didn’t expect you. Do you know how late it is?” She had to admit he looked good. Even with a five o’clock shadow.

“May I come in? I got back from Portland and I took a chance you’d be up.”

“Portland? You drove to the Boise airport to catch a plane and get back here all in ten hours? Why’d you go there?”
Maybe they had a better quality of shackles. 

“Driving to Portland takes too long and Boise’s the nearest town that flies out. I have connections there who make the I.D.s. They’ll overnight them here the day after tomorrow. I also met with my clients and they gave me some bad news. They’re hedging their bets.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve hired another bounty hunter. They figure two going for Monroe is better than one. They also pay the bonus they offered only to the one who gets him first. I've got to get to Tahoe fast.” 

He looked so tired that Tess felt bad about giving him a hard time...almost. “You’re having I.D.s made when I haven’t even said I'd go? Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?” She refused to make it easy for him.

“Don’t get all worked up.” He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Do you mind if I sit down?” At her nod, he walked over to the recliner and sank down with a sigh. “I was thinking about this chair all the way here.” He closed his eyes.

“Um, I’m glad you like my chair, but don’t fall asleep on me. We’ve got things to settle. What made you think I would take the job?” She sat down on the couch. Had she acted like a sure thing to him?

“I wanted to get things started. If you decided to say yes, I'd be ahead of schedule. If you didn’t, I'd have to take an extra day or two anyway to find someone else.” He yawned, pulled up the recliner’s lever and stretched his legs out with a contented smile. “It was a calculated risk. And with Rand on the case, I’m in more of a hurry.” 

That made sense. It was irritating that he’d estimated correctly but, considering the way he made his living, he was probably used to it. She couldn’t hold it against him. “Rand? Do you know this bounty hunter?”

“One of the best in the business. Whatever it takes to get the collar. I told you I had a partner once. It didn’t work out, so we went solo.”

“I remember. Too competitive, you said. Any hard feelings to get in the way?” She couldn’t put her finger on it but had the feeling Bailey wasn’t telling her everything.

“We mutually agreed to go our separate ways. No more talk about my ex-partner. Stop stalling, Contessa. What’s your answer?”

“I'll take the job. But, you need to know up front; I won’t allow you to abuse that man, criminal or not. I'll be watching you.”

“The hunter being hunted, huh? Guess I'll have to be careful. Will you be armed?” He heaved himself out of the chair and stood over her, his eyes dark and dangerous.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Tess looked up. She stared at him, slowly covering every inch of his body. She looked down and up, lingering at points of interest. And there were many. “You’d be surprised.” 

She smiled and let her tongue graze her lips. The truth was, she hadn’t played this man-woman game for years and it excited her.

The light in Bailey’s eyes burned and his nostrils flared. “Let’s shake on it, then.” He reached for her hand and pulled Tess to her feet in one fluid movement.

“You’re on.” She tilted her head back and smiled again. They were inches away from one another and she liked it. “I look forward to working with you, sir.” Tess saluted him and waited for his next move. 

Bailey closed the space between them, wrapping his arm around her waist and pausing for a moment before his lips came down on hers. The brand of his kiss shot fire through her veins.

The primal joining of breath and passion jolted. Set her aflame. Equal to it, she matched his heat. She demanded and gained access to his mouth, her tongue dueling with his as she sought satisfaction.

Tess was determined not to back away. As long as she didn’t fall for the guy, she’d go all in. An appropriate strategy given their gambling destination. She ignored the voice inside her said that she might be getting in too deep.

That his chemistry would be too strong.

That his kisses were too potent.

That her need for him would be too great.

They broke free, both breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other’s arms.

“It’s late, so I'll let myself out. I'll call you tomorrow.” He took a big breath, gently released her.

She went to the window and watched him walk down the driveway. He turned when he got to the car door and saw her. They stared at each other. Tess watched as he shook his head, got into his vehicle and left. 

She smiled and began to hum as she readied for bed. Lake Tahoe was beginning to look better and better. She was looking forward to handling this bounty hunter. She had a feeling it would be quite the ride.

“Home.” Miranda Devere tested the word on her tongue as she would a new wine. “Home.” She waited for the rush of pleasure she expected. She wasn’t disappointed. She did a 360-turn and smiled at her foolishness. People who knew her as “Rand” had never seen her twirl. They would never believe that she could express such emotion—or any emotion other than cool professionalism.

She didn’t have many friends. Acquaintances, yes. She lived out of her suitcase in hotels all across the states. That didn’t leave much time for cultivating friendships. One to three weeks in one town before she left for the next job and the next town.

Until now. Until she’d bought a home of her own. Her first. She couldn’t help herself. She twirled again. And laughed out loud.

She walked over to the cathedral picture window that opened up on a view of Lake Tahoe—California side, if you please—like a full-color brochure at a travel agency. The clear blue water beckoned to everyone who saw it, locals or tourists. Gentle waves ebbed and flowed onto the white, sandy beach. She’d fallen in love with Tahoe eight years ago when she’d stopped over on the way to a case.

From that day, she’d combed real estate holdings to buy in the area. Finally, she’d found the perfect property. This home.
Her
home. She planned to put her stamp on it. Make it hers. A little remodeling and it would be perfect.

The opening chords of Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock ‘N Roll” signaled a call on her cell. Turning away from
her
lake, she took her phone from her pocket and read the display. She swiped her cell screen and connected. “I said no, Tuck!”

“Hello to you, too. I knew you didn’t mean it, Rand. It’s a great job.”

“I took time off, remember? I haven’t even finished moving all my things in.”

“The pay will let you buy that artwork you keep yapping about.”

Miranda sighed. She hated that he was right. She had her heart set on some Modigliani prints for her bedroom that would be perfect.

“How about it?”

“I’ve worked for two years straight with no vacation.”

“What if I told you the action’s moving to Tahoe, sorta?” Tucked cleared his throat.

“Meaning?”

“The Nevada side, anyway. I found out today that’s where our jumper landed.”

“Hmm, more tempting, but still not sold.” Reclining in her lounge chair on the balcony beat a job any day.

“Maybe this will seal the deal. You-know-who is after him.”

“You’re kidding. I thought he was getting out of the business.”

“Not yet. Anyway, that’s what my guy says.”

Bailey. It would be fun to beat him out of a job. It’d serve him right, too.
She smiled. “Okay Tuck. I’ll do it. Text me the particulars.” She hit end and went into her bedroom. Those prints would be perfect for the south wall.

* * *

“These are very good references, Mr. McLeod.” Rand looked up from the sheaf of papers containing customer letters and photos of his completed construction work.

“Thanks. You said over the phone you had some questions?” Danny McLeod sat across from her, elbows braced on his knees and hands loosely clasped. A blond shock of hair fell across his brow and he absently pushed it out of the way. 

She laid the references on the table. “Some people buy houses in Tahoe as a getaway. I want this for my home. Sanctuary, I guess you could call it.”

“I get that.”

A man of few words.
She noticed such things in people. It helped in her business. She also observed how laid back he looked in Levis and a polo. Comfortable in his own skin. Not interested in brand labels. Hazel eyes looked back at her with polite interest. He hadn’t tried to hit on her. A refreshing change. She avoided mixing business with pleasure. In her experience, it usually ended badly. She appreciated that Danny McLeod was all business.

“One catch.” She gestured toward the photos. “This is the first home I’ve had and I’m not exactly sure what I want my sanctuary to look like.”

He laughed. A nice laugh. “A fun problem to have.”

She smiled, not minding the gentle teasing. “Agreed, but if you don’t mind, I’d like some help. What do you say?”

“Does this mean I have the job?”

“It does. Where do we start?”

They stood and shook hands. Danny McLeod topped Rand’s six feet by an inch, no more. He didn’t seem to be intimidated by her height. In fact, he looked genuinely pleased they were eye level to eye level.

“Your house is modern contemporary. Assuming you want your interior remodel to complement that design, I can bring
Metropolitan Home and Elle Dècor
magazines for you to try to find ideas that you like.
Architectural Digest
is another popular magazine you can read. Are you looking at a house-wide remodel?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t want to remodel just for the sake of change.” She walked to the picture window and looked out at the lake. A small breeze kicked up whitecaps and she sighed in contentment.

“With a system. We go room by room, I find out which areas you’ll use most, what you like or don’t like about the existing rooms. Then, we narrow it down and you get to pick what you’d like to remodel first.”

He spoke from behind her, respecting her space. She hated being crowded. She turned and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll do some research on the Internet. See if I find anything I like.”

He shook his head. “Not the best idea.”

“Not technologically inclined?” Maybe a man who worked with his hands didn’t use computers.

“It’s not that. The Internet has its uses. It’s just not the best place for accuracy of scale to room and furnishings. What looks good online might not look good in your space.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. I use the computer for my work and I’ve seen a lot of junk online.” She walked him to the front door, retrieved his jacket from the coat closet and handed it to him. “Are you available to start soon?”

“Give me a day or two to get some things together. This is only my day job.” He saluted her with two fingers. “Don’t worry. I only do one remodel at a time.”

She’d made it her habit to assess information and make sound judgments and he passed. “I’m not worried in the least.” She took a card from her bag on the hall entry table. “Call me to set up an appointment.”

“In the meantime, think about things you like.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier to create a home if you know what makes you happy.” He took out a Denver Broncos cap from his jacket pocket, smoothed it over his hair and left.

* * *

Rand leafed through the magazine with something close to awe. Sumptuous rooms with sleek, but elegant furnishings practically leapt off the page. She stole a look at Danny. The man had the patience of an old soul. Comfortable with the quiet, he waited for her to finish. She shut the magazine.

“If you didn’t see anything you liked, I have a few more here.”

She laughed. “I saw many possibilities. There are so many choices, I’m not sure I can decide on a style.”

“If you tell me your budget, we can pare it down to viable options.”

“So, the ugly face of reality intrudes.” She stood. “Would you like something to drink? I have Coke, iced tea, coffee.”

“Iced tea’s fine.”

When she returned with two glasses, he’d moved to the couch and had a spiral notebook opened on the coffee table. She noted the strength of his tanned hands as he wrote—a lefty—the mechanical pencil an extension of his mind.

She joined him and looked at the notebook. “What’s next?

“Almost done.” He continued jotting notes.

Rand had quickly gotten used to his style of communication. No meaningless chatter, just necessary information. She’d met a lot of people of both genders who seemed driven to bless everyone they met with the golden wisdom of their words. Lots of words.

Danny put down the pencil and tore the sheet out of the notebook. He scooted closer to her. “I’ve listed some basic costs associated with remodels. I couldn’t be more specific because you haven’t decided which room I’m starting on, but there’s a general idea of a ‘per square foot’ cost.” He paused. “By general, I mean without any customization.”

“Customization as in a certain type of flooring or carpet?”

“Exactly. Or any wiring or insulation that’s not up to code. The house is fairly new, so there shouldn’t be any problems, but I don’t like leaving infrastructure to chance.” He grinned, his tan setting off his white teeth. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “I won’t know until I get started.”

“It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases.” She’d made a good decision when she hired him. He paid attention to detail. Her kind of man. A very attractive man if she were in the market. Fortunately, she had better things to do with her time. “Mr. McLeod, I waited a long time to buy my first home. I refuse to settle for ordinary.”

“It’s a great house; well built.”

“Even if I can only afford to remodel one room at a time, I don’t want to be hampered by its cost.”

“Nobody does. Doesn’t mean they can afford it.” He leaned back against the cushions.

“You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” She tilted her head.

“I call it realistic. Do you want me to sugarcoat it?”

“If you knew me better, you’d realize I’m no princess.”

“Good thing. I don’t think I can work for royalty. Too high maintenance.”

Suddenly aware that she was enjoying the banter too much for an employer/employee relationship, she looked down at the paper she still held. “So, explain what you’ve done.”

* * *

After McLeod left, she settled into her favorite chaise lounge. She’d carried it from rental to rental through the years when she’d stayed in a few places long enough to get out of hotel rooms. Even had it reupholstered it when she wanted a change rather than buying a new one. It was the only piece of furniture she kept in storage when not in use.

She looked around the room, sparsely furnished until she had time to decorate. McLeod had left his cost spreadsheet and three magazines for her to review. Her homework was to decide which room to remodel first, what she wanted done, and her budget to complete the work.

An hour later and she had one out of three. The magazines helped to a degree although no particular design element jumped out at her. Rand headed for the room she’d affectionately designated as the “Think Tank.” Since she worked out of this room, she didn’t plan to start here and disrupt her business routine.

She logged onto the Internet and started researching wall treatments, flooring, countertops, and all the accompanying styles available. The sheer quantity of choices made it impossible for her to settle on any one theme. It was time to call it quits. She was a firm believer in the idiocy of wasting time if you knew you were going in circles. She might as well do some work instead.

Tuck had e-mailed her the details of the bail jumper. “Lucius Monroe, an accountant, embezzled two million dollars from Taylor, Coston, & Jurgens.” He’d also tracked him to Tahoe on the Nevada side at Harrah’s Hotel. That was the good news. The bad news was that Bailey knew it too and he’d waste no time in coming down from Portland to get Monroe.

Let the games begin.

* * *

Lucius Monroe had checked into Harrah’s two days earlier. Rand arranged for the bellman to contact her if Monroe checked out.

She asked at the front desk if Bailey was registered and found out his check-in date was the next day. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of her GS Hybrid. As much as she wanted to beat out Bailey, a big part of her wanted to work on her house and settle in.

As a bonded contractor, Danny MacLeod could get started without her. She’d get another key made for him so he could let himself in and out. He’d probably appreciate working without a homeowner watching his every move.

Rand checked in with Tuck and assured him she was on the job. He always worried until she gave him her update. She’d check out the casino tonight to see if Monroe showed up. She believed in putting all her cards on the table, an apt phrase in this town, so tomorrow night, she’d also look up an old friend...S.D. Bailey.

When Rand woke up the next morning, the sunlight was streaming in through the bedroom sheers. She pulled the extra pillow over her head. Way too bright. Last night had been a bust. If Monroe had gambled, it hadn’t been at Harrah’s. She’d spent four hours nursing a Macallan before giving up and heading home. First order of business. Plenty of coffee.

* * *

The late afternoon flight from Boise into Reno was uneventful. Bailey rented a car for the drive up to Tahoe. Things were going surprisingly well between them with the exception of the radio.

Again.

“I’m driving now, Contessa.” He reached over to change the channel from the alternative station that Tess had located. “We listen to my station.”

“We’d better set some ground rules, then. I absolutely will not listen to any song about ‘a girl who done left me’ or ‘how poor and pitiful my life is since my dog died and my tractor got broke.’ Seriously, are there any
happy
country songs?” She had that stubborn-as-a-mule look on her face that he was beginning to recognize.