Up Against the Wall

“We were just chatting, Mister Wolfe,” Dawn emphasized, as though she’d earn points for making the distinction.

With his silent shadow glowering just a few feet away, it wasn’t as difficult as Rebecca would have liked to respond to Teddy Wolfe’s smile. “I hope I didn’t get Dawn into trouble,” she apologized. “She really has been very welcoming.”

“She’s a good girl, isn’t she?” Though Dawn beamed at the praise, Rebecca thought she detected a subtle slur in the word girl. As opposed to woman. As opposed to the heavy-lidded interest he gave to Rebecca’s long legs and the deep plunge of her neckline.

Score one for the femme fatale persona she’d donned for the evening. Rebecca forced herself to breathe normally, despite the surge of confidence racing through her veins. This guy was interested. If she played her cards right, and didn’t come on too strong with a barrage of questions, he’d eventually tell her everything she wanted to know about his new business, and whether any blood—namely, her father’s—had been spilled to make it happen.

Rebecca’s sultry, satisfied smile drew his gaze up to her mouth. “I’m Teddy Wolfe. My assistant, Shaw McDonough.” He waved in the general direction of the dark-eyed hulk behind him, but never took his eyes off Rebecca. “What have you two been chatting about? Something fascinating, I expect.”

“I’m Rebecca.” Rebecca extended her hand before the hostess mentioned the questions she’d been asking. “This is my first time at the Riverboat, and Dawn was very graciously giving me the rundown so I wouldn’t get lost.”

Teddy’s gaze made a reluctant descent back down to her outstretched hand. But instead of the businesslike shake she was expecting, he pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them. His grip was gentle, his lips moist and warm and as precise as that swoon-worthy accent. He’d done this before. More than once. “I’d be delighted to give you the grand tour myself. I’ll even show you the private gaming rooms and offices upstairs.”

Dawn’s gasp was audible. “Teddy.” The blonde made no effort to correct her familiar address this time. “I get off in an hour. You promised…”

And though Rebecca saw the accusatory look on the young girl’s face, Theodore Wolfe, Jr., ignored it.

Maybe there was something more than a crush on the handsome Brit that Rebecca had intruded upon here. Or maybe it was the sudden wedge of Shaw McDonough between boss and hostess that soured Dawn’s expression.

McDonough whispered into his employer’s ear. Another British accent, though deeper, gruffer. “Daniel Kelleher is waiting in your office, Mr. Wolfe. He wants to review the agenda for the meeting regarding the poker tournament coming up next weekend.”

“Of course he does.” Teddy leaned in to Rebecca as though he was sharing some inside joke. “I expect Kelleher plans an agenda for each trip to the loo. If he wasn’t so damn good with numbers, he’d annoy me.” The smooth stroke of his thumb across the back of her knuckles reminded Rebecca that he still held her hand. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Rebecca.”

She ignored the urge to pull away and reach for Dawn. A reassuring hug was definitely not a femme fatale move. Instead, she fixed her pout into place. “Maybe if I haven’t lost all my money and I’m still here later, I’ll take you up on that private tour.”

His grip tightened as he stroked her hand again. “Be here.”

“Mr. Wolfe.” His executive assistant tapped his watch. “The meeting?”

“Dawn.” Teddy draped his arms around the hostess’s shoulders and kissed her cheek, despite her stiff posture. “Now, now. Give Rebecca all the tokens she can carry. I want her evening here to be long and successful.”

“Sure, Teddy.”

For a moment, she had the boss’s full attention. “What was that?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Wolfe.”

He traced his finger across her cheek. “Ahh. Where’s that pretty smile?” His wink restored Dawn’s color, and a playful jab at her chin earned a soft giggle. “Good girl.”

“We still need to talk. Remember?”

Teddy Wolfe turned away without an answer. He took center stage, striding through the maze of slot machines that filled the main room, shaking hands and greeting players as he passed. Shaw McDonough, with his ever-watchful scowl, scanned the crowd, urging his employer forward whenever a conversation lasted more than a few seconds.

Once the two Brits reached the boat’s grand staircase at the far end of the room and headed up the stairs, Dawn turned and shoved her entire cup of tokens into Rebecca’s hands. The smile she’d given the boss was gone. “Here. Enjoy your evening at the Riverboat. All of it.”

Rebecca cringed at the accusation in the younger woman’s voice. She wondered if there were any words she could put together to get back into Dawn’s good graces without giving away her real purpose here. But guilt chased away her normal fluency, and all she could come up with was, “Thank you.”

Dawn didn’t even want to hear that much from her. Just as well. Rebecca was here to dig up a story, not make friends.

She had that scenario down to an art form.

She bristled at the silent admission, then straightened as if Dawn’s cold shoulder didn’t bother her one damn bit. “Can you point me toward the nearest Cosmopolitan?”

In reality, she’d be drinking ginger ale. But a bar tended to be a friendly place where people were either too drunk or too eager to please, making it easy to get them to talk.

With a roll of her eyes, Dawn pointed to the Cotton Blossom, a brightly lit archway which nearly blinded Rebecca to the dark woods and brass trim inside. “Knock yourself out.”

Then Dawn announced to the other hostesses at the bank of doors that she was taking a break. Ignoring their reminders that each of them had already had their fifteen, she wove her way along the same path Teddy Wolfe had taken. Though, instead of following him up the stairs, she paused at the curving white balustrade. The feathers on her headpiece stirred as she tilted her chin in some mark of pride or defiance.

She glared back over her shoulder, making sure Rebecca understood that her welcome to the Riverboat had only been superficial. Teddy Wolfe was off limits—whether her intentions were personal or professional.

Then, with a stamp of her button-top boots, the blonde turned and disappeared through a shadowed recess beneath the staircase, letting the door marked Employees Only swing shut behind her.

Chapter Two

Left to fend for herself, Rebecca spent an hour strolling around the islands of slot machines and gaming tables, pausing to watch a craps game before trying her hand at blackjack.

She hadn’t been entirely alone. Two men had offered to buy her a drink. Another coaxed her to rub his cards for luck. And when the dealer turned over a card and gave him 21, he invited her to be his good-luck charm at the Riverboat’s upcoming high-stakes poker tournament. Rebecca agreed to think about it. Serving as arm candy was one way to get into the Riverboat’s inner circle. But it wouldn’t give her much of a chance to talk without drawing undue attention to her questions. Still, she took the man’s card. If she couldn’t create her own access into Wolfe International’s secrets, then she’d show up as retired businessman Douglas Dupree’s date.

“Congratulations again, miss.” There was a smattering of applause from the guests lined up behind Rebecca as the dealer pushed another stack of chips her way.

Good grief. She must be up to over four hundred dollars by now—and that didn’t even count the tokens Dawn had shoved into her hands earlier.

“Thanks.” She added her chips to the cup of tokens, catching the ones that spilled over in her hand. She looked across at the young man wearing the Riverboat’s ubiquitous uniform of a silk vest and pinstriped shirt with black armbands and string tie. “Is it bad form if I walk away from the table while I’m ahead?”

The dealer grinned. “Around here, we call that good sense.” He scooped up the cards and the chip she left him as a tip. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Two guests vied for her lucky seat as she got up. Pushed aside for the moment, she searched for her next information target.

Despite her amazing success, Rebecca was bored with the tables. And after already sounding out the dealers on some of the same questions she’d asked Dawn Kingsley, she’d run out of connections to explore here. Though she hadn’t wasted her time, there were faster, more direct ways to get the results she wanted. She needed to get chummy with an employee farther up the hierarchy—if not Teddy Wolfe, his partners and executive staff themselves.

Besides, she sensed she was drawing someone’s attention. And not in the way she’d intended. The feeling of being watched was too intense, too malevolent to attribute to the legs or the hair or the little black dress. Was it the pit boss with the long black ponytail, who seemed to show up in her peripheral vision every time she placed a bet? Was it Dawn’s jealous evil eye, condemning Rebecca for distracting the boss she’d already set her sights on? Could it be a potential mugger, sizing her up to rob her of her winnings once she left the cameras and security of the casino?

Or was there someone else she needed to guard against?

Rebecca shivered, feeling those eyes on her even now as she stood outside the entrance to the Cotton Blossom Bar.

A subtle glance to either side revealed no one more suspicious than the next person. Short of spinning around and making eye contact with every soul on the Riverboat’s vast main floor, there was nothing she could do to identify and stop the unwanted interest.

Watch my back, Dad, she prayed, invoking her father’s memory and finding her own strength.

Her laid-back father would have hated a place like this, with all its glitz and glam and commotion. But she could feel him with her, like a restless spirit lurking in the shadows until revelation of the truth could finally give him peace. Rebecca fingered the chain around her neck, imagining his warmth before the chill of isolation could take hold of her.

“Has to be done,” she whispered. She tipped her chin, stood straight and tall, and walked into the bar.

Rebecca nodded to the faceless bouncer who waved her inside without checking her license. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimmer ambiance, her ears to the more human, less mechanical sounds. By the time she’d pulled up a stool at the polished walnut bar and ordered her ginger ale and lime, she’d introduced herself to the bartender, Tom Sawyer.

“You’re kidding, right?” She looked up from the nametag on his black silk vest and offered a teasing smile.