Lucky (18 page)

It was because she’d felt him come apart in her arms. He’d let her know there was a way to destroy him. It was the ultimate gift of trust that knocked down the last rail in her defense. She could do no less than respond in kind.

“I love you, Lucky Lady…love you,” Nick said over and over, pressing soft, gentle kisses upon her face and neck. “Tell me you’re all right.” He held her close, wanting to take away the pain.

“I’m not all right. I’m perfect,” she said, and unwound her legs from his body, stretching beneath him like a waking cat, one arm, one leg, at a time.

Nick groaned and then chuckled softly as he stole one last kiss before levering himself away. Before she had time to complain, he slid his arms beneath her shoulders and rolled her toward him. Long silent moments passed while his hand stroked and gentled the racing pulse he felt beneath her skin.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, hating to hear her answer, yet needing to know.

“I don’t know,” Lucky said with a sigh. “You made me too crazy to feel it.”

“Thank God,” he muttered. “Now, first things first. You should bathe. I’ll go shower in my room.”

“But why can’t we—”

Nick leaned over and kissed the pout on her lips. “Because, honey. It was your first time. Whether you believe it or not, you’re going to be sore. A warm bath will help, I promise.”

“You’re the expert,” she said, and rolled out of bed and headed for the bath, as unconscious of her nudity as if they’d done this a thousand times before.

Nick rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling above the bed as he listened to the water running in the next room.

“I thought I was,” he muttered. “Something tells me I’m going to be outclassed in nothing flat.” And then he laughed at himself as he gathered up his clothes and made for the door. “And I’m complaining? I must still be sick.”

A few days later, Nick found her cross-legged in the middle of her bed, holding the phone to her ear with one hand while she absently flipped through a deck of cards with the other.

“But Fluffy, are you sure you’re okay?” Lucky said.

“I’m fine, honey,” Fluffy answered. “Just like I was for the first eighty-four years of my life before you came. And just because you’ve moved doesn’t mean I can’t manage.”

“I haven’t moved,” Lucky argued. “Some of my things are still there, and I’m still paying rent. It’s more like I’m here being housed for my own good.”

Nick frowned. He hadn’t realized that she might resent what had happened, or that she could possibly be bored. It gave him food for thought.

“I redid my hair,” Fluffy crowed. “You’re just going to die.”

“What color is it now?” Lucky asked, glad Fluffy couldn’t see the grin on her face.

“Miguel said it was black as a witch’s heart. But the color is called Bad, Black, and Bouncy.”

“Bad, Black, and Bouncy? You’re kidding me.”

“It’s the truth, so help me God. It makes me look a lit
tle like Ann Miller. You remember her…that gorgeous long-legged dancer from Hollywood’s glamour days?”

While waiting for Lucky to answer, Fluffy swung a fly swatter at her cat as he sauntered by. She missed, but out of respect for the thought, the cat hissed and danced sideways just to stay in practice and in doing so, knocked a vase off a table.

“What was that?” Lucky asked.

“That damned cat,” Fluffy muttered. “Now I’m going to have to sweep up glass. Talk to you later. And bring that handsome hunk with you when you come,” she said. “Gotta go.”

The line went dead in Lucky’s ear. Unaware of Nick’s scrutiny, Lucky fell back onto the bed with a smile on her face and threw the cards up into the air, watching absently as they showered back down on her like a pasteboard snowstorm.

“Are you sorry you’re here?”

Lucky jumped. “Good grief, Nick! You scared me half to death. I didn’t know you had come in.”

“Obviously, or you wouldn’t have admitted you were here under duress.”

She’d hurt his feelings. It was obvious by the way he was standing, and the fact that he’d shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. It was a gesture of his that she was learning to recognize as frustration.

“I was talking to Fluffy.”

“I figured as much,” Nick said. “Who else do we know who would put Bad, Black, and Bouncy on her hair?”

“She said it made her look like Ann Miller.”

Nick grinned in spite of himself.

“Nick?”

“What, honey?” he asked, and scooted her across the bed, rolling them both onto the cards that she’d tossed.

“Who is Ann Miller?”

He laughed, then took another look at the puzzled expression on her face and laughed some more.

“I have an idea,” he whispered, and started to trail kisses up one side of her neck and down the other.

Lucky smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck as she felt his manhood grow hard against her belly.

“You and your ideas,” she teased, and slid a hand between them until she could feel him pulsing beneath her touch.

“I’ve got one of my own. You show me yours…I’ll show you mine,” she said, flashing Nick a wicked grin.

Less than a minute later, they were out of their clothes and back on the bed, making love on the cards that she’d tossed.

His mouth centered around her nipple as his tongue raked the point he’d made ache. Lucky moaned and shifted beneath him, urging him to come inside and ease her pain.

“Not yet, love,” Nick whispered. “Let it burn a little while longer.”

Lucky shuddered. From where she lay, she felt like she was already in ashes. Unaware of the cards she clutched in her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck and arched beneath his caress.

And then it came, like a wildfire out of control, sweeping across her mind, taking everything in its path but the feel of Nick’s hands and the imprint of his mouth upon
her lips. Afterward, as she lay quietly replete within his embrace, she realized that she still held one of the cards that she’d tossed. She turned it faceup.

“Oh, my.”

Nick shifted Lucky in his arms.

“What is it, honey?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”

“Look, Nick. I didn’t know it, but I was holding these when we made love.”

He took the card and turned it over, then grinned. It was the king of hearts.

“That’s me, all right. King of hearts. At your service day and night.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lucky said, and rolled off of the bed and stomped toward the bath, unaware that several of the cards still stuck to her naked backside.

Nick followed her into the room as she turned on the taps.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. “I thought it was rather symbolic.”

“Not half as symbolic as this joker stuck to your butt,” he said, and peeled it, along with three others, off her back.

She grinned, then yanked the cards from his hands and gave them a halfhearted shuffle. “Wanna play a hand or two?”

“Jesus,” he muttered. “What have I created?”

Lucky pulled him into the shower, ignoring the cards that scattered on the tiles beneath their feet, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I am not a what. I am a who. An insatiable who, but nevertheless…a who.”

He grinned and shoved her into the shower spray, rev
eling in her look of shock before he followed. By the time they emerged, the cards had disintegrated into pulp, and were slowly but surely disappearing down the drain.

“I am going to go to work.”

Nick threw a shoe across the room. “Dammit, Lucky. You can’t. What if…?”

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum will be right by my side.”

Nick rolled his eyes and tried not to smile at the names she’d given to the bodyguards who now accompanied them everywhere.

“You went to work yesterday,” she added. “Nothing happened. I can’t sit here and watch Shari arrange any more flowers or cook any more chicken. I’m tired of letting your father beat me at five card draw, and he cheats at checkers.”

Nick grinned again. “I know. How do you think I learned to play?”

“So? What do you say?” she persisted.

He sighed and threw up his hands in defeat. “You go on my time and come home when I do. It’s either that or nothing at all.”

“It’s a deal,” Lucky said, and stuck out her hand.

Nick’s eyebrows rose perceptibly. In his opinion, she was taking this “deal” business a little too far.

“Either shake on it, or it doesn’t mean a thing,” she warned.

He grimaced and shook her hand, knowing he’d already lost another round with this woman/child who’d wrapped herself around his heart.

“Martin and Davis will be nearby. You have to put up with them or you don’t go,” he said, referring to the bodyguards in question.

“I’ve already said I’ll endure them. I’ll do anything to be able to get out of this house.”

Suddenly the playing was over. Nick’s expression turned solemn, and his eyes darkened. It wasn’t the first time that she’d balked under the reins of their self-imposed security. He wondered if that was the only reason, or if she felt like their relationship had gone too far, too fast.

“Don’t look like that,” Lucky said, and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I love you, Nick Chenault. I believe you when you say you love me too. But we hadn’t even gotten to the point of making love when fate confined us rather dramatically. It’s not that I don’t want to be here. It’s just that the decision was made for us…not by us. Do you understand?”

He nuzzled her left earlobe and then pressed a swift hard kiss against the worry he’d put on her mouth.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “It just doesn’t mean that I like what you think. When I hear you say you wish you weren’t here, I can’t help but assume that means you wish you weren’t with me.”

“No, never. But I lost my freedom, Nick. When I was a child, I used to run and play in woods so thick that you had to turn sideways to get between the tree trunks. I could walk out of our house and down the road and never feel any kind of fear other than the fear of not being accepted. Even after I came to Vegas, I rode all over the city on the MTA without having to look over my shoulder.
Now I can’t even go shopping. I can’t go see Fluffy whenever I want. I can’t even go to work. I’m living off of you.”

“You are still drawing pay,” Nick said, and when her expression darkened, he added, “It’s only fair. I can’t let your financial situation suffer just because I put you in danger.”

“That’s what I mean,” Lucky said. “I’m taking your money for nothing except—”

“Goddammit! Don’t say it! Don’t you the hell say it!” he shouted, knowing where she was going. “I don’t pay for sex. I don’t buy love. I give it, lady, or it isn’t there at all.”

For a moment, the room was taut from the bitterness of the words that had been said. And then Lucky’s shoulders slumped, and she dropped into a chair.

“I am a bitch.”

Nick grinned in spite of the anger that had just overwhelmed him.

“Not really,” he said, and offered her a hand up from the seat.

“Maybe it’s PMS.”

He laughed uproariously. As he did, Paul wheeled into the library and then rolled to a hesitant stop.

“If I’m interrupting something I can come back later,” he said.

“Oh, hell, Dad. Of course you are,” Nick said with a grin. “You heard us yelling clear down the hall and came in to make certain that we kiss and make up so that you are not denied any future heirs and you know it.”

Lucky blushed and shifted nervously in her chair. It was weird how men talked to each other. Another adjustment of her life. Going from before, to now, was not always easy.

“I’m getting ready for work,” she warned Nick.

Paul’s eyebrows rose as Lucky left the room. He glanced at his son.

“Yes, she won the damned argument,” Nick said. “She’s a woman, isn’t she?”

And then they both laughed, safe in the knowledge that without woman, man could not exist.

Lucky smiled to herself as she ran up the stairs. She could still hear the sounds of their laughter as she entered her room, but she didn’t care. She’d made her point.

T
hey got out of the limousine, and before Lucky could react, the breeze caught the skirt of her dress, lifting it several inches above her knees. She laughed and caught it before anything too embarrassing was revealed. But it was already too late for Nick’s peace of mind. When a man walking by whistled, then winked, it was all Nick could do not to shove her back inside the car, order them to take her away, and deal with the consequences later.

“Suck it up, Nick,” Lucky warned. “Your macho is showing.”

He tried to frown, but the look on her face was too priceless to ignore. “Sorry.” He grinned. “It’s a man thing. Hey,” Nick added as they entered the club. “If you can get away with that PMS excuse, I’ve got to have something to fall back on too.”

Lucky laughed. He was impossible, and she loved him desperately.

“
Madre de Dios
, you have returned! Welcome, Lady Luck! Welcome!”

Manny’s shout of delight echoed within the entryway, causing several people to turn and stare, curious to see the woman called Lady Luck. Instinctively, before the people could crowd around for a better look, the bodyguards slid into place.

“Oh, good lord,” Lucky muttered, as Martin almost stepped on her toe. “How do you deal with this?”

Nick slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a comforting squeeze. “I do it because I don’t want to die. I have too much to live for.”

The seriousness in his voice stopped her complaints. It was enough said.

“Manny, I missed you.” She returned the hug that the little man gave her. “I never had the opportunity to tell you how much it meant to me that you came to the hospital. Thank you. I really appreciate it, more than words can say.”

Manny shrugged. “
De nada, querida
. It would have been impossible to do otherwise.”

“Nevertheless…” Lucky leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Don’t I get a welcome back kiss too?” Nick asked.

“Nicky…you were here yesterday. You should have asked for it then, when I was so moved by the sight of your face.” Manny shrugged, as if to say it was out of his hands, and then laughed at his own wit.

“I need to change,” Lucky said. “I’ll be right back.”

Nick didn’t even have to say it. As Lucky moved away,
Davis, the dark-haired member of the devilish-duo bodyguards, was right beside her.

“She looks like herself again, Nicky,” Manny said. “While you were sick…I thought for a time we might lose her too. I’ve never seen anyone so distraught.”

Nick frowned. He’d had little sense of what Lucky’s life had been like while he was fighting for his own. How frustrated she must have felt, knowing that everything in her world was out of her control. As he went toward the stairs, Martin, the other bodyguard, moved in unison with his steps, but always one jump ahead.

Lucky’s pulse raced as she walked across the floor. A little part of her kept searching the faces of the people she passed, wondering if there was someone there who meant to do her harm.

And it felt strange to be back inside the club, as if she were seeing it again for the first time. A few of the players at the blackjack tables looked familiar. But most appeared to be visitors here for a short but good time.

The noise level was at its normal high. People crowded around tables, vied for chairs, and sat at the machines, staring in stuporlike silence to see what hand the computerized slot machine games dealt them. The piped-in music was barely over the hum of the crowd and the ever-present happy shrieks as money clanked against metal when a jackpot was hit in the slots.

“Cocktails? Cocktails anyone?”

Over the heads of the crowd, Lucky heard the familiar cries, and knew that somewhere in the bustle, Maizie and the dozens of other cocktail waitresses were hard at work,
hustling drinks and smiling for the tips that kept them afloat.

A few moments later, Lucky reached the employee dressing room. Just as she was about to enter, Davis grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“You will wait here, Miss Houston, while I check it out.” He placed her firmly to the side of the door without giving her time to argue, and gave the dressing area a quick sweep. It was obvious, even to Lucky, that no one was inside.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, and pushed the door open, then stepped aside, waiting for her to enter.

“I won’t be long,” Lucky said, trying not to resent this change in her life. After all, it couldn’t be forever.

“Lucky! I knew that was you. Oh, girl, it’s great to have you back!”

Maizie ran down the hall dragging her tray, her tiny skirt bouncing in rhythm with her breasts, her arms outstretched. Lucky knew before it happened that the bodyguard was going to interfere. There was, however, little she could do to stop him. Maizie wasn’t expecting the huge man who caught her in midflight and glared at her suspiciously while holding her suspended inches off the ground.

“She’s my friend! It’s okay. Please…put her down!” Lucky cried.

Davis shrugged and set the tiny woman back on her feet without apology.

“Sorry,” Lucky said, as she pulled Maizie into the dressing room with her. “He’s one of my bodyguards. Nick thought it best.”

Maizie grinned and winked at the big man as she sauntered past. “No problem,” she giggled. “He can sweep me off my feet anytime.”

“If you want to talk, get in here,” Lucky said. “I’ve got to get dressed. I can’t wait to get back on the floor.”

Maizie shook her head. “Girl…you need your head examined. You have it made. A drop-dead handsome man who loves you and wants you in his life, and you want to come back to work? I don’t get it.”

Lucky shuffled through her clothes as she hurried to change. “That’s just the problem, Maizie. That dropdead man almost died in my arms. Until they catch the nut who’s trying to hurt him, we’re forced to hide behind walls. Or if we go out, we deal with men like him.” She pointed to the door where the bodyguard waited on the other side. “I’ve got to put some order back into my life or go crazy.”

Maizie hugged her. “Gosh! I didn’t think of it like that. I’m so glad you weren’t hurt and the boss is back and well.”

“I’m here because Nick took the bullet meant for me.” Lucky’s voice shook as she buttoned the last of her buttons.

“No way!” Maizie gave Lucky a longer, more intent look. “Wow! He doesn’t just love you, honey. If he’s willing to die for you…”

“Miss Houston! Are you okay?”

“I’m coming,” Lucky shouted. Obviously Davis had run out of patience.

Moments later, the three of them were back on the floor, each performing the duties for which they’d been
hired: slinging drinks—dealing cards—protecting clients from people who wanted them dead.

Detective Arnold was also in the business of dealing with people who were in trouble. And from where he was sitting, Charlie Sams was up to his ears and sinking fast.

“Look, man,” Sams muttered. “I swear to God, if I knew the name of the man who hired me, I would talk. Hell, no one wants him caught worse than me. I don’t want to end up like Woody the Wire.”

“Do you know a man named Steve Lucas?” Arnold tapped his pen on the edge of the table and watched the expressions changing on Charlie Sams’s face. When he answered, Arnold would have sworn he was telling the truth.

“Sure. I worked for the Chenaults for nearly a year, remember? I seen him in Club 52 lots of times. He’s a croupier, right?”

Arnold nodded. “What else do you know about him?”

Sams shrugged. “Nothin’, man. He isn’t in my league, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s dead,” Arnold said. Charlie Sams paled as the detective went on. “What do you make of the fact that when his body was found, he was missing both hands?” he asked.

Sams started to shake. “Shit! You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

Arnold shook his head. “I don’t make jokes about things like that. So what does that tell you?” he persisted.

Sams frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe he took money for something that didn’t pan out. Maybe he had alligators in his pockets. Who the hell knows?”

Arnold sighed. This was nothing more than a repeat of
all their other conversations, and it was getting him nowhere.

“Tell me again,” Arnold said. “How were you contacted?”

“I got calls. I did what I was told. Money was sent to my bank.”

Suddenly Will Arnold stood up. Something just occurred to him that he hadn’t pursued.

“These calls that you got. You said they were long-distance, right?”

Sams nodded.

“Did you get them while you were on the job at the Chenaults, or after hours?”

“Always at my place. Once in a while he left a number on my machine and I called him back.”

“That little house just off Main where you were arrested?”

“Yeah. My last old lady up and skipped with some trucker. It was all in her name, but I stayed on. Didn’t make me no never mind where she went. One woman is as good as another.”

Arnold decided against debating that subject with a man who had no conscience. He stuffed his pen into his pocket and headed for the door.

“Jailer…your prisoner is ready to go back to his cell,” Arnold called. Moments later the door opened and an armed guard appeared.

“So, what does that mean?” Sams asked, as Arnold was walking away.

“I’m not sure, Charlie. But if I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

Arnold had a request to file. Getting the phone company’s records of all long-distance calls to a certain house just off of Main could prove very interesting. And after this last murder attempt toward the Chenaults, the case was heating up big. Old Man Chenault had been in this town a long time. He had a lot of pull, because Will Arnold had been told to assist the Chenaults in any way possible to make certain that their investigation, as well as Metro’s, went unhampered. Arnold was good at doing what he was told.

Paul Chenault sat at the window facing the back of the estate and watched Nick and Lucky playing tennis on the court below. As he watched the way the young woman ran from side to side and back again, often laughing at her own lack of skill, the hair prickled at the back of his neck—as if someone had walked over his grave. She reminded him of someone…he just couldn’t remember who.

“Damn,” he muttered, and pounded the arm of his chair with his fist. “I hate it when this happens.”

“Sir?” Cubby’s quiet concern was evident, as was the gentle touch of his valet’s hand upon his back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Cubby. Sorry.” He stared out the window, continuing to watch the game in progress on the court. He smiled and pointed. “With every swat of that racket, Lucky’s game smacks less and less of tennis, and more and more of a free-for-all.”

Cubby looked out the window and smiled. “Yes, sir. She’s quite a lady, isn’t she, sir?”

“I’d say she’s quite a woman, Cubby. Lady is the last thing I’d call Lucky Houston.” He paused. “Does she remind you of anyone?” Paul asked.

Cubby thought, and then shook his head. “No, sir. I don’t believe she does. Why? Does she to you?”

Paul nodded. “For days, every time she walks into a room, I can almost see someone else’s face superimposed over hers. Do you know what I mean?”

Cubby nodded.

“And when she laughs…the sound gives me goose bumps. Like a ghost from the past. And then there’s this thing she does with a deck of cards. It’s so familiar I can almost feel it.” Paul sighed and shook his head. “It’s that damned stroke I had. I can’t remember things like I used to.”

Cubby patted him on the shoulder. “Memories are not all that important, sir. At least you’re still here. In good health. Able to enjoy your life.”

“More or less,” Paul grumbled. “A few years ago, I’d have given Nick a run for his money on that court.”

“That you could, sir. That you could. Would you like to go outside and join them?”

“Why not?” Paul muttered. “It’s better than sitting in here driving myself crazy.”

By the time Cubby pushed him outside, Paul had put away his bad humor and was in fine form, chiding Nick and Lucky for their lack of seriousness toward the game.

“You should lean into your swing,” he suggested to Lucky as she served. “Put your weight into it. It’ll give you more force.”

“Damn, Dad. She doesn’t need more force, just accuracy. She nearly took my head off a while ago.”

Lucky sniffed lightly, pretending to be insulted by male criticism, and sauntered back to her spot on the court in preparation for her next serve.

“If you’d grown up like I did, worrying about the accuracy of fuzzy yellow balls would have been low on your list of priorities,” she said, tilting her nose in the air just enough to make her point. “However…” She tossed the ball in the air and nailed it with a whapping sound as it came down. “Learning to duck is another thing altogether. Coal chunks hurt.”

The ball sailed past Nick’s ear as he dived toward the clay.

“I surrender,” he mumbled, as he crawled to his feet and dusted off his clothes. “You win. I give up. If I had a white flag I’d fly it.”

Lucky grinned. “Just what I love,” she said, and leaned over the net, waiting for her congratulatory kiss. “A good loser.”

Nick laughed, dropped his tennis racket onto the court, and pulled her across the net and into his arms without ceremony.

“You wench,” he said with a grin, and kissed her firmly on the lips, in front of Cubby and his father, as well as a gardener who’d come out from hiding and was in the act of resuming his work. He too had suffered from Lucky’s wild shots.

Her face was shining from exertion, her green eyes glowing from the kiss she’d just received. The smile on her mouth changed the shape of her face. And in the instant
before she spoke, Paul Chenault almost had it. But then it was gone. As before, he’d lost the image hovering at the back of his mind.

“What is it, Dad?” Nick asked. He’d seen the look of confusion on his father’s face.

“Her,” Paul replied, pointing at Lucky, who was gathering up the stray balls. “She reminds me of someone. I just can’t remember who.”

Nick grinned, trying to gloss over his father’s frequent memory lapses with a joke. “Lord help us. I hope there’s not more than one of her. One is all I can handle.”