Unlucky (22 page)

"And if we don't?" Jake asked, trying to control the anger in his voice.

"Then I'll arrest you both and stick you in a cell long enough to make you rethink your actions." He nodded at Jake. "And I'll have your job, unless of course, you want to try and convince me that breaking and entering is now sanctioned by the FBI."

Jake felt his hand involuntarily clench into a fist. He'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life, but he had to maintain control. Otherwise, Brad would have every reason in the world to lock him up until the tournament was over. "I guess this means we're not going fishing together this weekend?"

"Ha. That's funny, McMillan. I'll say this--you've got some balls."

"Someone in this room ought to have balls," Mallory shot back. "If you're quite done lording over people and ruining lives, I think we'll leave. Unless of course, you're arresting us."

Brad studied them long and hard, and Jake could see Mallory holding her breath. Then Brad waved a hand in the air. "Go on. Get the hell out of here. And don't let me catch you in this hotel again."

Mallory spun around to leave, but her foot twisted on the way around and she stumbled a bit to the left. Brad grabbed her by the shoulder as she fell against him. "Sorry," she said as he righted her.

"Yeah, whatever." Brad said, and stalked over to the doorway and yanked open the door. As he stood in the doorway, watching them exit and walk down the hall, his cell phone began to ring.

Mallory slowed her walk a bit, and Jake wondered what in the world she was doing. She put a single finger to her lips, then tilted her head back toward Brad, who was punching buttons on the cell phone in obvious aggravation.

"Hello. Can you hear me now? Damn cell phones!" The door to the hotel room slammed shut with a bang.

Mallory grinned and stepped around the corner to the elevator. "I should really be more careful when I walk."

Jake smiled. "You are an evil, evil woman."

"I know. It's a beautiful thing, right? Unless he needs to fire a weapon in the next several hours."

Jake gave her a look of mild panic. "Oh shit. I didn't even think about that." He looked back around the corner for a moment, then shrugged. "To hell with him. He probably won't even leave his room, so unless he opens fire on the cell phone, he's safe enough."

Mallory looked at Jake. "Well? What now?"

Jake blew out a breath and ran one hand through his hair. "Damn it! What are the fucking odds? I knew something was wrong about this tournament, but I never dreamed Reginald had got yanked in by a federal agency. I thought he was just having some fun all on his own."

Mallory nodded. "But it explains everything--the players' list, Reginald's anger, and definitely why he'd be willing to cough up ten thousand to me. He runs the risk of losing everything if his dealers can't win. Word on the street is that he owes money to a loan shark in New Orleans. What do you want to bet that he had to borrow part of the money to cover this tournament?"

"We're all screwed," Jake said, "and there's not a damned thing we can do about it."

Mallory thought for a moment. "That's not entirely true. If we're screwed anyway then what do we have to lose? I mean, I guess you still have your job if you walk away, but I won't. I can break in myself and search the room. If I get caught, J.T. will bail me out."

"You're not going in there alone."

"I don't remember asking your permission."

Jake smiled. "Yes, but I have the room key, and short of pulling a gun on me, I don't think you have the equipment to take me down."

"Really? Well, some of us don't have to carry weapons--we are one." She waved one hand in the air. "So what's it going to be?"

The thought of a grappling match with Mallory had Jake's mind bending in a million different directions, some of them not unpleasant. "That's playing dirty."

"Maybe the only way to beat them is to sink to their level. So are you coughing up that card or do I have to tackle you here in the hall? Your friend Brad might get a kick out of it."

Jake stared at her for a moment, then muttered under his breath as he drew the card from his pocket. "Fine, but
I'm going in with you. If I'm going to screw up this bust and lose my job anyway, I might as well go out with a bang." He peeked around the corner, ensuring the hallway was still clear, then hurried down the hall to Silas's room, Mallory close behind. When he reached the door, he pulled the credit card out of his pocket and slid the card into the lock.

Red light.

He looked over at her and she motioned for him to try again. Turning back toward the door, he held his breath as he slid the card in and out again.

Green light. They were in.

Mallory held her breath as Jake eased open the door and stuck his head inside. What if Amy was wrong and Silas hadn't gone to the restaurant? What if Silas was gone but he'd left one of his hired goons behind? A couple of seconds passed and felt like an eternity before Jake looked back out and motioned for her to follow. She let out the breath she'd been holding and slipped into the room, pulling the door closed silently behind her.

"Remember to put everything back exactly as you found it," Jake warned. "We don't want Silas to suspect anyone was here."

Mallory glanced around the room, taking it all in. "Should we start with the luggage?"

"Yeah, that's probably best," Jake said, but a quick inspection of the luggage showed it to be empty. Obviously Silas had unpacked for his week's adventures. "I'll take the dresser and the nightstands," Jake said. "You get the bathroom and the closet."

Mallory nodded and headed for the vanity located off the bathroom. She started with his grooming bag--razor, comb, hair products, deodorant--nothing alarming there. She turned around and slid open the closet door.

There were several suits hanging inside, all top dollar and recently pressed, probably by the hotel valet service. She wasn't likely to find anything inside the pockets, but she searched them anyway, running her hands through every available storage space on the jackets, pants and shirts.

When she was satisfied that the suits were clean, she looked up at the shelf, which held a row of shoe boxes. The man actually traveled with his shoes in separate containers. He probably folded his underwear, too. She reached up, grabbed the first box and pulled off the lid, revealing the black dress shoes inside. She felt down inside of each shoe and turned the box around, making sure nothing was tucked or taped inside or written on the cardboard itself.

Satisfied the box contained nothing of interest, she placed it back on the shelf and moved on to the next one until she was down to the last box on the shelf. It was way too light to be holding shoes, and she'd already seen one empty box on the floor, which she assumed was for the pair Silas had worn to dinner.

She propped the box on her left arm, then pulled off the lid. When she saw what was inside, she gasped, dropping the lid to the floor.

A voodoo doll.

A voodoo doll that looked exactly like her, down to the short black skirt and matching jacket she'd worn the first day of the tournament.

She heard Jake ask what was wrong, but she couldn't find her voice, couldn't make a sound. A second later, he was standing beside her. "What the hell?" he asked, and stared down at the contents of the box. "Where did you get that?"

She pointed to the empty space on the top shelf. "It's a voodoo doll." She looked over at Jake. "Of me."

Jake took the box from her hands and put the lid back on it. "It's bullshit is what it is. There's no scientific proof that voodoo works. It's all urban legend."

"There's no scientific proof for my unluckiness either, but it hasn't changed what I am."

Jake shoved the box on the shelf and shook his head. "It's not the same. God knows, I don't understand any of that paranormal crap, but maybe your situation is as simple as a kind of energy that you can access and the rest of us can't. Maybe you think you're unlucky and somehow your mind creates the energy to make it so."

He pointed to the shoebox. "That is an inanimate object. It has no energy, therefore it can't cause anything to happen. If you fear it,
you're
causing things to happen. Don't you see? It's all in your mind, no matter what."

Mallory looked at him and frowned. "I want to believe that, but a man like Silas... why would he bother with something if it didn't work? It can't be the first time. The work on the doll is too perfect, and he had it made too fast. He has a connection somewhere. Someone who was willing to create the doll and deliver it in a matter of twenty-four hours."

"It could have been shipped."

Mallory shook her head. "The service is so horrible, it takes days to get a FedEx here, and if it had been shipped regular mail, Stanley would have opened the package and I'd have known about it sooner."

"Then I don't know how he got it, and I really don't care. It doesn't matter, Mallory, and you can't let it bother you. Do you want me to finish with the closet? You can get the nightstands."

"No," Mallory said, trying to sound like she meant it. "I'm sure you're right. It's all just superstition. I'll finish here." She looked up at him and tried to smile, positive she wasn't successful. He studied her face for a moment, but apparently she'd managed to satisfy him. He nodded once and headed back into the bedroom.

Mallory waited for him to walk around the corner of the vanity, then turned to look in the mirror, watching to see when he disappeared around the corner of the room. When she heard him open the drawer on the nightstand, she stepped to the closet and before she could change her mind, eased the shoebox off the shelf, grabbed the doll and shoved it into the inside pocket of her jacket.

She glanced in the mirror, but Jake was still out of view. She replaced the lid and slipped the box back onto the shelf, making sure it was facing the same way she'd found it. Maybe Silas had the doll but didn't need to look at it, she rationalized. Maybe he wouldn't notice it was gone until the tournament was over and he was packing to leave.

"Aha!" Jake's voice sounded from the next room, causing her to jump.

She smoothed the front of her jacket and stepped around the corner. "You find something?"

Jake held up a deck of cards identical to the ones he was using for the tournament. "Maybe. It might be nothing, but it might be that Silas is palming cards."

"Do you think he could do that without you noticing?"

Jake shrugged. "I'm not sure. But we're going to find out." He pulled a pen from his pocket and began to place a tiny dot in one corner of each card, the black ink hidden in the intricate design--unless you knew exactly what you were looking for. "Check that other nightstand," Jake instructed Mallory. "See if you find anything else."

Mallory stepped around the bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer. She lifted the phone book from inside and found a small leather-bound book beneath it. Pulling the book from the drawer, she saw engraving at the bottom of the cover--"S.H."

"I may have found something," she said, and flipped the book open.

Jake looked up from the cards and smiled, then reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny pad of paper and a pen. "Make a note of any addresses and phone numbers you find. I'll get my boss to cross-check them with the other information we have on Silas."