Power Play. Beverly Long
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security services.”
“So this—” she looked at the pile on the floor “—was just your cup of tea.”
You would think so. Shouldn’t have been any big deal—neutralize the creep who was causing trouble and move on. But his heart, which seemed to still be skipping a beat here and there, didn’t seem to think so. “Just glad I had my cape with me.”
“A superhero, right?” she said, immediately getting it.
“Just had to prove that I watched guy stuff, too.”
The door at the end of the hall opened and out came a guy wearing a white apron. He was carrying two plates of chocolate-covered strawberries. Kellie held out her broom and dustpan. “Thanks, Miguel. I’ll trade you,” she said.
“Nobody else even knows this is the second set,” he said, making the switch. Miguel’s hands were shaking and Trey wasn’t confident that the second set of strawberries was going to fare any better than the first.
“You’re the best,” Kellie said.
The man mumbled something in response. He didn’t seem to be able to make eye contact with either of them.
Kellie shook her head as she watched Miguel go back through the kitchen door. “That was odd. He’s normally cracking a joke about everything.”
He wasn’t sure what to say about that. She was still very pale and she was making no effort to go anywhere with the strawberries.
“I think I just need a minute,” she said. “To clear my head.”
“Want to talk about something else?”
“Sure,” she said, sounding relieved.
“I put up a fence today. At my house. Next, I got to dig me some big holes for a few new trees.” Now that he finally had the fence up, there was no reason to procrastinate on the landscaping.
“What kind of trees?” she asked.
“Somebody suggested desert willows.”
“That’s a good choice,” she said. “They’re so disease-resistant and they respond really well to the soil in and around the Vegas area. Hummingbirds love them and they flower, too.”
“You sound like you really know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“It’s what I do,” she said.
“I thought you were a geologist,” he said.
“I am. What do you know about mining?” she asked.
He was happy that she seemed more relaxed. “Not much. Know that it’s big business in Nevada. Gaming is probably first but mining has to be in the top five.”
“You’re right. It employs more than eleven thousand people in this state and creates a lot of jobs in the secondary market, as well.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” he said. “Wingman Security has done work with several of the mining companies, everything from providing security at mine sites and corporate offices to personal security for mining executives. It’s good business. But what exactly is your role?”
“Part of the process of mining is that before a new site can start up or before an existing footprint can be enlarged, there has to be a plan in place for land reclamation and the mining company has to prove that they have the resources available. It’s to avoid lots of damage to the environment without there being a plan to mitigate it.”
“And that’s what you do?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m pretty new. I’ve only been on the job for about six months. But I’m involved in a couple smaller projects. One of the things I’ve done is learn about trees and other plants that can be used in the reclamation process.”
“Do you like it?”
She paused. “I like what I’m doing very much. It’s exciting to know that we can extract these very important minerals from the earth, minerals that we need for technology and medicine, but that we don’t have to do it at the expense of the environment.”
There was something odd in her tone. I like what I’m doing very much. But she didn’t seem happy about it. There was just the slightest hint of sadness in her tone—as if she was working hard to keep her voice neutral but a little real emotion had seeped out.
Interesting.
She drew in a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready to go back. The folks who ordered these strawberries can only stare into each other’s eyes for so long.”
“Maybe forty or fifty years, right?” he said, feeling very off center.
“If they’re lucky.” She started to walk away from him.
And he thought about going back to the bar, finishing the drink he didn’t want. But he told himself that that was crazy. He had delivered the message that he’d come for. Had assured Anthony that she’d be calling soon. Had been in the right place at the right time to offer some assistance. But now she was fine and the drunk was gone.
His five o’clock assignment was looming.
But more important was the pressing realization that he was attracted to Kellie McGarry. Initially because she was Victoria’s Secret–model gorgeous, and then because she was funny and smart and resilient. All qualities he admired.
If they dated it would no doubt be lots of fun.
But when it ended it, which it likely would, since most relationships ended, Anthony would be sharpening his scalpel in anticipation of cutting Trey into small pieces.
“Hey,” he said.
She stopped, turned.
He took five big steps, pulled a business card from his pocket and passed it to her. “Take this,” he said.
She hesitated, then reached out her hand.
The tips of their index fingers touched. His was just a little crooked at the last joint—that’s what you got when you broke it twice. And callused. Her skin was smooth and her nails were short, perfectly rounded and painted a dark purple.
Everything about her was so damn sexy.
“I’m not going to call,” she said. Her pretty eyes were wide-open, her gaze intense.
That was probably for the best. “Just in case,” he said.
* * *
Kellie finished her shift and at twenty minutes after two, kept a smile on her face as she sat down at the bar, in front of the cosmo that Hagney had poured for her. It was a ritual that the staff enjoy a nightcap together before heading home. She was tired, and for a brief second she debated ducking out. But then admitted to herself that she wasn’t in any big hurry to get home. Because then she was going to have to open her backpack and do something.
What that something was, she had no idea.
But she couldn’t sit on this much longer.
She flexed her tired feet, grateful that she’d gotten out of her heels and into the hiking boots she’d had in her locker. Which was where, every other night, her backpack stayed while she was working. But tonight, she’d broken bar policy and stuffed it under the counter of the bar, behind lots and lots of bottles. She’d grabbed it at the end of the shift when everybody else was busy shutting down the bar or counting tips.
The straps were now looped over one knee.
Hagney took the stool next to her. “Miguel told me about the guy in the hallway.”
She’d been afraid of that. “No big deal,” she said.
“I should have decked him when I had the chance,” he said. “Damn it, I’m sorry,” he added.
“My brother’s friend was helpful,”