Power Play. Beverly Long
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wasn’t wearing a ring,” Hagney said. “No tan line, either.”
“Smarter than the average bear.” Too many times both men and women came in without rings for a night of bar crawling, not realizing the tan line was a dead giveaway.
“He was getting some interested looks from other women in the bar but he was pretty much laser focused on you,” Hagney said.
She felt the heat in her cheeks. “He was passing on a message from my brother. No big deal.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. She could hear the chant in her head. Trey Riker had a very sexy, rough-around-the-edges look in his tight T-shirt, faded blue jeans and scuffed work boots. His short, just-shy-of-scruffy beard completed the bad-boy look.
He definitely looked very different from the freshman goof who’d been lying on the wrong end of the bed, with his feet on his pillow, reading a car racing magazine. That had been a boy. Now, he was definitely a man.
Handsome for sure. But what else did she know about him?
He was smart. He hadn’t dropped out of college to join the air force because he was struggling. No. She could remember overhearing her mom talk with her friend about Anthony and his two roommates. I think they put the three smartest boys at UCLA in the same room.
Of course, after five minutes with Rodney, you knew how smart he was because he told you. It was an office joke that wasn’t really funny for those who ran into his ego several times a day. She’d not had much interaction with him, but on the few occasions they’d talked, she’d walked away with a bad taste in her mouth.
Trey Riker hadn’t seemed as affected by his own self-importance but that didn’t mean she could trust him any more than she trusted Rodney right now. He’d surprised her when he’d given her his business card. She should have simply accepted it, but for some reason had felt the need to be honest.
He hadn’t tried to convince her that not calling was a mistake, which made her think he’d simply done it as a perfunctory gesture. Maybe so he could tell Anthony that he’d not only checked, but that he’d given his little sister a lifeline, too?
But this was no game show. She wasn’t calling a friend or asking the audience for help. She was on her own.
She sipped her drink, her backpack feeling heavy on her leg. She knew she was imagining that. There were just her heels and papers inside. Papers that might lead her to the truth.
She tossed back the rest of her drink, feeling a slight burn down the back of her throat. “I’ve got to get going,” she said.
“I’ll walk you out,” Hagney said.
“Finish your drink,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” All staff parked on the first level of the parking deck across the street. It was one of the perks of working at Lavender. It was brightly lit twenty-four hours a day and she always felt safe getting to her car.
She waved goodbye to the rest of the team and walked down the interior stairs. She stood in front of the doors, wishing she’d worn a coat to work. It had been really warm when she’d left but was probably in the upper fifties now. She was going to get chilled.
She opened the door, walked to the corner of the street and pressed the walk button. She had her backpack strapped on, leaving her arms free. She wrapped them around her middle.
“Where’s your coat?”
She jumped a damn foot. Might have screamed if she hadn’t recognized the voice.
She turned and saw Trey. He was taking off his lightweight jacket. He handed it to her. “Here.”
She shook her head. “My car is right over there. I thought you went home. What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Please,” he said, continuing to hold out the jacket.
She realized she wasn’t going to get an explanation until she took the coat. She put it on, over her backpack. She probably looked ridiculous but she didn’t intend to have it on that long.
“Thank you,” he said. “I hung around, just in case. I thought that idiot might have had one too many beers in his system to make a good decision and stay away.”
“You’ve been standing guard for over three hours.” She was amazed.
“It’s a pleasant night,” he said. “Good for people watching.”
She thought he probably couldn’t care less about people watching. She took a step backward and heard the angry blare of a horn.
“Be careful,” he said quickly, pointing to the traffic behind her.
Be careful. He was right. She needed to be very, very careful. “It’s late,” she said.
“I don’t need that much sleep,” he said. “And—” he looked at his watch “—I don’t have to be at work for another two and a half hours. Actually, now I think I’ll just stay up. I probably should get something to eat.” He put his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “Ever since you said cheese sticks earlier, I’ve been a little obsessed.”
Maybe it was the drink she’d gulped down on an empty stomach, but his offer sounded so good. Fun. And she desperately wanted not to overthink it. To write it off as simply a cool thing to have a handsome guy ask her out.
But Anthony, Rodney and this man had been roommates. Best friends, to hear Anthony tell it. Would do anything for one another. Anthony had mentioned several times since she’d started working at the mine that he wanted to come see her, to spend some time with Rodney. Trey would naturally be part of that socializing.
Was it possible that he was part of something much worse? She’d seen no evidence of that, but then again, she was less than a third of the way through the documents. Had he stuck around for hours and was now inviting her for a late dinner because he had some idea of what was in her backpack?
How was that possible?
She wanted nothing more than to run to her car, to seek the safety of her little apartment, but since lately she’d been in the business of turning over rocks—not as a geoscientist but as an amateur detective—maybe the smart thing to do was better understand Trey’s interest. “A bite to eat might be okay,” she said. She did not intend to get into a car with him. “There’s a little bar around the corner. They’re open until four. Really good burgers and sweet potato fries. I suspect there might be a cheese stick or two somewhere in the kitchen.”
“Breaded, deep fried? Marinara sauce on the side?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Sweet,” he said. “Let’s go. Different shoes, I see.”
Her black skirt and brown hiking boots weren’t a fashion statement but she didn’t care. She was a geologist. Definitely more at home in boots than heels. “The other are in my backpack,” she said. They walked at an easy pace down the sidewalk that was much less crowded than it had been at five when she’d come to work but still had a fair amount of foot traffic. Vegas never really did sleep, with most of the casinos open 24/7.
He easily moved around her, taking a position on the sidewalk closest to the traffic. It reminded her that her dad always did that—told her once, when she was just a little girl, that a gentleman always walked on that side. It was only later that she’d learned the custom was a throwback to earlier days when wagons would slosh through the street, striking potholes filled with muddy water, and gentlemen took the brunt of it to protect their women from getting their long dresses ruined.
She didn’t want him to be a gentleman. She wanted him to be a jerk.
It took just minutes to reach Jada’s, and Trey held the door open for her. This wasn’t the kind of place with a hostess, but rather, guests found an available spot and settled