"Here Comes Trouble" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kauffman Donna)

Chapter 14

Brett leaned into the turn as he eased his bike around the bend, then up another steep, winding curve. When he’d left the desert, he’d headed east, across the flat prairie of middle America, before encountering his first swell of hills and mountains. Nothing like they had out west, but he’d never taken off in the direction of the Rockies, so he’d found it a bit exhilarating, all the twists and turns, steep ascents and swift downhill drops. When he’d taken off from the resort a few hours ago, he’d intended to go home, back to the inn, but instead he’d found himself turning up a side road that led into the hills, where he’d been tooling around the winding back roads since.

Thinking.

About things like why he’d so easily and naturally thought of Kirby’s inn as home. It hadn’t been a casual thought, either. He’d never once thought of his hotel rooms as home, or even a home away from home. Though he’d stayed in the exact same rooms many, many times over the years, and they’d been familiar to him, they had always remained exactly what they were. A place to crash, eat, and sleep between sitting at tables for endless hours. And giving interviews, teaching seminars, doing local promotion for the various event hosts and sponsors. Whatever was required of him to help give back to the sport that had given him, well, pretty much everything.

If ever a place had felt like home it had been his rooms at Vanetta’s, but for the past few years, they’d come to feel like more of a hideout than home and hearth. He hadn’t thought of it that way at the time, of course. It had been the only real home he’d ever known. But now…now…

He thought about the inn, about Kirby. And maybe it wasn’t that place, either, specifically, though his feelings about the inn itself were definitely filled with real affection. Maybe it was Kirby. Thinking of her, wanting to return to her, wherever she was. That’s what felt like the haven he’d always thought a home should be. A place where the world dropped away and he could relax, be completely and utterly himself. And, more importantly, would know, without a doubt, that that was exactly who he was supposed to be.

Being with Kirby wasn’t hiding, not like Vanetta’s had become. He’d been seeking serenity, he realized, which was something rare in his profession, given both the intensity of the game itself and the actual location of the events. Bright lights and endless noise was life inside a casino.

But it was a serenity that went deeper than creating a peaceful environment. It was serenity of the soul. Where he could discover a completely different kind of fulfillment. Where all sorts of needs that had nothing to do with money and repayment of debts, real or imagined, existed. It was about feeding into something entirely different. And he knew that all of those things existed for him, or could exist for him, wherever Kirby Farrell happened to be.

He took the next curve a bit more deeply, enjoying the thump of adrenaline that pumped into his veins as he leaned into the turn, unsure if the cause was the tight curve or the thoughts of Kirby, or both.

These past few weeks, since the two of them had decided on launching the charitable event, had been a new form of chaos for him, and not a little frustrating. He hadn’t gotten to spend much time with her as the demands of putting together the event as quickly as humanly possible had kept him at the resort almost full time, and on the phone more often than not the rest of the time. Kirby, meanwhile, had been more than a little busy herself, preparing for her onslaught of guests, all slated to arrive in just a few short days now.

Though the temperatures in the evening were dipping lower and lower, the daytime temps had remained unseasonably warm, and yet that hadn’t curbed the enthusiasm of the guests wanting to come out and be part of the event. He was thrilled for her, as that had been the goal all along, but, personally, selfishly, he was missing her, missing their alone time in the seclusion of her empty inn.

And yet, that same passage of time had been grounding, and illuminating, for the precise reason that it had frustrated him. He wanted to be with her. Needed to be. More. Often. All the damn time. And not just for the sex, or even the conversation, though he had swiftly come to wanting and needing both all the damn time, too. He wanted to play house with Kirby Farrell. Cooking dinner, doing odd chores around the inn, reading the paper over the breakfast table, hauling mounds of bed linens down the basement stairs to the industrial-size washer and dryer.

Sitting next to her on the porch in the evening, sipping a glass of wine, enjoying the crisp bite in the air as the sun finally ducked behind the surrounding peaks. Talking about what she was going to plant in her spring garden and the final improvements she wanted to make to the inn, watching her face as she listened to some of his ideas, seeing the light enter her eyes as she realized he was as invigorated by the architecture and character of the old place as she was. Like spirits, crossing paths by chance or divine design, now moving forward, with barely restrained anticipation, on a newly created path of their own.

Yes, he wanted to play house with Kirby Farrell. And not just for the next few weeks, either. A good-size part of him couldn’t wait for the damn event to be over so he could go back to…what, exactly?

Hanging out with Kirby? Sleeping with Kirby? Living with Kirby? He didn’t rightly know. He didn’t know where her head was at, regarding him, her future, or any possibility of their future.

Hence the spontaneous road trip this morning.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it all, about what was going to happen when the event was over. He had people waiting for him back in Vegas. Family, at least to him. But now he also had Kirby. And with all these thoughts and emotions swirling through him, he wasn’t sure he could face her without blurting it all out. And when he did that, he wanted all those thoughts and emotions to be a bit more cohesive than they were at that moment. Because this time, when he went all in, the stakes were going to be the biggest of his life.

And then there was that other part, too. The rest-of-his-life part. And what the hell he wanted to do with that. And if there was any way that rest-of-his-life part could find a place here in the mountains of Vermont. A place that would give him the chance to see what could come of a future with Kirby. A place far, far away from flashing lights, endless noise, and playing cards. But also far, far away from the only other people on the planet he loved and cared for.

His gut knotted-or more precisely the knot already in his gut tightened-at the thought of actually playing again. Not the game itself. In some odd way, when he was playing, at least against a good table, the world shrunk down to that green baize surface, the cards in front of him, the stacks of chips being flipped, toyed with, shoved in, raked out. Everything else fell away.

He slowed his bike as it hit him, that it was that feeling, that solitude among chaos, that, in and of itself, was the bigger draw for him. Not of winning, or involving himself mentally in the challenge of the game itself. He wondered when that shift had actually happened. A long time back, that much he knew now. When money had ceased to be the reason for playing. When there was no real need to win, other than to keep all those folks who had given him a shot in the first place happy. He slowed down further as another realization sunk in. That place out of time was exactly what he felt when he was with Kirby.

Did that mean she was simply another escape hatch from the real world? Was that feeling he had when he was with her merely one of…what, relief?

Partly. He had to admit that was partly it. There were two places in the world where he absolutely knew who he was. Sitting at a poker table…and sitting across from Kirby Farrell. But there was more to it. Nothing in his life had ever stimulated him on so many simultaneous levels as playing in a high stakes game did. Until Kirby.

She reached all kinds of places that no game could. There were simply no other stakes that could climb that high…or penetrate that deep.

But what did that say? Was he merely trading one fixation for another? Was that healthy? Would it make him any happier in the long run?

He honestly didn’t know.

He just knew he wanted the chance to find out.

Brett sped up and took the next turn at a scream. Then he slowed as a glint of sun off glass from somewhere deep in the trees on the slopes high above caught his eye. He slowed further, but after a quick flash of a building-a home, the prominent structure of which made it appear as if it were thrusting out beyond trees, soaring, almost-vanished as the road took another turn.

He couldn’t have said why it mattered, or why he suddenly had to see more of it, but if it blessedly took him out of his own head for a few minutes, then he welcomed the distraction. On the next curve, he spied another road, a narrow, roughly paved track, snaking up the hill, in the direction of where the house had to be. He took the turn without asking himself why. Thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere. So, for the next hour or so, he planned to just go, follow his gut, turn off his brain, and the hell with what came next.

It was early afternoon by the time he rolled back into Pennydash. His brain wasn’t going any slower than it had when he’d taken off that morning, but the thoughts running through it right now had taken on a decidedly new slant. One that might lead to a few answers. And probably a whole lot more questions, too. But he was excited about that part this time.

He discovered he’d had a call as he’d descended back into cell range, leaving him with a voice mail. It was from the resort, telling him there was a guest there, impatiently waiting for his return. Brett knew Maksimov was due into town shortly, and he had purposely put off thinking about the conversation he was sure to be having with the stubborn Russian. But Brett hadn’t been in any mood to contemplate. Too many other, far more tantalizing thoughts crowding his brain. He’d known he would handle whatever the hell Maks wanted when he finally saw him face to face. No point in dwelling on it.

And now it appeared that the happy event was imminent. Lovely. Kirby had shifted Maksimov’s reservation from the inn to the resort after all, telling Maks after the fact. She said the transition had been smooth and he had seemed fine with her apology for over-booking. A light fib at the time, but she’d filled that room since, so all was okay. At least until he had to talk to the man himself.

He sighed. As much as he wanted to race back to the inn, back to Kirby, share with her the million new thoughts racing around inside his head, get her feedback…he decided he’d get this out of the way first.

So he leaned into the turn heading up to the main resort hotel and conference center and gunned it up the steep, winding entrance into the ski resort. Winterhaven wasn’t nearly as fancy or over the top in design as the resorts he’d grown up prowling around, but it definitely had an inviting air about it. It was styled to look like an extended series of Swiss chalets, all curved in a giant arc along the base of the slopes, allowing guests to ski right from their rooms to the slopes. The main resort building containing registration, shops, restaurants, and other guest services was tucked into the center of the chalets. It was designed to look like a larger, more complex version of the rest. This unique concept offered a rather intimate, more casual-slash-village feel to the place, while at the same time making guests feel they were staying somewhere special.

His thoughts drifted immediately to Kirby and he found himself trying to picture her running a resort the size of Winterhaven. Very likely the one she’d helped manage in Colorado had been decidedly bigger than this one. And though he was well aware she was competent enough to handle whatever she was thrown…he thought the small, quaint inn atmosphere suited her personality better. Like its owner, Pennydash Inn was an openly warm and welcoming establishment that made you feel instantly at home…yet housed in a quietly elegant, beautifully detailed structure.

He’d never really thought about all the elements that went into running a successful hotel, whether it be resort, chain, inn, or even boarding house for that matter. Not that he hadn’t realized how hard Vanetta worked to keep her place going, but there were all kinds of elements that he’d never considered.

Over the past few weeks, he’d gotten a true glimpse of what Kirby’s life would be like if the inn was operating as it was supposed to be. He selfishly and unapologetically wanted more time with her, before the true insanity descended upon her little adopted burg.

And that was going to add another layer of complexity to all the thoughts swirling inside his head, but at that moment, he had to switch mental gears and focus on dealing with Maksimov. Then Brett could work on getting the hell back out of the resort before someone else sidelined him with a myriad of new details that needed his immediate attention.

He missed her, dammit.

He was thinking about stopping by the Food Mart on the way back to the inn and showing up with a couple of steaks, maybe an assortment of local cheeses, a decent bottle of wine-Kirby had introduced him to some very nice local labels there, too-and negotiate a stop-work measure where they both turned off their cell phones and locked themselves inside his top-floor bedroom for the rest of the day and night. Surely everything wouldn’t fall apart if they went AWOL for a few hours.

He was quite happily playing out that delightful scenario as he tooled around the loop that led to the main lobby. So he missed the doors sliding open.

“Well, it’s about time, buddy.”

Brett almost laid the bike on its side as the familiar voice-one without any Russian accent whatsoever-reached through the carnal haze that had swiftly been clouding his brain and clicked his synapses back to reality.

He managed to steady the bike until he brought it under control and stopped it. Then quickly parked and climbed off as he saw, quite clearly, that he hadn’t been hallucinating.

“Dan?” His face split into a wide grin. “What the hell?” Then he immediately sobered. “Wait, is everything okay? Your dad, Vanetta-”

Dan lifted his hand to stall Brett’s concern. “Fine, fine. Though Dad is threatening to come back from Palm Springs to take over the company again.” He chuckled; however, his expression was anything but lighthearted. “But then, you know he never did believe I could do the job he did with it.”

Brett didn’t chuckle along with him. “Is there something going on? I mean, with the company? Why the hell are you all the way out here, anyway?”

Dan lifted a shoulder. “If Muhammad won’t come to the mountain…”

“So, something is wrong.”

“No, no,” he said, but it wasn’t entirely convincing. And when Brett merely folded his arms, Dan relented. “Okay, so two of my higher end clients lost their financing. And, with that, things are a bit tight. But that’s the deal these days, with the economy the way it is, what can you do? I’ll make it through; I always do.”

Brett knew better than to offer his financial assistance. Dan had made it clear years back, when Brett had really moved into a realm of income that most folks simply couldn’t wrap their heads around, that he never wanted to be one of Brett’s charity cases. Brett had argued that it wasn’t charity, simply what family did for one another. Like what he’d done for Vanetta. Brett understood pride; he had his own. Which was why he’d handled Vanetta’s situation discreetly, as he would any assistance he sent Dan’s direction.

But that conversation had been definitively closed some time ago. Dan wouldn’t take handouts, as he called them, no matter how much Brett tried to explain that it would make him feel good to do something to repay the kindnesses Dan and his father had extended him throughout his teenage years.

And knowing that it was a dead issue, he was loathe to bring it up again now. But he could do something, he could help. It was hard not to offer. “Dan-”

“That’s not why I’m here, Brett,” he warned. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Brett said, though he thought it was anything but. “So, why are you here?”

“To talk some sense into my closest friend’s thick skull.”

Brett understood Dan’s frustration there, too. Dan wasn’t big on change, which was partly why his business didn’t thrive as much as it had under his father’s hand. Brett had tried to get him to be a bit more of a risk taker, to think bigger, see farther, but Dan was traditional in his approach to building his business. The problem was, Vegas wasn’t a traditional town. “You supported my decision to get out,” he said.

“Out of casinos, out of playing cards for a living, out from under the pressure the promoters were putting on you. But not out of Dodge all together.”

Brett sighed. Dan had been a part of his life for the entire duration of his poker-playing career, from the early rise, to the continued rise, to finally the retirement before he fell apart. But while his good friend had consistently told him that if he was miserable he should get out and find something else to do with his life, especially if his to do list included working for his good buddy, Dan had never really understood, not really, what it was about Brett’s career that had made him so stressed out, much less feel unfulfilled.

Of course, Dan would have taken full advantage of the perks, namely the ones who came with perky assets, which had been another bit of a friction between them. More than once Dan had tried to goad him into “sharing the wealth” as he termed it. Brett would have handed them all over to his buddy, gladly, but he wasn’t about to pimp for the guy and he wasn’t interested in double dating.

Not that Dan was hurting for female companionship, at least when he could make time for it. He was a bit shorter than Brett and stockier, but in that muscular, beefhead linebacker kind of way that women who wanted a big strong man to protect them really went for. And Dan was more than willing to give shelter. The shelter of his bed, anyway. He wasn’t exactly the go-to guy for long-term commitments. A holiday weekend would be considered a long relationship for him.

But while Dan might not have always been a stand-up guy where the opposite sex was concerned, he’d been absolutely loyal to Brett, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. Brett always hoped Dan would find “the one” and jump off the merry-go-round of women he kept circling around him all the time, just as Brett had hoped “the one” would enter his own orbit at some point. At least when Brett did go out, it was with the hope it would last. He wasn’t sure Dan was interested in anything long term that didn’t come with dollar signs attached.

“I had to leave,” Brett said, retreading ground they’d been over many, many times. “You know that.”

“No, you know that. Or you think you do. A few spots of bad luck, and you freak out and think the Mafia or something is after you.”

“I didn’t freak out. And it wasn’t just a string of bad luck.”

“How the hell would you know? You don’t have bad luck.”

Brett felt his own temper edge up and worked to quell it. “I think I’ve had my share in my day, enough to know when it’s just fate and when someone has their hand in it. I did what I thought I had to do to protect the people I care about.” He lifted his hand to stop Dan’s rebuttal. “And even if those things hadn’t happened, I might have taken off anyway. I had a lot of thinking to do.”

“And you couldn’t have done that while swinging a hammer?”

“I tried that,” he reminded his friend. “And you have always known that my future was not down that path. Not full time. I respect what you do, Dan, what you and your father built, but that’s your future. It’s not mine.”

“Says the guy with the fancy architectural and design degrees. Too good for us? You’ve got the money, the education-”

“Whoa, whoa. Where the hell is this coming from?” Brett was sincerely surprised, but also more than a little pissed off. “That was way out of line and you damn well know it.”

Dan ducked his head, held his hands up, palms out. “You’re right.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m just frustrated. We make a great team. And I guess I thought, despite what you said, that when you left the tables for good…” He let it trail off.

And Brett felt his heart squeeze hard inside his chest.

He thought Dan had truly understood. Had he thought, all along, that Brett was really going to come work with him? Or was he just frustrated now that things weren’t going well? Because what Brett knew, what Dan had to know as well, though they’d never spoken of it, was that on the occasions when Brett went to work with Dan, between tournaments, or when he just needed a break from the tables…Dan’s ability to find folks who wanted to hire them tended to increase exponentially. Brett was well known throughout the world of poker, but nowhere was his fame as strong as it was in his own hometown. Word got out he was working with Dan, and well, folks liked to be associated with a winner. Some approached out of curiosity, but most just enjoyed whatever it was they got out of working with a recognizable “name.”

Brett had never minded that. Though he’d never openly promoted himself or their partnership that way, lending what celebrity he had, to help Dan land the higher-end, more lucrative clients was about the only way he could share his good fortune with his childhood friend.

But, as much as he wanted to do anything he could to help, he drew the line at giving up the dream to build his own future. Not when there were too many other ways he could help that didn’t require that kind of sacrifice. It hurt him to see his friend disappointed, and in trouble, but he was feeling a bit betrayed himself.

Maybe it was the time he’d taken, or the distance he’d finally put between himself and the only life he’d ever known, but he could see more clearly now that not only did Dan not seem to have really gotten that Brett’s path was not his best buddy’s path, but he almost seemed…well, a little pissed off that Brett was going to go his own way.

And yes, that hurt. It also pissed him off a little, too.

“I’m sorry. You know I will do anything to help you out.” Brett pushed on when the mutinous expression crossed Dan’s face. “And don’t go blowing up on me, you know I don’t see it the way you do.”

“I work for what I get. I make the right choices for my business, to keep it strong and growing. And that means not being an idiot and letting you walk away. That’s why I got on a plane. I’m not here for a handout, Brett. I will never take your money. But I will take your honest work, because it’s good for all of us.”

Brett blew out a long breath and swore silently, but he didn’t look away from his one and only true friend. Dan deserved at least that much. “It’s not good for me.” He hated the pain that flashed through his friend’s eyes, but was bolstered by the anger he saw there, too. “There are other ways for me to help that allow us both to live the lives we want. If you won’t let me help you financially, there are other things I can do that are in line with your work ethic. I’m not trying to insult your pride or your integrity. But I can help you, goddammit. So let me. I can finance projects; I can do marketing for you. I’m not coming back to work for you, but there are so many other ways I can drive business your way. All of which I want to do.”

Dan didn’t say anything, and the moment spun out until it felt pretty damn uncomfortable for both of them.

Dan was the one who finally broke the silence. “You know, I never thought you had a problem. With gambling, with cards. You were more like some kind of professor of the game or something. It was all math and numbers and angles. Probably why you did so well in school. And took to building houses as well as you did.”

“I don’t have a problem with gambling,” he said, confused by where Dan was going with this. What else was the guy he loved like a brother angry about?

“Well, see, I kind of have to wonder about that. You won’t come back and help out a friend. But you’ll bring the card game to you. In fact, you’re bringing it all the way across the goddamn country.”

“I’m not going back to the game.”

Dan snorted. “Could have fooled me.”

“This is a one-time thing. For charity.”

“Is that her name, then?”

Brett curled his fingers tightly inside his palms to keep from destroying anything else between them by planting his fist in Dan’s face. “I’m helping out a friend.” His gaze narrowed. “I’m like that.”

Dan did have the grace to look slightly abashed, but he was already too far gone to rein himself completely in. “Well, looks to me like you’ve traded a lifelong friend for one who can scratch a certain itch. No worries. You’re not the first one to get lead around by his-”

Brett stepped in closer, but didn’t touch him. “You’re going to want to think very hard about the words spouting out of your mouth right now. You, your dad, and Vanetta are the only family I’ve really had. It’s because of you that I even know the meaning of the word family. Of what it means to love.”

“Are you saying you think you’re in love with this woman? Jesus, Brett, you just got out here. She must be one amazing f-”

“She is amazing,” Brett said, using every bit of willpower he had to keep his voice level. “In every sense, she is exactly that. But you’re missing my point. I love you all, you, and Vanetta, everyone back home. And I will always do whatever I can to be there for you. You know that. But, beyond that, I want something different than you do. Our goals are different. If our friendship, our life history, means anything to you, then you’d want me to achieve those goals the same way I want you to achieve yours.”

“What the hell does that have to do with some chick you’re shacking up with?”

Brett might have snarled. “She’s one of mine, now, too. And I take care of what’s mine. But then, you should already know that.” Brett turned and stalked back toward his bike before he said or did anything else to further unravel a situation that had already gotten so far out of hand, he wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to patch it up. He felt blindsided. A not a little sick.

“Brett, wait.”

He paused, but he didn’t turn around.

“Look.” He heard Dan blow out a long, deep sigh. Then, “I’m sorry, okay? I-I guess I’m not used to anyone else mattering to you. No one else ever has.”

Brett turned to face him.

“Even you have to admit that’s a new side of you. You’ll have to cut me some slack for not getting it right off. But I do now.” His mouth curved just a little then, but he was shaking his head as it did. “I guess it’s only strange that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what this is. Or where it will go,” Brett said, putting voice to at least some of the thoughts that had been rattling through his mind all day. “I just know that I want the chance to find out. About Kirby. About myself. About what’s next. On all fronts.” He faced his friend squarely. “It would mean a great deal to me if you understood that. I mean really understood it.”

Dan held his gaze just as squarely. “I want to. That’s about the best I can give you, because I’ve never been where you’re standing. I just know where I’m standing. And what I see as the best possible future for us both. Your education, skill, your name, matched with my background, the history of my company, can take it to whole new heights. Your vision, the foundation I’ve built in the community. It can’t miss. You’re the one telling me to think bigger, see a better future. And when I do, that’s what I see. So, no, I don’t really understand. You say you want to build your own future, but you don’t even know what the hell it is. And now, out of nowhere, you want to just jump into some new life thousands of miles away, with a woman you’ve just met. I mean, come on, Brett. It would be odd if I wasn’t a bit mystified, and yes, pissed off, about that. It’s going to take some time, I guess, to get used to. I can try.”

“I can’t ask for more than that.” Then Brett was quiet for a moment, trying, as best he could, to hear what his friend was saying, to see it from Dan’s point of view. After all, fair was fair.

The tension eased up, but only a little. Finally, Dan turned and gestured to the hotel. “You got rooms here?”

Brett nodded. Even though he was booked in with Kirby, the resort had comped him a suite here as well while they were working on the event. He’d slept alone in the huge king-size bed more times the past few weeks than he’d have preferred. “Nice suite, top floor.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and slid one of his card keys out. “Here, I’m not using it.” At least he wasn’t planning to that night. “Unless you already made other arrangements.”

“You staying down in town, then? At-what’s her name again, Kirby? At her place?”

He nodded, then tried a smile. “I’m kind of burned out on the whole luxury suite thing.”

Dan chuckled, and things finally felt at least something resembling normal. “Never did understand how anyone could get tired of that, but if it’s just sitting there unused…” He reached out and took the card.

Brett knew even taking that much was hard for him, so he joked, “Well, there are a few other benefits to staying down in town that the resort doesn’t provide.”

Dan’s grin was knowing. “Now that’s more like it.” He slid the card in his back pocket. “You gonna tell me something about this mystery woman who’s already got you whipped?”

Brett let that one go. “I’ll do better than that. I’d like you to meet her.” If nothing else, he thought, maybe Dan would at least understand why Brett was sticking in Vermont for a while. He didn’t think his friend would behave as obnoxiously in person. At least he hoped not. It had been an interesting conversation so far. Regardless, he thought, Kirby could hold her own. It was yet another reason why he was anxious to get back to the inn.

He checked his watch. “Speaking of which, I need to get in touch with her, anyway.” His forgotten dinner plans resurfaced, but though he regretted having to put them off-again-it was important to him that Kirby meet Dan as well. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“Well, since I’m out here, I thought I’d watch you play. Been a while since I’ve done that.”

“Because you work too hard.”

Dan grinned. “No such thing, brother.”

“At the very least, you have to admit you need to get out and play more.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Hell, if I had a clue how to play the damn game, I’d sit in on a few hands.”

Brett didn’t mention that the buy-in was ten thousand dollars. “I’ve told you many times, I’d be more than happy to teach you. I hear there’s a vacant seat at the tables back in Vegas.”

Dan shook his head. “It’ll take bigger britches than mine to fill your seat.”

“So, if you’re out here, who’s minding the store?”

“I’m handling things, don’t you worry. That’s what cell phones and laptops are for. Everything is under control.” When Brett continued to look dubious, Dan added, “Wasn’t it you who told me to delegate? See? I do listen to you.”

Brett smiled, but privately he wondered just how bad things were for Dan. The one way he was just like his old man was in his work ethic. Neither of the Bradley men put much stock in leisure time. In fact, Brett was still stunned that when Dan senior had retired to Palm Springs, he hadn’t been back in Vegas before the month was out. Either that or had started his own new company out there. But, as far as Brett knew, the elder Bradley was happily playing golf and being the much-sought-after companion to any number of retired widows and divorcées.

He also wondered if Dan senior had any idea of how bad things were.

Brett didn’t give voice to any of that. If he wasn’t willing to be a partner in his friend’s business, then he had no right to tell him how to run it. Still, that wouldn’t keep him from worrying.

“Well,” he said, at length, “at least something of what I said is penetrating that thick head of yours. Why don’t you head on up and relax a bit. I’m going to head back to the inn, talk with Kirby, find out what’s on tap. I’ll give you a ring so we can meet up later? I would like her to get the chance to meet you.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dan shot a glance over his shoulder, in the direction of the lobby that was anything but calm and relaxed.

He caught Brett looking at him as he glanced back and replied to the unasked question. “Maksimov’s here. I spotted him in the lobby. He was looking for you. Have you two talked?”

Brett shook his head. “Not yet. In fact, that was what I was on my way back here to do. I had a message someone was waiting to see me; I assumed it was him.”

“Well, we both know why he’s here.”

Brett shrugged. “Won’t net him anything. He wants to waste a plane ticket, nothing I can do about that.”

“So…you’re not thinking about-”

“No,” Brett said flatly, not even letting Dan finish the thought. “I told you, this is a one and done.”

“Charity, right. Speaking of which, when you get back at the tables, it’s like I said when we were on the phone, you know they’re all going to come begging.” He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. “Hell, they’ll probably all line up some kind of ‘very special’ charity for you to play for, if that’s what it takes. You know it’s going to start things up all over again.”

“I was well aware of that, so I made certain everyone knew, from the first conference call, that this was a one-time thing. They can come after me all they want, but I won’t be taking their calls or scheduling any meetings. Besides, I’m almost an entire country away from there now.” He saw the pain flash through Dan’s eyes and felt a twinge. But he remained resolute. “This is, for all intents, my turf. I’ve invited them here as my guests, handed opportunities to the few who I wanted to handle things.”

“There will be return invites, you have to know that. They’ll sweeten the deals whatever way it takes and you’re handing them the charity angle. They’ll make you feel guilty for not using your celebrity to fix everything from third world hunger to saving the humpback whale if it will get your name back headlining their event marquee. Buy-ins are down since you left, and that’s not changing anytime soon. Takes time to groom new superstars and no one is going to match your record for a very long time. As long as you’re breathing, you’re live bait.”

“If they want to waste their breath, fine. Hopefully the dead silence they get in return will give them a clue. And not being around town won’t hurt. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Dan snorted. “Right. And if it helps you sleep at night, then sure, you’ll be yesterday’s news any day now.”

“Trust me, when they realize that I’m not coming out of retirement, they will move along quickly to latch on to the new up-and-comers. Even if it’s not something to make bank today or tomorrow, they have to move on. It’s just good business. And they’re nothing if not good businessmen.”

Something flashed through Dan’s eyes, and once again, Brett felt the nick of guilt pinch his heart.

After a beat, Dan said, “So, you coming in to break Maksimov’s heart?”

Brett shook his head. “Later. You go on up. Don’t let him sideline you trying to get to me.”

Dan just shrugged it off. “Give me a little credit here.”

“Okay, just trying to save you the grief.”

“I can take care of myself.”

But Brett didn’t miss the second glance at the lobby. He thought about changing his plans, heading inside now to deal with Maksimov. But he was already going to lose dinner alone with Kirby, he wasn’t about to give the rest of his time away to the annoying Russian. “Okay. I’ll call you in a little bit. Dinner at the inn tonight.”

“I hope she’s a better cook than you.”

Brett smiled. He wasn’t about to throw Kirby under any bus. Besides, he thought he made a pretty damn good chicken marsala. “You won’t leave hungry.”

Dan smiled back, but Brett could still see the underlying tension. He knew he should resist the urge to call Vanetta. He didn’t want her worrying. But she was his only other source. Woman knew every damn thing that went on in that town. Possibly because she’d lived there longer than anyone still alive. Brett didn’t know for sure; he’d never questioned her sources or how she kept track of so much flotsam and jetsam while simultaneously and almost singlehandedly keeping the boarding house running. She probably new more about Dan’s business than Dan did. And his, for that matter. So…he’d make the call.

There was more than one way to help out a friend.