Double Down

DOUBLE DOWN

VICKY DE LEO

Chapter One

The Filipino kitchen steward seized one of the sex toys that we’d confiscated from his work locker. Leaning over my desk, he waved it in front of my face. “You try, I promise you like.”

At a loss for words, a flush burning my cheeks, I looked at Alan Harris, the security director, for help.

His lips were pressed tightly together. His eyes watered from the effort to keep from laughing. I scowled at him. Rearranging his face into an appropriate somber expression, he turned to the man, took the item out of his hands, and laid it on the desk.

“
Please sit down Mr. Pinos. What Ms. Peterson is trying to tell you is that you can’t keep these things in your locker. It’s against the rules.”

“
No can keep here? But people need to see to buy.” Mr. Pinos sat down looking thoroughly confused. For the last ten minutes, we had been trying to explain to Mr. Pinos that he couldn’t supplement his income by selling sex toys out of his locker to other employees on property. Even after his supervisor finally arrived and explained it to him in his native language, Mr. Pinos continued to argue. The only words I understood were, “Las Vegas.”

His supervisor turned to us and explained in English, “Mr. Pinos is shocked a casino in Las Vegas would have such rules.”

Just a typical day in Las Vegas, sunny and hot with a chance of weird. As Human Resource Director for the Royal Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, this wasn’t even one of my more bizarre disciplinary interviews. Tag lines like “Sin City” and “Everything that Happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” very effectively convinced potential employees as well as customers that anything was acceptable in Vegas. After eight years on the job, I’d barely managed to convince the supervisory staff that they had to abide by the law.

With over 1600 employees, I didn’t do all the disciplinary interviews. Normally my Labor Relations Manager would be sitting here instead of me, but it was after six and I was the only one still in the office when Alan called.

After several more minutes of argument, the supervisor led the resigned looking Mr. Pinos out of my office. He was even more disappointed when Alan refused to allow him to take the evidence with him.

During the conversation, I’d been trying to figure out the purpose of one of the contraptions. After they left, I held it up, carefully touching only the plastic wrap, and twisted it first one way and then the other. I was married once a while back, so not particularly naïve, but I’d never come across anything like it. Turning to Alan I said, “I give up. What is this?”

Standing up and taking it out of my hand, he said, “Trust me, you’ll never have a use for it.” Since he said it with a grin and a wink, I wasn’t sure whether that was an offer or a statement of fact. There had always been chemistry between us. We flirted, but that was as far as it went. The company policy strictly banning any relationship between executives didn’t stop me from ogling his nice tight rear bending over my desk as he gathered up the rest of the toys.

When Alan stood up, I wrenched my eyes up to look at his face. He pushed back the sandy blond hair that had fallen forward over his blue eyes. At six foot, he was only slightly taller than me. Even in his suit, it was obvious he worked out regularly. “Hey Val, you want to get some dinner?” he asked with a hint of a smile as if he knew where my eyes had been.

We’d eaten dinner together several times. It was usually less of a date, more like two people who lived alone and couldn’t face cooking after a long day. Alan always seemed reluctant to talk about himself or his past. All I knew was the hotel recruited him from somewhere in the Midwest. His wife stayed behind to sell the house. After six months, instead of selling the house, she served him with divorce papers, winning total custody of their daughter. Inevitably, we ended up talking about work.

I wasn’t in the mood. Stuffing my swollen feet back into the brand new pair of shoes lying under my desk, my only thought was bandaging the blisters on my heels. “Thanks, but I’m going home. If I don’t make it to the cleaners before they close, and do some laundry, I’ll have to show up tomorrow going commando in jeans and a t-shirt.”

He cocked his head to one side and leered. “I’d like to see that, but I doubt if it would make the right impression at the executive staff meeting, especially since the corporate executives are supposed to be there.”

“
I thought that wasn’t until the 24th.” Checking my calendar I found tomorrow was the 24th. I even had it circled in red. Usually Charlene, my secretary, reminded me. I remembered she seemed preoccupied, but because I had been in meetings all day, she’d left before I could question her.

I grabbed my purse out of a drawer, stuffed in my cell phone and dug out my keys. Alan waited while I locked up and turned off the lights. He walked me as far as the elevator to the parking garage.

“
You going home?” I asked.

“
No, I’ve still got some work to do, and I need to stow these toys in the evidence locker.”

I said goodbye and rode down to the basement. At the end of the day, when I climbed into the front seat of my blue Saturn, I was always thankful that one of my perks as an executive was a parking space in the garage. Evenings were still hot in Vegas. It may cool down to eighty degrees, but not until after midnight. In the summer after six in the evening, the temperature was usually still over ninety. The seat of a car sitting out in the sun can sear the skin right off the back of your legs and, until the air conditioning kicks in, the only way to hold the steering wheel was with your fingernails. My car wasn’t cool, but at least it was bearable. I cranked up the air, pulled out onto a side street that ran behind the hotel, and headed for the interstate.

The car cooled down by the time I reached the cleaners around the corner from my house. After buying back four suits, I drove home and pulled into my garage. A year after my promotion to Director, I purchased this two-bedroom home in a quiet neighborhood close to downtown, but far enough away from the tourist corridors. It sat on a postage-size lot perfect for someone with no time for gardening. A small, covered, cement patio surrounded by desert plants took up the entire back yard. I treasured the fact that I owned a stand-alone house that didn’t share any walls. If my neighbors fought or turned up their stereos, I couldn’t hear them. I lived alone, and I loved it. After talking to people all day long, the last thing I needed at night was company.

Kicking off my shoes, I hung the suits in the closet and stripped down to my underwear. Surveying myself in the mirror, I decided that at thirty, I didn’t look too bad. I’d always been thin. My best assets were a tiny waist, a flat tummy, and natural blond hair I wore just skimming my shoulders. Liabilities included small boobs and hips I considered too big. At five feet ten inches, my height had been both an advantage and a disadvantage. Throwing on shorts and a tee shirt, I picked up the phone that had been ringing since I opened the door.

“
Hi Mom.”

“
Don’t tell me you’re just getting home?”

“
Yes.” Actually, this was early for me. I pulled a frozen dinner out of the freezer and shoved it in the microwave, while cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear.

“
You work too hard. It’s no wonder you don’t have a social life.”

“
I have a social life.”

“
Really? When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“
Oh, that kind of social life.” The microwave dinged. I burned my fingers taking off the plastic wrap.

“
I heard that. You’re nuking your dinner again. Instead of eating alone, you should be cooking Alan Harris a nice homemade meal.”

I sighed. “I’ve told you before. Alan and I are just friends.”

“
What about that nice Mr. Jefferson I introduced you to last month?”

“
Are you kidding? He was a least a foot shorter than me, and he had no neck.”

“
At your age, you can’t afford to be so picky. He has a good job and he could afford to support you. You could quit that job, stay home, and have babies. Pretty soon, you’ll be too old to start a family. Everyone else my age already has two or three grandchildren.”

I loved my job and I wasn’t at all sure how I felt about having babies. I didn’t even like babysitting as a teenager. This wasn’t a new conversation, so I knew better than to mention any of that. I murmured appropriate remarks and waited until she ran down. Finally, she got to the reason she called.

“
Eddie called and said he’s coming home this weekend. Can you come to dinner on Friday?”

Eddie, my only sibling, had been in college for over five years, only recently deciding on a major. I hadn’t seen him for at least six months. While we didn’t have a lot in common since he was several years younger, I adored him and always enjoyed his company. I located my purse, dug out my cell phone, and entered the date.

“
I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it.” It was true. My mom was a great cook and, with my brother there, she would have to divide her nagging time between us.

Hanging up, I took my dinner out on the patio. The moisture from the misters cooled the slight breeze. I listened to the crickets, and watched the humming birds fight over the bird feeder. When it got dark, I went back inside, threw a load of laundry in the washer, and turned on the TV to watch the news.

I was just getting ready for bed when the phone rang. I answered it, knowing it was probably someone from the resort. It wasn’t unusual for me to get calls in the middle of the night. Rules are, before a supervisor can suspend or fire someone, they had to call and run the facts by me. It kept the supervisors from making decisions in anger that the resort had to pay for later. Usually I could handle it over the phone. Not this time.

Alan said, “The police are here and they want you to come down.”

“
What’s up?”

“
I’ll tell you when you get here. I’ll meet you in HR.”

Since I lived across town, I said, “Give me about thirty minutes.” I changed into slacks and a blouse, slipping on a pair of flats instead of the killer heels.

Once before when a former employee committed a crime, the police wanted me to pull his personnel file to check the addresses of references or family where he might be hiding. Assuming this was similar, I didn’t worry until I saw crime scene tape across the door to the HR office as I drove by.

I parked in my usual space and took the elevator up to the first floor. A uniformed officer standing guard outside the office door stopped me. Before I could give him my name, I spotted Alan in the window waving at me. He came out, and led me inside.

He put his arm around me and led me through the foyer, past the counter and into the office area. All the lights were on. The other office doors stood open, but everyone congregated in front of my office.

“
What happened? Why the crime scene tape?” I asked.

“
The police want to ask you a few questions.” He led me over to my secretary’s desk, just outside my office. A tall dark haired man in a suit leaned against her desk with his back to us talking to two security officers. Alan, keeping his arm around my shoulders, walked me over to introduce me. Tapping the man on the back he said, “Detective Delgado . . .”

When Detective Delgado turned around, my jaw dropped. I never expected to see anyone that good looking outside of an air brushed movie poster, dark hair, green eyes, muscular in all the right places, without an ounce of fat showing anywhere. He wore a custom tailored Armani suit with an air of smooth sophistication. Still something about the way he held himself hinted of danger. It gave him just enough of an edge to be believable as a cop. He focused glorious green eyes on me, igniting all my hormones. A wave of heat started somewhere in my middle and spread outward. He was at least six foot three because I had to look up at him. Masculinity poured off him like aftershave. I felt like a bloodhound that just caught the scent of raw steak.

Oblivious, Alan went on, “This is Valerie Peterson, that’s her office.”

I closed my mouth and tried to remember how to breathe. The detective stuck out his hand. Without conscious thought, my hand reached out to shake it. Unfortunately, I forgot how to let go and he had to pull his hand away.