Get Lucky (16 page)

“The entire time I was in Colorado pictures were being sent to my house of my parents. They weren’t pictures they took of themselves, though, and neither of them knew anyone had taken pictures of them. There were notes typed on typing paper. Just two sentences.”

“That’s the same thing that has happened to me.” She forgot about her wine as she jumped to her feet, her heart suddenly pounding so hard in her chest she couldn’t breathe. “The first note said: ‘Say good-bye to your mother and father. You’re never going to see them again.’”

“And the second note said: ‘As promised, your parents are gone. Let the game begin!’” Marc said, finishing for her.

“How did you know?” she whispered, turning slowly and staring at her dresser where all the pictures were. “You saw my pictures?”

“No. The notes that came with the pictures sent to my house said the exact same thing as your notes did.”

“What are you talking about? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” Marc was quiet for a moment.

London barely noticed. Her head was spinning. She made the decision to talk to Marc about these pictures and he already knew about them. But he didn’t know about her pictures. He knew about his pictures.

“Someone is sending pictures to me and also sending them to your house? I don’t understand. You and I didn’t even know each other before two weeks ago.”

“London, what do your parents do for a living?”

The question took her aback. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious. I don’t think these pictures are about you and me or whether we knew each other. I think they’re about our parents. Are your parents in law enforcement?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “No. Hardly,” she said, afraid a wave of hysteria would kick in if she didn’t put some sense to all of this really soon. “They’re as far from law enforcement as you can get.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t know the connection yet. Do you have any vacation time coming to you?”

If he didn’t quit throwing really odd questions out at her, continually changing the subject, she would go nuts. “I’m sure I do. I’ve never used any of it. Are you suggesting I take a vacation?”

“I don’t know how much of a vacation it will be. I want you to call in to work tomorrow. Tell them you’re going to be gone for a while. And don’t leave your house. I’ll be there tomorrow to get you.”

Chapter Nine

Staying home just wasn’t an option. Marc was serious about coming to get her. There was something incredibly exciting about knowing he was driving to her right now. A rush of butterflies attacked her stomach as she leaned against the counter at the front desk, zoning in on the roaring fire she’d started after getting to work that morning.

Marc called her an hour after hanging up with her last night to let her know he’d be driving up to get her during the night. He was in Arizona, not California, but that was all the detail he’d give her over the phone. When he explained she wasn’t secure, London had an image of 007 with all his gadgets and tools of the spy trade. London was probably as far from secure as they came. Up until a couple weeks ago, she liked not having to worry for her safety or look over her shoulder.

London had taken a leap of faith when she decided to talk to Marc about the pictures. She’d honestly believed telling him about them would help clear matters up a bit in her head. Instead she was dragged deeper into a mystery, one that seemed to be wrapped around Marc as tight as it was around her.

“I just got your voice mail.” Cliff appeared at the end of the hallway, scowling at her.

London snapped her attention to her manager, dragging her hair over her shoulder and letting it fall behind her back. It took a moment to clear her head from her brooding thoughts.

“Good. I’m sure it sounded rushed,” she said, smiling in spite of his continual frown. She hadn’t expected Cliff to be thrilled about her requesting immediate time off. “I just got word late last night. I need to leave town for a while.”

“You can’t just up and leave like this. I’m denying your request,” he informed her, sticking his jaw out and glaring at her.

“I haven’t missed a day of work in three years,” she complained.

“That doesn’t give you the right to leave without notice. You’ll just have to plan your vacation another time.”

“This is hardly a vacation.” London had never enjoyed dealing with Cliff. He was egocentric and spoiled. If she avoided any confrontation with him, he was tolerable at best. There wasn’t any way she could leave town without discussing it with him. And she’d be damned if she lost her job over this. “I didn’t plan this and I’ve already covered all of my shifts. You won’t have to work any more than you do now,” she added, knowing she stabbed at him when she implied he didn’t do anything around the lodge anyway, other than make his employees’ lives miserable. It was a great job if they didn’t have to deal with Cliff, and since he seldom came around unless someone famous made reservations or important people held parties, it wasn’t hard avoiding him.

“I hardly have time to work the front desk. I have my own workload, you know.” The way he tilted his head, looking defiant and superior, showed he completely missed her jab that he didn’t work at all.

The phone rang and London spun around to answer it, keeping her back to Cliff when she grabbed it. Losing her cool with him wouldn’t help matters. All that mattered was that he approve her time off and leave her alone.

“Elk Lodge,” she answered.

“Hey, London. I just got your message. That is so romantic,” Meryl said cheerfully. “And yes, of course I’ll come in and finish out your shift. I’ll be there in a few. How cool is that! Marc King coming in on his white horse to sweep you out of here.”

London laughed, all too aware of Cliff glaring at her and really not caring. “Thank you so much for agreeing to work for me, Meryl. I owe you big-time. I was just standing here talking to Cliff and explaining the family crisis.”

She’d given Meryl a very abridged version of the story, leaving her a message first thing that morning asking her to help cover her shifts and telling her Marc was on his way to pick her up.

“You told him it was a family crisis?” Meryl asked, lowering her voice.

“I know I haven’t missed any work. I wasn’t planning on starting now. But you understand. It’s an emergency. My parents need me.”

“I do understand family. Honestly, I didn’t think you had family,” Meryl said, buying into London’s story with as much compassion as she’d expected her to have.

“Everyone has family. I just never talked about mine much. I spent my time here working and you know I love my job. I think I have all my shifts covered now so there won’t be a problem while I’m gone.”

“What’s wrong with your family? Is someone sick? Or is it just a story you told Cliff?” Meryl pressed.

London squeezed the bridge of her nose, glancing down. There wasn’t enough time to explain what was wrong with her family. Although when she didn’t talk to anyone about it, she was able to live with how she’d been raised. Maybe her parents hadn’t done things the conventional way, but she’d grown up okay.

“They’ll be fine, but they’ve asked for my help and I need to go to them.” In a way, she decided, that was true. There was no way of knowing who sent those pictures, but they were sent to get her attention and to let her know her parents were in trouble. Any other child would run to the aid of their mother and father. Why shouldn’t she?

“I understand. I’d do the same thing,” Meryl said, her tone full of compassion. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“I’ll see you when you get here,” she said, and told Meryl good-bye.

Cliff was still scowling when London turned around. “I have everything taken care of,” she informed him. “All you need to do is approve my time off.”

An older couple walked up to the counter. Cliff’s expression transformed and he smiled at them as if they were his best friends.

“London will take care of you,” he informed them. “I hope you’re both enjoying your stay here.”

“Yes, we are. Thank you,” the wife of the couple said, grinning back at him.

“Good. Good.” Cliff left London, disappearing around the corner without giving her approval to leave.

“Fuck him,” she grumbled to herself, and managed her professional smile as she helped the couple at the counter.

It would take Meryl at least half an hour to get to the lodge from her house. The lobby began filling up with guests, their skis and other paraphernalia cluttering the large room as they chatted among themselves cheerfully. They were on vacation, all appearing to not have a care in the world other than hitting the slopes and playing in the snow all day. It was a sight London was very accustomed to seeing, travelers from all walks of life hovering in the warm lobby while waiting for the shuttle to take them to the lifts.

She remembered being in awe of some of them when she first started working here. Her life was so far from anything these people had ever known. After working here a few years, she had grown immune to them. Today she watched the group as they mingled, all wearing their bright ski attire. She’d learned over the years which ones came from way too much money and which guests scrimped and scraped just to enjoy some time here at the lodge.

It was also interesting watching them judge one another. Especially the women, although the men did it, too. They would make a show of being nice to their fellow skiers, but the look in their eyes, the shift of their heads, showed how they sized one another up and judged one another.

London had made a lifetime habit of watching people, learning by their actions who could be trusted and who couldn’t. For the most part she’d determined very few could be trusted. It created a sinking feeling inside her when she wondered for the tenth time, at least, why she’d confided in Marc. Worse yet, she’d known him two weeks. She was uprooting her life and had agreed to leave the state with him. Maybe once in her life running on a moment’s notice had been par for the course. But today she had order. It amazed her, and scared the crap out of her, when she realized how quickly she conformed to her old habits, making decisions on the spur of the moment and packing hastily, leaving everything she had and taking on the unknown.

The shuttle bus pulled up out front and the large group seemed to talk louder as they filed out the front door. One man didn’t leave them but remained standing with his back to her, facing the fire. London noticed the patches on the elbows of his jacket and her gut twisted painfully.

She moved around the counter, refusing to let the PI unnerve her. “You’re here again,” she said when she came up behind him.

“I heard in town this lodge was once a millionaire’s home, and that he built it so he and his wife could enjoy a reclusive lifestyle in the mountains,” he said without turning around.

James Huxtable’s hands were clasped behind his back and he didn’t change his position as he glanced at the large painting over the mantle of the couple who had once lived here. Since he was right, London didn’t see the need to comment. Nor was she in the mood to elaborate and offer a history lesson.

“Do you know where my parents are?” she asked.

That grabbed his attention. His expression was somewhat amused when he turned around and faced her. “Now if I did, why would I be here?”

He hadn’t answered her question. “If you were a good detective, you would have known I’ve had no contact with them,” she pointed out.

“You’re right. Sometimes family members seek each other out in a time of crisis. It’s been known to happen.”

Maybe normal families, she thought to herself. “You never answered my question.”

He shook his head, his dark hair remaining in place as he looked down at her, his gaze drifting before meeting hers. “I don’t usually spend my time focusing on con artists who drift from town to town. They’re a dime a dozen.”

He would have to do better than that to insult her when it came to her parents. She’d heard it all before. “So if that’s a ‘no,’” she began, again thinking he didn’t look at all what she would expect a private investigator to look like. “Where do you think they are?”

James smiled at her, his lips smooth and moist as if he’d applied a thick layer of lip balm to them recently. At least when she learned Marc was a bounty hunter he looked the part, so tall and muscular and with that blunt side to him that made it easy to imagine him diving to the ground and pulling a gun from his hip at the same time. This man facing her looked as if he would get upset if he got dirty at all.

“You must have some idea. I can’t imagine you didn’t research them before approaching me.”

“I did,” he consented. “They were in Chicago last year and I do believe they headed west when winter set in.” Whether he was telling the truth or not she couldn’t tell. His expression never changed, and that smile on his face was growing more and more annoying. “My guess is they’re with one of the game players. I just don’t know which one yet.”

“What does that mean?” she asked as the phone at the front desk began ringing.

London left him without a word, hurrying around the counter to answer it.

“Wait!” she called out when James walked out the front door. “Shit,” she hissed to herself, and answered the phone.

What the hell did he mean by “game players”? God. Was it possible for all of this to get any more confusing?

She headed back to her house less than an hour later. Maybe she’d be smart to grab her packed bags and head out on her own, leave Aspen for new territory, and put all of this strangeness behind her. It was something she knew how to do. Take off and leave all problems behind, forgetting about them completely before the new town and new adventure came upon her.

Wasn’t that the one thing her parents taught her how to do better than anything else? When shit got too deep, run. Don’t hang around and try to solve it. If her parents heard she was in trouble, would they run to her aid?

Although that thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, London wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t ignore the growing mystery surrounding her or the dangerous implications coming with it. It made it easier to accept her decision when she pulled into her driveway and Marc was already there.

“Got to love all this snow,” he announced, getting out of his car and looking larger than life when he walked up to her, his long legs helping him clear the distance between them within seconds.

Marc didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and damn near squeezing all air out of her lungs. “I’m sorry I left without saying anything,” he whispered in her ear.

He smelled so good. All that muscle and the warmth of his body had her melting against him before she could think of anything to say. His greeting confirmed what she’d come to believe during the time he’d been here. There was something growing between them.

“We’ll discuss that later,” she informed him instead of saying what came to mind first, which was that she was used to it.

Marc let her slide down his virile body and brushed her hair away from her face. When he lowered his mouth to hers, greeting her further with a kiss hot enough to make her insides melt, she prayed she would get through all of this without losing her heart. The pictures arriving in the mail didn’t terrify her half as much as the fact that she might have already lost it. As she gripped his shoulders, leaning in and deepening the kiss, London moved her hands under his coat, soaking in his warmth and feeling his heartbeat just above his collarbone. The solid throbbing under her fingertips matched the hard beating of her own heart.

“Where were you?” he asked when he finally let her up for air.

Marc ran his hand down her back and escorted her up her porch stairs. London wondered if any of her neighbors were home to witness that public display of affection. It was really the least of her worries, though, and she slid her key into her lock and let her and Marc into the house.