Love on the Boardwalk (8 page)

With every minute that ticked by, more shoppers filled the waterfront. Trina edged them over to a wooden piling, out of the flow of traffic.

“Are you okay?” She looked pointedly at the purplish circle around Leilani’s bloodshot left eye. “I can’t offer you an icepack or a raw steak to put on it. Not that I would, out here. Seagulls would dive bomb you if you put a slab of beef on your face. But I’ll bet Darcy’s got some ibuprofen in her purse. Even though she looks all young and hip, she totally packs a mom purse, full of all sorts of weird stuff. A Swiss Army knife. Hand sanitizer. Granola bars. Condoms. A flashlight.”

A shake of the head cut off her rambling. Great timing, since Trina was running out of things to list. Although she did remember one time Darcy pulled an entire package of balloons out of her purse. Kind of like Hermione’s magic sack in the last Harry Potter book. Just not as comprehensive.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll need to buy some better concealer, I guess, but I’ll be fine. Thanks.” With a polite nod at Darcy, she started to walk away.

Crap. She wasn’t in the mood to chat. Which meant Trina didn’t have the luxury of slowly working around to the point. Of course, it also meant she had nothing to lose by diving straight to it. She reached out a hand to snag the side of Leilani’s white tank to stop her.

“I, uh, expected to see you yesterday. At the arcade.” Trina tried to wink knowingly. Except she couldn’t wink. Never had been able to. Damn. A knowing wink seemed like a really useful P.I. tool. “I heard you’d be there.”

“From who?” Leilani shot back with a frown.

It wasn’t a denial. Which was practically the same as admitting it, according to Joe’s rules on how to interpret hinky situations. So Trina waved her hand in the air, trying to look breezy and in the know. “The short guy. He told me.”

“You were going to meet Ralph, too? Man, I can’t believe he pulled you in so fast.” She shook her head. “Ralph DiNunzio might not look like much, but he can sure sucker a desperate girl.”

“Sucker? You think I’m being scammed?”

“I think we’re the ones taking all the risk. You don’t see Ralph sporting a black eye, do you? Nobody works him over when things go south. I was just a little late. And now I lose at least three shifts because nobody wants to watch a stripper whose face takes all the attention away from her boobs. How is that fair?”

Trina wasn’t rolling in dough. She never had any trouble paying her rent, but changing jobs so often didn’t give her the chance to build up much of a safety net. Listening to Leilani, though, made her want to rush to the nearest ATM and give the battered girl every cent in her checking account.

Darcy pulled out a chocolate bar and offered it to Leilani, who ripped it open and immediately bit into it with a moan of delight. After giving her a chance to swallow, Darcy asked, “Did Ralph do that to you?”

A roll of the eyes accompanied her next bite. “Of course not. He’d need a stepladder to belt me in the eye.”

“Who then?” Trina put a hand on the dancer’s shoulder. Not just to establish contact, but because she really thought Leilani needed some comfort. “Maybe we can do something. Say something to stop it from happening again. Stand up to him. Get some help.”

“I don’t need help. Are you trying to make even more trouble for me?”

“No, of course not.” But she could tell she’d lost her.

“Thanks for the candy. Keep your head down, Trina.” Leilani hurried away.

“That was heart-wrenching,” said Darcy.

“Yeah.” This wasn’t just a potential case anymore. It wasn’t limited to money changing hands under the sticky tables at Club Eden for God knows what. Now it was personal. Somebody who was willing to hit a woman generally didn’t stop at a black eye. Trina volunteered at a battered women’s shelter back in Baltimore, and knew how quickly violence could escalate. It didn’t matter how many days she’d have to keep working at the club. Trina wasn’t leaving until she found out who beat up her friend, and why, and put an end to it.

Darcy pulled out her phone and held it out. “Well, do you want to call Brad, or should I call Coop?”

“What for?”

The look on Darcy’s face was the same one she’d worn in high school, when Trina had zoned out during history class and told the teacher that Christopher Columbus landed at Plymouth Rock. “To arrest that guy.”

“For what? Leilani said that Ralph’s not the one who hit her.”

“Yes, but clearly he’s involved in something illegal.”

Ha! Now Trina could return the same huffy look of
did you really just say that really stupid thing.
It was the first time she’d ever been able to do it to Darcy, and it felt great. “That’s not a specific enough charge for an arrest warrant. We don’t have anything concrete. Nothing the police could act on. But the situation’s off. Off enough that I have to keep digging.”

“Of course you do. We can’t let that poor girl just keep getting pummeled. But—with all due respect to your yellow belt in karate—this seems dangerous. Do you have to do it alone?”

Whew. Better for Darcy to volunteer than to have to ask her. “I hope not. My favorite partner is here, ready to work out a plan with me over lunch.”

“We chased bad guys on our last vacation. I was hoping to mix things up this time.” Darcy widened her eyes hopefully. “Maybe not end my road trip with a gun pointed at me.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t make any promises.”

Chapter Seven

Brad lowered his voice and pulled Coop down a couple of steps on the escalator ahead of the girls. “Are you sure you’re going to have any money left to gamble? That prime rib dinner was over-the-top amazing—and expensive. You didn’t have to cover all of us.”

“How often do we get to do a double date at the swankiest joint in town?” Coop shot his cuffs with the smoothness of a wise guy. Damn. Since when did his cousin even own cuff links? Or a shirt that required them? “No point in half-assing it.”

“I appreciate your whole-ass-ed-ness, believe me.” Brad patted his belly. He could cook well enough for a single man. Not just burgers or dorm room food like grilled cheese, either. There were a couple of chicken recipes he used to impress dates, and a handful of pasta recipes that kept him going. But he never went to the trouble to make himself a feast of shrimp cocktail, lobster bisque, Caesar salad, prime rib and au gratin potatoes.

“Do you think Darcy and Trina are having a good time?”

What kind of a question was that? It gave Brad déjà vu to the first time he and Coop had double dated, back in eighth grade. “Of course they are. We all are. The four of us just laughed for two hours straight through dinner. This is a night we’ll be talking about for years—and we haven’t even hit the tables yet. Why the hell are you asking?”

“No reason. Nothing.” Coop charged off the escalator onto the mobbed casino floor.

Now that it was Friday, the place was wall-to-wall people. Guys their age who seemed to run in packs of seven, all in a uniform of jeans and untucked button-down shirts. Bachelorette parties full of women in too tight, too short skirts they tugged down every two steps, pink sashes and pink boas. Obvious hand-holding dates that matched their own foursome with suits and slinky dresses. There was a constant din of slot machines at different pitches. Groups of shouts came from the direction of the craps tables. Loud music drifted over from the bars. Brad did a double take. The nearest bar sported three women gyrating on top of it dressed only in knee-high boots, sequined bras and shorts that turned into thongs in the back. He reached back and grabbed for Trina’s hand.

“We clean up good. We should take a picture.” Coop threw an arm around Darcy’s waist and hustled her over to the showgirl with a red plume shooting out of a gold helmet. Her only job seemed to be posing for pictures with tourists. That, and avoiding the handsy men walking by who seemed to think her barely-covered-anything red and gold sequins were an invitation to touch. Too bad he couldn’t arrest anyone for being a stupid jerkwad.

The idea of a picture with her was just cheesy and stupid enough to be fun. Brad looked down at Trina. She’d done something with her makeup he couldn’t begin to pin down. He just knew her eyes looked bigger, and as green as the lucky shamrocks they sold in the hotel gift shop.

“Are you up for a photo?”

She tossed her hair, in bouncy curls for the night, and beamed up at him. “Don’t you know? I’m always up for anything and everything.”

“Yeah. You are.” So different from the way Dana had considered every invite, running through the list of who might be there and if an event would be of worthwhile business potential. She’d claimed her time was money, and too important to waste. Which had made Brad wonder more than once why spending time with him wasn’t more important than money. “That’s one of the things I like so much about you.” He tucked her against his front. Slung his arms down to hold tight at her waist. Tried not to notice that from that position he could look straight down what she’d informed him was a tightly laced white bustier to where he was quite sure she wasn’t wearing any bra. That effort lasted about four seconds until he said fuck it. He’d look his fill of her creamy breasts every opportunity he got. To ignore their perfection would just be rude. Like staring at your shoes while walking through an art museum.

“Everybody smile,” Coop ordered.

Brad quickly pulled his gaze up to flash his teeth at the camera. And then triple-blinked as about ten flashes went off. Tourists were so excited to take a shot of the Caesars girl that they apparently didn’t care about the four strangers also in the picture. Weird.

“Let’s shoot some craps.” Coop practically bounced right out of his shoes. Then he smoothed his tie, the same color as Darcy’s emerald green slip dress. Three times. And
then
he smoothed back his hair with both hands. What the hell was with him all of a sudden? He wasn’t acting drunk. More jittery, like he’d had eight cups of coffee.

Brad gave in to temptation and spiked his fingers through Trina’s soft curls. Considered blowing off trying his luck at the tables completely to try his luck with Trina, instead. But he wouldn’t just ditch his cousin and Darcy. Blue balls were no excuse for bailing on a friend. Besides, some things—some women—were worth waiting for. After their kisses on the beach, he knew Trina fit that bill. They’d hang, have some laughs and wait at least half an hour before escaping. So he jerked his thumb at the opposite side of the room.

“I don’t want to lose my entire bankroll in three minutes. No craps for me. I’m more of a blackjack guy. I’m comforted by the pretense that I have some say in how I lose my money.”

Coop snorted. “Pretense is right. You know the house always wins.”

“Sure, eventually. But I’ll drink their free booze and have a good time until that happens.”

“I’ll watch you for a while,” said Trina. “Then I thought I’d just hang out at the penny slots and get more bang for my buck. My strategy is that it’s about how long you play, not how much you win. Plus,” she raised her right arm and struck a body-building pose, “I’ll bulk up my biceps by pulling that handle over and over.”

Dipping his head, Brad kissed the soft, smooth skin of her upper arm. Wondered how long they’d have to stick with Coop and Darcy before sneaking away to kiss more of her. “Remind me not to arm-wrestle you for anything this weekend.”

“Focus, guys. We can all split up later. Let’s just shoot a few rounds of craps first.”

Darcy shook her head. “Craps looks complicated. I’m feeling more like Hold ‘Em. I’ve been playing that since college. How about we all split up, and the first one to win fifty dollars texts us and we take a break to visit that gelato bar we just passed downstairs?”

Coop paled. Seriously, his cousin looked about to toss his cookies. Checked his watch for the third time since getting off the escalator. “No. We don’t split up. Not yet. I, uh, took some lessons from a guy on the force.”

“What guy?” Gambling wasn’t exactly something you could do in the middle of the squad room.

The look Coop shot him could’ve pitted a cherry at fifty paces. “Just a guy, okay?” He turned back to Darcy. Grabbed her hand and Trina’s. “Come watch me for five minutes. Blow on my dice for luck. Then you can all go do your own thing.”

Patting him on the shoulder, Darcy said, “Sure. You want to show off your smooth dice moves? I’m all over it.”

“Sorry about this,” Brad muttered in Trina’s ear as they crossed into the mob scene of the gambling floor. “Coop’s not usually this much of a pain in the ass.”

The craps area was the most crowded. Each table had three croupiers and a pit boss. At least ten people crowded around each long oval. They passed a few tables full of players who looked way too serious. People leaned on the padded bumpers as through bracing for a crash. They all wore the same dead, fixed stare directed down at the green felt with the Caesars logo in the center of the table. Another table was all old men, one with a towel slung over his shoulder for God knows what reason.

A croupier with slicked-back hair gestured at them. “I just opened up this table. How about you folks are the first to win at it tonight?”

Coop stepped right up to the rail. Oddly enough, the plumed-up picture girl, two more sexy gladiator-costumed women and a guy in a toga drifted over to watch. As did a couple of waitresses and another pit boss. What the hell was going on? Were they christening this table? Was Coop the one millionth person to roll the bright orange and yellow dice?

A stack of bills got changed for chips. Coop held up the dice in one fist. Laughing, Darcy blew them a kiss. Eyes never leaving hers, he tossed them the length of the table. Everyone started cheering. And then silence fell as a shiny ring plopped inside the white borders of the pass line. Holy shit. This explained Coop’s squirreliness.

He seemed to have gathered his courage, though, because his voice was as sure as a referee announcing a touchdown. “I just rolled the dice on my future. But I don’t need Lady Luck to smile on me. She did that already, the day she rolled the wave that swept you into my arms.”

Oh, that was good stuff. Romantic. Brad wondered how many times Coop had written and rewritten this little speech before practicing it in front of a mirror. It already put his own proposal to Dana to shame. They’d kind of fallen into agreement about marriage one night when she’d complained about visiting him at his house. Dana thought it’d be better if they got married and Brad moved into her snazzy waterfront condo. Looking back, he’d been an idiot to agree to it. Which he’d done just to get her to stop complaining about how there wasn’t any good light in his bathroom mirror, and how all the floors creaked in his hundred-year-old rowhouse. Trying to ward off another fight? Not the strongest foundation for a marriage. Thank God it was all behind him now.

Coop cupped her cheek. “All I need, Darcy, is you. You’re all I want. A life with you. Making a family with you. You’re the sweetest, smartest woman I know. I love the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about the kids you’re helping at school. The evil glint you get right before you tickle me. The way you close your eyes and smile every time you bite into a brownie. I can’t tell you how much it means that you support me being a detective, despite the danger and the crazy hours. I want to spend every day of the rest of my life trying to show you how much I love you.”

Instead of chips, the croupier used his long-handled rake to push the ring over to Coop. “I wanted this ring to be more than bling. This sapphire represents the ocean that brought us together, and the diamonds on either side are you and me.” Darcy started to reach for it. Coop closed his hand around it and jerked it away with a sly grin. “But to get it, you have to answer one question.”

He dropped to one knee. Tears welled up in both the women. And damned if Brad didn’t feel a clutch at his gut watching the moment his best friend changed the course of his life. “So, Darcy Trent, will you marry me?”

“Detective Hudson, can’t you figure that out without any clues?” Darcy dropped into Coop’s arms, kicking her feet up behind her as he stood and swung her around. Then everything happened at once. All the Caesars employees burst into applause. A champagne cork popped. The four of them shared a round of hugs. The girls shared a round of squeals. Someone pressed champagne into their hands and they all clinked glasses.

“See?” Brad grinned at his cousin. “I told you this was a great night. One we’d be talking about for years.”

“And that was before I raised the ante with a proposal. Think what a letdown it’ll be when all of us just go out for pizza back in Baltimore.”

“I’m looking forward to lots of those boring, sucky nights with you guys,” Darcy teased.

“I’m proud of you, Coop. Lucky bastard. You sure picked a winner.” Brad turned to Darcy, and gave her a gentler version of the bear hug he’d given Coop. “I’d say welcome to the family, but you’ve been a part of ours for months already.”

“And you’ve all made me feel so included. Oh my gosh, we’re going to have a family.” With the speed of a supersonic pendulum, Darcy’s focus shifted right back to her new fiancé. “We have to have a boy who looks like you, honey, to torment the next generation of women.”

“They need a couple of minutes to wallow in happiness,” Trina murmured. “Plus, picking baby names for their firstborn isn’t my idea of a hot night on the famous Boardwalk.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the table. They left the craps section, crossing to the opposite side of the casino floor.

Brad paused in front of a bank of glowing slot machines. “Thunder of Zeus. Amazon Temple. Jewel of the Dragon. Which one do you want to sink your pennies into?”

“Mmm, none of them right now. I think Coop and Darcy are overloaded with all the good fortune in the whole room.”

Yep. For once, tonight the house wasn’t the big winner. “Want to get out of here for a little bit? Get some fresh air? It’s safe to say they won’t notice if we leave.”

Trina hooted in laughter. “They wouldn’t notice if Caesars emptied their entire vault right at Darcy’s feet.” As they walked through the blackjack tables toward the exit, she demanded, “Teach me something.”

“Never hit on seventeen.”

She hip-checked him. “I’m serious. You’re a trained detective, and I’m training to become a detective. This is the perfect place to observe people. Help me boost my observational skills.”

Could be fun. Obi-Wan always seemed to get a kick out of mentoring an apprentice. And Trina had a point about this being a people cesspool. Brad could drop a few observational truths her way. “Hookers always carry their phone in their right hand.”

A nod, like she was absorbing the info. Then she torqued her head up at him. “Why?”

How the hell should he know? It cracked him up the way her mind burrowed into shadowy corners other people ignored. “Good question. Next time I walk past one in Holding, I’ll be sure to ask.”

“Okay, then, how can I spot a hooker without a phone?”

Instinct. Experience. But he knew neither of those answers would satisfy her. “See that super tall, busty blonde with the short, bald guy? The way he’s hanging onto her like a trophy? Not talking to her, just hanging on to her and talking to his friends? That’s not a relationship. That’s a business transaction.” Brad did
not
want to spend the rest of the night talking about hookers. Or crime. Pushing through the doors onto the Boardwalk, he said, “Here ends the lesson.”

They got in a Rolling Chair, Brad ducking beneath the bright blue awning to sit on the matching, side-by-side cushion. It was a tight fit. Gave him the excuse to put his arm around Trina’s shoulders and pull her close. He’d have done even more if the guy pushing the chair from behind wasn’t mere inches away. But just holding her felt great. Brad breathed deep the salt-tinged air. Tried to think about the woman practically in his lap, instead of circling back to what had just gone down inside.