Risking It All.... Yvonne Lindsay

that she planned to do something inappropriate. If something happened spontaneously, that was different. Going into the New Dawn casino with a deliberate intention to have sex with the man she was investigating seemed far more dangerous and inappropriate. Premeditation, after all, was often the difference between manslaughter and murder.

      An unplanned crime—or night—of passion was a little different.

      She jumped when the phone rang, as if the person calling could read her thoughts.

      And maybe they could. “Hi, Mom.”

      “Hello, sweetheart, are you busy?”

      “Yes, very, I’m afraid.” She didn’t want to get into a conversation that might involve little white lies.

      “How long are they going to keep you out there in Massachusetts? It’s the church picnic this weekend and I promised you’d run the till. Sally is baking two hundred cupcakes to raise money for the mission in Kenya.”

      It was Thursday. The thought that in two days she could be back in Ohio, miles away from John, chilled her. “I don’t know if I’ll be back. I thought I would be, but it keeps getting more complicated. I’m sure you can run the till.” She felt a bit guilty. She usually enjoyed helping out at these events. It was fun to see people coming together for a good cause. Now all she could seem to think about was herself and the affair she shouldn’t be having.

      “I already promised to run the lemonade stand. I suppose Sally’s daughter can manage, though. I do wish you were back home. I worry about you being so far away and with the wrong sort of people.”

      “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re all quite normal, really. It’s a business like any other.” She glanced at her face in the mirror, wondering if her nose was getting longer. There was nothing normal about John Fairweather. He was larger than life in every possible way.

      “I know people visit casinos of their own free will, but profits from gambling just seem like the wages of sin.”

      “They’re wages like any others when you look at the account books, and that’s all I’m here to do. How’s Dad doing? Is he taking that new medication the doctor gave him?” Her father’s cholesterol had tested high recently. She was so used to taking care of them. If anything, they’d grown even more dependent on her since she moved back home from college, and she wondered how they’d manage without her if she did move out. Especially if she moved away to a different state.

      Not that she should even be thinking along those lines since it was very unlikely to happen.

      “Your dad is taking his medicine, but he won’t stop putting mayonnaise on everything. You’ll have to talk some sense into him when you come home. It’s odd here without you. The house feels empty and there’s no one to do the dishes after dinner.”

      She had to smile. “I miss you, too. I’m still not sure when I’ll be home, but hopefully by next week.”

      They wished each other goodbye and Constance hung up, then sighed, thinking about the endless nights of putting dishes into the machine and watching alarmist news shows that stretched ahead of her like a lonely highway. Then she shoved her phone in her pocket and headed out the door.

      Without a change of underwear.

      * * *

      Constance spent the afternoon stalking the cashiers and wandering around the game rooms. Luckily for her, the New Dawn did not have any kind of middlemen between the customers and the cashiers. Everyone had to bring their own chips to the cashier to turn them into money.

      Nothing untoward seemed to be happening at the tables, either. John had told her that the dealers were all experienced professionals, mostly from Atlantic City or Vegas, though he was hoping to train some local people soon.

      She walked among the tables watching the customers gamble. People won money. Others lost money. Some won it then lost it. There was nothing that looked fishy. She paused at a roulette table, and watched the croupier spin the wheel.

      “Hello, gorgeous.” That deep, rich voice in her ear sent a shiver of warm lust to her core.

      She resisted the urge to spin around and instead turned very slowly to face John. A smile was already creeping across her face and she worked hard not to let it get too goofy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fairweather.”

      “I see you’re examining our operations again with that eagle eye of yours. Do you like what you see?”

      “Like it? Not so much. I’m still not a fan of gambling.” She smiled primly. His own easy expression didn’t budge. “And I really should keep my findings confidential at this point, don’t you think?”

      Now she did see a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “What findings?”

      “Any findings I should happen to make.” She attempted an air of sphinxlike calm. “I’m not saying I’ve found anything unusual.”

      “But you’re not saying you haven’t.” He frowned. “You will tell me if you find anything, won’t you? I’d be damn surprised, but I’d want to know right up front.”

      She hesitated. “My first responsibility is to my client.”

      “The BIA.”

      “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d tell me about anything you find first.” His face was now deadly serious.

      “I don’t think I’m in a position to offer personal favors. I’m here to do a job.” This was getting awkward. He obviously thought she’d found something unexpected in the books that she didn’t want him to know about it. Still, if she did, she should keep it secret while she investigated, so the casino wouldn’t have a chance to cover it all up before she reported back to her client.

      She glanced up and saw his uncle Don throw down some chips at a distant roulette table.

      “I have no desire to interfere with your performance on the job you’ve been hired to do. You know that. But honestly, if you find anything amiss, I’d be as keen to know about it as anyone else.” His earnest expression preyed on her emotions.

      “I’ll tell you if I find anything,” she whispered. “I really do believe you want everything to be aboveboard. But so far, so good.” She smiled. “Though I shouldn’t be telling you that.”

      In the distance, Don swiped up a fistful of chips from the table with a smile and shoved them in his pocket. Darius, who managed the cashiers, had told her that Don gambled. She supposed there was nothing illegal in it. Or was there? This was a perfect instance of where she needed to do her own research rather than asking John about it.

      Don Fairweather was now heading toward them, a confident smile on his rather wrinkled face. Constance braced herself. She’d better be on alert to see if she could pick up any information to substantiate or debunk the rumors about him.

      “Consorting with the enemy, eh, John?” Don turned to her and winked. “You know I’m just kidding. We welcome the scrutiny of the BIA and all their friends in the media. Life would be dull if everyone just let us go about our business.”

      “My contact mentioned money-laundering charges against you.” She looked at Don and came right out with it. She wanted to hear if his answer would be any less evasive and uninformative than John’s. And something about Don’s nonchalant attitude pushed her buttons and she wanted to see how he reacted under pressure.

      “Load of bull. I used to own a chain of dry cleaners. We were laundering shirts, not money.” His grin challenged her to argue. “As you probably know, they didn’t find enough evidence to convict me of anything.”

      “Don was found not guilty,” John cut in. “By a jury of his peers.”

      “Not that I have any true peers, of course.”

      “Don is by far the most arrogant of the Fairweathers.” John shot a wry glance at Constance.

      “Which