Fever. Elaine Overton

one willing to interrupt her work long enough to toss a halfhearted goodbye over the top of the cubicle wall. But someone always made the security guard aware of her presence on their way out the door.

      Roxie looked down at the computer screen covered in codes and calculations and decided nothing else was going to be accomplished by staying later. In fact, nothing had been accomplished all day.

      After her harrowing experience the night before, she’d tried to throw herself into her work to forget. But how could she when the image of midnight-black eyes kept intruding. More than once, she’d smelled the faint odor of his musk cologne, felt a warm tingle of air on her neck and turned her head expecting to see him standing beside her. Ike Bancroft.

      The man was nothing more than a common thug. He’d have to be to work for Bobby Kincaid. If you ever show your face in my casino again, be prepared to face the consequences. His menacing threat had played again and again in her head all day.

      It seemed her parents had gotten involved with a very treacherous group of people.

      In hindsight, of course, she could see how ridiculous it was to think she would waltz into the Desert Rose and waltz out with fifty thousand dollars of Bobby Kincaid’s money. She knew it was probably time to acknowledge that she was in over her head, and give up. But she couldn’t. Everything in her demanded payback, not so much for the money taken from her parents, but for the disgrace they now felt. Something she was certain most people would not understand. It was a hustler thing.

      Having lived her life first on her own, then as Tessa and Theo’s ward, Roxie knew what the world thought about people like them. There were fewer words in the English language as despised as the words con man. It was synonymous with lowlife, scum. But what Roxie knew that most did not was that it was more honestly synonymous with words such as desperate and hungry.

      In the world she knew as a child, there was no black and white, only shades of gray. The question was really what shade of gray would allow you to continue to sleep at night? And for what shade of gray would you sell your soul?

      Even as a child, she knew exactly where to draw the line. And although she was not exactly proud of the things she’d done to survive, she had no trouble sleeping at night.

      Could Ike Bancroft say the same?

      At least she’d never see him again. Whether he realized it or not, his threat was quite effective. The threat and that ominous look in his eyes had chased her away like a frightened kitten.

      Although the danger had passed, Roxie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still not quite settled about the whole affair. She mentally replayed everything that had happened that night, trying to find the missing detail. When he’d asked, she’d given him the alias Roxanne Smith. Okay, it was a pathetic alias, but it still left her virtually anonymous. And just as a precaution, she’d driven Tessa’s car. Not that she had any expectation he would attempt to follow her. After all, she’d left the money on the table.

      Finally deciding the unease was due more to paranoia and fatigue than anything legitimate, Roxie decided to pack it in for the night. Her eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion. Her back ached from sitting forward over the keyboard. Her stomach was crying for attention.

      She passed through the double doors and waved at the young security guard sitting in the booth on the far side of the lot.

      “Wait up, Ms. Sanchez!” The guard stood, and called out to her across the lot like he did most nights. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

      “Don’t bother, Trey. I’m fine.” She realized in the time it would take her chivalrous hero to reach her that she could almost be in her car and on the way out of the parking lot.

      The young man seemed to hesitate for a moment before slipping back into his booth. “Have a good night.”

      “You, too.” Roxie took her time crossing the large, empty lot. It was a particularly clear night, and even with the city lights, many bright stars were still visible in the sky. She felt a soft breeze whip across the area, as several loose ringlets of curly hair tickled her face. There was no hurry as she contemplated her planned light dinner of antipasto salad and rolls.

      She passed by a car, a large jalopy whose color and make were both hard to distinguish. She knew that it was Trey’s prize possession, as many nights he’d described in vivid detail his intentions for restoring the old vehicle. Roxie glanced at the metal mess knowing his hopes were in vain, but decided she was not the one to crush his dreams.

      Her small sedan and a large, luxury pickup stood alone in the distance. She wondered briefly whom the white truck belonged to. As far as she knew, she was the only one left inside….

      Roxie faltered when the occupant of the truck opened the door and stepped out. She stood with her mouth gaping in shock and disbelief.

      She seemed so dumbfounded and shocked by his appearance, Ike almost felt sorry for her—almost. “You know, Roxie, if you’re going to bother with an alias as unique as Roxanne Smith, you should’ve at least rented a car. Not that it would’ve made a difference, I still would’ve found you, but at least it would’ve been more of a challenge.”

      “Why are you here?”

      Ike soaked up the sight of her like ice cream on a hot day. “Looking for you, obviously.” He nodded over her shoulder at the large building with the blue neon sign reading Plastitech Laboratories in blunt lettering. “But this is the last place I expected to find you.”

      She just stood staring at him like an apparition out of a nightmare. Realizing she would make no further move toward him, Ike began walking in her direction. He stopped, his eyes narrowing on something over her right shoulder. “You better call off your watchdog, Roxie.”

      Roxie turned to find Trey standing a few feet behind her. His brown eyes held some combination of fear and determination as his trembling hand rested on the hilt of the gun at his waist.

      “Everything all right, Ms. Sanchez?” The question was directed at Roxie, but the guard never took his eyes off Ike.

      Roxie felt her heart in her throat, imagining the confrontation that could ensue if she did not take control of this situation. “I’m fine, Trey.”

      Trey took in the man with one sweeping glance. “You sure?”

      Roxie struggled to conjure a smile, knowing she would never forgive herself if something happened to this young man because he was trying to protect her. “Yes, I’m fine.”

      Trey hesitated for a moment longer, before slowly backing away.

      Roxie turned back to Ike. “How did you find me?”

      “Tessa? I think that’s her name.”

      Her eyes widened in amazement, and her heart rate sped up. What does he know? “Tessa? What does she have to do with anything?”

      “Nothing, except for her willingness to share information about you.”

      Her mouth twisted in sarcasm. “You’re lying. Tessa would never talk to a stranger about me.”

      “Maybe not a stranger, but she was quite willing to speak freely to your new boyfriend.”

      “My what?”

      He hunched his shoulders and tried to look innocent. The devilish smirk on his lips killed the effect.

      She balled her fists by her side in an attempt to regain her composure. “What do you want?

      A sensual smile spread across his lips. “You.”

      Chapter 4

      Ike’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion when he saw the look of panic fill her large, brown eyes. She was looking at him as if he were some kind of serial killer. “Hold on, lady, I don’t know what’s going through that pretty head of yours, but all I want is a little conversation.”

      “What