Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

“Thanks.”

“And Mike?”

“Yes?” He gripped the back of the chair tight with one hand.

“I will be here when you get home.”

THE FIRST THING Amber did after Mike left for work was to call Paul and check on her father.

She discovered that Paul had made arrangements to have Sam moved to a new nursing home as soon as a room became available in the place Amber had chosen. In the meantime, he’d taken Marshall’s name off the visitors’ list. He’d also made certain the staff understood Marshall was no longer allowed to see Sam, and that the older man was not to be taken out of the building without his or Amber’s consent.

Amber called the nursing home herself and made certain her father was calm and doing okay after his outing yesterday. The staff had assured her Sam was fine. His condition allowed him the serenity of not worrying about his daughter’s predicaments, for which Amber was grateful—at least for the moment, while her life was such a mess.

Her dad might have been a professional cheater, but to Amber, he’d had a heart. He’d also had an understanding of the human condition. He realized the men involved in those high-stakes poker games, men like King Bobby, were, typically, extremely wealthy people who viewed life as Sam did—as a gamble and a risk. Or the competitors were cons like Sam himself. He’d never knowingly stolen from someone who was risking their mortgage payment or child’s education. Odd morals, but they existed.

And Amber had based her own beliefs on his. Her father had taught Amber how to recognize a chronic gambler and steer clear. Even at her most desperate, when she’d first needed money for her father’s care, she made sure the competition in the poker games she’d played met her father’s criteria—filthy rich and stupid, or bored. Easy marks or fellow cheaters.

Which might explain how this last game had gone sour, Amber thought. Maybe King Bobby recognized a fellow cheater in Marshall because he was one himself. Maybe King Bobby was smarter than he appeared. Maybe he really was connected with people who could hurt her if he didn’t get back the money he’d lost. Amber had always known she could only live the life with people like Marshall for so long before she got bit by her actions.

She trembled before catching herself. She’d made her bed, so to speak. Now she had to fix things, but first she had to understand what exactly was going on. Her next phone call was to check the messages back at her apartment. There was a flurry of normal calls, friends and other things that were part of her life.

And then there was one last unnerving message—another old contact, Robyn Lane, a concierge at the Beverly Wilshire in California, spoke in detail.

Amber hit Replay. She needed to make sure she’d understood her friend correctly. “Hi, Amber, hon, it’s Robyn Lane from the Beverly Wilshire. Long time! Hope Vegas is treating you right. I thought you’d want to know three dudes from Texas were asking around here last night for a concierge named Amber. They didn’t have a last name, but they described your funky blond curls and paired with your not-so-common first name, I thought they might be looking for you, even though they had the wrong hotel. Of course, I didn’t give them any information. Just took their card to pass along to you in case you’re interested in contacting them. Gotta go. Call me.” A loud beep indicated the end of the call.

Karma was a bitch.

Just ask Earl. But Amber wasn’t a TV character. She was real and she just wanted to put her old life behind her. So far King Bobby hadn’t found her, but she couldn’t afford to go back to Vegas until he was finished looking. But if Mike was successful in his bid for a quick divorce, she’d have nowhere else to go. She’d already determined she had her reasons for wanting to stay with him that had nothing to with avoiding King Bobby. And she planned to do her best to make certain Mike had no time to think about wanting her to leave.

Still, she couldn’t discount the possibility that King Bobby would track her via the Crown Chandler Hotels. He was certainly rich enough to buy the information he needed.

She placed a call to the Chandler in Beverly Hills to speak to Sydney London, the day head concierge. Sydney hadn’t heard that anyone had been looking for her, but she promised to ask the other employees and get back to Amber as soon as possible.

Her nerves were raw. But the irony was, Amber still didn’t know why King Bobby was after her. Did he know she was involved with cheating? Did he just want to use her to get to Marshall? Was he just out to regain his money, which she didn’t have? Or equally frightening, did he want plain old revenge?

Amber really liked her legs in one piece and didn’t want them broken, something a connected man like King Bobby could have done with ease. Drawing a deep breath, she sat down with her cell phone, a pad and pen, and began calling all Marshall’s old hangouts to discover if anyone had heard from him in the last twenty-four hours or so. After twenty minutes, she knew that no one who was a friend or acquaintance had seen or spoken to him. Still, she figured he couldn’t lay low forever and left messages for him everywhere. She didn’t leave her phone number. She just said to tell Marshall to get in touch with her immediately. He knew how. She wasn’t going to provide any more of a trail than she had to.

By the time she finished making calls, her hands were shaking and she was no closer to solving her problem than when she’d started. But she’d been as proactive as possible, keeping up that Vegas spirit, that luck combined with hard work would achieve the best results. All she could do now was hope Marshall heard she was looking for him and chose to get in touch.

After a refreshing shower that calmed her down, she redressed in yesterday’s clothes, took the money Mike had given her, adding it to the tally of what she already owed him, and headed out shopping.

She filled the morning buying inexpensive but chic outfits to impress her husband and make him drool.

On her t

ravels, she’d passed Mike’s police station. She’d noted the address of his precinct from papers in his apartment, and she noticed on the corner by the station was a beautiful restaurant. She wanted to do something nice for Mike, but she didn’t want to use his money to do it. The one thing a concierge did was to learn the lay of the land where she’d work—the hotels, restaurants, shops, et cetera. Amber didn’t have a job in town—yet—but if she intended to remain here, she might as well start making contacts right away. And with the right schmoozing, she could pull off a surprise for her husband.

The minute Amber stepped inside the exquisitely decorated restaurant and smelled the delicious aroma of Italian food, she formulated an addition to her plan. Once she explained to the owner that by feeding the local police department, he would hopefully increase his lunch and dinner trade, he agreed to send over free lunch. Of course, it helped that she mentioned she was a concierge at the Boston Crown Chandler hotel and she’d return the favor by talking up his restaurant to the hotel clientele. Once day soon, she hoped her words would be true and she’d do as she promised.

Pleased with herself and her plan, Amber headed home. Close to noon, dressed in fresh clothes, she sat down at the old PC in Mike’s apartment and booted it up. She printed out maps of the area and took note of the five-star restaurants in the vicinity, and then the smaller cafés. It would take time, but she’d learn the area by doing a little research each day.

Finally, she shut down the computer and stored her papers on what she wanted to consider her side of the bed, on her nightstand. Then she headed to Mike’s precinct in time to view his reaction to the spread of Italian food that arrived out of the blue.

MIKE DEPOSITED the remains of the Vegas winnings in the bank and spent the morning at the station. Although he had no real right to pry, he ran a credit check on Amber Rose and discovered no shady dealings—providing him with another glimmer of hope she wasn’t running a scam on him. Though she could be using him to fund her life during a rough patch, at least she wasn’t lying to him outright. By omission was another story. The woman was a bundle of contradictions. Savvy enough to make it on her own for years, dealing with a man like Marshall, yet emotional enough to be hurt by Mike’s lingering anger. He couldn’t let her big eyes get to him. He had to stick to his divorce plan.

“Hey, man, you’ve been distracted all morning. Everything okay?” his partner, Dan, asked.

Mike nodded. “Everything’s fine. Just jet-lagged, that’s all.” Mike had no intention of telling Dan about his marriage to Amber or the rest of the drama. The fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to put his wife on a plane and fly her out of his. Things could go on as usual with nobody any the wiser, Mike thought.