Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

She forced a casual shrug. “Not really. You just have to know where to look. Obviously you did or you wouldn’t be here now. So, why in the world have you been trying to track down little old me?” Putting on her best Texas accent, she pointed to herself with her thumb.

He let out a hearty laugh. “I like you, Amber Rose, I really do. Or I did, till I realized you’d associate with someone who’d con King Bobby out of his hard-earned cash!”

Amber narrowed her gaze. So he didn’t realize her role in helping Marshall? Or was he trying to trick her into an admission? “What makes you think Marshall didn’t win fair and square?” she asked him.

“Because he ran faster than the Road Runner once that guy at the table pegged you for someone he’d met in L.A.” Propping both elbows on the table, he leaned forward. “I’m many things, little lady, but I ain’t stupid. Once I put all the pieces together, I knew that game stunk to hell ’n’ back.”

Amber swallowed hard, still not willing to concede anything. “You don’t have proof.”

“I got two people who went underground, that’s proof enough for me,” he said, his voice rising, probably along with his blood pressure.

“Calm down before you give yourself a stroke,” Amber said to the red-faced man. “What do you want from me?” she asked him.

“Well, now, that’s more like it. I want your friend Marshall. Or is he your lover and that’s why you’re protectin’ him?”

Ew, Amber thought. “No! He’s not my lover! He’s my—” She was about to say business partner, but caught herself before she admitted too much to King Bobby. He could guess all he wanted, but she refused to give him any ammunition. “He’s my friend and an old friend of my father’s. Anyway, that’s beside the point.”

“Not really. I saw how he looked at you. The man was interested in more than poker.”

Because they’d put on a convincing act for the table, Amber thought. Just not convincing enough or King Bobby wouldn’t be sitting in front of her now, guessing their con all too accurately.

Instead of replying to King Bobby, she remained silent.

“Just tell me where he is. Or better yet, tell me where my money is and we’ll call it even.”

Amber exhaled slowly. She didn’t like Marshall much these days, but she couldn’t turn him over to this man. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, they were guilty of the same crime when it came to fleecing King Bobby. It didn’t matter that she’d justified her reasons as more moral or altruistic than Marshall’s.

Which was exactly why Mike couldn’t forgive her, she suddenly realized. Nausea swept over her at the painful conclusion.

“I don’t know where Marshall is. Or your money.” Her share of the winnings were in Mike’s bank where they belonged.

King Bobby cleared his throat. “I can make your life pretty uncomfortable, missy. I got friends in places a lady like you knows nothin’ about. But since you’re so dang pretty, I might have to settle on talkin’ things out on your man. Somethin’ tells me that law-enforcement hubby of yours won’t like a public scandal involvin’ his new wife.”

Amber reached for the only weapon she had, the one word of ammunition Mike had supplied her with before leaving tow

n. “No, Mike wouldn’t like a scandal,” Amber agreed. “Anymore than Emmy Lou would like to know about that mistress you’ve been keeping behind her back.”

As she grasped at her only straw, Amber broke into a cold sweat, hoping King Bobby would find himself faced with a quid pro quo—that neither he nor Amber could afford public humiliation.

His already-red face turned the color of beets. “How in the tarnation do you know about that? Nobody knows the King’s personal business!”

Yes! Amber silently applauded. But instead of outwardly reacting, she waited for him to calm down and make the next move. A trickle of sweat ran down her chest, but she ignored it, knowing she was well on her way out of trouble with this man.

“Damn, I knew you were a smart one,” he muttered. “I shoulda just denied it.”

Amber shook her head and tried not to laugh. “Thank you,” she said.

“Just ’cause I can’t touch you, doesn’t mean I can’t still go after Marshall.”

“You’ll have to find him first,” Amber said, not the least bit sarcastically. She meant it.

“Nothin’ stays buried for long,” King Bobby said. “Hey, honey,” he called to the waitress, “get the little lady here a light beer.”

The woman scowled at him, but she headed for the tap.

“I really need to be going,” Amber said.

“Not until we toast our mutual agreement to leave our secrets buried. What do you say?” King Bobby asked with a grin.