Raising the Stakes

Did anybody really think she’d stopp

ed here on purpose? That she’d been driving along and suddenly decided, hey, why not see what it’s like to block traffic? That she’d willingly sit inside a car with its windows sealed tight—and a curse on the head of the guy who’d invented power windows! Did those honking idiots think she was as crazy as they were? She wasn’t—but another few minutes inside this sauna on wheels and anything was possible.

Dawn thumbed a trickle of sweat from her forehead. She’d be a mess by the time she got back to the Desert Song, her suit creased, her makeup melted, her sprayed-into-submission hair an unruly tangle. That was assuming she managed to get back to the hotel in this lifetime, which was starting to seem unlikely.

And what would she do about her car? She couldn’t just leave it here. Well, she could, if she wanted some wandering car thief to get lucky, or if she was in the mood to let the city tow it away to never-neverland. Forget the thief. Nobody would be dumb enough to want to steal a wreck. The city, on the other hand, would be happy to take the car and demand hostage money she didn’t have.

“Dammit,” she said through her teeth, and slapped her hands against the steering wheel. Day One of her new job and she was totally, completely, irrevocably up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Even if she left the car here, the seven dollars in her wallet wasn’t about to pay for a cab ride back to the Song.

The sweat was pouring off her and if there was any breathable air left, she couldn’t find it. Okay. Dawn slipped off her jacket, folded it neatly and laid it on the back of the passenger seat, behind Space Cadet Teddy.

“I know it’s hot,” she said to the button-eyed bear. “But we’ll be at the hotel in no time.”

Teddy didn’t look as if he believed her. Smart bear, she thought, and she put on her sunglasses, undid her seat belt and stepped out into the oven that was Las Vegas in early June. A horn honked behind her as she slammed the door. She jumped, looked up in time to see the white-haired driver of a big Buick shake a fist as his car squeezed past hers.

“Thank you for your concern,” Dawn muttered, and popped the hood. Great. A tangle of wires, hoses, and strangely shaped hunks of metal. The only thing she recognized was the transparent container of blue windshield washer fluid. Cars were alien territory. Harman had a thing about women and automobiles. He’d only taught her to drive because he said it was beneath a man’s dignity to shop for the groceries. Still, people whose cars broke down always peered under the hood and Dawn thought—well, hoped—something obvious would pop out at her, some cable connection that all but shrieked Reattach me! when she saw it.

No such luck. No luck at all, considering that she was supposed to be back in—she checked her watch and groaned—in ten minutes. If only she hadn’t driven to the mall…but she had and the truth was, she had no regrets. Space Cadet Teddy had been available on a first-come, first-served basis at a giant toy store. She’d arrived in time to grab the last one. No matter what happened, that was something to feel good about.

She’d learned about the popular toy’s unheralded, one-day-only appearance thanks to Prince Ahmat’s third wife. Dawn had been riding in the elevator with her, her lady-in-waiting and the bellman when the princess, looking straight ahead, suddenly made an announcement.

“You will acquire a Space Cadet Teddy for me,” she said.

Dawn lifted an eyebrow in surprise. A teddy bear for the royal wife? And who was she addressing? The lady-in-waiting, evidently, because after a bit of foot-shifting, the woman whispered that she would do her best but she understood the toy was difficult to come by.

The princess folded her arms. “The Crown Prince wants one. You will acquire it.”

The lady-in-waiting seemed to shrink. Thankfully, the bellman came to the rescue. “Heard the radio this morning,” he said. “Supposed to be a one-day sale of them bears at that store near Belson’s mall. “

Dawn had come within a breath of asking the lady-in-waiting if she’d please purchase two Teddys. She hadn’t, of course; it wouldn’t have been proper. More importantly, there’d have been questions to answer about why she’d want a teddy bear at all.

When Jean urged her to take an early lunch, she pocketed her ID badge—you weren’t supposed to wear it out of the hotel—hopped into her car and raced to the mall, already imagining the look she’d see on Tommy’s face when he saw the bear. Her little boy had fallen in love with the toy in its first incarnation three years ago. Dawn had managed to buy every Teddy since, even when she’d had to pinch pennies to do it. Tommy had Fisherman Teddy, First Baseman Teddy, and Sleepytime Teddy. Now, she’d managed to snag the last Space Cadet Teddy from the shelf in the toy store…

And, on the way back, to strand herself far enough from the Song that she might as well have been the far side of the moon.

She sighed, closed the hood and dusted off her hands. The heat was unbearable. Everyone said you got used to it but she hadn’t. When she had to be out in midday, she dressed for it. Shorts, if she worked in the tiny patch of yard that fronted her apartment; long cotton skirts, sandals and a floppy straw hat if she went to the market. What she was wearing now—a suit, silk blouse, panty hose and heels—was fine for the air-conditioned office and lobby of the Song but it was a killer anyplace—

A horn blared in fury.

Dawn spun around. A car was flying toward her. It wasn’t true, she thought with terrifying clarity. When you were about to die, your life didn’t pass before your eyes. Your heart lodged in your throat, and all you could do was wait for the moment of impact.

CHAPTER FIVE

GRAY’S plane had been delayed more than an hour by a line of heavy thunderstorms that rumbled through New York that morning.

He sat in the first-class lounge, annoyed and edgy, knowing he was overreacting to the delay but he didn’t give a damn. All he wanted was to get to Vegas, find Dawn and write Paid to his debt to Jonas.

“How much longer until flight 1740 boards?” he kept asking the ground attendant.

Her response, the same as her smile, was constant. “Just as soon as the weather clears, Mr. Baron.”

When he found himself on the verge of telling her she could save time by putting her answer on tape, he knew he needed to calm down. Pacing back and forth wasn’t helping, and he had enough caffeine in his system so that he’d probably start twitching if he had any more. He took a small bottle of water from the minifridge and found a chair in the far end of the lounge where he couldn’t see the departures board or the rain beating against the window.

When the weather cleared and outbound flights resumed, he’d know it.

The water cooled his throat, if not his impatience. He finished it, put the bottle on the floor beside him and took a file out of his briefcase. Jack had faxed him the last information on Dawn late last night and he’d tucked it away after a cursory glance. He’d intended to go through the information on the plane but why wait? He had the time right now.

The first few pages were duplicates of stuff he’d already seen. He thumbed through them quickly. The last pages were the ones that interested him. The data was new and defined the woman he was flying to Vegas to meet. It was fascinating stuff.