The Gambler (Notorious 2)

Christ. I put my head in my hands and the fire ants went berserk. Could this get any more complicated?

“Where was I during all of this?” I asked. It seemed hard to believe Dad would have been planning a crime of this magnitude while we’d been living together.

“You were shacked up with that dancer,” Dad said. “With the legs—”

“Jill. Right.” Those had been some heady days. Dad could have joined the monastery and I probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Who hired you?”

“No idea who the big guy was. I did all my business with a woman who delivered Chinese takeout. They gave me a 60–40 split and bankrolled the supplies.”

“How did Mom get involved?”

“That’s the thing.” Dad spun one of the kitchen chairs around and sat, looking like a wild-eyed sea captain about to tell some tales and I felt that familiar tug-of-war between love and hate.

There was still a part of me that wanted to sit here, listen to every word, applaud every caper and con.

The other part of me was so damn tired of it all.

Ten years ago, I had left Bonne Terre to go find Richard and despite having lived with him off and on for the last ten years, I felt as though I’d never really found him.

Richard Bonavie, nomad, thief, con man extraordinaire, sure. Anybody could follow that guy’s trail of broken hearts and cons gone bad across the country.

But my father? Still missing.

“Seven years ago,” Richard said, “when Joel and I got to the drop-off, your mother was there.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t seen the woman in something like fifteen years and she’s sitting in that ratty Henderson bar like she owns the place.”

“That must have been a surprise.”

“You can imagine. Anyway, I left. If Vanessa was there, I figured the whole thing was sour in a big way.”

“What happened to the gems? To Joel?”

“He got pinched, but he only had one gem on him. The emerald. The diamond and ruby are still loose.”

“And you think they’re here?”

“There was a rumor that the diamond had surfaced in Beijing, but nothing came of it. I think Vanessa picked them off Joel and hid them here. It’s why she came back after all these years.”

Twenty, to be exact, and Dad was probably right—she sure as hell didn’t come back for her kids. Just like Dad, it would take something shiny and very, very valuable to get her coming around.

“So,” I said, “you’re here for the gems?”

“Of course!” Richard cried, spreading his arms. “There’s a fortune hidden in this house, Ty. A fortune that could be ours.”

A fortune.

Of course.

“I would think a fortune in gems might warrant some enthusiasm,” Richard said, arching an eyebrow.

Luckily, a pounding at the door saved me from having to answer and I stood.

“I’m not here,” Dad said.

“You never are,” I muttered and headed to the front door, ready to take off the head of whatever salesperson or Jehovah’s Witness might be unfortunate enough to be standing there.

Not bothering with a shirt I swung open the bright red door only to find Juliette Tremblant standing there, straight and tall, her hazel eyes set into that perfect face.

My stomach dipped, my skin tightened at just the sight of her. Her perfume, something clean and minty, hit me on a breeze and my poor, battered body responded with a growl.

“Chief Tremblant,” I said, propping my arm up on the door frame.

Oh, the fire ants sat up and cheered when she watched my chest, her eyes practically sticking to my arms. My hands.

Well, looky, looky, I thought, glad I hadn’t bothered with a shirt.

“Something I can do for you?” I asked, hooking a thumb in the low waist of my jeans.

Juliette sighed, looking up at the sky as if praying for strength.

“Someone tried to steal your car last night.”

Fire. Ants.

“Suzy?”

“Who?”

“My car. Where is it?”

“You named your car?”

“Where is my car?”

“It’s fine.” She put out her hands, and even though she was inches from contact I could feel the heat of her fingers against the bare skin of my chest. Like ghosts. Like memories.

For a second my head spun.

“Your car is fine,” she repeated, and I snapped back into clarity. “It’s in impound down at the station.”

“And who tried to steal it?” I asked, ready, seriously ready to take out every ounce of anger I had about my father and Juliette and being back in this backwater town on the car thief.

Juliette turned and pointed to the sedan in front of the house. A person’s head was pressed against the glass of the backseat window, where he’d clearly passed out.

“He did,” she said.

“A drunk?” I asked. Just the thought of what could have happened to Suzy at the hands of a drunk made me nauseous.

“A kid,” she said. “He’s just a kid.”

“A drunk kid?”

My stomach was never going to be the same.