Dangerous Flirt (14 page)

Thinking for a moment of the money that could be made by Las Vegas wedding chapels that sold photos of celebrities making very bad marital choices, Hank laughed. “Uh-huh. Wedding chapels must make excellent pickings for…burglars.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Whatever the reason you use the camera, I need to see the tape.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, actually, it does. You see, this is my chapel and here, I am the king.”

“No pun intended.”

“Of course not. Now, why do you want it?”

Hank sat back. His seat sat lower than Armstrong's, allowing the two men's eyes to be at the same level. Neither's gaze wavered. Taking in the other man's placid, wrinkle-free forehead, Hank realized he had no power here. He couldn't
demand the tape or threaten him with jail. Shit, he was lucky Armstrong was even talking to him. Gut churning, he did what no cop liked to do, he told a civilian about his case.

Except for a few raised eyebrows, Armstrong's face showed no reaction to Hank's tale. “So you’re acting knight to the breathtaking senorita’s damsel in distress? How very noble of you.” He paused for a moment. “Why?”

The vein in Hank's temple began to throb. Like everything else that involved Beth, the process of gaining the video evidence wasn't going to be easy. “Because in Nebraska, that's how we're raised.”

“Bollocks.” He slapped his hand down on the desk. “Tell me the real reason.”

Heat rushed up Hank's back and his muscles tensed. This was going all wrong. “What do you care?”

“I am passionate about
two things in life: Elvis and love.” He spread his arms wide to encompass the room. “The Elvis I have. The love, unfortunately, I do not. It's not my stature that seems as off-putting to the ladies of Las Vegas. Strangely enough, it's my devotion to Elvis Presley. Sadly, I will not give up one for the other. So, I satisfy my passion for romance by helping others achieve it. I saw the way you two
kissed last night. There is no doubt in my mind that you two should be married, and I'd like to be the one to officiate at the event.”

Armstrong's mouth kept moving but all Hank could hear was a loud buzzing, as if bees had dive bombed both ears.

Of course, he’d happily walk down that path again with Beth. Unfortunately, she had made her views perfectly clear this morning about moving from flirtation
to a relationship. Still, his stomach vibrated and not with an about-to-lose-lunch way but with an at-the-top-of-the-roller-coaster-about-to-speed-down kind of excited anticipation.

“Sheriff, you've gone a bit green around the gills.”

“She's my little sister's best friend. That's all.”

“Mmm-hmmm. So then, there's no harm in giving me your word that the wedding will be here if you two were to
ever get betrothed, since, of course, it will never happen?”

Sweat slicked the inside of Hank's palms. It was fourth down, time for the former big college quarterback to turn on his game face. Hank smiled, but made sure the grin didn't reach his eyes. “Sure, of course. How could I not share that moment with the man who was kind enough to share his surveillance tape?”

Armstrong's upper lip curled
in a perfect copy of Elvis' rock-n-roll snarl. He tapped his fingers on the desk and gave Hank a considering look. His narrow shoulders shrugged and he pushed away from his desk before stepping down from his chair.

“Follow me, Sheriff.” Little Elvis started humming,
I Can't Help Falling In Love With You
, as he strolled to one of the white bookshelves. A click sounded when he pushed one of the
books forward and two shelves swung open to reveal a flat-screen TV, a tall stack of DVDs and a DVD player.

“I'll be damned,” Hank muttered.

Armstrong pulled out the one on top of the pile and popped it into the DVD player. A menu appeared on the screen. Pointing a remote at the player, he clicked on Scene Selection and selected a black-and-white photo of Hank and Beth.

“The camera is connected
to a motion sensor that detects when someone comes into the lobby. It whirs into action and records as long as the lobby is occupied. When there's no movement for five minutes, it turns off until the next time.”

“You're full of surprises aren't you?”

Pride gleamed in Armstrong's eyes. “Yes, appearances can be deceiving.”

They turned their attention to the screen. Hank came through the door
first, followed by a weaving Beth. He watched himself scope out the lobby. When he saw Beth rub his cock through his pants, it was as if he could feel her long fingers wrapped around him and his dick twitched to life. Damn. This wasn’t the place and definitely not the person he wanted to watch this with. He snatched the remote from Armstrong's stubby fingers and hit fast-forward, ignoring the man's
chuckle.

He hit pause when the two thugs appeared on the screen. “You got zoom on this thing?”

Armstrong held out his small hand. “The remote, if you don't mind?”

Hank handed it over without looking away from the screen. The men's faces became larger on the TV. He searched for something familiar about the two men. Nothing. He'd never seen them before, but Beth may have.

“Can you burn me a
copy?”

“I'm afraid that’s not possible, Sheriff. There is other…information on this tape that needs to stay only with me.”

Clenching his jaw, Hank tried to think past the frustration.

“However, I can print off a few screen shots.”

“Armstrong, I could hug you right now.”

“I'd prefer you didn't. Save that for your lovely lady on your wedding day, Sheriff.”

B
eth needed an IV coffee drip. STAT. Unfortunately, it had yet to be invented. Just as bad, Phil Harris blocked her from the silver coffee carafe on the snack table. The entire area surrounding the drink station was deserted, except for Phil. He ignored her please-move body language and kept his large frame parked in front of the coffee.

“So, what happened to you last night?”
Phil leaned in, popping her personal bubble.

“Not much.” Besides being drugged, followed by a couple of goons and waking up in a strange hotel room with Hank's fingers wrapped around her breast, not that one of the boss's minions needed to know that.

“Oh, I know the drill. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

Beth sighed. “I need a cup of coffee, Phil.”

Instead of moving out of her way,
he grabbed her elbow and wheeled her around toward the door. “You don't want this sludge. Come on, I'll buy you a cup and we can talk.”

A chill brushed across the back of her neck. With all that had happened recently, there was no way she wanted to go have a private chat with Phil. “After the panel we just finished, I think I'm all talked out.”

He tightened his grip on her elbow. “You must've
seen the note by now. We need to talk.”

The yellow note stuck inside her research file about Haverstan? Fear crawled across her skin like a platoon of army ants. “That was you?”

“Come on.” He edged closer. “We’ll talk about it outside.”

His fingers dug into her bones, triggering her flight or fight response. “No way in hell am I going anywhere with you.”

“Look, I'm trying to help you get out
of this mess. It's gone too far.” His gaze darted around the room. A light sheen of sweat appeared on his bald forehead. “I can't do it here, but come with me and I'll tell you everything.”

No way should she go anywhere with Phil. Was he insane? Was
she
for even considering it? Because she couldn't deny the offer of the answers she desperately wanted was tempting. Anyway, it was Phil—dumpy, lumpy,
chain-smoking Phil. If they talked somewhere public, he couldn't pull anything on her. Even if he did, she could knee him in the balls before he even blinked his eyes. Right?

“Please, Beth. I need to get this off my chest and you need to know what's going on.” Sincerity poured from his gaze. So did fear.

“Why are you scared, Phil?”

“Not here.” Like a trapped animal, he scanned the room as if
looking for predators about to swoop down on him. He let go of her elbow, patted down his suit jacket, slid a hand into the left pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Please.” He tapped a cigarette out of the soft pack and slipped it back into his pocket.

Going with him was stupid. No doubt about it. But she couldn't
not
do it. Phil may be the weak link in the chains of secrecy wrapped
tight around Haverstan. She hadn't found anything but dead-ends and corporate lies in her research and couldn't afford to miss an opportunity to uncover more. Last night proved events were spiraling out of control.

“Okay, but we're going somewhere with lots of people.” Hank was going to kill her, but at least she’d text him. “Let me get my cell phone and briefcase. They’re still on the dais.”

Phil's face went white and he dropped his cigarette. “Sarah Jane's there.” He tugged her toward the hall, leaving his cigarette on the floor. “She…she'll watch over them.”

As she passed through the lecture room's door, Beth glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with Sarah Jane. The older woman's penciled-in eyebrows were drawn together, disapproval radiating from her like a harsh wind
that blew against Beth's skin and left her wondering what the hell was going on.

Ten minutes later she sat down at a bistro table tucked away into an alcove of a mock Parisian cafe on the other side of the casino from the convention area. The cafe was crowded with tourists grabbing a bite to eat between shopping expeditions and rounds of poker. Lucky for her, Phil couldn't light up in here. Unlucky
for her, she'd had to stand with him outside the cafe while he’d sucked down two cigarettes, one right after the other.

The beefy estate attorney fiddled with his green plastic lighter and fidgeted in his seat. He'd loosened his blue-and-red striped tie as they’d rushed away from the lecture hall. Now it barely formed a knot, he'd tugged it so far away from his thick neck.

She'd been in enough
staff meetings with Phil to know he wasn't one for comfortable silences. He was either freaked out, had no idea what to say or wanted her to be the first one to speak.

Too bad, Phil. You're out of luck today, you're going first
.

Keeping her gaze locked on him, she brought the ceramic cup of coffee to her mouth. The heat touched her lips before the dark liquid. As soon as she swallowed, the
warmth emanated outward, relaxing her tight shoulders.

“Alright, fine.”

Hiding the smile behind her cup, Beth leaned back into her seat, hoping her nonchalant pose would hide her eagerness for Phil's story.

“So you know the casino that's getting built on the Lakota Reservation?”

She nodded. “Sure, it's big talk.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Well, your land butts right up against
the reservation. Tribal leaders have decided to build it right off of Highway 28, half a mile from your grandparents' front door.”

“You’re behind the times, Phil. They announced the casino would be off Highway 5.” At least that was what she’d thought until this morning.

“It’s a smokescreen so their partner can buy up the land on the other side of the reservation cheap.”

“What makes you think
this conspiracy theory is real?”

He dropped his gaze to his lighter. “I have my sources.”

Phil was a junior partner, not a CIA operative. The guy didn't have sources, he had golf buddies.

“Look, I came here hoping to get some answers, not a bunch of speculation.” She started to stand, but his hand shot out and grabbed hers.

“Do you really think someone would put out a ton of cash to buy land
on supposition? On a guess? Hell no. The Haverstan Corporation bought the land cheap and is going to sell it to gas stations, strip malls and hotels for a big profit. We're talking tens of millions of dollars to be made here.”

She sank to her chair with a thunk and tugged her hand out of Phil's grasp. “Go on.”

“The Lakota planning committee is getting a cut of the profits from the land deal
in exchange for announcing that the casino will be built off Highway Five. But their agreement came at a price. They didn't want a cut of just some of the land profits. They wanted a cut of
all
the land profits. Meaning everyone had to sell to Haverstan or the tribe would move the casino's location. Shit, they could cut a deal with another set of developers tomorrow, but they think they'll give
a larger share of profits from this deal. Your grandparents’ house is all that sits between Haverstan and a total monopoly.”

“Shit.”

“Damn straight. Now do you understand why you have to sell? Haverstan won't stop. They'll find a way.”

Beth contemplated the dark abyss of her coffee, pushed past the anxiety and gathered her thoughts. Phil's story rang true, but he hadn't told her everything.
“Who's behind Haverstan?”

He shrank back in his seat. “I can't tell you that.”

“Why not? Have they threatened you too?”

“No. My cooperation came freely, but I don't like the nasty turn things have taken. She promised me no one would get hurt, but I heard you almost did last night.”

She
? “It's not too late, you can stop this. Bring it out into the open and you will.”

Phil looked over her shoulder
and his face went pale. “No. I've told you everything I can. You have to sell Beth, there's no other choice.”

Glancing behind her, she spotted Sarah Jane walking through the cafe entrance.

Phil grabbed her hand, pulling her attention back around to him. “You have to sell.”

A shiver ran down her spine. The fear in his eyes made her consider relenting. It was just a house. Her grandparents wouldn't
have wanted her risking getting hurt to keep it. Selling was the easy thing to do. A no-brainer really. Except it wasn't her brain that stopped her from cashing in. Some indelible familial tie connected her to the little farmhouse where she'd been raised. Even if she never lived there again, it would always be her home.

“No.”

He deflated in front of her like a child's party balloon and sank
back into his seat. Defeat hanging heavy in his sunken eyes and deep worry lines carved into his prematurely bald head combined to make him seem much older than his twenty-eight years.