But poker? How had she known?

  “I’m sorry, Nova, did you say?”

  “Yes, just Nova. I dropped the last name. It wasn’t important.”

  “I see.” He scratched a spot between his brows as he tried to reason an answer.

  “Poker, darling. I’ve been in this town for a full week without a single drop of entertainment. If I must do it for another second, I may fall dead from boredom. I’ve heard you have the best game in town. Don’t keep a lady waiting.”

  “I-I do, but it only happens on Thursday.”

  “Thursday? That is…” She looked over her shoulder at her bodyguard.

  “Three days from now, Nova.”

  “Three days. That’s just enough time to contact the bank. Hans, please add that to my list.”

  “Of course, Nova.”

  The woman redirected her attention to Tyson. “You will be ready for me, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Time?”

  “Time?”

  “Yes, what time are the games, darling?”

  “Oh, they start at seven.”

  “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands before drawing her white silk gloves back on. “We’ll see you then. And remember, Nova will be here.”

  He nodded as fast as his head would go. He followed her with his eyes as she exited the building with a sashay that would rival any movie star. He would need all his high stakes rollers for this one. If everything went well, he would pay off Mahon and not even need to bet on the baseball games.

  It was a good day.

  Chapter Five

  Ericka slid into the backseat and threw the fur boa to the side. Once they were away from the comic bookstore, she laughed. “That was too much fun.”

  Quinn laughed too. “Agreed. Did you see his face when he looked at the car?”

  “Or when I removed my gloves. I didn’t even show him the diamond!”

  “We’ve got him. Now we just have to waste time until Thursday’s game.”

  “I think we need another outfit. Plus, we should probably be watching the store and monitoring calls. We need to know who is coming to play before they get there.”

  “And you need to practice your game.”

  “I need to practice my game. You’re right.”

  Ericka hadn’t played serious poker since her days on the streets. It had been one way that she’d made money for those extras people needed. Things like toothpaste and soap.

  Then she’d been pretty good. But she hadn’t been playing a cheat.

  “You worried?”

  Ericka pinched her fingers together. “Just a little.”

  “Don’t be. Even if you don’t win, we just need to figure out how Tyson is winning all the time. That was our job, right?”

  “Yes.” Ericka knew everything he said was true. But what if she wanted to win? Playing the game would be something to distract her. She’d not had a lot of wins lately, either. Some encouragement that she wasn’t a complete and utter loser and failure couldn’t hurt her ego.

  They pulled into the office parking lot. Greg’s car wasn’t parked amongst the others, meaning that he and Maggie were still on their mission.

  Quinn had the front door unlocked before she approached. They entered and went straight to work. She called the courthouse requesting a phone tap and was put on hold. She drummed her fingers on the shiny desktop. Quinn was on the phone as well trying to get access to local cameras that might be pointed at the comic bookstore.

  His brows fell and his eyes narrowed. That proceeded the phone receiver slamming against the cradle.

  He opened his mouth, but Ericka held up her finger as someone came on her line.

  “Courthouse.”

  “I’m Detective Ericka Stone and I’m working with the local police department in Clifton. And I need to speak to someone about requesting a phone tap.”

  “Phone tap?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who do you think would give you permission to do that?”

  “Um, a judge?” She really tried not to sound sarcastic, but she was afraid that she missed the mark.

  “There is no judge in this county that will order that.”

  “I see.”

  “Tyson Grunley is a pillar of this community. He is being railroad by political adversaries.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “I do say. It is one of those big conglomerates trying to come in and put him out of business.”

  “All right then. Well, thank you for your time.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The line went dead in her hands, and she looked at the receiver.

  “I think you got the same answer I did.”

  “Yup. No way in heck are they going to help us with this.”

  “That’s the vibe I got.” Quinn leaned back in his wooden chair and drummed his fingers on the desktop.

  “Did you get the ‘Tyson is being railroad by a conglomerate’ speech?”

  “Uh, no, I got the ‘you aren’t using my cameras to spy on local citizens’ speech.”

  “I guess this means we’re going on a stakeout.”

  Quinn sighed. “I guess so.” He paused. “You know I hate stakeouts, right? I mean, I always have to go pee. I try not to think about it but knowing I can’t go makes me want to go and then I have a horrible problem.”

  “That is too much information.”

  Quinn snickered behind his hand then coughed as if to hide it. “Sorry. We’ve been friends for a while now so I thought it might be helpful to know.”

  She nodded.

  Friends.

  He was her friend.

  It felt good.

  “Any suggestions for what else we can do besides a stakeout?”

  Ericka leaned back in her chair. Short of following Tyson she had nothing. Without permission to listen, anything they learned wouldn’t be admissible. But they were going to need more than a cheating poker game to bring him down. At least in her opinion. If cheating and poker were going to bring him down, why hadn’t the locals done it already? It didn’t make sense.

  “You got nothing?”

  “I got nothing.”

  Quinn snapped his fingers and picked up his phone. “Guess I better text Fanny that I’ve got a long night ahead.”

  She would have texted Greg, but it seemed he was going to have his own long night. Maybe that was a good thing.

  ****

  The bell above the dry cleaner’s door announced their arrival. Greg and Maggie had ran through a few puddles on the way over, but having a different vehicle, one less official would have been better.

  “Hello. I’m Ann Marie. What can I do, wait. What happened to that suit? Did you hang it out your car window and go muddin’? I told Horace and Von to give up showing city slickers that. They’re going to get someone killed or at least maimed.”

  The young pale girl with blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail talked as fast as she chewed gum. Greg struggled to keep up.

  She slapped a pad of paper on the counter. “Name.”

  “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I need your name. So, I can fill out the work order, duh?”

  Maggie backhanded him across the chest. “Yeah, honey. The work order. Let’s tell her our name.”

  The one thing they hadn’t discussed—names.

  “Well, this here is Daisy and I’m Luke.”

  “I see.” The girl wrote it down while shaking her head.

  So, he’d watched Dukes of Hazard when he couldn’t sleep. And it was the fastest names he could come up with.

  “Is your last name Duke?” She snickered.

  “Of course not, that would be silly. Last name is Whistler.” Maggie pulled the name from somewhere and he worked to control his laughter. It wasn’t easy.

  “Hey, okay. I imagine Daisy and Luke Whistler that you want the suit cleaned?”

  “It’s just Luke Whistler. And we do. We need it by tomorrow.”

  “Why the hurry?” Ann Marie wrote the request on the work order.

  “Well, that’s simple. We’re getting hitched.” Maggie dragged him to her side. He’d never agreed to this plan. This was a small town. They might be forced to play the part until they brought the dry cleaners down. Even one day was too long for this ruse.

  “I think you should have taken better care of the suit if—”

  “Look, our habits ain’t none of your business. We had a clean suit.”

  “Fine. I’ll put a rush, but it’ll cost extra.”

  “Anything as long as it’s done on time.”

  Ann Marie took their phone number before turning away in a dismissive manner. They walked out the door and climbed into the car. Going to the carwash was first then back to the office for a shower. He should probably call or text ahead so the hot water would be on.

  “Daisy and Luke, really?”

  “Whistler?”

  “Happy Days was on behind her. It was all I could come up with.”

  He guessed it could have been worse.

  As he drove to the carwash Maggie opened her phone and started checking messages.

  “Quinn and Ericka got a spot on the poker game.”

  “Perfect.” He didn’t like that he wasn’t watching her six. Quinn was a good agent, but Fanny had become a distraction of late.

  “They’ll be fine. Ericka is one of the best agents I’ve ever met.”

  Greg nodded. Maggie was right. Ericka could play the game and protect herself, but she shouldn’t have to.

  He kept his eyes focused on the road while pride swelled in his breast.

  “Stop worrying.”

  She slipped farther into the seat. He pulled into the carwash. The brushes rolled over the top and along the sides, brushing away the dirt and debris. If only the bad things in life could be eradicated as easily.

  When the wash ended, and they pulled into the sunshine Greg was more than ready to return to the office. He found he looked forward to hearing about Ericka’s day. He wanted her to curl up beside him on a couch in front of a warm fire and tell him everything.

  Of course, that couldn’t happen until he got back to his couch or found a fireplace. He’d have to suffice for sitting across from her at the small kitchenette table. It was better than nothing.

  Now they just needed to make it back without incident. Shouldn’t be too hard in the sleepy little town.

  ****

  Tyson contacted his regulars about a planned game. A few declined the invitation. It was as he’d assumed. The ones who had lost recently were hesitant to return so quickly. It didn’t matter, he had others.

  He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Horace, what would you and Von think about joining a game?”

  “When?” The voice sounded groggy as if Horace had just woke up.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Buy in?”

  “I’d say a thousand.”

  “Hmm… let me think about it.”

  The line when silent in his hands. Tyson knew what that meant. Horace and his trouble-making brother, Von, would be at the game but first they had to make the dough.

  The way they commandeered the cash was completely out of his hands. He ran an honest game, except for his own cheating. Having Russ Thomas in his back pocket wasn’t hurting a thing.

  He called a few others. There were enough acceptances. When he put down the cradle, he used his cell to text Nova, just Nova. The high-society lady had some weird delusions of grandeur or something. He didn’t mind. The grander she was, the more money he stood to make. Simple really.

  A reply of, “Wonderful,” came over his phone.

  He set the cell on the counter and settled back on his stool chair. No customers. Other than Nova and her bodyguard, no one had walked through the door all day. If it wasn’t for his side gig there wouldn’t be a comic bookstore.

  The bell above the door rang and he jerked his head upward. A young boy who held his parent’s hand tightly entered. They went to the wall of baseball shoes. It was the only thing he sold that wasn’t comic book related. It might be the only thing keeping him in business. The town was fanatical about baseball.

  The season would start soon. As soon as it did Tyson should be set. Russ had assembled the perfect team according to him. Tyson would believe that when he saw it. A bunch of overweight, donut eating cops huffing around the field didn’t seem like a perfect team, but if they could win, he didn’t rightly care.

  “Sir, do you have these in a kid’s size six?”

  “Let me check the back.”

  In general, he didn’t stock more than what was on the floor. Anything he needed he could order in a day and mark up by fifty percent. These yahoos could do the same, but they never seemed to think about ordering it themselves and getting it cheaper.

  He looked on the shelf. Lo and behold there were a size six that he’d yet to put out. He brought the box out to the front.

  “It’s your lucky day.”

  The kid bounced with excitement as Tyson rang up the shoes and handed them over.

  “Here you go, son. Now you have to take good care of them.”

  The boy nodded his head vigorously.

  “Thank you.” The father looked at Tyson with a smile.

  Tyson forced his own until the door closed behind them. Why people were so happy over some shoes with spikes, he would never know. He’d never wanted to sell comics or shoes, but his buddy had left it to him. And baseball was out of reach. So, there he was.

  Stuck.

  Stuck in the store.

  Stuck in the town.

  Stuck in this life that he’d never wanted.

  But all that would soon be over. Over very soon.

  Chapter Six

  “Let me get this straight, you’re Nova, Quinn’s the bodyguard, Hans, and you’re going to play poker tomorrow night?”

  Ericka nodded as she took a bite of the sub sandwich that Tristan and Fanny had put together for lunch. The entire team had gathered for the meal in the upstairs kitchen. The door downstairs was locked so they couldn’t be disturbed.

  It was nice.

  Fanny looked at Quinn. Her voice lowered, but Ericka could hear what she said. “Why aren’t you playing poker? You’re amazing.”

  Hmm.

  Ericka had thought he might be. With his mathematical mind he probably counted cards way better than she did. And she’d asked him, but he’d said no. He’d pretended like he hadn’t won those games after he said he had. Why would he do that?

  “Fanny, let it go.”

  “No, I mean it. Why won’t you stand up for yourself?”

  “Fanny. We get paid the same no matter who does what. And Tyson and the other players will likely be men so…” He tilted his head toward Ericka.

  He thought the guys would be distracted by her looks. So did she. In fact, she planned to make dang sure they were.

  “I don’t like you being passed over.” Fanny crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Oh, don’t worry. Quinn isn’t being passed over. He’s going to get his chance in the sun. In fact, a call just came in from Emett Bagger. He wants one of us to go on a ride along with him. And it looks like you’re up Quinn.” Greg had entered the room and thrown the hand grenade.

  Honestly, Ericka wished he hadn’t done it.

  Quinn wadded his napkin and threw it on the table. He wasn’t really upset, Ericka knew that. But truthfully, Fanny didn’t understand what she was saying. If significant others were going to be in the way of them working, they might have to go back to New York and wait for their return.

  Greg bent forward and kissed Ericka’s cheek. “Sorry, love, I’m getting called away as well.”

  “Is your suit ready for you and Maggie’s nuptials?”

  “Ha, ha. No, I’m going on the ride along too.”

  “I see.” Ericka had no idea why he was going too, but if he thought he needed to then he was the boss.

  “Wait. Maggie and Greg plan to marry?” Tristan looked back and forth between those at the table.

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “It was the part we planned to get into the dry cleaners.”

  “Oh, that’s good.” He lowered his head back to his plate. “Why did you need a part to get into a dry cleaner? I’m pretty sure you just walk through the door.”

  Ericka wouldn’t have thought that Tristan was that naïve, but lately he’d been acting insecure. He’d had the job as a piano player in a church as well as the Backstreet Jazz Club. He’d left all that to come here. He was still writing songs and selling them, but it wasn’t the same as playing for people.

  Ericka thought about asking for his help while the other guys were gone, but Maggie had already whispered something in his ear and a smile shifted across his face. She was glad he was happy, but that was going to leave her with Fanny and quite frankly, she wasn’t happy.

  The computer-loving girl was friendly, but she didn’t talk a lot. Or do much that Ericka could tell.

  Maybe it would be a good time to go for a run.

  Greg and Quinn left and the rest of them finished lunch in relative silence. When the meal was over, Fanny said she was going to her room. Maggie and Tristan rose, locked arms, and just walked downstairs.

  Ericka was left to clean up the table. Once the kitchen was put back together, she went downstairs and looked at her desk. The workday wasn’t over, but there was very little she could do until tomorrow. She already had her outfit ready for Nova’s gambling debut. They attempted to surveil Tyson through non-human means and been given a no. She couldn’t do a stakeout on her own or in broad daylight.

  A run was looking more and more appealing.

  Upstairs again she dressed in workout leggings and a tank top. She used a sun visor instead of a hat so that her ponytail could come out the top. She topped that off with sunglasses. It wouldn’t do for Tyson to see her and recognize her out and about in normal clothes. Although it might not matter. She didn’t look like a cop at the moment.

  The area was inundated with sidewalks. There were also signs that told the distance from walking trails, the river, and a local park. She took the trail to the park.