Beverly Long - Power Play

“Okay.” He stayed by her side, until she got close enough to open the door. “Look,” he said. “I’m not sure what just—”

Her chest felt tight, as if it was hard to breathe. “What just happened is that I wised up. Listen, this is a bad idea.”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Look, this might be a little weird with you being Anthony’s sister. But I’m attracted to you. I’d like to get to know you better.”

She shook her head. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

He held up a hand. “Earlier you said something about Anthony being jealous of my life. Your brother, he’s a great guy, but he can exaggerate. He’s got some crazy idea that I’m...”

“A stud?” she finished.

The parking lot was lit well enough that she could see the red creep up his neck.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “And if that’s what this is about, I’d like to offer a different perspective.”

He looked so uncomfortable that she almost relented. But that would be terribly foolish. This man had been Rodney Ballure’s roommate. For all she knew, they still hung out together.

“I’m not afraid of your reputation,” she said. “I’m just not interested.” She opened her car door, got in and shut the door. He made no move to stop her.

She started her car and drove away. When she looked in the rearview mirror, he was still standing there, watching her.

Minutes later, she realized that she was shaking as she navigated the strip. Not because she’d been afraid of Trey. No, even though she suspected his motives, she hadn’t felt the least bit physically afraid of him. He’d seemed genuinely puzzled that she’d busted out of there.

The shaking came from the knowledge that she had absolutely no idea who she could trust. It made her crazy. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing. It was so unfair that she’d stumbled upon a land mine through no fault of her own. And now she had to see it through.

She took a moment to breathe deeply. In and out. Five counts to each breath. After a minute or so, she felt better. More in control. She hung on to the steering wheel with both hands.

Lately she’d had a couple very intense panic attacks and they’d scared the hell out of her. The shaking, the not being able to catch her breath, the pounding headache.

The feeling afterward that she might just be quietly going crazy.

Her phone buzzed and she looked at the number. Miguel. He sometimes needed a ride to work and was good about arranging it in advance. It was not out of her way and she was happy to do it. But now, she let it go to voice mail. She’d call him back after a few hours of sleep. She felt unsettled enough that she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

She lived north of the city, not quite in North Las Vegas, which was a separate town, but close. In twelve minutes, she pulled into her parking spot, in the eight-stall carport at the rear of the building. Everybody was tucked in beside her. She squeezed into her space, wishing the guy next to her had paid a little more attention to the lines.

Trivial things to worry about, a dent here or there. Her Toyota was eleven years old. Who cared about another scratch or two? She really just wanted it to keep running for another few years.

She got out, hitched her backpack over one shoulder and walked quickly toward the building. Heard a twig snap behind her and felt her heart jump in her chest. She whirled, saw nothing, but she still took off running toward her building. Fumbled with her key but managed to get it in the door. Whipped it open.

Pulled it shut behind her. Tried to catch her breath.

She was being ridiculous. She’d lived in this apartment for months and there’d been absolutely no hint of trouble. It was a very safe area. She was paying a premium for rent but it had been important to Anthony that she live in a secure building that had off-street parking.

She took the elevator to the second floor. As was her habit, she glanced out the window at the end of the hallway. Street side, there was an ornamental plum tree in bloom that the landlord lit up with a spotlight. It was lovely when she went by in the car but from above, the pink flowers and dark red leaves were majestic.

She stepped back fast and her heart was back to beating triple time. Rodney Ballure was down there, leaning up against a dark-colored car. She was sure he had not been there when she’d turned into the driveway. He had a phone in his hand.

It didn’t mean that he was a danger to her.

But there was absolutely no reason for her boss to come to her apartment in the middle of the night. No reason except for the information that she had in her backpack.

She wanted to run inside her apartment and hide under the bed. But she could smell the faint odor of smoke. None of her neighbors smoked—the landlord was a freak about it. Wouldn’t rent to a smoker.

But somebody could easily have a visitor who had lit up. Her door was shut—it did not look tampered with.

Was she being crazy?

Maybe. But a nagging little voice in her head warned her that she could not afford to make a mistake. She quietly opened the stairway door. Ran down to the first floor. Eased open the side door.

She had her keys. She could try for her car. But Rodney would hear the engine, would see her leave the driveway. If he followed, she was confident that she didn’t have the driving skills to outrun a determined pursuer.

Screw the car. There was another way. She crossed the yard between her building and the one next door at a full run. Got to the far side of that building and stopped. She was gulping in the cold night air. She wished she hadn’t given Trey back his jacket or had the good sense to wear her own. At least she could run in her boots, even if the one was wet.

Now what? Wait? Lurk back around behind, see what Rodney was up to?

If not that, then what? How far was she going to get without a car?

In the distance she heard two car doors slam. Then a car start.

And she prayed they wouldn’t catch her.

Chapter 4

Work seemed to drag on forever and that irritated Trey almost beyond reason because he was generally satisfied to be working. But he kept watching the clock. The job was easy enough—train the on-site security department at a small regional airport outside of Vegas. They wanted to do it on a Saturday because it was a slower day, since the vast majority of their freight shipments arrived Monday through Friday.

The six-person team was attentive enough and seemed smart enough that at the end of the day, he was satisfied they understood internal and external threats as well as response and containment strategies.

Just after five, he left the airport and headed home. It had been a long day on his feet and he was looking forward to putting them up and drinking a beer. The time had changed the previous week and the days were getting longer, so there was still another hour of daylight and it was a balmy 68 degrees. Spring in Vegas was hard to top.

He was a hundred yards from his exit, in the right-hand lane, with his turn signal on, when he decided to go straight. He was glad that there was nobody in the truck that he had to explain his indecisiveness to. He had every reason to go home, but he was headed to the crowded Vegas Strip.

To Lavender. To check on Kellie McGarry.

Who had haunted his dreams, which was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford, since he’d been able to grab less than an hour of sleep. He could not get her out of his head. Which had pretty much been his constant state since he’d first seen her across the room at Lavender.

After he’d handed her his card and walked out of the bar last night, he’d had every intention of going home. But then he’d hit the street and, even though it had been close to midnight, the sidewalks had been full of people. The usual suspects, of course. The ones giving out discounted tickets to something, offering sightseeing tours of the Hoover Dam or selling knockoff sunglasses or purses.