The Gamble Page 5

  I went to Max’s phone, pulled it out of the receiver and punched in the number.

  “Thrifty’s,” a woman answered.

  “Hello, my name is Ms. Sheridan and I need a taxi to town.”

  There was a pause and then, “Nina?”

  My body jolted and then I froze with the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?” the voice called.

  “Um… yes?”

  “This Nina?”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “Welp, Max called, said a lady with a fancy accent by the name of Nina would call, askin’ for a taxi. You’re a lady with a fancy accent and you’re askin’ for a taxi. Get some of those callin’ with British accents, not a lot. So I’m takin’ a wild guess. You Nina?”

  I wondered if I could make it to Denver then to England before anyone discovered Max’s body. Then I wondered if anyone would bother with extradition if they figured out it was me who did the deed. That was a lot of paperwork for one big, tall, domineering, jerky mountain man. Then I wondered, considering Max was so tall and big, how I’d kill him.

  Then I decided, poison.

  Then I answered, “Yes, I’m Nina.”

  “Max said you been down with flu, girl, you need to rest,” the woman advised me.

  “I thought I’d check into a hotel room in town.”

  She hooted in my ear but said no actual words.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Girl, Holden Maxwell quarantined me to his house and he was in it, I wouldn’t go lookin’ for no hotel room.”

  I felt my brows draw together. “Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

  “Who’s Holden Maxwell?” she repeated.

  “Yes. Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

  “Girl, you’re livin’ with him.”

  His name was Holden? What kind of name was that? No wonder he called himself Max.

  I decided not to ask about the origins of Max’s name or explain the fact that I was not living with him and told her, “Well, he isn’t actually here, so I’m quarantined alone.”

  “Oh, he’ll be back.”

  I didn’t doubt that.

  “Since you probably know where he lives, will you please send a taxi?” I asked.

  “Nope,” she answered.

  I was silent a beat, mostly shock, a little anger then I repeated, “Nope?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause Max says you need to rest.”

  Yes, definitely poison.

  “I’ll pay double.”

  “You still gotta rest.”

  I was seeing red again, I ignored it and offered, “I’ll pay triple.”

  “Triple shmiple. You gotta rest.”

  “Listen –”

  “Come into town with Max when you’ve recovered. I’ll buy you a beer.”

  Did she just tell me she’d buy me a beer? How did we get from me ordering a taxi to her buying me a beer?

  “What?” I asked.

  “Name’s Arlene. Come to The Dog. Show you the town only locals know.”

  “But –”

  “Gotta go. Get some rest, you hear?”

  Then she hung up.

  I stood staring at the phone buzzing at me. Then I beeped it off and put it in the receiver.

  The internet advertisement didn’t say word one about nutty townspeople. Not word one. If it did, I definitely would not have hit “book now”.

  I looked back through the phonebook. No more taxi companies. There were three rental agencies but they rented ATVs and snow mobiles. I didn’t think that would help.

  It was either walk, when I felt like taking a nap, or I was stuck.

  Which meant I was stuck.

  Which meant I needed to take a nap so I could be energized and clearheaded when I plotted Holden Maxwell’s murder.

  Before that, I had one more thing to do.

  I went to my purse, grabbed my cell and saw the battery was low. I also saw I had a number of texts, all from friends, not one from Niles.

  I climbed the spiral staircase, went to my overnight bag beside my suitcase, dug out the charger and the converter, attached them and plugged them into the wall. Then I pulled the cord and phone with me and sat on the bed. Then I went to my contacts and hit Niles’s number.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “Niles?”

  “Nina?”

  I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming at me over the phone and I couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t relief or welcome familiarity it was just… well, familiarity.

  Then I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming over the phone not sounding relieved that I was calling from half a world away. Just sounding like Niles and I was at the store asking him what he wanted for dinner. I couldn’t figure that out either.

  “Hi, I’m here,” I told him.

  “That’s good.”

  “I’ve been here for –”

  “Listen,” he cut me off, “I’m about to go into a meeting.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a meeting.”

  I shook my head. “Niles, I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been sick.”

  “Yes, you said you thought you were getting a sinus infection.”

  “Well, it was worse than that.”

  “You sound fine.”

  I did. Miraculously, outside of being tired, I felt pretty good. My throat didn’t hurt, I wasn’t coughing though my nose was still kind of stuffy.

  “I’m better now.”

  “That’s good.” He sounded distracted. “They’re waiting for me.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Do you want me to call later?”

  “Later?” Now he sounded perplexed, as if he didn’t understand the concept of later.

  “Later, tonight, when you’re home.”

  “I’m working late.”

  “Yes, but your late is my afternoon.”

  I heard his sigh then he said, “If you want.”

  If I want?

  I felt anger again, surprisingly anger at Niles. I never got angry at Niles. He never did anything to get angry at mostly because he never did anything.

  “Niles, I’m half a world away.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I’m half a world away!” I said louder.

  “I don’t understand.”

  And he didn’t. Because he wasn’t the type of man who cared if is fiancée needed a timeout and took it half a world away.

  And I wondered what he’d think if I told him I was staying in the beautiful home with breathtaking views with a amazing looking man who’d seen me naked (mostly), made me breakfast, teased me, flirted with me and who I’d kind of slept with.

  “Are you there?” he asked me.

  “I’m here.”

  “I need to go.”

  “Of course.”

  “Call me later, if you like.”

  “Right.”

  “Are you okay?”

  No, I was not.

  I didn’t tell him this, instead I said, “Tired.”

  “Rest, that’s what you’re there to do.”

  No it wasn’t. I was there to take a timeout.

  “Right,” I said again.

  “Talk to you later.”

  “Right.”

  “Good-bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Then he disconnected.

  I stared at my phone, hit the button to turn it off and set it on Max’s nightstand. Then I flopped back on the bed. Then I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry.

  Charlie had never met Niles and I wished he had. Charlie had always been sharp, good at reading people. Charlie would have given it to me gently but he would have given it to me straight.

  Problem was, I didn’t think I needed Charlie to give it to me straight.

  I lifted my left hand to my face and with my right hand I touched my ring.

  I’d been thrilled when Niles asked me to marry him because I’d been in love with him. H
e was steady, he was quiet, he was predictable and he loved me in his Niles way.

  He’d never cheat on me which had happened to me, back in the day when shit happened to me. He’d never be mean to me, say mean stuff to me, not on purpose just to hurt me and not when he was drunk which also had happened to me, back before I played it safe and shit happened to me. And he’d never lay a hand on me in anger which, unfortunately, also happened to me.

  So he wasn’t affectionate. So he didn’t hold my hand, hug me, cuddle me, hold me when we slept. So he didn’t call me “honey” or “baby” or give me a nickname like “Duchess”.

  He was solid, he had a good job, he worked hard. He didn’t play hard, just worked hard. He didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t like to go out much. What he liked to do was sit on the couch watching TV with me at his side. Or DVDs. He was content with that. In his Niles way, he loved that, just him and me, watching TV.

  And I was content… ish. It wasn’t exciting but it was nice… ish. It meant I’d never get hurt again. Truly, there was something to be said for steady, quiet and predictable.

  But was that enough for me for the rest of my life?

  You know the answer to that, Neenee Bean, I heard Charlie say in my head and I jumped, lurching up, and looked around, seeing no one.

  I’d heard Charlie talking to me on occasion but it was remembering things he’d said or knowing what he would say. He’d never talked to me talked to me.

  “Maybe this timeout wasn’t a good thing,” I whispered to the room. “Maybe it was a bad thing.”

  Charlie didn’t answer, no one did.

  And I decided, since I was hearing voices, that maybe a nap was a good thing.

  * * * * *

  “Nina.”

  My eyes opened and I saw Max’s face close to mine. I also felt his fingers digging into my hip. I was on my side in his bed and he was sitting in the crook of my lap.

  “Jesus, you sleep like the dead,” he muttered, pulling back only his head, his hand stayed where it was.

  I saw the TV was blue screen and the sun was fading. It was getting dark which meant it was getting late.

  I rolled my head slightly on the pillow to look up at him, still not quite awake and asked, “What?”

  “I thought it was because you were sick but you sleep like the dead,” Max informed me then he lifted his hand not at my hip and he took a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie.

  My eyes narrowed on the cookie. “Are those my cookies?”

  He chewed, swallowed then said, “Yeah,” then shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

  I got up on an elbow and said, “But those are mine.”

  “Honey, they’re in my house, they’re fair game.”

  “I see this sharing the house business isn’t going to work,” I told him and he grinned.

  “They’re fuckin’ good cookies, babe, but there’re about three dozen of them. You gonna eat them all?”

  “Yes,” I bit out.

  “Well, you’ll have to eat them all but four,” he told me.

  “You had four?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, ignoring my tone and possibly the lethal look on my face before he went on. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to dinner.”

  “Dinner?”

  His hand suddenly moved from my hip to my shoulder, his finger traced skin there and I felt that my shirt had fallen down. I yanked it up, sat up and scooted up to the headboard.

  His hand dropped to the bed at the other side of my thighs so he was leaning across me and he said, “Yeah, dinner, I’m takin’ you to town for a burger.”

  “You’re taking me to town for a burger?”

  He tipped his head to the side and asked, “You gonna repeat everything I say?”

  “No.”

  “Good,” he said, pushed up off the bed, grabbed my hand before I could evade his clutch and yanked me to my feet in a way I could neither ignore nor fight. “Get yourself sorted out. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

  Then he turned and started to walk away.

  “I’m not going to town with you,” I announced.

  He turned back and asked, “Why not?”

  “Because you called the taxi company and told them not to send a taxi.”

  “And?”

  “And, as delighted as I was to be offered a beer by Arlene coupled with the opportunity to experience town like a local, I wanted a taxi.”

  He grinned again. “Arlene’s friendly.”

  “I think Arlene’s a little nutty.”

  “Friendly ain’t nutty, darlin’, it’s friendly.”

  “It would have been friendlier if she sent a taxi.”

  He tipped his head to the bed and noted, “You got a nap.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you got your color back.”

  I fought the urge to touch my cheeks, won my fight and said, “So?”

  “So, you got rest, except for bakin’ cookies. It’s what you needed.”

  “Max, what I need is to –”

  He turned and started walking away, saying, “We’ll talk over burgers.”

  “Max.”

  “Burgers,” he said before he hit the staircase.

  “Max!” I shouted.

  He didn’t answer.

  God, he was so annoying.

  He was hungry? He wanted burgers? He wanted to talk over burgers? I was hungry too, actually famished. So we’d talk over burgers.

  I went to my suitcase, pulled out my hair drier and my makeup case and snatched up the converter. He wanted to go to town to talk over burgers; he’d have to wait until I did my hair and makeup. I didn’t go anywhere without doing my hair and makeup.

  Unfortunately that morning I didn’t sleep. I tried but it wouldn’t come. So I made cookies instead. Then it was time for lunch, so I made lunch. Then I put the sheets in the drier, cleaned up after the cookies and lunch and tried to read but I was too tired so I went upstairs and slid open the doors to the TV and VCR. Max had a selection of shoot ‘em ups, some Westerns, horror, a few espionage, lots of explosion movies. I picked an espionage, made the bed, watched the movie, went downstairs and folded the sheets then went back upstairs to watch another espionage, which, obviously, I fell asleep while watching.

  Now, it was dinnertime.

  I blew out my hair sleek, gunked it up with some stuff I liked that contained any fly-aways and then did my makeup. Not full-on Nina makeup since I was in the Colorado mountains and if makeup-less, mountain fresh Becca was anything to go by the girls in the Colorado mountains didn’t do full-on Nina makeup. I went light, I might have got some of my color back but not all of it and I needed a bit of help.

  Then I walked out of the bathroom, put away my stuff in my suitcase ever ready to escape, spritzed with perfume, put on some gold hoop earrings, a bunch of gold tinkly bracelets and wrapped a thin, lilac scarf edged with an inch of gold once around my neck, letting the long ends fall down the front. I pulled on some socks then my high-heeled tan boots. Then I stomped downstairs.

  “Ready,” I announced when I hit the bottom.

  Max was standing in the kitchen, looking like he was sorting through mail and he was eating another cookie.

  “You’re eating another cookie,” I accused.

  His head came up and his eyes did a full body scan before he said, “Duchess, you were up there a year. I didn’t have another cookie, I’d starve to death.”

  I’d made it to the bar and put my hands on it. “I wasn’t up there a year.”

  “Felt like a year.”

  “It wasn’t a year.”

  His eyes did a full face scan before he said in a softer voice, “Though, it was worth it.”

  That voice and his words made me feel funny in a way I wasn’t willing to explore.

  Therefore I said, “Can we go?”

  He grinned before he replied, “Yeah,” then he put the rest of the cookie in his mouth and dropped the mail.

  “Do you know where my coat
is?” I asked.

  “Closet,” he answered, going to the dining room table and nabbing his leather jacket off the back of one of the chairs.

  I walked to one of the doors under the loft, guessing and guessed right. There was a big storage room, some hooks on the wall, lots more man stuff. My tan, shawl collared, belt cinched at the waist, falling to the hip, cashmere coat was on a hook. I grabbed it and shrugged it on, flipping my hair over the collar as Max stood at the opened front door.

  “You look like you’re gonna meet the queen,” he said, giving me an indication that even toned down I might be a bit more fancy than the normal Colorado mountain town look.

  “You don’t meet the queen in jeans,” I explained, walking through the door and cinching my belt.

  “You would know,” he muttered.

  I swallowed back a growl and headed to the Cherokee.

  He flashed open the locks but didn’t come around and open my door. This didn’t surprise me. He didn’t seem a door opening type. Neither was Niles. Then again, Niles didn’t drive, didn’t know how, never bothered to learn and it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t. Firstly, I could drive and when we went somewhere together I did. Secondly, he could take a taxi to a train and you could take trains most everywhere. Then, once you got there, you could take a taxi to where you were going. Any town, even small ones, had more than just Arlene at Thrifty’s.

  I pulled myself up into the cab, settled and belted in.

  “I’d like you to call Arlene and lift the boycott on a taxi for Nina,” I told him once he started up, did a swift, somewhat hair-raising, three point turn and headed down the lane.

  “You goin’ somewhere?”

  “I might wish to and, without the keys to the rental that would be difficult.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We won’t, you’ll call her.”

  “Not big on women tellin’ me what to do.”

  “Max –”

  “Or anyone,” he finished and I turned to him, incredulous.

  “You’re not big on women, or anyone, telling you what to do but you’ve essentially stolen my car and told the only taxi service in town not to give me a ride, which is, in essence, telling me what to do.”

  “In essence,” he agreed pleasantly.

  “I… I…” I stammered, “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything.”

  “I’ve decided to poison you,” I announced acidly.