Page 6 of Black Ice
He couldn’t blame her. Being gone for eleven years, he hadn’t expected to run into anyone who would recognize him, especially not in a casino. Based on the timing of this job, he thought he might get in and out of Deadwood without bumping into Evie at all.
No such luck.
What really stung was discovering the soul-deep attraction and affection that had burned so brightly when they were teenagers was all one-sided now. When she spoke to him, she might as well be talking to any other gambler. Her beautiful gray eyes, once so familiar, hadn’t so much as flickered with the old warmth or passion she’d once shared so openly with him.
He folded his arms over his chest, thinking about how he might crack through her veneer of professional interest andflat smile. Where was his Evie? The woman still haunted his memories and dreams all these years later. At eighteen he’d left everything in Deadwood behind only to discover she was as essential as oxygen to him.
He never should have agreed to come back.
If he could rewind and do things differently, he never would’ve hurt her. He’d had to leave Deadwood, but he could’ve done it with more care for her. She’d been his only salvation in those unbearable last few months of high school. The two of them had been inseparable, spending hours with homework or working, constantly brainstorming fresh ideas for her family business, what they would change, when and how it would grow into a regional destination.
As far as he could tell during the prep for this trip, Cottonwood Adventures offered pretty much the same tours and events they’d offered when he’d left. He knew it had nothing to do with him, but he couldn’t help wondering why Evie bailed on her ideas for growth.
At this rate, he’d never know. Contrary to her assessment, he’d never stopped caring for her or her happiness. Maybe he didn’t have the right to demonstrate that concern, but he wouldn’t let her aggravation with his choices interfere with his purpose tonight.
He couldn’t leave. Not until she made it home safely tonight and promised to stay away from the casino for the next few days.
Better if he could convince her to quit and never come back. She shouldn’t be here at all. Well, maybe as a customer, but never as an employee. When he spotted her dealing poker on his second walk-through of the casino for his current assignment, his stomach had cramped so hard he’d nearly doubled over. Had she forgotten what happened when gambling and the pursuit of a jackpot got the best of someone?
Knowing what was coming, the trouble that had nothing to do with the winter storm, he hadn’t seen another option except to sit down and play at her table. Unfortunately, her relief arrived before he’d found the right way to warn her off.
In his pocket, his phone buzzed again and he glanced toward the slot machines, looking for the FBI agent posing as a casino guest while watching his back. Agent Noelle Pickering, second in command on her team of four, had been the first to reach out to him about this assignment. She wore an emerald sweater and black slacks, her short blond hair gleaming under the lights. At the moment, her phone was at her ear.
“What are you up to?” she asked. “We aren’t covering your poker losses.”
“Didn’t ask you to,” he said. Besides he was modestly ahead at the moment. “Saw an old friend,” he said. It wasn’t like his ties to Evie were a secret.
“You might want to delay the old flame hookup routine until this is over,” Pickering said.
“Right.” He should’ve expected the FBI had done as much homework on him as they had on their target.
“We picked up another call on the phone tap. Evelyn Cotton might be part of the Cordell crew.” He barely suppressed the automatic rejection of the absurd suggestion. If Cordell had contacted Evie it wasn’t because she was interested in helping him steal a fortune in diamonds.
“Not their first communication,” Pickering continued, as if she could read minds now. “And here she is, a casino employee. Sounds like she’s into him.”
Bull. That was just mean, even if Pickering was simply relaying facts.
Tate Cordell was a slick operator, that’s all. He was using Evie somehow. Anyone could change in eleven years—Wyatt wasproof—but Evie would never willingly help a criminal. Cordell must be lining her up for backup or a distraction.
“Did they talk about the casino?”
“Not directly.”
Wyatt nearly growled. “What did they discuss?”
“Money,” Pickering said. “Watch yourself. We’re counting on you.”
He ended the call and tucked his phone away. Now hehadto get Evie to open up before she found herself in the middle of an FBI investigation.
Like him.
This should’ve been a straightforward job. Infiltrate the Cordell crew, wait for them to rob the casino, and then lead them into FBI custody. In exchange for helping the FBI, Wyatt would get a percentage of the value of the diamonds recovered, money he needed to establish his fledgling private investigations firm.
He paced away from the door, in case Evie had access to the security camera. This new development between her and Cordell was seriously bad luck on a day when he needed things to roll his way. He gave himself a mental shake. Luck was the casino’s stock in trade and rigged to favor the house. Wyatt couldn’t rely on luck, good or bad. Stuff happened and a smart man dealt with it. Wyatt believed in thorough planning and intelligent execution of those plans.
He could credit bumping into Evelyn Cotton in this particular casino during his only return to Deadwood as the universe’s idea of a grand joke. The universe wasn’t all that funny.
He walked away from the slots, away from the gaming rooms and found a plush seating area near the retail area. Sinking into a deep couch, he pulled out his phone and did another search on Cottonwood Adventures, the company Evie’s family had ownedand operated for generations. What had he missed the first time through?
