one who knew a Bow Tie pattern from a Dresden Plate.”
She smiled. “I’ve never met a bouncer who could quilt before,” she replied.
He chuckled. Let her keep her illusions. He’d never said what he did for a living on that quilt show he was on, or even in the competitions. He just said he was a Chicago businessman. He was enjoying this anonymity. It was rare for anyone not to recognize at least his name, if not his face.
“Would you like to see Blackbeard’s Tower?”
Her lips parted. “Blackbeard, the pirate?” she asked.
“The very one.” He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “He’s not there.”
She laughed. “That’s all right, I’d rather see it without his ghost,” She twisted her purse in her hands. “When?” she asked, without looking at him.
He hesitated. He had a meeting that he didn’t really want to attend. Of course, he’d have to go. “I’ve got a lunch appointment. How about somewhere between one and two o’clock tomorrow?”
Her wide eyes lifted to his, radiant and happy. “I’d like that,” she said huskily.
“I’ll call for you in the lobby.”
She smiled. “Okay!”
He hesitated. “You may hear some things about me when Fred tells your sister what happened,” he told her. “Try not to believe them. Or at least, wait and make up your own mind when you get to know me a little better. Okay?”
She was curious, but she smiled. “Okay.”
“One more thing,” he added, when Smith was pulling up into the circular driveway that led to the hotel entrance. “If Fred calls you a liar and says it didn’t happen—and he might—you tell your sister and brother-in-law that I’ve got a tape of it and they’re welcome to look at it any time they like. It would stand in any court of law.”
“You think I should have Fred arrested?” she exclaimed.
He was torn between what was right and what he was bound to do. He couldn’t afford to have Fred in jail right now. “No,” he lied. “But you shouldn’t go out alone with him again.”
“I don’t plan to,” she assured him.
Smith was opening the door. Tourists standing inside the glass doors were gaping at the huge black limousine.
“They probably think we’re rock stars,” she said with twinkling light eyes.
“Let them think what they like. You’re sure you’re okay?” he added.
She nodded. Her eyes caressed his broad face. “Thanks. For everything.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Between one and two, in the lobby,” she agreed.
Smith held out a hand and helped her out on the passenger side of the huge vehicle. He grinned at her.
She flushed, because she was still nervous of him, and it showed.
“Well, good night,” she said to Marcus.
He smiled. “Good night, angel.”
She walked on clouds all the way into the hotel, past staring tourists, and straight into the elevator.
Barb was beside herself when Delia used the key to let herself into the suite.
Her blond hair was mussed from her busy, beautifully manicured fingers. “Baby, where have you been?” she exclaimed, rushing forward to hug Delia half to death. “Oh, I’ve been so worried! Fred came back with this wild tale about your being kidnapped by some gangster…!”
“Fred tried to assault me outside the casino in a dark corner,” Delia said angrily, and she pointed to her cheek. “When I wouldn’t cooperate, he slapped me!”
Barb gasped.
Barney, her husband, came into the room in an evening jacket. His balding head shone in the overhead light and his dark eyes narrowed. “So you’re finally back! Fred was worried sick…”
“Fred assaulted me,” Delia began again.
“Now, baby, you know that’s not true,” Barney said, his voice softening. “Fred told me you got a little upset because he was just slightly tipsy…”
“Look at my cheek!” she raged. “I wouldn’t let him have sex with me, so he slapped me, as hard as he could!”
Barney hesitated, and his dark eyes began to glitter. “Fred said the owner of the casino gave you that bruise,” Barney said, but with less confidence and growing anger.
“There’s a videotape of the entire incident,” she said curtly. “And the head of security for the hotel says you’re welcome to see it. Both of you. Anytime you like!”
Chapter Three
There was a stunned silence. Barb’s breathing was audible as she looked from her husband to her sister.
“I think Fred’s lying,” Barb said finally.
Barney stared at her. “Fred said she didn’t do a thing for him, and he’s used to real lookers. I’m sorry, baby,” he told Delia, “but that’s the truth. It doesn’t make sense that Fred would be that out of line with a woman who didn’t appeal to him.”
“A bowl of gelatin would have appealed to him at the time, Barney,” Delia said in her own defense. “He was stewed to the gills.”
“I’ll talk to Marcus Carrera,” Barney said curtly. “He’ll tell the truth. He may be a pirate, but he’s an honest pirate.”
“You know the head of security at the casino?” Delia asked.
“Honey, I don’t know what you’ve been drinking,” Barney said dryly, “but Carrera is the owner of the Bow Tie. The closest he comes to security is when he turns Smith loose on somebody who’s tried to cheat him. They say he used to do his own dirty work in the old days in Chicago. Maybe he still does.”
“Mr…. Carrera owns the casino,” Delia parroted.
“He owns lots of stuff,” Barney replied casually. “Hotels and casinos, mostly, in the Caribbean and one off the coast of New Jersey. The Bow Tie’s his newest one. He’s been down here for a while. Since the oil drum incident, anyway.”
Delia sat down, hard. She was feeling sick. “What oil drum incident?”
Barney chuckled. “This really bad character did something nearly fatal to one of Carrera’s friends. They found him floating down the Chicago River in an oil drum. Well, most of him,” he amended. “There are still a few parts missing.”
“Parts?” Delia exclaimed.
“Now,
