while waiting in the Vegas airport’s international terminal for his flight to Bogotá. He hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place. But Nick Anson, head of the Nighthawks, had needed him and the job had been one he couldn’t refuse. A matter of a life or painful death.
Unfortunately it had taken longer to come to the final end of things than anticipated. He, Ice, Loco Vaquero and Blueman had spent miserable weeks in the jungle dealing with the Liberation Front rebels. The ordeal had only strengthened his resolve to return to Stella. He’d begun several times to ring her up, but even so he’d known an impersonal call wouldn’t do.
He’d wanted—no, he’d needed—to see her again. “I’m here for a job… Among other things.”
“Uh-huh. Obviously I missed something before. What exactly is it you do?”
“I…” Cameron smiled briefly. “Eliminate problems.” She laughed at his careful phrasing. “What, you’re some kind of enforcer for the Scotch mafia?”
“Scottish, actually. Scotch is something you drink. But, no.” He dropped his foot back to the floor. “I’m a risk management specialist, mostly negotiations and recoveries.”
She set her fork down with a snap. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for an insurance agent. They usually don’t disappear in the middle of the night.”
Cameron knew what she wanted and he resisted giving it. He was very much his own man, had been since having to leave the Special Air Service behind. There had been other women, of course, but he’d made the rules clear from the start. He’d come and gone as he damned well pleased. Until now.
Until her.
His natural aptitude for unconventional warfare was discovered during his Army training. Each time he’d put his dark gift to use, it had cut away a bit of his core and it showed. Given the life he led, he looked like ten kilometers of bad road and well he knew it.
Yet somehow she’d recognized him, as he had her. The instant they’d touched, he felt it. Like that split second before impact when you knew the bullet was coming, but couldn’t do sweet fuck-all about it. Souls colliding as bodies merged.
Anyone outside of his best mate would think he’d gone barmy, but he was sure about himself and Stella. He’d seen that same certainty in the eyes of his parents when they looked at each other, right up until they were killed. Therefore now that he’d returned, he had every intention of staying on. Whether his wife liked it or not.
“Well?” Stella crossed her arms and glared at him. “I’m what you might call a conflict consultant.”
“Consulting could mean anything or nothing.”
Clever girl, his Stella. That was precisely why he’d set up his company in that manner. The less known about what he did, the better for all involved.
“When one person’s agenda conflicts with someone else’s, they call me. That’s why I’m here. Frank DiMarco called me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Money Changes Everything
NOW, I HAVE TO ADMIT, that stopped me. On several levels. Frank DiMarco is Maria Cavanaugh’s father. And, like I said before, I don’t believe in coincidences. Stone was here because Big Frank had called him, not because he wanted to see me.
Son of a bitch.
Fearing my look actually would kill him, I stared down at my lunch. The Tandoori chicken, jasmine rice and spinach paneer were neatly separated on lettuce leaves. Little tomato rosettes and parsley sprigs garnished the meal. It’s the details that count, both on my plate and in my job.
When Stone reached over to steal a piece of chicken, I shoved the container toward him. My appetite was gone, but my interest was aroused. “Big Frank called you. Is he the ‘conflictor’ or the ‘conflictee’?”
Stone took a bite before answering. “DiMarco would be the conflictee. He’s out a good sum of money.”
“From which business?” Maria’s father owns a couple of small hotel casinos and some adult entertainment clubs on the Strip.
“The Palazzo. About four hundred thousand dollars was stolen over several months. An inside job.”
Normally people tiptoe around a man whose nickname is “Demon” DiMarco. Stealing four hundred grand is more like stomping. I shook my head in disbelief. “Why not go to the cops or the Gaming Board?”
He swallowed a mouthful of rice and spinach. “DiMarco doesn’t want the publicity. More importantly, he wants the money back. Which leads to my proposition. We’ll work together, sharing information—”
I interrupted with a bark of laughter. “Oh, like you’ve been such a wealth of knowledge in the past. Forget it.”
“As I recall, Stella, we’re damned good together.”
I recalled, too. In vivid, true-to-life color with high-definition surround sound. Then I remembered the elegant and expensive silence in the hotel suite the next morning. And the silence ever since.
My anger hummed so close to the surface I felt sure he could hear it. I picked up one of the mouth-blown paperweights I keep on my desk, rolling the crystal globe between my hands. Judging its weight to be about three pounds, I wondered how hard I could throw it.
“I work alone.”
“Let’s see if this sparks your interest, then.” He wriggled an eyebrow. “The thief is Gray Cavanaugh.”
I thought back to the picture of Maria’s husband, not surprised somehow. Then I thought about the timing of Stone’s arrival. “Big Frank hired you to trail his daughter?”
“No, but he did recommend a local investigator—that would be you—who might be a good resource. Following Maria provided a convenient excuse to see you again.”
I ignored that as best I could. “Does Frank think she knew about the embezzlement?”
“He believes she would protect her husband.”
She might. But I remembered Maria’s tone when she mentioned finally being in the family business, her suppressed outrage over the affair. “I’m not too sure about that.”
“Why? What did she discuss with you?”
“I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality and all that.” I focused on the paperweight, paying exaggerated attention to the swirling ribbons of colored glass inside. Then I sent Stone a smile, big on sarcasm and low on sincerity.
He wiped his fingers on a napkin. He leaned back in his chair and gave me a considering look. “If you don’t think Maria would cover up for Cavanaugh, I’ll hazard a guess she came to you about Gray’s bit on the side.”
I shrugged, answering without answering.
He went on. “I’ve a notion this woman is not only his mistress, but his accomplice. Together, we’ll find her that much faster.”
Although
