people were either too drunk or too eager to please, making it easy to get them to talk.
With a roll of her eyes, Dawn pointed to the Cotton Blossom, a brightly lit archway which nearly blinded Rebecca to the dark woods and brass trim inside. “Knock yourself out.”
Then Dawn announced to the other hostesses at the bank of doors that she was taking a break. Ignoring their reminders that each of them had already had their fifteen, she wove her way along the same path Teddy Wolfe had taken. Though, instead of following him up the stairs, she paused at the curving white balustrade. The feathers on her headpiece stirred as she tilted her chin in some mark of pride or defiance.
She glared back over her shoulder, making sure Rebecca understood that her welcome to the Riverboat had only been superficial. Teddy Wolfe was off limits—whether her intentions were personal or professional.
Then, with a stamp of her button-top boots, the blonde turned and disappeared through a shadowed recess beneath the staircase, letting the door marked Employees Only swing shut behind her.
Chapter Two
Left to fend for herself, Rebecca spent an hour strolling around the islands of slot machines and gaming tables, pausing to watch a craps game before trying her hand at blackjack.
She hadn’t been entirely alone. Two men had offered to buy her a drink. Another coaxed her to rub his cards for luck. And when the dealer turned over a card and gave him 21, he invited her to be his good-luck charm at the Riverboat’s upcoming high-stakes poker tournament. Rebecca agreed to think about it. Serving as arm candy was one way to get into the Riverboat’s inner circle. But it wouldn’t give her much of a chance to talk without drawing undue attention to her questions. Still, she took the man’s card. If she couldn’t create her own access into Wolfe International’s secrets, then she’d show up as retired businessman Douglas Dupree’s date.
“Congratulations again, miss.” There was a smattering of applause from the guests lined up behind Rebecca as the dealer pushed another stack of chips her way.
Good grief. She must be up to over four hundred dollars by now—and that didn’t even count the tokens Dawn had shoved into her hands earlier.
“Thanks.” She added her chips to the cup of tokens, catching the ones that spilled over in her hand. She looked across at the young man wearing the Riverboat’s ubiquitous uniform of a silk vest and pinstriped shirt with black armbands and string tie. “Is it bad form if I walk away from the table while I’m ahead?”
The dealer grinned. “Around here, we call that good sense.” He scooped up the cards and the chip she left him as a tip. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Two guests vied for her lucky seat as she got up. Pushed aside for the moment, she searched for her next information target.
Despite her amazing success, Rebecca was bored with the tables. And after already sounding out the dealers on some of the same questions she’d asked Dawn Kingsley, she’d run out of connections to explore here. Though she hadn’t wasted her time, there were faster, more direct ways to get the results she wanted. She needed to get chummy with an employee farther up the hierarchy—if not Teddy Wolfe, his partners and executive staff themselves.
Besides, she sensed she was drawing someone’s attention. And not in the way she’d intended. The feeling of being watched was too intense, too malevolent to attribute to the legs or the hair or the little black dress. Was it the pit boss with the long black ponytail, who seemed to show up in her peripheral vision every time she placed a bet? Was it Dawn’s jealous evil eye, condemning Rebecca for distracting the boss she’d already set her sights on? Could it be a potential mugger, sizing her up to rob her of her winnings once she left the cameras and security of the casino?
Or was there someone else she needed to guard against?
Rebecca shivered, feeling those eyes on her even now as she stood outside the entrance to the Cotton Blossom Bar.
A subtle glance to either side revealed no one more suspicious than the next person. Short of spinning around and making eye contact with every soul on the Riverboat’s vast main floor, there was nothing she could do to identify and stop the unwanted interest.
Watch my back, Dad, she prayed, invoking her father’s memory and finding her own strength.
Her laid-back father would have hated a place like this, with all its glitz and glam and commotion. But she could feel him with her, like a restless spirit lurking in the shadows until revelation of the truth could finally give him peace. Rebecca fingered the chain around her neck, imagining his warmth before the chill of isolation could take hold of her.
“Has to be done,” she whispered. She tipped her chin, stood straight and tall, and walked into the bar.
Rebecca nodded to the faceless bouncer who waved her inside without checking her license. Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimmer ambiance, her ears to the more human, less mechanical sounds. By the time she’d pulled up a stool at the polished walnut bar and ordered her ginger ale and lime, she’d introduced herself to the bartender, Tom Sawyer.
“You’re kidding, right?” She looked up from the nametag on his black silk vest and offered a teasing smile.
“My mother was an English teacher. She had a thing for literature.” The dexterous giant who created drinks with a speedy sleight of hand winked and moved down the bar to fill the cocktail waitress’s drink order, clearing away abandoned glasses as he went. The literary giant was too busy to press for information right now. So Rebecca pulled the straw between her lips and swiveled around to seek out other prospects.
Most of the tables were filled with gamblers celebrating their jackpots or drowning their losses. Some were doing their best to impress a date, others were hoping to find one. The lone waitress, in a short, showboat-style costume that matched Dawn’s, was running like crazy to fill orders and clear tables. “Two drafts and two rum and colas, Tom.”
Rebecca traded a sympathetic smile with the other woman as she brushed a droopy feather off her forehead and leaned against the brass railing to catch her breath for a moment. But the instant she rested her full weight on her left arm, the waitress winced and pulled back, drawing Rebecca’s attention to the dark violet and purple marks on her wrist.
The bartender had noticed them, too. “You sure you’re okay to work tonight, Melissa? I can ask Mr. Wolfe to call in someone else.”
“No. Don’t do that.” But, realizing she may have answered too quickly, the waitress tucked her long, golden hair back into its French twist and smiled. “You know I need the tip money.”
“I’ll stake you for it,” Tom offered. “Go home and rest that arm.”
“I am not taking charity from you. Now load up my drinks.” She gritted her teeth as she lifted the tray in her left hand. “But thanks.”
Melissa was too busy to do Rebecca much good, either. And she didn’t think any of the customers could give her the kind of information she needed. Maybe the bar would be a bust tonight. Was it too soon to go snooping through the offices and private rooms upstairs? Of course, it was. But Rebecca had been hoping to find some piece of evidence on this first visit to the Riverboat. At least a clue that would point her in the direction of something useful.
“Mr. Cartwright?”
Rebecca froze
