Chapter Nine

“Hello, Mr. Lancaster.”

Oliver was feeling better by the time he reached the club. He’d managed to put off thinking about the future. At least for tonight.

Rebecca had plans. What did it matter who they were with? He just needed to concentrate on the problem at hand—winning twenty-five thousand dollars.

“Your coat, Mr. Lancaster?”

He let the man help him out of his coat and get him a drink, thankful that men’s clubs still existed, albeit underground. Otherwise some woman would protest and the next thing you knew, the place would be full of them and everything would be ruined.

“Any interesting games going on?” he asked as he took the drink. He didn’t even have to tell the man what he drank. So much better than home where Rebecca was often out of his favorite.

No, he thought, looking around at the exquisite furnishings, this was his true home.

“I believe there is a game in the Ashbury Room that you might enjoy, sir.”

Oliver smiled and asked for an advance, giving the man a hundred dollar bill before heading to the Ashbury Room.

He felt lucky tonight. At least he hoped so. If his luck didn’t change soon, he would have no recourse but to do something desperate.

 

DIXIE COULD SEE that Chance was having the same trouble she was, trying to understand what she’d found—and why it had put her life in jeopardy.

“Before you tell me I’m crazy, you should know. Glendora Worth is still alive. From what I’ve been able to find out, her name is Glendora Ferris now.” Dixie hesitated, bracing herself for his reaction to the rest of the news. “She’s widowed and living in an apartment for elderly people in Livingston.”

“Montana?”

She nodded. “Don’t give me that look. I came to Montana to hire you just like I said. It’s not my fault Glendora Worth Ferris just happens to live here.”

“So what did she say when you saw her?”

Dixie shook her head. “I haven’t yet. I wanted you to go with me. To keep me safe.” She glanced at him. “Okay, I didn’t want to go alone. Are you happy?”

He smiled. “You were smart to wait. If you’re right…” He stopped as if catching himself. “I’m not saying I’m buying any of this—especially the part about your father trying to have you killed, okay? And you can’t be certain this Glendora Worth is your mother’s sister, right?”

“No. But what if she is?”

“Then you would have an aunt you knew nothing about,” he said. “But it wouldn’t give anyone a motive to want you dead. This isn’t much of a secret, Dix. So you have an aunt.”

“And a brother who died.”

“Did you find any record of a Beauregard Bonner Junior?”

“No,” she had to admit.

Chance raised a brow as if that proved something.

“That’s why I have to see this woman. If she really is my aunt, maybe she can provide the answers I need.”

His gaze locked with hers. “What if your father is trying to protect you?”

“By having me killed?”

“I’m serious, Dixie. Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t want you to know about this.” He waved a hand through the air. “Maybe it’s painful. Or dangerous.”

She laughed. “Apparently it is. You still don’t believe I was abducted in Texas, do you? You think I made it all up? Why would I do that?”

“To involve me in this.”

Her heart was beating too hard, her pulse loud in her ears. “I can’t believe you. I knew my father would try to find a way to stop me from getting to Glendora. I just never dreamed it would be you.” She picked up the photographs and put them back in her purse. “I think I’ll turn in early. I haven’t had much sleep the last few days.”

“Dixie.”

She started toward her room, but turned to look back at him. “By the way, you didn’t use the lodge phone to call my father, did you?”

He looked surprised.

“Because if you did, then he knows where we are.” She nodded. “You just signed my death warrant.”

 

CARL BONNER STOOD behind the two-way mirror that allowed him to look into the Ashbury Room and watch the poker game—and Oliver Lancaster.

Carl had kept an eye on Oliver from the first. Not that he’d told Beau. He watched Oliver dig himself a hole the arrogant bastard would never be able to climb out of.

“How much has he lost?” Carl asked the man who’d let him into this room.

“Tonight? Over a hundred thousand.”

Carl said nothing as he mentally totaled just how deep Oliver was down. And the fool kept playing, like all gamblers, believing eventually he would win.

He’d never liked Oliver and over the years had grown to despise him. Oliver was a lousy husband and father. Carl was tired of seeing the man hurt Rebecca.

Carl watched Oliver sweat. Beauregard paid Oliver well, but not well enough to lose this kind of money almost every night of the week. Oliver had to be getting desperate to cover his compulsive gambling—and his debts. He couldn’t go to Beauregard. Nor Rebecca.

So who did that leave poor Oliver?

Ace, Carl thought, with a smile. Only Oliver would be stupid enough to go to a known criminal for help.

“Put more pressure on him,” Carl told the man waiting next to him. “Let him play, though. Don’t worry, I’ll see that he meets his obligations.”

“As you say, sir.”

Yes, Carl thought as he left. As I say. Carl turned and saw another window, this one into the Bradbury Room. Like other nights he’d come here to check on Oliver, Carl saw Mason sitting at one of the poker tables.

“What about Mr. Roberts?” Carl asked.

The man hesitated and Carl had to look hard at him for a moment before the man said, “He enjoys a good game. He wins some, loses some. He always quits before he loses too much.”

Yes, that sounded just like Mason. Careful. But still a gambler at heart.

“You can tell a lot about a man by the way he plays cards, don’t you think?” Carl said.

“Yes, sir. I assume that’s why you don’t play.”

Carl laughed. Life was enough of a gamble, he thought as he followed the man out. Not that a man didn’t have to take chances. Otherwise, he was doomed to live a truly mediocre existence. No one knew that better than Carl Bonner. He remembered the day that he’d changed his luck and his life so many years before—with just one roll of the dice.

 

CHANCE STARED AT Dixie’s closed bedroom door and told himself that she was just being dramatic. While the family photographs were intriguing, he still didn’t believe Bonner was behind any threat to his daughter over some old snapshots.

So why couldn’t he quit mentally kicking himself for calling Bonner on the lodge phone? Beauregard Bonner was a lot of things. But a killer?

Chance swore, the cold December night pressing against the windows as he saw a few lights glitter in the distance.

Hell, he was a professional and right now he felt like a damned amateur. What if Dixie was right and he’d put her life in jeopardy?

Worse, he was starting to believe her.

What bothered him was how easily he’d bought into what Bonner had told him about Dixie. That and the fact that she was his daughter. That’s why Chance had given Dixie the room with a window, but no way out other than the door she’d just closed.

“Hell, what if she’s right?” he asked himself again as he checked to make sure the doors were locked before going to his room. He left the bedroom door open. It was that darned suspicious nature of his.

It was going to be a long night. He hadn’t gotten that much sleep last night after seeing Bonner and taking this job against his better judgment. He would have loved nothing better than a hot shower, but he opted for a bath, leaving the bathroom door open so he could hear Dixie if she tried to leave.

The hot water felt good. He tried to relax. Less than forty-eight hours and Bonner would send a jet for his daughter.

Chance had always prided himself on the fact that he could read people pretty well. But he had to admit there was too much water under the bridge to do that with Beauregard Bonner. Because he didn’t trust him, he tended to go the other way and cut him more slack than he probably should have.

As for Dixie… Just the thought of her stirred emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone deal with. He remembered earlier, her leaning over him, that light kiss on his mouth—

Standing up in the bath water, he turned the water to cold and stood under it. Although painful, the cold shower did the trick. He turned it off and got out.

Toweling dry he smiled at his own foolishness. The woman knew the affect she had on him. Had on a lot of men. Like her almost-fiancé, who had also followed her to Montana.

Or been sent by Beauregard Bonner?

Chance hated to think how Bonner had set him up all those years ago. The job in Montana. The scholarship. It was hard to be angry. Chance was thankful for the life he enjoyed now. But it did remind him how Bonner operated.

He pulled on his jeans and sprawled on the bed. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep now even if he wanted to. He couldn’t get Dixie off his mind. Wasn’t there a song like that in Texas?

He got up, too restless to even lie on the bed. Keeping his eye on Dixie’s closed bedroom door, he pulled on his coat and went out on the deck. He made a couple of calls, using his usual sources to get confidential information that the average person couldn’t access.

There was a Glendora Ferris living in Livingston, just as Dixie had said. A couple more inquiries and he had her maiden name: Worth. The same as Dixie’s mother’s maiden name. The same information Dixie had gotten.

Was it possible Glendora really was Sarah’s sister? More to the point, was there some deep, dark family secret that Dixie had stumbled across that someone was determined she would take to her grave?

He swore again as he stepped back in from the cold, closed the deck door and walked over to tap on Dixie’s bedroom door. He figured she wouldn’t be asleep yet.

“Yes?”

“If you want, we could go to Livingston first thing in the morning and talk to Glendora Ferris.” He didn’t have to add that the woman could have moved, might be senile, might not even be the right Worth. Nor did he have to tell Dixie that he wasn’t anxious to get involved any further in this.

He heard a surprised sound on the other side of the door, could almost hear her smile. He started to step away from the door.

“Chance?”

“Yeah?” he said, moving back to the door again.

“Thank you.”

He touched the door with the tips of his fingers. “Yeah.”

 

NOT LONG AFTER midnight, Chance heard the lodge room door open and close quietly. He glanced at the clock, gave her a few seconds, then picked up his gun.

He had stayed dressed in his jeans expecting something like this. And yet, he couldn’t help being surprised. And disappointed. He’d started to buy into her story. He’d even agreed to take her to talk to Glendora Ferris. So had it all been just a ruse?

He pulled on his coat and boots. Opening the door quietly, he peered out. Dixie tiptoed down the hallway dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, no shoes.

He frowned. No shoes? Where was she going barefoot in December in Montana?

She had something tucked under her arm.

He waited until she turned the corner before he went after her. At the L in the hallway, he stopped to peer around the corner. She stood at the door to the hot springs outdoor pool. Even from where he was he could see that the pool was clearly marked closed for the night.

He watched her with interest since he suspected the door to the pool was kept locked at night.

She pulled the barrette from her hair she’d used to tie it back earlier. It took her a few minutes but to his amazement, she picked the lock and slipped in.

She was going swimming?

He hurried down the hallway only to find the door locked again. He’d never been great at lock picking, but he was hell on wheels when it came to fence climbing. Backtracking he circled around the rear of the lodge to come out at the fence along the dark side of the pool.

Steam rose off the surface, dissipating into the cold darkness. For a moment he didn’t see her and thought she’d given him the slip. But then he spotted her discarded clothing piled on one of the chairs near the deep end, a towel lying on top.

At the sound of a splash, he saw her surface halfway down the pool in a cloud of steam and was surprised how relieved he was. She hadn’t tried to get away. She’d just wanted to go for a swim. He smiled, shaking his head. Would this woman ever quit surprising him?

She dove back under the water and he quickly climbed the wooden fence, moving to the edge of the pool as she surfaced.

He remembered that she’d been part fish back in Texas, always in her family pool. Always calling, “Hey, Chance, watch this.” Even back then she’d loved attention. And had known no fear, diving off the highest thing she could find if it would shock him. He realized she hadn’t changed.

He’d expected to surprise her, but if he did, she hid it well.

“Hello, Chance,” she said with a grin.

“The pool is closed, Dixie. Also, I believe swimsuits are required.”

Her grin broadened. “Why would anyone swim in a suit if she didn’t have to? And close a pool on a night like this?” She looked up, her face softening. “Look at those stars. I had no idea there were so many.” Her breath came out on a puff of frosty December air.

He saw that her hair was starting to freeze. Frost glistened on her eyelashes. A snow angel. Her beauty took his breath away.

She must have seen his expression because her gaze heated as it met his. Her smile widened. Oh, that mouth. Incredible full lips that arched up in a perfect bow that any man would have been a fool not to want to kiss.

She laughed and ducked under the water, disappearing beneath the steam—but not before he’d glimpsed her sleek naked body moving through the water.

Chance swore and glanced toward the lodge and the rooms that faced in this direction. Several of the blinds were open, lights out, but he’d bet Dixie had an audience and unless he missed his guess, she knew it and was enjoying it. “Damn it, Dixie.”

As she surfaced, her laugh filled the air. “You should see your expression.”

“You like shocking people.”

She turned serious. “You’re wrong. I just like swimming naked on a night like this.”

Clouds scudded across the stars and with a suddenness that pretty much summed up Montana weather, it began to snow. The flakes were huge and, like delicate white feathers, drifted lazily down. Dixie laughed, the delight of a child, and leaned back to catch one in her mouth.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she said, looking at him again through the steam rising up off the surface of the pool. He got the feeling she wasn’t talking about swimming.

She cocked her head at him. “Sure you don’t want to join me?”

“Positive.” His voice sounded odd to him and he knew she’d heard it.

“I won’t look if you’re shy.” She chuckled then turned her back, daring him to strip and join her.

He’d been tempted plenty times in his life, but this one topped the list.

“Scared?” she asked in that Texas drawl of hers.

“Aren’t you worried your killers will find you? You are rather…exposed.”

She turned back to give him a disappointed look. “You aren’t going to spoil this for me, Chance Walker.”

Her words hit him like stones. He hated that he’d even tried. But damn it, his job was to keep her safe. And he hadn’t wanted this job. He should have been at his cabin with his dog and a roaring fire, not standing out here in the cold watching the damned woman swim naked in a closed pool.

Hell, if there had been a sign that said, No Diving, she would have been doing a jackknife off the side right now.

He reminded himself who she was. Not just a Bonner, which was bad enough, but Rebecca’s little sister. Unfortunately that didn’t help. Rebecca had been a lifetime ago.

He turned his back and listened to her swim, fighting the ache inside him. There’d been something about Dixie Bonner at twelve that had been likeable even though a lot of the time she was an impossible noisy little brat.

But the grown-up version was everything that had made Dixie unique at twelve—and a whole hell of a lot more.

After a while, he heard her climb out, listened to her pull on the jeans and T-shirt.

“You can turn around now.”

He did.

She stood, her head cocked to one side, looking at him through a wet wall of dark hair. She brushed her hair back from her face and grinned, no doubt at his expression. She’d dried with the towel she’d carried under her arm from the room, and had put her clothing on over her damp body. The T-shirt clung to her breasts, leaving little to his imagination. There was no way she wasn’t aware of that, as well.

“Your hair is starting to freeze,” he said, mad at himself, mad at her. It was all he could do to keep from tossing her into the pool, clothes and all—and jumping in after her.

And that, he realized, is what really had him upset. He wished now that he’d gone in the pool with her, for he feared that when he was a very old man this would be his one regret in life.

“Let’s get you back to the room,” he said, taking off his jacket to put it around her.

She let out an amused laugh. “I never knew you were such a prude. You should have come into the pool,” she said as she wrapped her long hair in the towel, her back to him. “You have no idea what you missed.”

He cursed softly, just imagining.

She turned to grin at him. “You know I’m starting to understand why my sister didn’t marry you.”

“I was the one who broke it off with her,” he snapped, instantly regretting it.

Her brow shot up. “Very gallant of you to admit that.”

He swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean it to come out like that. Hell, why am I apologizing? Your sister was already practically engaged to some blue-blooded lawyer student by then.”

“You could have come back to Texas and put up a fight for her,” she said over her shoulder as she walked toward the door to the lodge.

“Oh, yeah, that would have done a lot of good.”

She grinned back at him. “You should have heard what she said about you. She said—”

“Don’t even.” He thought about some of the things Rebecca could have told her little sister and wished this subject had never come up.

Dixie laughed as they reached the door back into the lodge. Apparently it didn’t lock from this side. “Didn’t you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you’d stayed in Texas?”

“No,” he lied. He stepped past her and into the lodge, planning to end this conversation by doing the only thing he could—run away from it.

“Did you know she kept a diary?” Dixie asked in a whisper as she caught up to him.

Rebecca kept a diary? He continued walking. The last thing he wanted to talk about was her sister. Especially after he’d just seen her little sister swim naked. Nor did it seem the right topic for a walk in the lodge hallway in the wee hours of the morning.

Dixie was probably bluffing anyway about the diary. But now that he thought about it, Rebecca was the type who would have kept a diary. One of those little pink ones with a lock and key. And Dixie was just the type to break into it and read it.

“Would you like me to quote you chapter and verse?” She didn’t give him time to say no. “‘Oh, today was just the most awful day,’” Dixie mimicked in a voice that was eerily like Rebecca’s. “‘Daddy forbade me to go out with that Chance Walker boy. My heart just ached and I cried throughout all of dinner but to no avail. Daddy was just impossible.’”

Chance groaned, the words sounding too much like Rebecca’s for this not to be true. He stopped, turning to glare at her. “I’m surprised your sister didn’t throttle you for reading her diary,” he whispered back.

Dixie let out a snort. “She had no idea I ever read it. Rebecca, being Rebecca, wore the key around her neck and always kept the diary locked. Have you ever seen the flimsy locks on a diary?” Dixie chuckled. “I could pick locks a lot harder than that when I was seven.”

All he could do was shake his head.

“Stop looking so shocked. I’m willing to bet you’re no slouch when it comes to lock picking,” she said as they reached their suite and she waited for him to open the door.

As he started to use the room key, he realized she’d expected him to follow her to the pool. That’s why she hadn’t even bothered to take the key. Or maybe she’d planned to pick the room lock, too.

“Only private detectives on TV pick locks,” he snapped. “It’s considered breaking and entering.” He opened the door and, following her inside, closed it after them.

“Don’t disillusion me with that legal mumbo jumbo. I’ve heard it all. Anyway, I wouldn’t believe it.” She grinned. “After reading Rebecca’s diary, I know everything about you. And I do mean everything.”

“Everything.” He grumbled under his breath. “Just like your father.” He saw the change in her expression.

“If you want to get along with me, don’t compare me to him.” She turned toward her room, her back stubborn-straight, her hips swaying from side to side in a way that could blind a man.

“Who says I want to get along with you?” he called after her. “You’re the one who came to Montana. I didn’t want this damned job to start with. I wanted nothing to do with your family.”

“That’s right,” she called back over her shoulder. “I came to Montana. Looking for you. Because I had this crazy idea that you were one of the good guys. Instead, you go to work for my father. You didn’t just sell out, Chance Walker. You broke my heart.”

He saw her hesitate at her doorway as if she hadn’t meant to add that last part. He wasn’t sure why it touched him. He didn’t even believe there were killers after her, right? Let alone that his going to work for her father had broken her heart.

“Do you still love her?”

He wasn’t sure he’d known what love was until his daughter was born. “Rebecca? No.”

“Did she break your heart?”

“No.” He hated to admit it. She’d been his first love. First loves were supposed to be ones you never got over, right?

“You were both so wrong for each other,” Dixie said, shaking her head.

He couldn’t argue that.

“You needed a woman who cared about more than what she was going to wear or whether her hair was just right or what her friends were going to say about her—and you.”

He laughed since that was Rebecca to a T. She cared more about outward appearances than anything else. He hoped she was happy with…what was his name? Oliver?

“Like you know what kind of woman I needed,” he said with a laugh, wanting to draw the subject away from Rebecca.

“Someone like…me,” Dixie said, and disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

He laughed, thinking she had to be joking.

In his room, he stripped down to his shorts and sprawled again on the bed. He couldn’t help but think about some of the things Dixie had said. He’d let her down and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He tried to push her out of his mind, but the minute he closed his eyes all he could see was Dixie Bonner swimming through fog-cloaked water like a ghost mermaid, a million stars glittering overhead on a cold December night in Montana.