Keeping Christmas Part 12

No, he thought, looking around at the exquisite furnis.h.i.+ngs, 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 a.s.sume 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.

h.e.l.l, he was a professional and right now he felt like a d.a.m.ned 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 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. 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.

"h.e.l.l, 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-fiance, 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 scholars.h.i.+p. 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-s.h.i.+rt, 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? swimming?

He hurried down the hallway only to find the door locked again. He'd never been great at lock picking, but he was h.e.l.l 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.

"h.e.l.lo, 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.