Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(57)

I think about the look on Davie’s face when he was watching me: focused, hard, intense. Maybe it was about money. Probably it was, since that’s what both Jason and Abel assumed. But couldn’t this blackmail threat lead to what could be an ultimate scandal? Even better for ratings, perhaps, than Jason winning?

I decide that I have to share this thought with Jason.

I quickly order two cheeseburgers and fries, and then ask what Jason’s regular drink is and add two Dr Peppers to the tab. Once I’m done, I can hear Jason’s muffled tone, picking up a few words here and there, and I stand and walk to the window, the glistening lights of Vegas seeming to make time stand still while the heaviness of my body says it’s late. It’s time for food and sleep.

The sound of footsteps behind me has me turning to find Jason approaching. “How’d it go with Davie?”

He steps to me, pressing me against a thick beam running up the window, his hands on my hips, this easy way he touches me something I could too easily get used to. “You personally inspired him to come up with the idea of a behind-the-scenes TV series, diving into the personal lives of the top players in the game.”

“Me? I’ve been around for all of one tournament.”

“You intrigued him, it seems. Which I get, since I feel the same. However, I told him if one camera lands on you or me, from him or outside, I’m holding him responsible.”

“And you think that actually matters?”

“Believe me, I made sure it matters. Did you order the food?”

“I did. I’m starving, and honestly exhausted.”

“You and me both, baby.” His cell phone rings. “Apparently no one cares, though.” He releases me and scoops his phone from his pocket, glancing at it and then me. “Daniel,” he says. “Let’s hope he has good news.”

He answers the call, and I walk to the couch and settle in a corner, pulling a throw blanket over me.

Jason joins me on the couch and pulls my legs over his lap. It’s a surreal “maybe this is a real relationship” moment that I don’t have the opportunity to fully comprehend before his phone call is over. “Nothing good or bad,” he tells me. “There’s no sign of Stephanie, and we know who the waitress is, but her last known address is a dead end.”

“That’s very convenient. That was completely set up to rattle you.”

“It was bigger than that,” he says. “Stephanie couldn’t have pulled this off tonight on her own. And whoever was behind that note knows that I’ll know that. They wanted me to know they’ve stepped up their game.”

“What do you think that means? Is a demand for money coming?”

“I’m not going to speculate,” he says, “but more and more, everything feels like a setup. Even that storage unit going up for auction. That was meant to get me chasing my tail. Stephanie is on someone’s payroll.” He shakes his head. “Why would I think she would leave the evidence she’s blackmailing me with in that unit? They’ve gotten to me because I’m operating with a big dose of stupid.”

I sit up facing him, one leg on the floor and the other folded in front of me. “I’m not sure it was a setup, Jason.”

He turns to face me. “What are you saying?”

“The unit did have all of Stephanie’s personal belongings, which amounted to nowhere near what the unit cost. I was desperate to find a treasure of some sort and break even. I dug and dug until I found a key to a bus station locker.”

“And you did what with it?”

“I went to the station, which was really creepy—and so was some man hanging out there. But I found the locker. And I found a note to you and a poker chip inside it—as if she left fast, and kept it there, where she could get to it.”

“Holy f*ck. One chip?”

“Yes. Just one.”

“Where is it now?”

“At my town house, along with any personal documents I found in the unit.”

“Skye, baby, I know you won’t like this, but Daniel is flying back to San Francisco in a couple of hours. I need to send him to your place to pick it up. Is there a door key hidden somewhere he can get to it?”

“Oh no,” I say quickly. “I don’t want Daniel in my apartment.”

“Then we need to go back on the first flight I can book in the morning.”

“But you have a press op tomorrow.”

“Aside from my fear that the chip will get stolen from your town house as we speak, I need to see it. I’ll know if it’s real.”

“Would that end this? I mean, can’t they just throw out accusations and damage you?”

“It’s better than not having it. I need that chip.” He grabs his phone.

I grab it too. “What are you doing?”

“Calling Daniel. He’ll want to hear this.”

“You said you’re playing their game. I say you’re right. Someone in your life is behind this blackmail, Jason. Don’t tell anyone about that chip, or the letter I found with it.”

His eyes narrow. “Daniel isn’t blackmailing me.”

“I’m pretty sure the manager is usually the one stealing from all the famous people.” I don’t give him time to argue. “Take a risk and gamble on me one more time.”