Three decks high, gaming on two levels and a restaurant-lounge on the third, the floating palace was ideal for a society charity function. Although two levels had been secured for the private affair, the bottom level of the riverboat remained open to the public, which meant it was possible for an uninvited guest to slip by security.
When Sam had been unable to dissuade Jeannie from attending this black-tie affair, he'd asked Rufus Painter to the Howell home for a private meeting. Painter agreed with Sam's opinion of Maynard Reeves as a fanatic, with the potential to become violent, but since the man stayed just within the law, Painter's hands were tied. Sam understood the officer's limitations. Before the police could do anything about Reeves, they needed some sort of proof that the man had broken the law.
Sam had stayed on the right side of the law all his life. He'd done a stint in the marines before college, and then joined the Drug Enforcement Administration. And since starting his own private security agency, he had, for the most part, adhered to government rules and regulations.
But to keep Jeannie Alverson safe, he was willing to do anything, and if that meant breaking a few rules, Sam wasn't about to lose any sleep over it. Yeah, he and Painter understood each other. They both had jobs to do; they were just bound by slightly different codes of conduct.
Yesterday, he'd had J.T. send down a couple of Dundee Private Security's newest recruits. He'd told J.T. the two-day stint would give the men some experience in the field and allow him to evaluate their performance. He knew J.T. didn't buy the excuse, but he was too good a friend to ask questions, even after Sam told him the agency would cover the cost.
Gabriel Hawk, a former CIA agent, and Morgan Kane, once a navy SEAL, hardly needed any field experience. Sam had evaluated their records thoroughly before bringing them into the business to replace two of his best men. Ashe McLaughlin wouldn't be returning. He had married his childhood best friend and decided to move back home and begin a new life. And Simon Roarke, who'd been severely wounded in the line of duty, needed several months to recover.
Upon their arrival from the airport yesterday morning, Sam had left Hawk at the Howell home to guard Jeannie while he and Kane checked out the Royal Belle.
Even with his own men assisting the private security provided by the Royal Belle, Sam felt uneasy. He had halfway expected to find a troop of Righteous Light brethren picketing the casino, but to his great relief, there hadn't been a sign of Reeves or his followers. Sam wasn't so sure that was a good sign. He'd much rather have these people out in the open than sneaking around in dark corners.
* * *
Constantly vigilant, Sam repeatedly scanned the room, which was filled with the Mississippi Gulf's elite, along with visitors from Mobile and New Orleans. Many of the people who belonged to Julian Howell's social circle, though cordial and nauseatingly polite to Jeannie, had watched her every move for the past hour during dinner. What the hell were they expecting? That she'd sprout wings and fly? Or cast a spell over the whole room? Unfortunately, there had been one dear old lady who, despite her breeding and sophistication, had been unable to refrain from requesting that Jeannie heal her spastic colon.
Julian rose from his chair, held out his hand to Marta McCorkle and asked her to dance. The warmth of her smile softened the age lines around her eyes and mouth, making her appear years younger than sixty.
Sam noticed the way Jeannie watched the couples on the dance floor and couldn't help wondering if she had ever danced.
"Would you like to go downstairs and play the slot machines?" Sam asked.
"Not yet," she said. "I haven't finished my dessert." Lifting her spoon, she dipped into the chocolate mousse.
Sam concentrated on Jeannie's mouth. Full. Soft. A warm peach color. And so inviting. She ate the spoonful of mousse, then unconsciously licked her bottom lip. Sam swallowed, thinking of how her tongue had felt, mating with his, sampling his taste.
His gaze moved over her face, across her nose and her delicately tinted cheeks to her expressive brown eyes. When she smiled at him, her eyes smiled, too. Her pale eyes were almost identical in color to her beige-streaked ash brown hair.
Sam tried to return her smile, but somehow he had never perfected the art of smiling. Without opening his mouth, he curved his lips slightly. His niece Elizabeth had told him he needed to smile more, that he most certainly needed to laugh occasionally. And sometimes, with Elizabeth, he had.
"Everything's just perfect, isn't it?" Jeannie reached across the table, laying her hand flat, her palm open, gesturing for him to respond. "The weather is wonderful, not too hot, even for August. The casino is lovely, and everyone is having a good time."
Julian and Marta had kept a steady stream of conversation going during dinner, but Jeannie had been very quiet. He had noticed she wasn't prone to idle chitchat and that suited him fine. What didn't suit him was the way she kept getting inside his head. He had felt her probing a couple of times and had blocked her entrance. They were alone at the table now. If she had something to say to him, she could use the normal means of communication.
"Are you having a good time?" he asked, glancing at her hand, wanting to cover it with his. But if he touched her, she would connect with him. She would feel what he felt. And he'd be powerless to stop her.
"I'm pleased that we've had such a good turnout. If this function brings in a lot of money for the Howell School, Mr. VanDevere, the CEO of the company that owns the Royal Belle, has agreed to make it an annual affair."
Sam followed Jeannie's gaze to the dance floor, to Marta in Julian's arms. The older couple were gliding smoothly in a slow two-step.
Sam glanced down at Jeannie's hand again. She curled her fingers, relaxed them, curled them, relaxed them, signaling him to touch her. "How long have Julian and Marta been dating?"
"For several years. They've known each other since they were children. Julian and Miriam were close friends with Marta and her husband, who died a year after Miriam."
"Julian told me before we left the house that he wouldn't be coming home until morning." Sam watched her face for a reaction. "He said that you'd know where to reach him."
"He and Marta have been lovers for about a year now." Jeannie's smile widened. A sigh of humming laughter vibrated from her throat. "You aren't surprised, are you?"
"No. Besides, it's none of my business." He wished she'd take her hand away; the temptation to accept her invitation overpowered his common sense.
He laid his hand in hers. She grasped it gently. He repeated the gesture. Sam stared directly into her compelling brown eyes and knew he'd have a hell of a time denying this woman anything. Just as a tingle of awareness passed between Jeannie and Sam, Hawk tapped him on the shoulder.
Sam released Jeannie's hand, scooted back his chair and stood. He stepped away from the table, making sure Jeannie couldn't overhear his conversation. "What's wrong?"
"Maynard Reeves just arrived with a lady named Danette Suddath." Hawk inclined his head to the left.
Sam scanned the area to their left, catching a glimpse of Reeves's sandy hair, gleaming in the muted lounge light. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed Hawk by the arm. "Why the hell did the guards let him in here?"
"The lady has an invitation, and he's her guest," Hawk said. "Kane is making a phone call to check on this Suddath woman, but she acts like she belongs here. She's spoken to several people, calling them by their first names."
"Reeves is a strong antigambling advocate." Sam repeatedly clenched and unclenched his hands. "I wonder how he'll justify socializing in this den of iniquity."