Betting on Hope

Chapter 29



“Where to now?” Kenji asked as, business concluded, the men piled into the SUV parked in front of Derek’s house.

“Home,” Tanner said. “I’ve got dinner with my folks and Troy in about an hour and I’m driving her to LA tomorrow. Jack, are we square with the paperwork?”

Jack patted his briefcase. “For now. I still have to get the mandatory survey and inspections completed, stuff like that. Just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. That will take me a couple of days. For all intents and purposes, Suzanne McNaughton owns the ranch. I’ll call her and tell her tomorrow once I have everything lined up.”

“I appreciate this, Jack.”

“Crap, Wingate. I wouldn’t have any fun at all if I didn’t have you for a client. Anyway, I’m sending you a bill.”

Tanner felt euphoric as he entered the house, but cold fear caught up with him as the evening wore on. He tried to reach Hope before and after his dinner and before he fell into bed, but she never picked up.



The next morning, Tanner sat shotgun in Troy’s only slightly used Miata as she peeled down Interstate 15 on their way to Los Angeles. She looked like she was having a great time, singing and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music. And why wouldn’t she be having a good time? She was driving a blue convertible. She was going to college. She was on her way.

Tanner slumped against the side of the car, trying to get in the mood of the road trip, trying catch Troy’s enthusiasm. But instead he felt—unsettled.

Hope was not answering her phone. There could be a million reasons for that. It was turned off. The battery had died. She’d lost the damn thing. She was at work. She was out riding. She’d gone deaf. She’d joined the French Foreign Legion and was hunting bandits in the Sahara on a camel.

He stared out at the desert landscape—the hot brown hills, the scrubby plants, the rocky terrain—wanting to see, somehow, Hope on a horse or a camel or even in a car. Nothing.

Where was she? It was almost two full days since she’d lost that damn stupid card game. She should know by now that the ranch was Suzanne’s. Hope couldn’t still be mad at him, could she? By now the McNaughtons should be partying.

So why wasn’t she talking to him? He didn’t want to think what it might mean that Hope wouldn’t talk to him.

Tanner reached down to his knapsack at his feet and took out his phone.

“Daddy, who are you trying to call? Is it Hope? Are you having relationship problems already?”

“I’m not having relationship problems,” Tanner said.

“Who are you calling then?”

Tanner sighed. “Hope,” he said. He dialed. Listened to her voice mail kick in. He hung up. He’d already left a bunch of messages, and he didn’t need to leave another one.

Troy leaned over and patted his arm in sympathy. “If she’s mad at you, no wonder you’re grouchy.”

“It’s nice that you care, sweetheart, but fathers don’t get grouchy, they take away the car keys if their daughters don’t watch the road.”

Troy laughed and put her hand back on the steering wheel. “And you think you’re not grouchy!”

“Absolutely not,” Tanner said. “You’re going to college, we’re taking a road trip, and we’re having a great time.”

Troy glanced at him thoughtfully. “You still look tired. Why don’t you take a nap? We’re a long way from LA, and when the phone rings, you’ll hear it.”

Tanner nodded, hunching down on the seat and closing his eyes. But what if the phone never rang?



Monday morning, when Hope went into the kitchen for breakfast, she saw two men wearing work coveralls, masks, and gloves scraping paint from the kitchen windows.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she asked, not even really trying to control her anger. They didn’t have to leave the ranch for two more weeks. Big Julie or his buyers didn’t need to have workmen in their kitchen yet.

One of the men straightened up, pulling off his mask. “Bob” was stitched over his pocket.

“Sorry to bother you,” Bob said. “We’re here for the lead abatement survey. You know, it’s mandatory now after a place has been sold.”

“Can’t you do this later?” Hope asked, her voice tight. “Like in about three weeks?”

Bob looked doubtful. “I don’t think so. The lawyer said we had to get this done as soon as possible. Acted like it was a big rush.”

Hope sighed. There was nothing she could say about it, really. The place wasn’t theirs. It just seemed so—rude.

“What else do you have to do?” she asked.

“Just the lead,” Bob said cheerfully. “Some samples from the windows, walls, anywhere we see paint, and we’re out of your hair. Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Fine,” Hope said. “I have some calls to make, so if you can be as quiet as possible, I would appreciate that.”

“You won’t even know we’re here,” Bob promised.

Fat chance of that, Hope thought, pouring herself some coffee.

“That sure smells good,” Bob said wistfully.

It’s not his fault that Big Julie sold our place.

“Help yourself,” Hope sighed. “Cups are in the second cupboard by the door.”

As the workmen poured themselves some coffee, Hope settled down with the day-old Sunday paper. She read all the real estate ads carefully, circling the best options and calling to make appointments for viewings. None of her possibilities were good ones. She’d just do the best she could—and hope she was luckier at finding housing than she was at clutch poker games.



By Wednesday morning, Tanner was back in Las Vegas, feeling something approaching terror. Why hadn’t Hope called him? He’d survived LA traffic, settled Troy in her dorm room, taken her and her new roommate out for pizza, done some shopping, attended a parents-of-new-students briefing, and deflected with as much grace and tact as he could the interest of several single moms also visiting the campus.

He’d also called Hope several times each day. He’d never reached her.

Then he’d flown home, checked his answering machine for messages, and called Hope a couple more times. Nothing.

Hadn’t Hope forgiven him yet for that lousy card game? Wasn’t she happy now that her family had the ranch back? In frustration, he called Jack.

“So what’s going on with the McNaughtons?” he asked when his friend picked up.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Jack said. “When did you get home?”

“An hour ago,” Tanner said. “Haven’t you called Suzanne yet?”

“The paperwork’s almost done,” Jack said. “Everything should be filed and finished by tomorrow. Suzanne, however, is a hard woman to reach. I called all day Monday and never got her, so I sent her a letter. She should get that today. Tomorrow at the outside.”

“You just stopped calling? So they don’t know they own the ranch yet?”

“They do not,” Jack said.

“That’s great!” Tanner said. “Well, not great, but a load off my mind.”

“And yet, you’re a wreck,” Jack said. “I take it your girlfriend’s still not speaking to you.”

“Not yet,” Tanner said. “But she will. I’m driving out to her place right now, and I plan to charm the daylights out of her.”

“There’s a plan,” Jack said. “But you want to make sure that she’s home first. I’m not kidding, those people never answer their phone.”



On Wednesday morning Hope got ready to look at houses and interview real estate agents.

“I’m optimistic,” she told Faith as she tossed the newspaper and her notebook into her bag. “These places can’t all suck. We’ve seen all the sucky ones already.”

Faith grinned. “That’s being optimistic?”

“Absolutely. I fully believe that there’s an overpriced, badly maintained house we can afford to buy. Want to come along?”

Faith laughed outright. “Sounds like fun, but I can’t. The uncles are taking Amber and me for her birthday helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon.”

Hope smiled. “I forgot about that! Well, maybe after I look at the sucky places to live I’ll go shopping with Baby.”

“From what you’ve said, it seems like all Baby ever does is shop.”

Hope grinned. “She needs an outfit. She thinks that Big Julie is planning to say goodbye, and she wants to wear something that will make him realize what he’ll be missing.”

Faith laughed. “What kind of outfit is that?”

“I’m not sure. With Baby, it wouldn’t take much. A nice burlap sack should do it. We probably have one in the barn I could give her. So—can I drop you off at the airport, or wherever, and pick you up afterwards?”

“That’d be nice. Call Baby and make your plans and I’ll get Amber.”

They shut Squeegee in the barn again, and the dog whined and jumped against the door when she realized she wasn’t going along with them.

“First thing we do when we get settled, Amber, is send Squeegee to obedience school. No more surgery for cut hands,” said Hope, as she and Faith climbed into the front seat of the car and Amber settled into the back, her arm propped on a pillow.

“She didn’t mean to,” Amber said earnestly. “She just likes to play.”

“I know, she’s a happy dog, that’s the good part. If we’d given you a vicious, knife-wielding killer dog for your birthday, I think your mom would be really upset.”

Amber giggled. But as she looked out the window, she got quiet. “Do we really have to move?” she asked. “I was thinking about my old school. I might miss it. You know. A little bit.”

A blinding rush of rage ripped so unexpectedly through Hope’s chest that she lost her breath. She’d like to strangle Derek with her bare hands. He was like poison dropped from the sky, killing everything in his path. And Tanner would be next. If she ever had the chance—

She felt Faith’s hand on her shoulder, patting her gently. She took a deep, shaky breath, trying to get her equilibrium back.

“Hope’s just looking at places today,” Faith said. “We won’t make any decisions until we see it, too. And then we’ll invite all your old friends over to see you, you can have overnights and Saturdays with them, that will be fun, and you’ll make a lot of new friends at your new school. And it’ll be a lot bigger. I bet you’ll have a lot of really cool classes. They might even have a computer lab.”

“I know,” Amber said, her voice very small.

“You’ll be able to see Kenji and Tanner more often, too,” Hope said, trying to get on Faith’s everything-will-be-great bandwagon.

“Next week your hand will be a lot better, sweetie,” Faith said. “You and Kenji will be cooking up a storm and having loads of fun. And we will, too, while we sample it. Hope, let’s stop for the mail while we’re here.”

Hope pulled up to the mailbox at the end of their long driveway, seeing the little red flag pushed up, signaling delivery. She leaned out of the window and, opening the box, pulled out a handful of envelopes and catalogs.

“Here’s some stuff about vegetable boxes for you,” she said, handing business letters to Faith. “Catalogs for you, Amber.” She smiled at the girl as she handed the slick glossies back to her.

“I haven’t had the heart to tell the customers that the business is over,” Faith said, flipping through her envelopes. “I haven’t even told Kenji. I’ve got to do that soon.”

Hope didn’t reply. She was staring at a slim, cream-colored embossed envelope that lay on top of the stack. She glanced at the return address. A law firm. Mecklenburg and Sievers. Addressed to their mother.

More letters from law firms. More bad news. It never rained but it poured at the McNaughton place.

“I’ll take mom’s mail,” she said, stuffing it, along with her own bills, into her bag. “Do you want me to take yours? What if the breeze from the helicopter blows everything away?”

“Would hate to lose those bills,” Faith agreed, smiling, as she handed Hope her mail. “Oh, no.”

Hope laughed as she stuffed the mail into her bag and tossed the bag into the back seat. “We’re off,” she said as she closed the mailbox door and turned left onto the highway.



When Tanner failed to reach anyone at the McNaughton ranch, failed to reach Hope on her cell phone, and failed to reach Faith, he called Baby. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Sure, I know where Hope is,” Baby said. “What’s the problem? She’s coming over here. We’re going shopping.”

Tanner held the phone out away from his ear and stared at it in astonishment. He’d been trying to talk to Hope for four days. Now he finds out she’s talking to Baby? All this time Baby knew where Hope was?

“I need a very particular kind of outfit,” Baby said now. “And I think she needs one, too. You know, Tanner, you’ve been really mean to Hope. She told me what happened at that card game. And now Big Julie is in really big trouble, and Hope is upset, and I’m upset, and it’s all your fault. Everybody is really, really mad at you.”

“I know,” Tanner said. “I’m trying to fix it, but honestly, Baby, I can’t fix anything with Big Julie. He’s in trouble, no lie. But maybe I can fix everything with Hope. I really need to see her. How about if I come over now?”

“No,” Baby said. “Then she’d be really mad at me.”

“Hope doesn’t need an outfit,” Tanner said. “She looks great no matter what she wears. Please?”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Baby said. “Why couldn’t Big Julie ever say nothing like that to me? No.”

“Baby, I am a desperate man here. I can’t fix things with Hope if you don’t let me see her. Please.”

Baby sighed. “All right. But you better make it good, or she’ll be mad and I’ll be mad. Come over when we get back. Around three-thirty.”

“Thank you,” Tanner said, feeling a rush of relief. “I’ll be there. And—Baby. I’m sorry about Big Julie. Although I think you can find somebody better.”

“I think I’m going to have to,” Baby said, sounding a little bit sad.



“We must find him!” Johnny Red shouted to his colleagues. “We must make our move! It is now or never!”

“What do you want us to do?” Markov asked. He was eating a club sandwich that room service had delivered. Markov loved room service. You just called, and twenty minutes later, the food arrived, hot and delicious, at your door. Of course, Johnny Red had taught him to realize that the food was brought by a member of the oppressed working class who would never own a share in the means of production. But after Markov signed the slip and saw what the waiter earned with the mandatory tip, he wasn’t convinced that the waiter was truly oppressed. He wondered what the waiter’s base salary was. Perhaps, in fact, the waiter could afford to own a tiny portion of the means of production. Because look at their own line of work. It wasn’t all gravy. Johnny Red tended to be a capricious employer. Danger lurked in every operation. The competition was fierce. And considering how much Markov had to pay his lieutenants, and how nice it was in Vegas, maybe he could become a waiter himself and—

“We must try again!” Johnny Red said, pounding on the table, causing Markov to jump to attention and making his sandwich bounce on its plate. “We must storm the Winter Palace! We must overtake the guards!”

“You wand uth do gidnap Big Chulie again?” Igor asked, horrified. He had temporary caps on the six teeth he’d smashed when he’d crashed the getaway car into the getaway truck Alexei had stolen. His broken nose was swollen, making breathing difficult, and he couldn’t sleep from the pain of his bruised ribs and broken ankle. He still walked with crutches. He didn’t feel up to pushing Big Julie into a laundry cart and running through the casino with him again.

“That didn’t work out so good last time,” Yakov agreed. Although Yakov had bounced around some in the vegetable truck and had bruises to prove it, he hadn’t been seriously injured. Still, he didn’t relish repeating the experience.

“Comrades, have courage!” Johnny Red bellowed. And then, in a severe lapse of his Communist training added, “To the victors belong the spoils!”

“Well, we ain’t exactly victors here,” Markov said, working on his last bite of ham and turkey on toasted focaccia with a swirl of garlic aioli.

Johnny Red whirled on him.

“Yet!” Markov added quickly.

“We must act quickly and with precision!” Johnny Red said. “We must be as sharp as the Bolsheviks’ bayonets, and we must be as courageous as the Stalingrad defenders. My friends, we will win, or we will die trying!”

“Die?” Yakov repeated, hoping that Johnny Red was speaking in metaphors.

“Could dying be worthan thith?” Igor said, who felt pretty close to dying right now.

“You really should try these curly fries,” Markov said, generously pushing the plate into the center of the table for all to reach.

“Bah!” Johnny Red said, but he took one of the spiral french fries, dipped it in the sauce, and popped it in his mouth.

“Food for the petty bourgeois,” he said with contempt as he chewed. Then he looked up in surprise. “But it’s good. What’s that white stuff?”

“Garlic aioli,” Markov said. “Smooth yet tangy.”

Johnny Red took another curly fry and swabbed it in the garlic aioli as the others gathered around the table. Then he leaned forward conspiratorially, waving the curly fry.

“All right,” he said. “Here’s my plan.”



Tanner entered the Desert Dunes Resort and Casino at three o’clock and realized he was a half-hour too early to meet Baby and Hope. To kill some time, he opened his phone and checked his messages. One from Amber, telling him about the helicopter ride, which he returned, telling her what he was doing; one from Troy, which had to wait; and one from Jack. Nothing from Hope. He strolled through the resort, stopping briefly to stare at a black sequined dress in the window of an expensive shop. He briefly imagined Hope in it. No, Hope didn’t need sequins to sparkle, he decided.

At three-twenty he headed for the elevators that led to the suites. As he walked down the hallway, he saw a group of five men step into a waiting car. They looked like tough guys fallen on hard times—they were all big, but they all moved slowly because two of them limped and the third was on crutches. Tanner picked up his pace, trying to catch them, but even so, by the time he got to the elevator bank, the doors had closed and the elevator had ascended.

He watched the lit numbers above the doors increase as the elevator rose. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. Sixteen stayed hot. The men were getting off on the sixteenth floor. The floor of Baby’s and Big Julie’s suite.

What were five men, one on crutches, doing on Baby’s floor? Of course, there was another suite on the floor. They didn’t have to be going to see Baby and Hope. Still.

Tanner was curious. And a little uneasy.

He punched the call button and waited impatiently for a car to descend, watching the numbers over the elevator doors as the cars rose or descended toward the lobby. Behind him he barely noticed the dinging of the games, the whooping of the winners, the conversations of the tourists, and the piped-in music.

“Wingate!”

Tanner turned and saw FBI Special Agent Roy Frelly puffing slightly as he strode toward the elevators. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Tanner sighed and glanced at the elevator display. The closest car had paused at five on its downward trajectory. Eight more months to deal with Las Vegas’s idea of federal law enforcement. It seemed like a lifetime.

“Agent Frelly, what a surprise,” Tanner said. “Are you following me?”

“Heck no,” Frelly said. “Why bother? We got your phone number. No. I got other fish to fry, and I saw Johnny Red come in here and go up these elevators.”

“Who?”

“Johnny Red. I showed you a picture the other day, remember? The Russian mob guy. He just went up to Big Julie’s suite. Him and his henchmen. Sixteen-oh-one. At least we assume that’s where he’s headed, since he wants to kill Big Julie and all. Not that he’ll find him there.” Frelly scowled briefly. “His lawyers sprung Big Julie today. We put him on a plane back to Jersey.”

Tanner felt the floor open up and swallow him. He didn’t know much about the Russian mob, but he knew they were ruthless. They wouldn’t let anyone get in their way. And they were headed for Big Julie’s suite.

And in Big Julie’s suite, Hope would definitely be in their way.

“The Russian mob is upstairs in Big Julie’s suite?” he demanded. “Hope—my—my—fiancee’s up there! And Baby! They could get hurt!”

“Jesus, Wingate! You know that for sure? Why do you always hold out on me?” Frelly’s red face turned six shades darker. “We got SWAT in position! Now you’re telling me there’s civilians in Big Julie’s suite? A baby? Listen! You stay here, understand? Don’t do nothing stupid! Don’t go nowhere! I gotta let the SWAT team know! I gotta call backup!”

Frelly pulled out his phone and punched a number into it as he churned down the hallway. “Hold your positions!” Tanner heard him yell into the phone. “We got civilians in the suite, and the Russians are coming!”

Tanner watched as Frelly steamed into the security office. Russian mobsters had headed upstairs to take out Big Julie, the FBI was on it, and that could mean gunfire, with Hope and Baby in the middle of it. Minutes counted here. Anything could happen while Frelly was doing whatever he was doing. And a SWAT team—Tanner shuddered to think of a SWAT team managed by Frelly.

Behind him, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Without a second thought, Tanner stepped inside the car and punched the button for sixteen.