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“So the guy gets up from the bench and starts chasing after them. You know, like he’s going to catch two dogs at an open dog park.”
“Yeah, well your dogsarethieves,” Cody chuckled.
“Of course they are,” Veronique said matter-of-factly. “But you’d think it’s only a water bottle, right? You’ve got two thirsty dogs. A really hot day. Even as a stranger you could maybe laugh about it. Let it go.”
“Only he didn’t,” I guessed.
She shook her head. “No. He kept running and yelling and desperately trying to stop them. And that’s when I realized—”
“It wasn’t water.”
The three of us turned; to where Brynne sat sipping her on own glass of wine. She was looking hotter in that red dress with each hour that went on. Veronique raised her glass and toasted her.
“She’s a smart one,” the dealer smiled, pointing to Brynne. “You boys really ought to be fighting over her.”
“Who says we’re not?” Cody teased. He raised his beer and winked at Brynne. She batted her eyelashes in return.
“So no,” Veronique went on, “it wasn’t water at all. It was straight vodka. And not just any vodka, but the grain alcohol kind. A hundred fifty-one proof.”
“Holy shit,” I swore.
“So this guy divulges this little bit of information, and now we’re both chasing the dogs around. And they’re running in circles, spraying flammable vodka everywhere like it’s some kind of game. Which to them, of course it is.”
I could picture the whole thing in my head, and the image made me smile. Veronique continued eating and drinking merrily, as the rest of us sat back with full bellies. I knew she’d get around to what we needed to talk about, but not until she was good and ready. We’d already told her what we needed. The ball was firmly in her court.
“You boys aren’t dancing with the Lozanos, right?” she asked finally. Her eyes narrowed in a motherly way. “I mean, that would be a bad idea.”
“That’s not our plan,” I told her. “Never was.”
“Because if you got mixed up in anything—”
“We just want Evan back,” Brynne blurted. “My brother,” she clarified. “I mean, that’s all this was ever about.”
Veronique dragged another piece of perfectly-cooked meat through the rapidly-diminishing smear of horseradish sauce on the side of her plate. She was still eating, even if she had slowed down a little. That alone was incredible.
“Please,” Brynne added.
The slender dealer finally set down her fork. When she looked up again, her blue eyes shimmered.
“I’m not helping you because you asked nicely,” she told Brynne. “I’m not even helping you because of them.”
Her gaze became unfocused. Distant.
“I’m helping you because I have a brother of my own.”
She nodded at the bottle of wine, which was on Cody’s side of the table. He quickly reached out and filled her glass again.
“Mathias has been in and out of town a lot lately, but he’s here now. You can find him at the South Point poker tables. He practically lives there.”
“South point…” Cody repeated.
She nodded. “It’s below the main strip. Mathias hates the strip. He used to hate poker too, but then he fell into a winning streak that was ninety-percent luck, ten-percent skill.” She snorted. “Now he thinks he’s hot shit.”
“And he’s there every night?”
“Comes in around midnight,” Veronique confirmed. “He likes to play the night fish, and the ones with jet lag. Not a bad idea, really. People get tired. They make mistakes.”
I wanted to thank her, but I knew there was more she wanted to tell us. She was debating that part, though.
