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Adam stood and stretched. Sometimes she forgot just how tall he was. She was 5’8” in her bare feet and he still loomed over her. “The Wynn has the only golf course on the Strip. It’s astronomically expensive, but you can’t beat the convenience of an 18-hole course without leaving your hotel. Sedarno plays it often.”
He sighed. “It’s bad news for us, actually. It’s just the two of them playing, so this will undoubtedly be when they discuss business. We probably won’t be able to learn much.”
“What do you mean? What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to bug their golf cart,” he said matter-of-factly. “My equipment will make a recording of their conversation. If they discuss Knoll’s repayment in the cart, we’ll be golden.”
“Ah,” she said, finally understanding. “But if they talk about it on the tee or the green, we’ll hear nothing.”
“Exactly.”
Jess started to pace, making sure she had a firm grip on the towel. “If they’re just playing in a twosome, why don’t we try to join them for the round? They won’t want to discuss business around a couple of strangers, so they’ll more likely discuss it in the cart and then we’ll have it captured.”
He shook his head. “No.”
She tried not to feel upset that he so instantly dismissed her idea. “Why not?”
He sighed. “It would be a terrible move to spend all afternoon with them. They’d remember our faces, voices, body language. Remember—we’re trying to stay anonymous. Also, even if we could possibly disguise ourselves to an acceptable degree, they’d never agree to let us join their group.”
Really, she wasn’t pouting. “Why not?” she asked again.
Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m a younger, more athletic man than either of them. Both of them are hyper-aggressive and competitive. They won’t want to put themselves in a position of being embarrassed on th
e course in front of one another.”
He looked at her from head to toe. A little more thoroughly than was necessary. “And you’re, obviously, a woman.”
She knew what he meant. Hell, she’d dealt with the sexism inherent in golf for most of her life. But she couldn’t resist snipping at him. “What does that mean?”
“They won’t want to play with a woman. They’d think you’d slow them down.” When she glared at him, he held up his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger. It’s just how it is.”
She took a deep breath. “So what should I do while you’re planting the bug?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you want. Go lay by the pool and relax or something. Do some gambling.” He threw a bunch of casino chips on the coffee table. “This’ll get you started. I’ll probably hang out in the clubhouse for a few hours, make sure the bug is transmitting.”
Adam pointed to the phone on the nightstand. “Check your room messages every couple of hours. When I’m done, I’ll let you know our next steps.”
He stood and walked out of the room. “Have fun!” The door shut softly behind him.
Jess sat at the edge of the bed, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she feel so annoyed? Shouldn’t she feel grateful that he wasn’t involving her in setting an illegal recording device on a mobster’s golf cart? Shouldn’t she feel happy for a little free time to relax in the sunshine?
Hell no. She’d been rotting on the beach in Florida for months. She didn’t want to sit around and wait for him to leave a message with next steps. She wanted to act, to be part of the solution.
Especially in this scenario. For God’s sake, this little twist was practically hand-crafted for her. She picked up the chips and counted them. Whew—almost $1,500.00. He sure wasn’t stingy, she’d give him that.
Smiling to herself, she picked up the phone and dialed the concierge. “Can you please tell me how to find the pro shop?”
* * *
Adam dumped a bucket of balls on the practice tee and took a few swings with his rented seven iron. Knoll and Sedarno were each hitting their own buckets, preparing to tee off in ten minutes. Idly, Adam watched them hit a few balls. For overweight men in their 50s, both of them were surprisingly good golfers.
Or, maybe not surprisingly, considering that a lot of business for wealthy men still took place on the golf course.
Taking another swing, he wondered why he felt off. Not guilty, exactly. He knew exactly what guilt felt like. He’d been wallowing in it for close to eight years. But maybe he could have handled things better with Jess. While he stood by everything he said to her, he also knew she wasn’t a “do nothing” kind of girl, and that she’d been pissed by her relegation to the bench. Maybe he should have found something for her to do.
He shanked the ball. It shot straight to the right, past all the other golfers practicing. Knoll looked back in annoyance.
Damn it, this is why he didn’t do partners. He did teams, led teams. His success was entirely dependent on the quality of his teams. But he didn’t do partnerships. He couldn’t be distracted worrying about how a partner felt, for God’s sake.
