Day 3
 

        “Wait a minute…you’re going where?”

        “To a club,” Locke answered into his cell phone headset as he pulled on a gray cotton collared shirt.

        “I’m still talking to you, right?” Tanaka asked after a moment.

        “Yeah, why?”

        “A club?” Tanaka repeated. “Since when does Devlin Cai go to a club?”

        “I’ve been to clubs,” Locke declared. Had he been listening to his own voice, he might have picked up the slight defensive tone it had taken.

        “For fun? Not for a job and not to do research?”

        Locke cleared his throat. “I quit my last job.”

        “Wait…so…this is for fun?” Tanaka’s disbelief could be clearly heard through the phone. “You aren’t going alone are you? Because that’s just really dumb. Nobody goes to a club by themselves.”

        “No, I’m not going by myself.”

        “You…You have a date?!”

        “Yes.”

        “With who?” Tanaka demanded. “Wait…is she hot?”

        Locke frowned, not sure how much to tell his friend. While his friend back in New York knew his past and his identity, he never really said much about his past life. Locke had called a few minutes ago to check to see how things were going…currently, Tanaka’s wife Tina was covering his store back home during the mornings. Locke’s assistant, Xia, would take care of the shop in the afternoon and evenings.

        “I think Kozue would like her,” he answered as honestly as possible, referring to Tanaka’s employee and friend.

        “Kozue likes women, period,” Tanaka responded.

        “True.” Locke adjusted the pointed collar of his shirt while looking at his reflection. It had taken him some time to get used to his new appearance. Having lived his life in a way that prevented people from knowing who he really was, he had to get used to the idea that the face in the mirror was his. No more hiding, no more dodging bullets. “Her family owns several hotels around the world.”

        “Not another rich girl…” Locke could tell Tanaka was shaking his head. “Remember the last time you got involved with a rich girl?”

        “That wasn’t me,” Locke denied. “She made up a story about us just so she could get out of being married.”

        “And she was a customer, too…” Tanaka recalled.

        “A bad one.” Locke grimaced. Her father and fiancé had been so angry. The wedding had nearly been cancelled until they finally figured out that the woman was just desperate for even more attention. The groom had Locke’s sympathy.

        His room phone rang and he leaned forward to pick it up off the vanity table.

        “Hold on, Tanaka…” Locke held the handset to his ear. “Hello?”

        “Mr. Cai, this is Patrick at the valet desk. Your driver has arrived.”

        Driver? Meliza had sent a driver to pick him up?

        “I’ll be right down.” He hung up. “Tanaka, my ride’s here.”

        “Did I hear right? She sent a driver for you?”

        “I’ll talk to you later.”

        “Let me know how it goes.”

        Locke pulled his headset off, setting it on his vanity table, grabbing a leather jacket and exiting his hotel room. He made his way down the elevator and through the casino to the front of The Rinaldo.

        He paused, surveying the driveway and various black sedans and stretch limos. Locke moved towards the valet desk. A quick glance at the nametag told him the blond valet was the same who called him.

        “You called me a few minutes ago. I believe my ride is here?”

        “Mr. Cai?” At Locke’s nod, Patrick gestured to a sleek, silver Mercedes Benz S-Class parked thirty feet away.

        Locke tipped the valet and headed towards the car. The passenger side opened when he was about two feet away.

        Opening the door all the way, he bent slightly to greet the driver.

        “I thought it was you,” he spoke up.

        Meliza grinned at him from behind the wheel. “Don’t you think this would be more fun than a limo?”

        Within a few minutes, she was driving away from the hotel. As smooth jazz played from her car speakers, Locke watched the scenery from the window.

        “So are you enjoying your stay in Atlantic City?” she asked conversationally.

        “It’s a nice change from New York. For now.”

        After about ten minutes, she pulled up to the front of a three-story contemporary building. As a valet circled to the driver’s seat, Locke glanced at Meliza.

        “You come here often?”

        She lifted slender brows. “Please don’t use that line in the club.”

        “It wasn’t a line, just an observation,” he retorted.

        As they got out, Meliza handed the valet a valet key before stepping onto the sidewalk. With her back to the growing line at the front entrance, she pulled her black skirt up several inches, tucking her keys into a small pouch she had strapped to her thigh. She pulled out her ID and straightened her skirt, pausing, noticing he was watching her.

        “What?”

        “Nothing.” Locke shrugged. She wasn’t carrying a purse and her outfit didn’t look like it had any pockets. For this particular evening, she had worn a red corset top with a black short-sleeved sweater that covered her shoulders and upper back, along with a black skirt that barely reached her knees. Now that he remembered…she never carried a purse back on Fighter’s Isle. “Are you carrying weapons?”

        “Are you?”

        “Just a knife.”

        She grinned at that before leading the way to the front entrance. They quickly made their way inside and Locke looked around. The first floor, the bottom floor, made up the dance floor and bar that took up half of one wall. The second floor was a wide balcony that had a view of the first floor. And as for the third floor…Meliza had taken his arm and was currently leading him in that direction. Judging by the wide microfiber bean bags surrounding small glass tables, it looked like the VIP level.

        The third floor seemed to fit only about fifty people at max capacity, and it had its own bar and bartender. Meliza waved at a man dressed in what appeared to be fancy designer Italian clothes. He was lean and looked to be about Meliza’s height – high shoes included.

        “You made it!” the man announced.

        Meliza gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Hi, Miguel.” She then made introductions. “Miguel, this is Devlin.”

        “Nice to meet you,” Miguel said warmly, giving Locke’s hand a firm shake. His brown eyes gazed back and forth between them before focusing on Locke. “Are you visiting or do you live here?”

        “Visiting,” Locke answered.

        “Devlin’s an old friend,” Meliza explained with a wry smile. “We actually met a few years back at a casino when I was traveling abroad. He’s staying at The Rinaldo, by coincidence.”

        “That’s great.” Miguel nudged Meliza with his elbow. “You didn’t tell me you were going to bring a date. I would have brought one.”

        “Why didn’t you?”

        Miguel said airily, his voice carrying just a hint of a Spanish accent, “Oh, you know how it is. Give them an inch and they assume you want to move in already.” He smoothed back his black hair with brown highlights over his ears. “So not ready for that…” Miguel placed a hand over Meliza’s. “Did you both order drinks yet?”

        “I’ll order them,” Locke volunteered.

        “Oh, thank you!” Miguel beamed at him. “A strawberry margarita.”

        “Meliza?”

        “Tropical Sangria.”

        As he walked away, Miguel smiled at her. “No Sebastian today?”

        “No.”

        “Suits me. He’s a dolphin-hugging snob.” Miguel sniffed.

        “You’re only calling him a snob because he doesn’t like you.”

        “Duh.”

        Most men were uncomfortable around Miguel. Most of the men she had introduced him to, anyway. Which was sad, given that Miguel was one of her closest friends.

        Chatting, they settled in front of a glass table, with Meliza on the bigger bean bag. Miguel had taken off his sweater, Meliza had taken off her sweater shrug and hung them on a nearby coat rack.

        By the time Locke returned, he set three drinks on the table before sitting at the edge of the bean bag by Meliza’s feet. Miguel directed the conversation then, with Locke answering his questions but not going into too much detail. Meliza knew that Miguel was doing the ‘test’ – she’d seen him do it several times – basically engage a person in conversation and see how quickly they answer and how long they answer.

        While Locke got up to get water, Miguel leaned forward.

        “You need to tell me more, m’ija,” Miguel said. “Where did you find him?”

        “In a casino, remember?” Meliza answered. “So what’s the verdict?”

        “I like him. He doesn’t like to talk a lot about himself. I hate that when men only talk about themselves.” Miguel waved at a blonde on the other side of the room. “I need to ask Chelsea a question…I’ll be back.” He then winked. “Plus, I’ll give you some alone time.”

        While Miguel left, Locke returned with two glasses of water.

        “Thanks.” Meliza took several sips before setting the glass on the table. She lounged back, propping herself up on her left elbow. “So are you enjoying yourself?”

        “It’s…different.”

        She laughed at his honesty. “You’re not a club person,” she concluded. “Actually…I already figured that out. So thanks for coming, anyway.” She watched him take a drink then set his glass down before reaching for his shoulder. “You really need to relax, you know that?” She tugged him down so that he was lounging beside her.

        He frowned slightly, shifting so that he rested on his right elbow. The position gave him a perfect view of the room. The VIP room had its own dance floor, much smaller than the one downstairs. While the lighting on the first floor was provided mostly by flashing rainbow colors and disco ball, the VIP lounge had muted blues and yellows illuminating the whole space.

        “I won’t ask you to dance,” she promised teasingly, noticing him survey the dance floor.

        “I wouldn’t say no if you asked,” he responded.

        “Okay. Maybe later.” Meliza observed her friend chatting with a few other locals. “It’s funny seeing him interact with other people. He comes across as so polite and charming…when half the time he thinks the same thing I do about a lot of these other locals. Free-loading, two-faced snobs.”

        “Sometimes people put on a mask because they don’t want others to see their true feelings,” Locke agreed.

        Meliza glanced at him. “Speaking from experience?”

        He met her gaze before replying, “I didn’t always have a mask on when I was working.”

        She smiled wryly. “I guess you didn’t always.”

        Miguel would migrate between them and other people he knew in the room. Most of the time, Locke and Meliza were left alone. They’d talk and occasionally Meliza would drag him to the dance floor. After saying goodbye to Miguel, it was just after midnight when Locke and Meliza left The Minx.

        “I know another place we can go unless you’re tired,” Meliza suggested.

        Locke tugged his upper right ear, grimacing. “Somewhere not as loud is preferred.”

        She giggled. “Sorry. Are you deaf?”

        “Getting there,” he muttered.

        “Then I’ll take you someplace quieter.”
 

000
 

        Meliza had chosen to take him to a lounge that closed at three a.m. The interior was lit with blues and purples, and small booths and tables, all containing a single small candle as its centerpiece, faced the dance floor. A jazz band played on an elevated stage, while couples moved to the slow rhythms. What was most unique, were the various ice sculptures scattered all over the lounge.

        “I like coming here because of the décor,” Meliza explained after the waiter had brought the champagne. “And in spite of the contemporary look, the music is nice. They have different bands several times a week, so the music never gets old.”

        For the first time since they met again, Meliza allowed herself to actually enjoy Locke’s company. She wasn’t quite sure what his motives were for spending time with her, but she had to admit that being around him was more natural than anyone else. Maybe it was because she knew who he really was. And he obviously wasn’t trying to impress her with anything. For a man who clearly did not like to reveal too much about himself, he was a good conversationalist. He was intelligent, and very perceptive. Two things she definitely remembered about him. Very little could go past him without him noticing. And he apparently had picked up a sense of humor compared to the last time she saw him. She discovered that he was still very good at gambling, he had learned how to cook, and that he played golf on occasion. He seemed more…human somehow.

        And still easy on the eyes. She studied him for several moments, recalling that his looks had caught her attention first. But over time, she had learned that he was more than just a handsome face. As she gazed at him, it felt strange to see unfamiliar features, but still know the man inside. Well...he wasn't completely a stranger. She recognized those eyes. But the rest of him looked sharper, not quite angled, but more defined. Or maybe the shorter hair just did that.

        A movement behind Locke’s shoulder called her attention and she looked down briefly. Great. Just what I need…she thought. The problem with coming to popular places like these were the chances that she’d run into familiar and sometimes not so friendly people.

        “What is it?” he asked, his black eyes watching her carefully.

        He really was perceptive. Locke didn’t have to wait long before a woman’s voice coldly entered their ears.

        “Well, well. Look who’s here.”

        “Hi, Claudia,” Meliza greeted in a too-polite manner, her voice lacking any warmth.

        The woman was dressed in a purple spaghetti strap dress that did nothing to flatter her boyishly thin figure. Her brown hair with blonde streaks was pulled up away from her face, and in one hand she held a martini glass.

        “You actually managed to pull away from a man’s bed to enjoy Atlantic City nightlife?” Claudia sneered.

        Her breath was heavy with alcohol. And her eyes were unfocused as she glared at Meliza.

        “You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” Meliza said calmly.

        “I didn’t read crap, you witch, you stole him from me.”

        “I didn’t steal him, he left on his own.”

        “He was my husband, you slut!”

        Obviously not caring about the few people looking their way, Meliza looked back at the intoxicated woman. “Claudia, living together doesn’t make you married.”

        “Don’t patronize me-”

        Meliza rose to her feet, her fists on her hips. “I’ll admit that he saw me while he was living with you. But I’m not the only woman he spent time with, and I’m definitely not the only woman who stopped seeing him when we found out he was already in a relationship.”

        “Shut up!” She began waving her hand in the air. “I knew something was wrong when he started paying more attention to me…the flowers, the vacations abroad…because he had just spent time with you! To think that when he touched me he had just finished being with you!” She expelled a very unladylike sound of disgust. “It’s enough to make my skin crawl…”

        “Claudia, go back to your friends and sit down,” Meliza said firmly. “Arguing about this now won’t bring him back.”

        The other woman scowled in response. “So where is he now? You locked him up somewhere? Just like you do with all of them? Bring them out only when it’s good for you?” She cast a disdainful look at Locke who merely watched the exchange with impassive eyes.

        Meliza sighed, shaking her head. “Last I heard…he ran away with some twenty-one year old Scandinavian lingerie model while you were in France,” she said quietly, just loud enough for Claudia and Locke’s hearing range. “I’m sorry, Claudia.”

        “You liar!” she screeched.

        Before Meliza could even blink, Locke was on his feet, his left hand holding Claudia’s drink, his right hand securely around Claudia’s left wrist, which had been poised to throw the liquid in Meliza’s face.

        Trembling, Claudia stared at the forbidding stranger next to her, and then towards Meliza. Then she pulled free from Locke’s hold and whirled away to walk back to her table of cohorts, who nodded approvingly.

        Locke handed the martini glass to a passing waiter as Meliza sat back down.

        “Sorry about that,” Meliza said ruefully as Locke took his seat. “She always was a little overdramatic.” She took a breath, raising her eyes to look at him. “About her boyfriend and myself…”

        “You don’t have to explain,” Locke cut in.

        “But I want to,” Meliza said, placing her hand over his. “I didn’t know he was unavailable…we went out on a few dates…nothing else. I found out from friends who knew people who knew other people that he was with her. When I told him I couldn’t see him anymore, he moved on to the next young, wealthy female he could find. Who happened to care less that he was already in a relationship.” She blew out a breath. “Besides…she’s not the only person who seems to want to get to me.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “I’ve been getting some disturbing packages and emails. Mostly calling me things girls don’t like to be called.”

        His hand turned slightly, his fingers tightening around hers for a few seconds. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked quietly.

        She could almost laugh at the irony. The last person she expected to confide in her little problem was Locke Koh. When they left Fighter’s Isle, and when she hadn’t heard from him months after the incident, she assumed he wanted nothing to do with anyone ever connected to that assignment. In spite of everything they had been through, they barely knew each other. But she knew him well enough to know that what he was asking was a lot. If he had no desire to help her, he wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. He wanted her to share her problem. She just didn’t understand why.

        “Aren’t you in retirement?” she responded. Seeing him stiffen slightly, she turned, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. Bad joke.”

        “I might be convinced out of it if the pay was right,” he said dryly. At her questioning look, he added, “Free hotel stays for a year wherever I want to travel. Your family owns at least one hotel in popular places around the world, correct?”

        She smiled ruefully. “You really have gotten a sense of humor.”

        “I could track down where the emails are coming from, if given access to your account,” Locke offered.

        Meliza idly toyed with her drink straw. “I already talked to the police. They took a statement and took some emails. Not sure how long it will take, though.”

        “I can find out in a few days,” he promised. More like one day, but he’d estimate a few just to be safe.
 

000
 

        After Meliza had given him the information he needed to research through her emails, he found the answer at four a.m. It hadn’t surprised him.

        He’d make a phone call to Sun Chuong first thing when he woke up to tell her that he’d accept her proposition.