Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

on the hold for baccarat last week and every week before that. Frowning, he ran through the graphs again. Like the slots, the baccarat tables had been unusually profitable recently. The increase was under 10 percent, but it was there. And it added up to millions in extra profits. A few million he could have written off to the Japanese whales, but even they couldn’t account for the extra seven million.
    His fingers were poised to begin a probability scan on the baccarat numbers when his private phone rang. His very private one. He tried to be annoyed. He didn’t succeed. Each time he started running the Golden Fleece’s numbers, he realized how little he was enjoying what used to be meat and wine for him.
    He picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
    Niall asked, “You recording?”
    “Just dump all of it in my Rarities file at your end and give me the high points now.”
    “I don’t like having you in my computer, boyo.”
    “Get used to it. Just like I’m used to the idea that Factoid spends every spare second he has trying to get into my computer. Thank God you keep that boy real busy.”
    At the other end of the connection, Niall laughed. Shane’s genius with computers irritated the hell out of security-conscious Niall, but he liked Shane anyway. Probably because he trusted Shane not to use his gift against Rarities.
    “Sauce for the goose and so on,” Niall said, winking at Dana as she walked in his office door.
    They were alone in his office, except for a wall of screens keeping track of Rarities Unlimited, much as Shane’s “eyes” kept track of the Golden Fleece. She locked the door behind her, walked over, ruffled Niall’s hair, and blew in his ear. Then she bit it.
    Niall’s concentration took a dive.
    “I’d like a few facts with my cooked goose or gander or whatever,” Shane said. “Forget the age, hair color, weight stuff type of information, unless it goes against anything in Risa’s employee file.”
    Niall’s right arm swept out and dumped Dana onto his lap. The office chair skidded a bit, then held.
    “As kids, Cherelle and Risa were trailer-park neighbors in Johnson Creek, Arkansas,” Niall said as his right hand glided over Dana’s firm thigh.
    She smacked his fingers.
    He ignored her. She knew the rules—bite his ear and take the consequences whenever and wherever.
    Now, for instance. Right here.
    “The place was as big a dump as it sounds,” Niall said. “Cherelle is either two or four years older than Risa, depending on whose foster-child records you believe.” His hand kneaded over Dana’s belly to her breasts. “Both girls showed up as bright lights on the early IQ tests, but it was Risa who really smoked the curve. That is one very intelligent woman.”
    “Tell me something I don’t know.”
    “I’m trying.” Niall’s thumb and little finger spanned the gap between Dana’s nipples. Circled. Flicked. The break of Dana’s breath made him grin like a pirate. “Cherelle took Risa under her wing.”
    “Mama-chick and baby-chick.”
    “Yeah.” Niall unbuttoned Dana’s slippery blouse and slid his index finger inside her bra strap. A quick tug and one of her breasts was bare. Without knowing it, he licked his lips. The nipple rose as though he had stroked it. He closed his eyes, but he kept his hand right where it was, teasing her, making her back arch and her hips move slowly in his lap. “Anyway, they were thick as thieves. Apt phrase, that. Cherelle got caught boosting stuff several times but always got off with a tap on the wrist. Risa was nailed once.”
    “How old?”
    “Eleven.”
    “I thought juvenile records are sealed.”
    “Same way the Rarities computer is sealed, boyo, until some bright computer jockey comes along.”
    Shane chewed on that in silence.
    Niall peeled down the other bra strap.
    Dana tried to steady her breathing.
    “Up until Cherelle took off with a man, she and Risa ditched school, stole candy bars and such, painted words on walls, the usual ass-off delinquent thing. After Cherelle left—Risa was barely sixteen—Risa’s record is spotless,” Niall said. And stroked Dana’s pouting breasts. “She settled right down under the tutelage of a maiden-aunt schoolteacher, made up all the academic work and then some. National Merit finalist. Not bad for a girl whose adoptive mother died when she was five and her mother’s stepsister took her on but never really cared one way or another about the child.”
    Niall switched to