Chapter 1

1

His legs were stiff, his ass was sore, and he was going to run screaming in the opposite direction with his fingers in his ears the next time someone tried convincing him it would be a great adventure to travel halfway across the country with a bus full of sweaty strangers and a driver who made his Aunt Arleen look like a hot-rodder.

But right then, right there, standing inside the foyer of the Thunderbird Casino, David Lonergan forgot all of that.

The massive neon eagle perched atop the hotel’s roof had been a showstopper, but the front lobby countered that lavish display with a coziness that didn’t try hiding how much money must have been spent on the joint. The southwestern theme of the exterior carried throughout the warm, open space, earthy oranges, browns, and reds, practically making the room glow. Instead of more traditional landscapes or bowls of fruit adorning the walls, Navajo portraits gazed back at him. Three different fireplaces blazed, countering the chill of the March evening, and standing next to the concierge was a willowy blonde David would’ve sworn he’d seen in the last Gene Kelly movie.

Slim fingers pinched his arm. “Don’t stare.”

Rubbing at the sore spot, David scowled at the woman at his side. “I’m not staring.”

Kate Ennis cocked a perfectly arched, slim brow. Though she’d traveled with him all the way from Chicago’s south side, just as cramped as he’d been on the bus, she could have stepped straight off the stage, minus her costume. Not a single auburn hair was out of place. She didn’t even have a crease on her cheek from falling asleep against the window like he had. If he didn’t adore his cousin so much, he’d hate her for looking so perfect.

When she didn’t utter a word, David rolled his eyes and turned back to the lobby. “Fine. But look at it. It’s not exactly the Left Hook, now is it?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be better than Chez Paree. Just you wait.” Color pinked her cheeks, and her eyes glittered with excitement. David didn’t think she’d come back down to earth once since she’d accepted the job offer. “Did you know Rosemary Clooney sang here? Jimmy said that’s how she got into the pictures. There was an agent out in the audience, and just like that!” She snapped her fingers. “She’s in Hollywood.”

He bit back his grin at her enthusiasm. “And the fact that ‘Come On-a My House’ sold a million records didn’t count for nothing, I bet.” Bending over, he picked up the suitcases he’d dropped when they’d walked in. His wasn’t that heavy, but Kate had managed to cram everything she owned into the battered case Nannie Nora had given her. He needed his hands to work well enough to play tomorrow. Finding a bellboy soon to carry it all the way to Kate’s room moved to the top of his list. “Come on. Let’s check in.”

David moved toward the front desk, but had to pause several times to wait for Kate to catch up with him. She would have time to explore later, but he didn’t want to risk the two of them getting separated until they were both settled in their rooms.

“Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” The young man on the other side of the reception desk looked out of place, somehow. Like he, too, was a recent transplant from Chicago and hadn’t yet grown accustomed to his new home.

“Yes. My name is David Lonergan. This is Kate Ennis.”

The young man’s smile shifted. Now it looked almost genuine rather than merely polite. “Oh, yes, we’ve been expecting you. Wait right here.”

Before David could ask what he was waiting for, the man disappeared.

“Did you hear that?” Kate demanded, clutching at his arm. “Jimmy’s been waiting for me. Oh, I can’t wait to see him. But I need to freshen up. Do you think I have time to freshen up?”

“No, I think…”

“Mr. Lonergan. Ms. Ennis.”

The deep voice stopped David short. Unsure of what to expect, he turned to observe the source. A mountain of a man stood in front of him. David was tall, but this man had at least six inches on him. His hair was long—like he hadn’t bothered to get it cut in the past several months—and flopped over his brow above narrow, dark eyes. It was difficult to place his age. He could have been twenty-five or forty-five. There was a look, a hardness around his mouth and eyes, that David had long ago learned to recognize. He was born and bred in the Chicago’s underworld. Nobody would cross him and live to tell about it.