Polly had grown up and learned how to get even. Now if only the topper to her revenge cake would come into the bar and proposition her for sex, she could move on with her plans of world domination, secure in the knowledge that justice had been served.
Polly accepted the glass of wine from the bartender with a half smile, curling a hand around the back of her neck in a flirtatious gesture. He coughed into his fist, mumbling that the group of gentlemen had bought her a drink. Polly turned and sent them a fluttery-fingered wave. Just one drink? How generous among the eight of you.
Although dressing the part had been necessary, Polly didn’t like being ogled. She placated herself with the fact that she could hack into the bar’s point-of-sale system and have each man’s credit card information by morning.
Polly turned back to the bar and sipped her wine, feeling a kick of adrenaline when the door opened and a slim figure breezed in. His looks were entirely unremarkable, but there was a caginess to him. Slim’s gaze swept the establishment’s interior in a casual glance that felt…practiced. Without looking at the bartender, he reached out and shook the younger man’s hand, calling him by name. The bartender floundered a moment, as if surprised the newcomer knew his name, but recovered by offering to buy him his first drink.
“Beefeater, rocks. Thanks, man,” Slim said, his attention landing on her. Staying there. “And whatever the lady is having.”
That was when Polly recognized him. It wasn’t whom she’d been expecting. Not Charles Reitman, but his face…she explored the recesses of her mind trying to place it. For years, her free time had gone into researching Reitman, following his movements. Not an easy task when you’re tracking a slippery con. A snake in the grass, just like all con men. There. Her photographic memory delivered the DMV record her memory bank had been seeking. This man—Slim—was an associate of Reitman’s. Did that mean she’d been correct and Reitman was in Chicago? Yes. Polly’s heart pumped double time. Finally.
She leaned back in her chair, allowing the white silk of her blouse to gape as she smiled at Slim. His name still eluded her, but he wouldn’t. If she played the situation just right, this guy could lead her to Reitman.
When Slim correctly interpreted the invitation and sauntered forward to join Polly, she was distracted by a man in the corner of the bar. He stiffened in an almost imperceptible manner. Just a subtle tweak of his shoulders. Had he been there the last four nights? No, she didn’t think so, but his face was obscured by the fall of gray hair, the collar of his jacket. Knowing all too well how cons often worked in teams, she decided to keep an eye on him while feeling out Slim.
Funny, Slim was busy feeling her out. Typical con. “I assumed you were waiting for someone,” he said, sliding onto the chair beside her.
“Oh?” she purred, tucking her short black hair behind her ear. “Why is that?”
“You’re the only woman in the room.” He dipped his head and Polly could see he’d been good-looking once, probably before alcohol consumption had become his favorite pastime, an educated guess she made based on the tremor in his drinking hand. The raw red skin of his nose. “If you’re not waiting for someone, you must like being the exception to the rule.”
“The rule being what? Only men are allowed in this big bad boy’s bar?”
He smiled into a long swig of gin. “I don’t make the rules.”
“Good.” She gave a dainty shrug, going for a mischievous air. “I won’t have to apologize when I break them.”
He swirled the alcohol in his glass. “What are you looking for tonight?”
“Tonight?” She tugged the material of her skirt down, knowing it would only spring back up her thighs when she let it go. Which it did. Again, the figure huddled at the end of the bar demanded her attention, but she strove to focus on Slim, who’d finally let his gaze drop to her legs, an action she’d expected upon approach. This guy wasn’t bush league, and she needed to remember that. Dividing her attention between him and the gray-haired mystery man would be a misstep she couldn’t afford. “I’m just trying to stay warm,” Polly continued. “It’s a cold night out there, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed,” Slim murmured, scrutinizing her. “If you don’t mind heading once more into the fray, I was planning on eating dinner down the street. Join me.”
Polly perched her grinning lips on the rim of her wineglass, even as her insides recoiled at the command. She didn’t like being told what to do. Not by anyone, but a con issuing demands took the ever-loving cake. And speaking of cake…“Do I get dessert, too?”
“I’ve never been known to skip the best part.” Slim tossed back the last of his drink, set the glass down on the bar and held out his hand. “I guess you were waiting for someone after all, huh?”
Maybe I’ll kill him, too, for good measure. “You seem to be good at reading people,” she said, allowing him to assist her off the chair.
His hand smoothed into the small of her back. “You have no idea.”
Prick. Polly picked up her purse, comforted by the weight of her recently procured nine-millimeter. “Lead the way.”