“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Now, let’s go find out what happened to your brother.”
Some of her sparkle faded. She was worried about Michael, and she had every reason to be. Something had happened to him after his arrival in Curaçao. Chase prayed that wherever he was, he and Pia were still alive.
They left the boat and headed for the parking lot, where Jules St. Ange was waiting, a dark-skinned Haitian who spoke English with a French Creole accent. Chase shook his hand, but Harper greeted him in French, which seemed to please him.
“Enchanté, mademoiselle,”he replied with a smile.“Un plaisir de vous rencontrer.”
Harper smiled back, and St. Ange tipped his head toward Chase. “My vehicle is waiting. Shall we go?”
Though his tone was casual, the man possessed an intensity Chase recognized from his years in law enforcement. Jules St. Ange wasn’t your typical friendly tour guide. Like Dutch, he knew the workings of the darker side of the island.
Chase hoped he would be able to help them come up with a lead on Michael and Pia’s disappearance.
Harper felt Chase’s hand at her waist as Jules St. Ange held open the door to the Trade Winds Casino and Chase steered her inside. The whole time she had been riding in the backseat of St. Ange’s blue Jeep Cherokee, she had been thinking about Chase calling her angel and saying how beautiful she looked.
For the first time, she had seen heat in his eyes, the unmistakable glint of desire. She thought she’d caught that look before, but it was gone so quickly she’d been sure she had imagined it.
Was it possible Chase wasn’t as immune to her as he pretended to be? The thought made her abdomen clench the way it had when he had come down the ladder on the boat with his shirt off.
What would it mean if the desire she had glimpsed was real? This wasn’t the time or place for an affair. She needed to concentrate on finding her brother.
Her thoughts returned to Michael as they walked farther into the casino and she was swept up in the familiar glitter of neon lights and loud conversations. Slot machines whirred and clanged around her, and patrons cheered and shouted when they won.
It looked a lot like Vegas, but the colors were brighter, the wild blues and greens of the Caribbean, hot crimson, bright pink and gold.
Chase paused to survey their surroundings, his gaze going to the dealers at the tables in their white shirts and black pants. “You said Michael liked to play blackjack and craps.”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s split up and do a little gambling ourselves, see what we can find out.”
St. Ange moved up beside them. “I will do the same. I will find you later.” He slipped off into the crowd as if he were never there.
“You need money?” Chase asked, reaching for his wallet.
Harper almost smiled. Chase was supposed to be working for her, not the other way around. She had a hunch that had changed the moment he’d discovered Michael’s phone had been tossed. Or more likely she hadn’t been in charge from the start.
Chase had once been Michael’s friend. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.
She smiled. “Thanks, but I’d rather use my own money. If I win, I get to keep it.”
Chase smiled back. “I’ll start over there.” He headed for the craps table while Harper found an ATM, withdrew some cash, then sat down to play at one of the blackjack tables.
The dealer, a handsome Native man with long-lashed, chocolate-brown eyes, flirted with her outrageously. If Harper hadn’t been so worried, she might have enjoyed the attention. As it was, she concentrated on not losing her money too quickly and used the dealer’s interest to start a conversation about her brother and Pia Santana.
Unfortunately, the answers led nowhere.
Two hours later, she had played at half a dozen different tables and shown her brother’s photo to the dealers and a few of the patrons, along with the one Chase had given her of Pia, printed at the hotel business office before they’d left Aruba.
She had come up empty-handed, prayed Chase or Jules would do better.
A little after midnight, Chase found her at one of the tables, a busted hand in front of her and only a small stack of chips. She had lost most of her money, which she wouldn’t have minded if it had paid off with some kind of lead.
“Time to cash out,” Chase said, urging her up from her chair. She collected the last of her chips, and he walked her back to the cashier’s cage. Both of them cashed out, Chase’s stack of chips a lot bigger than her own.
“You won?” she asked.
