The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,41

Not him. Just Shah. And, as fast as she’d floated from the ground, disappointment leveled her back into place.

“Don’t be like that,” she scolded and tossed the phone to the desk. Everything always went bad when she let a man distract her.

Amanda stretched and thought through her questions before she finished reading Mr. Nasrallah’s email. Any number of factors could explain the discrepancy, from a corrupt comptroller’s office to a machine that had failed to report correctly. Not everywhere had the same oversight as the Las Vegas Gaming Commission. What people saw in movies influenced what they assumed to be standard procedure. Amanda and Halle had found that even if the solution to their problem was waiting to be found in the data, they still needed to spend time on the ground to pinpoint where they might look.

She stood and stared at her two laptops. The casino had been screwed out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Maybe more. Without more time and a full data set, she couldn’t say. But her mind drifted elsewhere. Maybe she could text Hagan and ask him about the notes written in Arabic. Or maybe she should run them through Google Translate like normal.

Her phone pinged again. She didn’t want to talk with Halle or Shah and needed to focus on how casino grifters might’ve worked slow and steady, nearly un-noticeably, amassing a fortune of stolen wealth, then come up with a plan for a site visit.

She reached for her mug and saw the notification.

Got any plans for later?

Hagan. Her stomach leaped. But work called. Amanda reread the message. “Later,” she told herself. “You can do later.” Couldn’t she? Quickly, she responded and hit send before she could backtrack.

No. I’d like to hang out with you.

The little word under her message changed from Delivered to Read. Every part of her tingled. Three bubbles appeared on screen as he typed. No matter what he said, she’d focus on work. The dancing dots disappeared. Her breath caught. There was nothing worse than a message that didn’t arrive.

Her phone rang. Amanda nearly jumped out of her skin, then laughed. “I didn’t expect you to call.”

His laughter rumbled. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

She moved to the couch and curled with him to her ear, unable to hide her smile. “Now, I’m not sure what to say.”

“I don’t think that’s true. What are you doing?”

“Work.”

“Very specific.”

She laughed. “I’m about to use Google Translate to read footnotes in a budget.”

“Exciting stuff. What language?”

“Arabic.” She bit her lip.

“You could use me instead.”

She flushed and thought of several ways that could be done. “I want to finish before tonight.”

“I could help you now,” he suggested.

“You’re not working today?”

Hagan sighed. “Boss Man and I have avoided each other today.”

Shit. That wasn’t good. “That’s my fault.”

“I’ll deal with it later. Don’t worry.”

But she did. Hurting others was her specialty, and now she’d found a new way to cause problems. “Hagan—”

“If I promise to help, I could come over now.”

“I’m not dressed yet—”

“Perfect. That’s a yes; come on over now?”

She giggled. “I’m wearing clothes—”

“Pity.”

“Hagan!”

“Should I come over now or later?” he asked.

“Now.” He was too good to be true. Amanda couldn’t wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

FIVE YEARS AGO

WASHINGTON COLLEGE

Biology lab ended, and Mandy shoved her textbook into her bag. Her lab partner acted as though she had something to say. Unusual. Mandy pushed her chair in. “See you next week.”

“Wait.” Halle scooped her notebook into her arm. “Do you want to get lunch?”

The classroom emptied. Mandy lifted her backpack onto her shoulder, ready to return to her dorm and keep a low profile. “Why?”

Halle laughed. “Jeez. I don’t know. Because you’re hungry.”

“Why are you asking me?” Mandy didn’t trust anyone in her freshman classes, and her lab partner, thankfully, hadn’t come off as someone who wanted to chat.

“Because you’re my lab partner, and I’m hungry. Plus, I know, like, two people here. So I thought I’d see about a third person.” Halle rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep looking.”

Dylan glanced in the classroom and caught Mandy’s eye. He lifted his chin as if to ask if everything was okay, and then saw the other girl. He gave an approving nod. Everyone in her classes had passed the Secret Service sniff test, and Dylan had been encouraging her to make friends. He promised high school was never like college.

“No, we should get lunch,” Mandy said, agreeing reluctantly. “Don’t mind me. I’m working on my people skills.”

Halle snorted. “Aren’t we all?”

Dylan fell into line behind them and stayed

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