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prehistoric Indian burial. We need to check with the tribe and see how they want to handle this.” She faced the plumbers. “Please leave the bones alone, in case they’re human.”
    Finally she had what she wanted: an excuse to meet with tribal chairman Sam Riversong.

C HAPTER T HREE

    L EE WIPED SWEATY PALMS on his pants as he sat next to Erica in the tribal waiting room. One question haunted him: would the Menanichoch chairman recognize him?
    He’d met Riversong once, twenty years ago, when he was twelve years old, leaving a minute but devastating possibility Riversong would remember him and blow his cover.
    He looked around the deluxe waiting room. In the years since their last meeting, the tribe had changed. They now had a reservation and a casino, and Riversong’s success as tribal chairman was visible in his designer office suite, which combined the posh of Wall Street with the playful perks of a late-nineties dot-com. The room was filled with ping-pong, air hockey, and pool tables, which seemed disturbingly quiet to Lee as he waited and worried.
    Erica tapped her foot and clutched the ziplock in a tight fist. She was anxious too, and he wanted to know why. Maybe if he got her to relax, she’d tell him why the bone was so important to her. Air hockey or pool? He’d enjoyed watching the way she moved in the gym. Pool, definitely.
    He stood and grabbed a triangle, racked the balls, and selected a cue. “Nice,” he said as he admired the expensive stick. With a smooth, swift shot, he started the game. A solid went into the corner pocket. The cue ball rolled into position, and he sank a second solid. Next he winged a ball so it would leave the cue behind a striped ball in perfect alignment for the side pocket. No one could resist the call of that easy shot. “Your turn.”
    She looked uncertain for a moment, then set the ziplock bag on a table and grabbed a stick. “I haven’t played in a long time.”
    “Aim low.”
    She looked at him, her mouth curved in a playful smile. “I know. I went to college—not as long as you, of course—but I know how to play pool.” She made the shot, aiming low to create backspin so the cue didn’t follow the nine into the pocket. She sank three more balls before her turn ended with the cue ball the length of the table away from a good shot at a solid.
    “Damn. You’re good.” He studied the table. He knew exactly where he wanted to leave the cue ball to force her to attempt a behind-the-back shot. He missed his long shot on purpose and placed the ball strategically.
    She went for the tricky shot and looked good with her back arched over the cue. But her next shot was even better. She leaned across the table, hips pressed to the rail, ass angled upward as she rose on her toes. He became instantly hard.
    Damn. He was a fool playing with fire.
    Movement caught his eye, and Sam Riversong entered the room. He must have witnessed Lee’s gaze transfixed on Erica’s ass, because a knowing smile spread across the chairman’s face. Busted .
    She sank her ball.
    “Nice shot,” Riversong said.
    Erica whirled in surprise. “Mr. Riversong. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” She returned her cue stick to the wall rack.
    “No, finish your game,” the elderly tribal member said. “We can talk here. Looks like you’re about to wipe the table with this man’s ego anyway.”
    On Lee’s turn, he sank one to save his pride, but the stick slipped on the ball when Erica introduced him using his full name.
    Would his last name jog the man’s memory? His mother’s last name had been Scott for only two years before changing to husband number two’s name. The man would only recognize the name if he had a long memory for details.
    But the moment passed without incident, and Erica took her turn. She sank the eight ball and won. The chairman challenged Erica to a game. Lee did his best to fade into the background while they played and discussed the Thermo-Con