Read Online Falcon's Flight by Joan Hohl - Free Book Online Page A

the bill as she curled her fingers into her palm. “Why would you think that?” she sniped in a saccharine tone.
    “Leslie, I’m sorry. I—”
    “/ came to play, remember?” Leslie cut him off, simply because he didn’t sound at all sorry. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Thinking, The hell with it! she held the bill aloft to catch the attention of the change person inside the bank of machines.
    After exchanging the money for dollar tokens, Leslie dropped four of the wrapped rolls into the coin tray under a machine and rapped the fifth one sharply against its edge. When the large tokens spilled from the broken wrapper, she immediately fed three into the slot, then pulled the handle jerkily, aware of the man who was leaning against the machine.
    The reels spun, then settled—click, click, click. Nothing. Leslie repeated the process several times with the same results. The greedy machine ate up the first roll of tokens and three-quarters of another without returning even the smallest of hits. Unconcerned, Leslie fed the voracious thing three more tokens.
    “Heavens, this is exciting,” Flint observed, yawning as she yanked on the handle.
    Gritting her teeth to keep from telling him exactly where he could put his observations, Leslie glared at the whirling reels. Her teeth unclenched when the first reel stopped with the double bar on the center pay line. Her breath quickened when the second reel came to a matching halt. Her expression grew superior as the third double bar lined up. Bells rang and the light on top of the machine lit up as the machine began spitting out the payoff of one hundred and fifty tokens. Turning casually, Leslie smiled at Flint. “Actually, I do find it rather exciting, but if you’re bored, please feel free to do whatever excites you.” She raised a hand and moved it to indicate the room.
    Flint was not without humor, and he proved it with a bark of delighted laughter. “Point taken,” he drawled, pushing himself upright. “Tell you what,” he continued, “if you’re going to play the machines awhile, there is someone here I’d like to talk to, not that that will be any more exciting.” He arched an eyebrow quizzically.
    Leslie smiled. “Yes, I’m going to play.”
    “Okay, suppose we meet at the coffee shop in, say, an hour and a half?” Again his eyebrows peaked questioningly.
    “Fine.” Leslie checked her watch.
    Leslie absently scooped tokens from the tray as she watched Flint walk away, his back straight, his head held at a high, superior angle. Flint Falcon was certainly worth the watching, she decided, in more ways than one. Expelling a soft sigh, she turned back to the machine when she lost sight of him.
    As a rule, as she had explained to her friend Marie, Leslie could lose herself, shrug off all her nagging cares and considerations, by immersing herself in casino play. But for some reason that evening proved to be the exception. Once started, it seemed the machine was hell-bent on depositing every token in its drum into the coin tray. All manner of bar combinations aligned on the payoff line—a phenomenon that generally would have fascinated Leslie. But, though the tray filled to the edge with tokens, Leslie just couldn’t work up much enthusiasm.
    It was all Flint Falcon’s fault, she mused dejectedly, transferring the tokens from the tray to a large plastic container supplied by the change attendant. She’d come to Atlantic City to unwind, and thoughts of Flint had her more keyed up than she’d been in weeks, or maybe months, or even forever!
    Bodyguards, for heaven’s sake! Leslie thought, barely noticing the crush of people as she carried the heavy container to the coin-exchange window. What was she doing with a man who required bodyguards? she asked herself, watching disinterestedly as a casino employee dumped the tokens into a counting machine and numbers started mounting on the attached device. Even when the numbers stopped to reveal a