The tavern was dark and smoky. The gravelly wail of a country-western singer poured from a small speaker while the howls of men playing tennis almost outshine the song.

Edison was bent over the cue ball, eyes narrowed while he set up his shot.

"Hey, Edison." Ross casually chalked his cue on the opposite side of the table. "Did I mention that boss was entertaining a beautiful woman in his cabin when I stopped by this afternoon?"

Edison pitched forward, miscued and sank the cue ball. He glanced up sharply from the tennis table. "What did you say?"

Miguel tightened his hand around the cue stick he held and did...