Kitabı oku: «Fever»

Chapter 1

His job was to watch her hands, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her legs. Isaac Bancroft casually leaned against the counter in the casino cocktail lounge studying the beautiful woman at the poker table. She was cheating, no doubt about it.

He’d peeked her game within fifteen minutes of watching her work. It was no big deal, twenty percent of their patrons were professional hustlers. As the head of security in one of the most profitable—if not most infamous—casinos in Las Vegas, Ike was certain he had seen it all. She was cheating all right, but how was the real question.

It didn’t matter so much to Ike that the money she was stacking up didn’t belong to the casino. Any money the woman took home was gained from other players. He’d have to do something about her. It was the principle of the matter. Ike had already had two of his best men circle her twice, looking for evidence or hidden devices. After watching her for over an hour, he was certain that she was working alone. The way she studied the game, he would’ve believed she was counting cards, but that was almost impossible.

What a beauty, he thought, taking in the gold, after-five dress that practically glowed against her copper skin. It hugged her slender body from bust to thigh, and seemed to shimmer with every slight movement. The thin straps that fell artfully off each shoulder had his fingers itching to touch.

He watched with suspended breath as she uncrossed her satiny, bronze legs, then crossed them in the opposite direction. Her stiletto sling-backs settled neatly on the bottom rung of the high stool. The thin, gold chain on her right ankle twinkled in the bright, casino lights.

Ike released a deep sigh of male satisfaction. Yes, she was as crooked as they came. But legs like those…a man just didn’t see that every day.

The two-way radio hooked to his belt buckle erupted in static chaos, and just as quickly it quieted.

“Ike?” The slow, emotionless voice of Stamp, Ike’s second in command, came over the speaker.

Ike never took his eyes off the woman as he answered through the headset he wore. “Yeah?”

“The boss was wondering if you planned to do anything about the pretty little thief at table seven.”

Ike smiled to himself. He should’ve known Bobby was watching from the security tower. “Yes, I plan to do something about her.”

The radio went silent for several seconds. “Umm, Ike, the boss was wondering what exactly you planned to do about her.”

Ike shook his head. He’d often wondered why Bobby Kincaid even bothered with a security staff when no one did a better job spotting a thief than Bobby himself.

“Tell Bobby that sometimes you have to look before you leap.”

The radio went dead again.

Finally, Stamp returned. “Ike, the boss said ‘what does that mean…?’”

Suddenly the voice that came on the radio was not Stamp’s steady monotone, but Bobby’s loud and extremely irate voice.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Dammit, Ike! What are you going to do? Sit there sipping soda pop while that woman robs those people blind? I don’t care if it’s not my money she’s stealing in my casino.”

Ike glanced at the glass of clear liquid sitting at his elbow. Yeah, Big Brother was definitely watching. “Bobby, this is why you pay me the big bucks. Trust me, I’ve got it handled.”

“Handled? That swindler is about to walk out of here with a large piece of pie and all you can say is you’ve got it handled!”

“Bobby, you hired me to do a job, but I have to do it my own way. If that is not acceptable to you, then you are perfectly welcome to come down here and take care of the problem yourself.”

“Think I won’t?”

“Okay.” Ike sat up. “Then I’ll pack up for the night. See you tomorrow.” He took his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled a few bills from the inside. He started to toss them on the counter when his radio suddenly came back on.

“Fine! Handle it your way. But dammit, Ike, you better handle it. Don’t let that thieving woman walk out of here with that money.”

“Technically, she’s not a thief until she attempts to leave the table. I promise you, Bobby, that won’t happen.”

“It better not!”

With that, the radio went dead once more.

Roxanne Sanchez stacked another neat pile of plastic chips on the table and waited for the other gamblers to place their bets. She casually scratched her neck, allowing her to surreptitiously turn her head in the direction of the cocktail lounge.

She sighed in frustration. He was still there. The stranger she’d dubbed Wolfie for the predatory stare he’d been giving her all night was still at his post. He’d been milking that water or soda pop for the past hour. Roxie was certain that, as well as the two little wolves that kept circling her every few minutes, they were casino security. Their presence came as no surprise. She’d known all along that her method of winning would draw attention.

Roxie was sure they were on to her. She glanced at the twenty-seven thousand dollars in chips piled on the table before her. Only twenty-three thousand to go.

Lost in thought, she was startled when the dealer called to her. She glanced at the cards on the table, the ones in her hand, and then quickly scanned her memory for previously played cards. There was still the ace of diamonds out there somewhere. She glanced around at the four other players and decided to take her chances on the deck. She pulled another card, and exhaled a relieved breath to see the large red diamond in the center. She tossed it down on the table, and watched every face at the table fall as the other players accepted she was about to win another hand. Two of them folded and the game continued.

Roxie was certain the security guards knew she was cheating, but was equally convinced they did not know how she was cheating and that was her trump card—the one thing that would allow her to walk when this little game played out. They couldn’t prove anything.

Roxie had discovered early in life that her brain worked differently. She was able to mentally record images as vividly as a camera recorded photographs. Other than allowing her to breeze through her studies with little effort, she’d found no real use for her special skill as a child, and therefore thought little of it.

It wasn’t until after her grandmother died, and she found herself alone in the world, that she came to value and appreciate her unique memory. A ten-year-old orphan had few options for survival and none of them were appealing. Her exceptional brain gave her an option that did not exist for most in her position. It gave her the ability to provide for herself. Unfortunately, this had to be done through card sharking and hustling, but still she’d survived.

Until the day Theo and Tessa Sanchez rescued her from the clutches of a monster. And now, with the help of her unusual memory, she would return the favor.

In her peripheral vision, she watched the man at the bar as he quickly downed the last of his drink and began walking in her direction. Roxie tossed down a ten of spades, and sat up in her seat, preparing to meet the wolf head on. He may not know how she was cheating, but apparently he wasn’t going to let that stop him from doing his job, which was more than she could say for Las Vegas’s finest.

It had been almost a full week since she’d gone to the police to report a robbery. She ended up being laughed right out of the precinct. They’d listened intently for the first few minutes until she dared to accuse the powerful Bobby Kincaid of swindling her elderly parents out of fifty thousand dollars to fund his condominium development. After that, not one officer had taken her complaint seriously.

The police had asked her questions she could not answer. Questions she’d mulled over in her own head for days. Why would a man worth millions jeopardize his professional reputation over fifty thousand dollars? Why would he target her parents when there were others who’d invested two and three times as much?

What hurt the most was that even if the police had believed her, Roxie knew they could never give back to Theo and Tessa what mattered most: their professional dignity. For two retired con artists, nothing was worse than being duped, the sense of having been bested at what they were once best at.

When the pair inadvertently found themselves the parents of an abandoned ten-year-old girl, they vowed to give up their shady occupation in the interest of setting an example. After a lifetime of easy scores, they’d both found legitimate occupations and had walked the straight and narrow for the past twenty years. The only remnant of those adventurous years gone by was the nest egg they’d stocked away, some of which they’d invested in Bobby Kincaid’s Tumbleweed condominium development, believing the price of the stock was a steal.

They’d jumped on the opportunity with both feet, hoping the return would not only take care of them in their old age, but also take the burden of their well-being off the shoulders of their adopted daughter. For their small investment, they would be given stock and one of the condominiums as a beautiful retirement home. It would have been the perfect arrangement. That is, if the deal had been legitimate, which it apparently was not.

Roxie had tried to arrange a face-to-face meeting with Bobby Kincaid to get her parents’ money back, but there had been more red tape and hoops to jump through than if she’d tried to meet with the President of the United States. In the end, the most Bobby’s secretary would promise was a tentative appointment in six weeks, or Roxie was welcome to send correspondence addressing her complaint.

Of course, both of those options were unacceptable. Exactly how did you accuse someone of theft in a letter? Especially when you had no proof! Besides, she didn’t have six weeks. Her parents needed the money back right away.

Believing they would soon be moving into their newly built condominium, they’d sold their home without Roxie’s knowledge, and were now only days away from being forced to leave.

Roxie made a decent salary, and if push came to shove, she knew she could take care of her folks. Although, she was certain her parents would fight her tooth and nail before accepting her help. Anyway, it was not the money that had brought her to this act of desperation.

No, what had brought her here was the look of humiliation she’d seen in Theo’s eyes when he’d been forced to reveal to Roxie all that had transpired.

Pressed for time, and knowing she would get no help from the authorities, Roxie decided to fight fire with fire. Bobby Kincaid had stolen the money from her parents, and tonight she would steal it back. If only she could keep the wolf at bay for another thirty minutes.

She’d spent a fortune on creating just the right look tonight. She needed to be a high roller. An experienced gambler, whom Bobby Kincaid would tolerate, believing that, in the end, she would lose more than she won. And true to her role, Roxie had consistently allowed herself to lose the occasional hand throughout the evening. But obviously she had not lost enough.

She discreetly watched as Wolfie approached. The closer he came, the more imposing he became. She sat ramrod-straight in her chair…waiting.

But instead of stopping at her stool, he walked right past her and around the table to sit directly opposite her. As he took a seat, he motioned to the dealer to deal him in to the hand.

It took all of Roxie’s concentrated effort not to stare at the newcomer. This man was very different from the one casually relaxing at the bar. That man was a nonthreatening, grayish blur. The superfine brother sitting across from her was dangerous and vivid in the extreme. His caramel-brown skin was tinted with a touch of reddish hue that seemed enhanced by the bright casino lights. His full lips were perfectly outlined with a thin mustache and goatee. His dark hair was close-cropped and freshly trimmed. The snug-fitting, coffee-colored sweater and matching slacks indicated a very fit body beneath.

This was not your typical rent-a-cop security guard that worked the Vegas casino strip, Roxie thought. This was definitely a different breed. Maybe Wolfie wasn’t such a good nickname. Now, that seemed too apt a description.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes and looked directly at her for the first time. Coal-black eyes as dark as a starless night and just as unsettling pinned her to her chair. Gypsy eyes, trimmed in the longest, blackest lashes she’d ever seen, studied her, seeking the answers he knew her lips would never reveal. It was like he’d reached beyond the surface and was searching her soul.

Roxie quickly looked away.

She tried to ignore the man, but with each hand, another player dropped from the game until only the two of them were left. She studied her hand, biting her lip in concentration.

“It’s your play.” The sultry voice drifted across the table, and Roxie looked up in surprise to find those intense, dark eyes on her once again. He was waiting, watching like the careful predator he was. Roxie felt trapped. Something about those eerie eyes spoke of unseen peril. She realized in that instant just how little she knew about the people she was dealing with.

This was Vegas, after all—ruled with an iron fist by a small group of overlords.

What if Bobby Kincaid decided to carry out his own brand of justice? What if the man sitting across from her was the only judge or jury she would ever stand before?

Suddenly, her little plan to take back what had been taken didn’t seem as clever as it had that morning. She looked at the large pile of chips in the middle of the table, considering how close she’d come to winning her parents’ money back. But getting arrested—or worse—wouldn’t help Theo and Tessa. She would have to find another way.

Roxie turned her cards face down and gently placed them on the green felt table. “I fold.”

The wolf quirked a curious eyebrow.

The dealer watched the play before speaking. “Lady Luck is obviously on your side. Are you sure you want to end your winning streak?”

Roxie stood. “I think I better end my streak, before my streak ends me.”

The man on the other side of the table was studying her with a strange expression. “If you walk now, you’ll lose everything.” He gestured to the large pile of chips in the center of the table.

Her heart sank as she realized all her effort had been futile. She came in with nothing and was about to leave with nothing. She tried to paste on her most benign smile. “A true gambler knows not to push her luck.”

Ike tossed his cards down and stood, coming around the table to block her path. “Is that your secret? Luck?” he asked with poorly veiled sarcasm.

Her eyes narrowed when she noted how neatly he’d cut off her exit. “What else would it be?”

He gave a slight nod to someone behind her. “I don’t know, some of the truly high rollers claim to have a method.”

Roxie began backing away from the table and then stopped when she saw one of the little wolves standing in the path to the nearest exit. She turned and looked at another exit, and yes, there was the other little wolf in position. And all with a nod of his head, Roxie thought, as she met his steady eyes, which were boring into her.

“Well, I’m not a true high roller.” Roxie stepped back again.

For every one of her backward steps, Ike took a step forward. He watched her look around in every direction, clearly wondering if she were crazy enough to make a run for it.

He extended his hand. “Ike Bancroft, casino security. And you are?”

Roxie stared down at his long, elegant fingers. She forced another stiff smile. “Roxie…Smith.”

Ike smiled, probably at her lack of creativity. “Roxie…that suits you.”

Roxie looked around again. “You think so?”

He nodded slowly in affirmation, as his eyes slid over her slender form, taking in the gold dress that fit so well. “So, Roxie, can I buy you a drink?”