Deadly Odds

by Adrienne Giordano

  Natural nine for the player. Good news considering she’d bet on the player’s hand and the object of the game was to get closer to nine than the dealer.

  Player’s win.

  All payouts were made and Kate met Ross’s eye. Yep, she’d won. So did their suspected cheat.

  And nothing about his body language suggested anything criminal.

  “Congratulations,” Ross extended his hand. “It kills me to say that since I’m a vice president here at Fortuna. Ross Cooper.”

  Their target stacked his chips, a smug smirk on his face all the while.

  Come on, come on. They needed a name.

  The man looked at Ross’s outstretched hand and met his gaze. Come on, come on.

  For five solid seconds, the man stared at Ross’s hand, obviously hoping he would give up.

  Oh, something was way off with this guy.

  Unfortunately for him, Ross Cooper never gave in. Realizing the slick-suited executive wasn’t leaving, the man shook his hand. “Earl Wicker.”

  “First time here, Mr. Wicker?”

  “This week. Yeah.”

  Mr. Wicker placed his bet and Kate did the same.

  “Well,” Ross said gesturing to the fat stack of chips, “you should get a player card. Let us buy you dinner.”

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Ross nodded. “Suit yourself. And good luck to you.” He looked up, took in the table. “To all of you. Thanks for coming in today.”

  Then he met Kate’s eye, gave the dealer a quick nod and moved off.

  No player card for Mr. Wicker, but they had a name.

  And sometimes, that’s all that was needed.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, after stopping at her temporary office to put out some feelers on Earl Wicker, Kate entered the surveillance room and found Don still manning the wall monitors.

  “Whatcha got?” he asked.

  “I made some calls. Waiting to hear back. Did you run his name?”

  “Yeah. He lives out east. I reached out to a few Atlantic City casinos. We’ll see.”

  “I’ll work my contacts there also. See if I can find anything. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with some of the dealers for a refresher on hand mucking. I didn’t see him doing anything suspicious, but it wouldn’t hurt to put the dealers on a higher alert.”

  “Good. That’s good.” Don ran his hand over his bald head.

  At his age, with his extra weight and blood pressure issues, the man was a prime candidate for a heart attack. Kate stood and gestured him to the doorway. He followed her and, assuming she wanted a private chat, huddled close. “What’s up?”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way and it’s none of my business, but you started it yesterday by talking about your health issues. Are you—”

  “Ah, Christ.”

  “This is a lot of stress. Frankly, you worry me.”

  His lips quirked. “I told you I was irresistible. Keep this up and you’ll be wife number four.”

  Behind her, the door flew open and Ross stepped in. “I’m gone ten minutes and you’re proposing?”

  “I’m old, but I’m virile.”

  Kate rolled her eyes.

  “For the record,” Ross said, “when she hits us with a sexual harassment suit, I want it known that I came into this conversation late and was not a party to it.”

  She patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you out of it.”

  “Excellent.” He waved a hand. “This Wicker guy. If he’s scamming us, he’s got ice in his veins.”

  “I agree,” Kate said, “but something is up with him. I’ll go frame by frame on the video if I have to.”

  Ross held up a room key. “Got you a suite. Unless you want someone to take you home.”

  As tired as she was, the idea of another car ride to Vegas, only to have to turn around and come back in the morning, made her head pound. Total exhaustion. “It’s late and I have my overnight bag. If it’s not a problem, I’ll stay here tonight and start fresh tomorrow. After that, I’ll access the system from home in the evenings.”

  Ross grabbed her overnight bag from where she’d set it by the door earlier. As if she couldn’t wheel her own bag. “I can take that.”

  “I know you can.”

  Which didn’t stop him from opening the door for her and waving her through.

  “Ah, shit,” Don said.

  The door shut before she could question the remark and she turned to Ross. “What’s that about?”

  “What?”

  She laughed. “Oh, my God. Please. You know what.”

  He shrugged. “He’s concerned.”

  “About?”

  “Me walking you to your room.”

  Oh, these two. How they underestimated her. “He thinks I’ll fall victim to your limitless charm?”

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  “And you’re proud of that?”

  “Nope. Stating fact. Denying it to a woman who’s done her research will only make me look like an ass.”

  Kate stopped at the elevator and faced him. Maybe he hadn’t underestimated her after all. She wagged a finger. “Now you’ve done it. Stunned me to the point where I don’t know what to say.”

  “Hey, I’m just walking you to your door, where I will say goodnight and then go crash in my office.”

  “My guess is the hotel could give you a room.”

  “They could, but I don’t like doing that. For other people it’s not a problem. For me? No. That’s abusing my power and I’m not going there.”

  Now that was something. A lot of men in his position would abuse the power just so his employees knew he could. Simply to feed his ego and let the minions know who was in charge.

  Ross Cooper, ego or not, apparently didn’t need such tactics.

  They rode the elevator to her floor and Ross pointed left. At her door, he handed over the key. “This is your stop.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Just so you know, Don is probably zoomed in on us from the surveillance room. My phone will ring any time now.”

  Kate scanned the ceiling but didn’t see any cameras.

  “They’re hidden. But they’re there.”

  “You two are funny. I’m going to sleep. And you can tell Don you didn’t come on to me.”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “I know. It’s awful.” On cue, his phone rang. “Ha!” A hint of smug laced his grin and he handed her his phone. “You answer it.”

  Always one for some wicked fun, she clicked the speaker button. “He’s not hitting on me.”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes. He’s not hitting on me. Go back to work. Better yet, go home. Get some rest. Maybe a life. Goodnight.”

  Laughing, she clicked off and handed the phone back to Ross. “As annoying as he is, he makes me laugh.”

  “Honey, you have no idea.”

  No, she didn’t. And once again, she felt a pang of envy for the camaraderie, the friendship, between Ross and Don and Marcia.

  Someday, she’d find a work environment like that. One that felt right and long-term. Working for nutty Dev Branson probably wouldn’t be it for her, but she’d known that since day one. He was too demanding, too…rough around the edges. And then there were those middle of the night calls she’d like to throttle him for.

  He knew people though. And respected her skills. Up until now she’d been satisfied with the idea of building a solid reputation in Vegas.

  Until now. When she saw how it could be.

  And wanted it.

  Kate swiped the key card on the pad and unlocked the door. “Should we talk about before? What happened in the car?”

  “Do we need to?”

  “I don’t want you to think I make a habit—”

  “I don’t think that. Besides, I was the instigator there. And I should know better. You’re a consultant here and I have a hard rule about mixing business with pleasure.�
��

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Because I don’t.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  The elevator dinged and a couple stumbled off, the man laughing at something the woman had said. Partiers heading to their room at the opposite end of the hallway.

  For a moment, Ross watched them, waited until they got inside before bringing his attention back to Kate. “I’m attracted to you. Which is probably not a shock. I don’t know how to handle it and that’s a problem.”

  She set her hand on the door, held it open an inch so the lock wouldn’t engage. “Well, we’re definitely in agreement there. It’s late. We’re both tired. Let’s table this discussion. At least until we can wrap our minds around whatever it is going on with us. Can we do that?”

  “Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

  “So, goodnight then.”

  Ross stepped back—a good two feet—from the door. “See you in the morning.”

  Yes. The morning. That’s when she’d see him.

  Not tonight.

  And not in her room.

  * * *

  Kate shut the door and threw the safety latch, just to be safe. After all, the man did have a master key. The only thing she couldn’t be sure of was whether the safety latch would keep Ross out or her in. A little of both she supposed.

  Part of her, the extremely female part, had considered inviting him in for a drink. The other part, the incredibly intelligent part knew it would be a mistake. Her current state of mind—lust mixed with sadness over losing her friend—added up to a whole lot of emotional firepower.

  Ross was shiny new and different. Exciting. And with her professional and personal reputation on the line, she didn’t trust her own typically well-primed judgment. A first if ever there’d been one.

  She tossed her purse and briefcase on the sofa and slipped off her pumps. Oh, for a pair of broken-in cowboy boots right now.

  She left her shoes in the middle of the floor. Tomorrow, she’d clean up her mess. If she dropped into bed immediately, she’d get almost a solid five hours of sleep. Maybe she’d chance five-and-a-half. That would leave an hour to clear emails before work.

  An angled sheet of paper sat on the desktop. She cocked her head, instinctively knowing it shouldn’t be there. The chances of housekeeping missing that were slim. Not in this hotel. Everything here was spotless. Buttoned-up. Gleaming.

  She moved closer, blinking a couple of times to clear her vision and spotted the red smear on the paper. Handprint. She stopped. Someone, without a doubt, had been in her room.

  And it wasn’t housekeeping.

  Which, had she not been daydreaming about Ross, she’d have realized the second she’d stepped into the room. Her FBI training, had she been alert, would have kicked in, prompting an immediate visual sweep before she’d even closed the door.

  Dumb, Kate. Reckless.

  She spun back, scanning the room, her gaze darting over the bed to the walk-in closet and the bathroom. She moved closer, stood beside the bathroom door and pushed it open, the thump-thump-thump of her pulse banging in her ears.

  Huge bathroom. Sunken tub, giant shower stall, toilet.

  Tub.

  Deep tub. Easily someone could be hiding in it. She took two steps. Checked it.

  Empty.

  Clear.

  Which left the closet.

  Backtracking across the hall to the closet, she jerked one door open and immediately readied her hands for a potential fight.

  Clear.

  All clear.

  Her pulse continued to pound, making the room swoop. She backed against the wall, bent over at the waist, and breathed. Relax. She focused on her heart rate, on forcing it down, on slowing the blood flow to her brain.

  At this moment, she might be the only one in her room.

  At this moment.

  Chapter Seven

  Don, in his normal high-drama mode, stormed into her suite. “What the hell happened?”

  He still hadn’t gone home. Even after she’d nagged him about taking better care of himself. His normal sagging eyes drooped heavily and she wondered just how much sleep this man—the heart-attack-waiting-to-happen—got.

  Maneuvering around the two uniformed cops and three Fortuna security people, Don beelined straight for her.

  “You alright?”

  “I’m fine.” She pointed at the offending image of the bloody handprint still sitting on the desk. “I got here and found it. The PD has a crime scene tech on the way, but he’s county so we’re waiting. Why are you still here?”

  “I wasn’t. They called me and I came back. I have a rental in town so I don’t have to schlep back to Vegas every night.”

  Brilliant. And she’d imagine, way up here, rentals were reasonable. “That’s smart.”

  “With the hours we work? Bet your ass.”

  He did a quick survey of the room. “Anything else out of place or missing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Breach points?”

  She’d checked them all. The huge sliding door leading to the balcony, the ceiling and adjoining room’s door, anywhere someone could get in. Nothing.

  “All clear. Whoever entered, got in through the door.”

  “Good. Whoever the son of a bitch is, we’ll have him on video. Did you see anyone when you came back to the room?”

  “Just a couple. They left the elevator and went to the opposite hallway.”

  “You’re sure? Whoever this is, could be watching you. Have you noticed anyone creeping around?”

  “No.”

  The word came out sharper than intended and Don’s head snapped back. Her irritation though was aimed at herself. Her own fault for being distracted with Ross. Even if someone had been skulking around, she wouldn’t have seen them.

  Nope. She was too busy being a lovestruck, flighty female.

  “All right,” Don said. “Don’t get ornery. We’ll have video shortly.”

  Above the soft chatter of the men, Don’s phone blared. The theme from Mission Impossible? Seriously? Despite herself, she laughed. “You are a trip, Don Sickler.”

  “I like Mission Impossible. Sue me.” He lifted the phone. “Whatcha got?…Okay.” He ended the call and poked the screen. “Here we go. Look.”

  She huddled up next to him and waited for the video to download.

  “Hi.”

  And fabulous. When the heck did Ross show up? She turned and, yep, there he was, still in his suit but missing his tie. The top button of his shirt was undone, a few wisps of dark hair curling over the V where the shirt parted. Something in her brain snapped. Damn. Even with all this going on she itched to run her hands over that little bit of exposed skin. She imagined this man, with the way he filled out a suit, would make any sculptor delirious.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Don held the phone up. “Video.”

  He joined them and for ten seconds, all the video revealed was an empty hallway. Four seconds later, someone entered the shot. From the size of the build—thin but tall with hunched shoulders—the person looked male. He wore a hoodie that covered his hair and he tipped his head down giving only a glimpse of the very tip of his nose and the top of the hoodie.

  Without checking the hallway for bystanders, he stopped at her door, swiped a card key against the pad and entered the room.

  Voila. Just like that, he was in. Flawlessly done. If anyone had been in the hallway, no one would have paid him any mind. He simply looked like a man entering his room. Total pro.

  “Whoa,” Ross said.

  Don shook his head. “Shit.”

  “Lovely,” Kate said.

  Ross held up his hands. “We got this. We’ll see who made a duplicate key. Everything is in the system. If one of those clerks takes a bathroom break, we know about it.”

  Don continued watching the video but waggled his free hand at Ross. “Look it up on your phone.”

  Sixty seconds later, Ross had his answer. “Denise Bowles keyed t
he room at 11:32 PM. She’s on the 11-7 shift and still here.”

  “Good,” Don said. “Let’s see what the hell she’s doing giving out a guest’s room key.”

  * * *

  Ross stepped off the elevator wondering how the hell a night could turn to shit so fast. He’d left Kate at her door, smiling at him and making him think that maybe all of his friends who were settling down hadn’t gone completely off their rockers. Minutes later, he gets a call from one of his shift supervisors telling him Lowville PD and hotel security were on their way to Kate’s room.

  All the while he’d stood outside her damned door, staring into those green eyes and convincing himself not to attempt to get laid, a bloody handprint sat on her desk. What it meant, he didn’t know, but he’d find out.

  And it started with the front desk clerk who’d created a duplicate key.

  He glanced at Don, doing his best to keep pace. Ross eased up and bumped Don with his elbow. “Let me do the talking. You’ll wind up scaring the crap out of her.”

  “Maybe that’s what she needs. She gave a fucking room key to a stranger. What if the guy was a murderer. Or how about a rapist?”

  Visions of that hooded guy pounding himself into Kate’s body dried up every ounce of spit in Ross’s mouth. Damn, what if Kate had been in that room when the guy showed up?

  Ross jerked his hand up. “I get it. I’m still doing the talking.”

  “Awright, kid, but if I don’t like the way it’s going, bets are off.”

  Ross sighed. The level of tired he felt minutes ago when he arrived at his office to crash on the couch was nothing compared to this. This was total decimation of his senses.

  The horseshoe shaped registration alcove lined surrounding glass walls where arriving guests enjoyed a view of a three-story waterfall. Now, in the dead of night, a blue spotlight that had been there since the grand opening illuminated the water and gave it an eerie hue. During the day? Beautiful. In the middle of the night? Creepy.

  He’d have to talk to Samuels about changing that blue light to something lacking a creep factor.

  Two guests stood at the far right counter, their carry-ons beside them as they checked in. Even at this hour, guests came and went.