The Prince's Gamble

by Caridad Piñeiro

  For a moment, she let herself believe it really was that easy. Then reality returned. She knew better. But rather than ruin the moment, she said, “Goodnight, Sasha,” and told herself it was crazy to imagine saying that every night to him.

  His true princess, whenever he found her, would have that pleasure.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her team hit paydirt well before Kathleen was supposed to meet Petrov.

  Thanks to the video surveillance throughout the casino and Petrov’s room, they were able to record not only the escorts running the chip cashing scheme, but also another escort visiting Petrov.

  That woman brought him a large pink tote which he upended onto his couch to reveal bundles of small bills. As they watched, Petrov handed her chips in exchange. After she had put away the chips in the tote, he passed the small bills to the two men in his entourage who, like the escorts, would turn the small bills into chips. Eventually those chips would be turned into checks or larger bills, or transferred to overseas accounts.

  “Petrov is definitely laundering the cash and from what he’s said so far, it’s not his own.” Kathleen stood behind the surveillance team, viewing the transactions in the video.

  “He’s probably getting a cut of it.” ADIC Roberts gestured to the bundles of small bills still sitting on the couch.

  “And he’s depositing markers from overseas, probably cash from the Russian mob.” Alexander looked at Detective Roman as he stood nearby. “But you think Stravinski is working alone?” he said in almost an accusatory tone.

  Peter raised his hands, urging Alexander for calm. “All the scuttle I have on Stravinski says he’s a lone wolf. We’ve had nothing to connect him to any organized crime either here or abroad.”

  “But Petrov isn’t only operating here.” Kathleen leaned back against the table with the video monitors. Folding her arms across her chest, she asked, “He’s deposited and cashed markers at your casinos in Monaco and Macao, right?”

  “At least one at each in the past year. Nothing that seemed out of the ordinary, until what happened here.” Alexander dragged a hand through his hair. “But if you say Petrov’s got links to the mob and that slavery ring…”

  Kathleen knew that really worried him. Because of Vanessa. She reached out and stroked her hand across the sleeve of his jacket. A move which caused her ADIC to shoot her a condemning glare, so she quickly pulled back. “Let’s not borrow trouble. We’ll check again with our international sources. Maybe they’ve got more on Stravinski’s connection to him.”

  “And we’ll go through with tonight’s meet. We need to get him to make you the offer to help with his laundering, to cement our case,” ADIC Roberts advised.

  Although Alexander nodded, he looked to her, his reluctance radiating through every pore. “Are you sure you need to do this? There has to be some other way.”

  She was glad that he hadn’t asked if she was prepared to do it. She didn’t need him doubting her in front of all the others in the room. “We could probably make a case with what we have, but having him on tape admitting to money laundering, the case would be nearly airtight.”

  From the grimace he made, Alexander didn’t like the “nearly” part of her statement, but he gave a tight nod. “I guess we need to go get you another gown.”

  …

  Kathleen had never thought of herself as a pink kind of girl, but as she did a slow pirouette in front of the mirror, she had to admit the gown was gorgeous. That she looked gorgeous in it.

  Demure in front, its daring came from a series of crisscrossed straps in the back which left her virtually bare all the way down to the first swell of her buttocks.

  “You look amazing.” Alexander stood behind her and brushed his hand along the bottom-most edge of those enticing crisscrosses.

  She met his gaze in the mirror and was surprised the heat there didn’t melt the glass and silver. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

  He wore an off-white dinner jacket over a stark white shirt. Perfectly creased black pants brought out the matching inkiness of his hair, while an unexpected ice-blue bow-tie only made his eyes seem that much brighter.

  And hotter. So hot her heart stuttered in her chest.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “Just one last thing to check.” Bending, and a little wobbly on too-high stiletto heels, she reached toward her ankle. Comfort flooded through her at the feel of the holster with her clutch piece.

  She straightened, laid her hands on his dinner jacket, and grabbed his lapels. “Wish me luck.”

  He brought his lips to hers. Whispering a kiss across her lips, he said, “I’d bet on you any day.”

  She smiled, and together they walked out of her room. As he had done the night before, he left her at the elevator door on Petrov’s floor.

  Kathleen hurried to his room, but not before taking note of the maid positioned in the hall. With a nod to the agent posing as the maid, she continued walking and caught sight of a second agent dressed in the uniform for hotel maintenance. He had a ladder open and seemed to be working on an overhead spotlight.

  “Special Agent Martinez. Be aware Petrov’s bodyguards are in the room,” her ADIC advised through the earpiece she was wearing. “They appear to be unarmed, but no doubt have weapons nearby. I’ll be sending two additional agents shortly as backup.”

  “Roger that,” she whispered a moment before she knocked on Petrov’s door.

  It was one of the bodyguards who answered and glared at her, blocking her way into the room. He wasn’t wearing a holster, but she wasn’t going to take a chance that he had a concealed weapon. Beyond the wall of muscle, Nicolai huddled over the coffee table, his back to the door.

  “I’m here to see Nicolai,” she advised, but the mountain of muscle didn’t budge.

  At the sound of her voice, Nicolai raised his head and walked toward them. With a hand at his bodyguard’s shoulder, he said, “Let her pass, Gregor.”

  Like the Great Gate of Kiev opening, the bodyguard stepped away, but slipped behind to hurry her inside and block the view of anyone in the hall.

  She contained a frisson of unease at how hard it would be for her agents to come in with such a large man guarding the entrance. A second immense bodyguard stood just to the left of the couch where the bundles of money were negligently tossed beside neater piles of chips on the coffee table. Like the first man, no weapon was visible on him.

  The solid thud of the door closing heightened her discomfort, but she tried not to let it show nor did she focus overly long on the money and chips.

  “Good evening, Nicolai.” She walked over to him and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek.

  “Good evening, milaya moyna.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her close.

  “What does that mean?”

  “My sweet. And you are so sweet.”

  She contained a shudder as he grazed her cheek with a kiss and a bit of tongue.

  Skipping her gaze from one bodyguard to another, she said, “Will we have company tonight?”

  Nicolai snapped his fingers and the two guards went into action. One grabbed a tote from the floor, its pink color incongruous in his large hands, and stuffed the money bundles into it. The other bodyguard grabbed a briefcase and shoveled a portion of the chips into it, then the two of them vanished into the second bedroom of the suite.

  “Are they prepared to protect all that cash? I didn’t see any weapons.”

  A frown came to Nicolai’s face, followed by a visible shudder. “I won’t have guns here. Not since my brother was shot and killed.”

  That brought some relief, although as big as the men were, they could still provide quite a fight. And he’d said nothing about knives.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Nicolai.”

  He shook his head, still obviously distressed. “It was a long time ago.”

  She forced a sexy smile to her face. “I know how I can make you feel better.”

  He su
rprised her then. Becoming even more closed off, he shoved her away. “Business before pleasure, my sweet.”

  In her ear she heard her ADIC quietly instruct the other agents to get ready to move in.

  “Sure, Nicolai. You’re the boss.”

  An ingenuous gleam jumped into his gaze. “Is that what you say to Sasha?”

  Kathleen channeled every femme fatale from every movie or show she had ever seen. Swaying her hips, she sashayed to Nicolai, took hold of his tie, and suggestively stroked her hand along its length. “If you would like to know, maybe you can join us sometime for a threesome?” she said in her best come hither voice.

  Nicolai gulped visibly and grasped her hand. “That sounds intriguing. Maybe later, Kat.”

  “Definitely later, Nicolai,” she replied with a final caress of her fingers along his chest.

  He coughed and stepped back, although hesitantly. With a flippant jerk of his hand, he pulled her attention to the piles of chips on the table. “Here’s the deal. Your take is five percent of all the monies you exchange for me.”

  She wrinkled her nose in disguised disgust. “Hardly seems worth the trouble.”

  “Greedy little thing, aren’t you? That’s good.” He plowed on. “You’ll exchange some small bills for us. Sometimes for chips. Other times for checks or transfers to bank accounts.”

  She sashayed over again, flaunted the daring back of the dress, and peered at the chips. “The checks and transfers are far riskier to handle. How much do I get for helping with them?”

  He marched over until he stood behind her. “Ten percent.”

  Because she didn’t want any doubts or claims of entrapment, she held back from touching the chips on her own. “So right now, these are mine to take in exchange for a cut of the money?”

  “That’s the deal. Let me get you a bag for the chips.”

  He stepped away only long enough to grab another tote bag from beside the sofa. He swept all the chips into the tote and held it out to her.

  “Move in,” she heard in her ear.

  A second later, the door rattled on its hinges from a forceful knock. “FBI. Open the door.”

  Shock traveled over his face. He made a grab for her, but she jerked back just as the door burst open.

  Four FBI Agents rushed in at the same time that Petrov’s goons charged out of their room, unarmed as Nicolai had said. The agents and bodyguards attacked each other, going at it like wrestlers. Two of her team took on each of the large bodyguards, twisting and punching as they tried to restrain the much larger men.

  The fight distracted her for a dangerous moment.

  Petrov took advantage and tried to dash past her to reach the door. She stood her ground, blocking his escape. When he grabbed for her, intending to push her away, she sidestepped him, grasped his arm, and used his momentum against him. Twisting his arm behind him, she drove him to the ground. With a knee to the middle of his back, she was restraining him when one of Petrov’s bodyguards came stumbling toward her.

  Because of Petrov’s dash, she hadn’t been able to toss off her awkward high heels. Combined with the fancy dress she couldn’t move fast enough to avoid his weight as he barreled into her. He sent her flying back against the coffee table. Wood creaked beneath her, but held fast as the bodyguard’s weight painfully drove her onto the hard surface.

  She grunted as agony spread across her back and right shoulder, but somehow managed to throw off the thick-bodied man. As he fell, two of her agents jumped on him, finally subduing him on the floor beside the other bodyguard and Petrov.

  Struggling to her feet, dizziness assailed her from the pain in her left arm. It was going numb from the blow. She plopped onto the coffee table as her ADIC entered the room.

  A second later, Alexander pushed past him and rushed to her side.

  He kneeled before her. “Are you okay?”

  Sharp pain radiated from beneath her shoulder blade and her arm felt leaden. She could move her fingers, and a strange tingling traveled from her fingers to her elbow. Beyond that there was only numbness.

  She rubbed her upper arm and winced. Tried to rotate it to drive away the pain and lack of sensation. “I’ll be okay.”

  She avoided Alexander’s concerned gaze and focused on ADIC Roberts as he approached, Detective Roman trailing behind him.

  “Are you injured, Special Agent Martinez?” her boss asked.

  Like a new foal struggling for purchase, she unsteadily found her feet. Alexander was immediately there beside her, offering a comforting and supportive hand on her back.

  “Fine, sir.”

  “I assume we’re taking them in for questioning?”

  With a smile and the first painful tingle of sensation returning to her arm, she said, “I’m definitely ready for that. But first, let’s bring in Detective Roman so he can read them their rights and decide how he’s going to process them for arrest.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kathleen paced before the windows in her bedroom, the gown dragging along the rug now that her heels were off. Every now and then she’d rub at her shoulder, a testament to the fact that despite her assertions, she was still experiencing discomfort.

  “Maybe you should have someone take a look at your arm.” Alexander sat in the wing chair and sipped a glass of the wine she had refused to share with him.

  “I’m fine. I’m just pissed.” She whirled to face him, her hands planted on the swell of her hips.

  Alexander understood her frustration. Nicolai and his bodyguards had immediately lawyered up. No amount of persuasion or threatening had dissuaded them to offer any kind of information. It both worried and surprised him. Nicolai had never been known for his loyalty. His determined silence could only mean that Nicolai feared what might happen to him if he decided to turn on his fellow criminals more than he feared arrest and conviction.

  He hoped he was wrong about the latter and in an effort to calm his own worries, he said, “He’ll turn on them, Kat. It may just take a little time.”

  “Time Vanessa doesn’t have, if she’s still alive.” She winced as she lifted her arm to thread her fingers through her hair, drawing the layered strands off her face.

  “How about you go see a doctor about that arm?”

  “How about I don’t?” she parried, but instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.”

  He set the wine glass down on the table, rose, and walked to her side. “You’ve done all you can for tonight. It’s time to get some rest. Relax.”

  “I’m too wound up to relax.”

  Smiling, he laid his hands on her shoulders and offered a soothing massage along her upper arms, careful of her injury. Beneath his hands her muscles were tense, but loosened slightly with his caress.

  “That feels good.” She tucked her head beneath his chin and against his chest.

  “Let me get one of the masseuses in the spa to work out the kinks. Maybe help you with that arm.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Her quick response only confirmed to him that she must be seriously hurting.

  “Change into something more comfortable while I make the arrangements.” He whipped out his cell phone and after booking the massage, he also requested assistance with a very special plan he had in mind.

  When she came out of the bathroom moments later in hip-hugging jeans and a loose T-shirt, face scrubbed clean of make-up, she had never looked more beautiful. It was then he realized that he was hopelessly in love with her. Which was the worst possible insight, since he knew she could never be the woman for him. She hated everything about his way of life. But maybe, just maybe, if she felt the same about him, she could come to at least tolerate it.

  “Are you okay?” She regarded him, eyes slightly narrowed.

  Trying to relieve her worry, he smiled and stroked her cheek. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something important.”

  “Anything I can help with?” She slipped her hand into his and grace
d him with a reassuring squeeze.

  That simple touch, so freely offered, only helped him believe that his heart had not been wrong to choose this woman. That he was not wrong to hope.

  Bending, he skimmed his lips along hers. “You already have.”

  With a playful swing of their joined hands, he said, “Let’s go. The spa is set to close soon.”

  They hurried together to one of the lower levels. Immediately upon their arrival, the hostess at the front desk ushered them to a private room, but as she started her spiel about how to prepare for the massage, Alexander politely cut her off.

  “Thank you, Andrea. I can take it from here.”

  The young woman left and he snagged a thick robe and handed it to Kathleen. “You can put your clothes in that basket on the counter. Make yourself comfortable on the massage table. The masseuse will be here in a second.”

  “What about you?” Kathleen took the robe from his hands and held it against her.

  “I’ll be back later.” He brushed a gentle kiss along her lips before leaving the room.

  Kathleen quickly removed her clothes and then slipped on the robe made from a thick terry cloth fabric that was satiny against her skin. She hopped onto the massage table to wait, and found that just being in the room was relaxing. The air was spiced with a mix of eucalyptus and an intriguing floral scent. Delicate music played in the background, and woven through the gentle notes was the susurrus of the ocean.

  She breathed deeply, wanting to draw in all the relaxing sensations, but regretted it as a knot of pain erupted just beneath her shoulder blade. Flexing her shoulder, she tried to work out the kink from where she had hit the coffee table.

  The masseuse came in at that moment. Seeing Kathleen’s discomfort, she immediately said, “May I take a look?”

  With a nod, Kathleen eased one arm out of the robe, but held the fabric to her breasts as the woman examined her. “You have a deep bruise there, but I can help a bit. Would you mind slipping off the robe and lying face down on the table?”