A Game of Deception

by Loreth Anne White

“Why don’t you take my bed, Jenna, get some sleep, and then I can take you down to the station in the morning so we can file a full report.”

  “Lex—”

  “You need rest.”

  “Would…could you…just hold me?”

  He stared at her, pulse racing, Quinn’s words humming in his brain. We’ll plug it as a covert op, and the legal stuff will be in the clear as long as you keep your hands off her.

  “Please?”

  He got up, sat beside her on the sofa and put his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. His body warmed. Her skin was so smooth. She cuddled down into the cushions and leaned into him, closing her eyes. A small tremor shuddered through her, as if she was finally letting go of something she’d been bottling inside. He tentatively touched her hair with his fingers. It was soft. He stroked it gently with his palm, his heart swelling painfully in his chest with a sensation alien to him. His eyes began to burn.

  They sat like that for a long while, in silence. Groucho came in from the kitchen, glowered up at Lex with his beady black eyes and evil little line of jutting-out teeth, then promptly curled himself at his feet. Lex snorted. He figured he’d just sunk to a new kind of low. Mostly because he really didn’t mind the dog sleeping at his feet. He was kinda cute, in his ugliness.

  “I…I need to tell you something, Lex,” Jenna whispered against his chest. “About my father.”

  Lex tensed slightly at the tone in her voice. “What about him?”

  She sat up, nervously pushing a thick tangle of hair back from her face. “He…he’s…” she got to her feet suddenly, began to pace, eyes filling with moisture.

  Apprehension deepened. “Jenna, what is it?”

  She stilled, faced him square. “He got five more death threats against our family.”

  Lex took a second to process. “When?”

  “Over the past few months. He didn’t tell the police.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “He doesn’t think they’re important. But I…I think whoever left those notes tried to kill me tonight.”

  Rage began to vibrate dangerously in Lex. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Jenna?” he said as calmly, quietly as he could. “This is absolutely relevant to what happened to you tonight.”

  “I am telling you. Now.”

  “What do these notes say?” Pressure built inside him like a cooker.

  She exhaled shakily. “Have you got something stronger than tea?”

  He got up, poured her a Scotch, handed it to her. She took a deep sip and exhaled slowly. “Whoever sent the notes is threatening to take out the ‘Rothchild trash’ one at a time, after Candace. All of the notes alluded to some historic deed that needed to be atoned for, and all mentioned The Tears of the Quetzal. The last one was signed The Avenger.”

  “How do you know which was the last one? Were they dated?”

  She nodded. “And made up of letters cut from magazines and newspapers, not like the first one that came right after Candace was killed.” She took another slug of her drink, her eyes watering and nose going pink as it went down. “Dad said they were just some hoax, someone trying to get in on the Rothchild media hype after Candace’s death. He said Rebecca Lynn could even have left them, seeking attention. But I think that whatever is going down is tied to that diamond and something that happened a long time ago, maybe even in South America.”

  Cool anger directed at Harold Rothchild arrowed through Lex. The bastard had put his entire family in jeopardy by not reporting those death threats, by not coming clean on the provenance of the ring. Because now, more than ever, Lex was certain Harold knew exactly where that cursed stone had come from. By not putting all his cards on the table, Harold Rothchild had left law enforcement chasing shadows, possibly costing months in lost time hunting down a killer. He reached for his phone. “I need a warrant,” he said, crisply. “I need those notes. And I want to see what else he’s hiding.”

  Panic shot across Jenna’s face. She grabbed his arm. “Lex—wait!”

  “What for?”

  She couldn’t speak for a moment and looked terrified.

  “Jenna? You’re not afraid of your own father, are you? Do you realize what danger he put you in? You could have been killed.”

  She cast her eyes down. “I…I love him, Lex. He’s my dad. He’s…all I really have.”

  Lex stilled, seeing in Jenna something he hadn’t noticed before—a vulnerable young woman. In spite of all her sophistication and seductive glitz, underneath it hid a beautiful, sensitive creature who’d been born into the rarefied air of the Rothchild empire, a woman who had zero exposure to the normal touchstones of life. A lonely woman, even, who’d armored herself with a bright, breezy smile and who sought self-validation through attracting men. A woman who needed—depended—on the love and goodwill of her tyrant sociopathic father.

  And in turning to Lex, Jenna clearly felt she was betraying her own father—one of the most powerful men in Nevada. She’d come to Lex’s home, and in a sense Lex could see she wasn’t going to be able to go back to her casino castle after this. He put the handset back down.

  She glanced up, and his heart clenched. “There’s more Lex. I…I was at Candace’s apartment the night she was killed.”

  “You were what?”

  “I…” She dragged shaking hands through her hair. “I should’ve reported it, and I didn’t.”

  “What are you trying to say, Jenna?”

  “You didn’t know I was there?”

  “No.”

  “So you weren’t playing me, trying to get more information? Maybe find a reason to get my DNA so you could match it to my blood at the scene.”

  “Your blood?”

  “I…I cut my finger on a piece of the vase Candace threw at my head. It bled pretty badly.”

  He swore. “Sit. Tell me. Everything.”

  “Lex—”

  “Now!” He was furious.

  She sunk slowly down onto the sofa.

  He waited, stomach knotted.

  “I…I went to try and talk Candace into going to rehab that night, for her children’s sake, for my little nephews. Those toddlers are—”

  “Stick to the facts,” he said crisply.

  She swallowed. “Candace was high, drunk, whatever, and when I mentioned rehab, she flew into a blind rage. She hurled a Ming vase at me. It smashed against the coffee table, and I tried to pick up some of the pieces and cut my finger on one, and then she threatened me with a fire poker if I didn’t leave at once. So I did.”

  He glared at her, a vein thrumming in his forehead. “And you didn’t report this, why?”

  “I didn’t think her drug problems and my personal issues with my sister were relevant to the homicide, or to the media circus that ensued. I…I thought it was a robbery gone wrong.”

  “You thought?”

  “You have to understand, Lex, that every time the press got hold of something Candace did, the whole sordid business was splashed all over the papers and picked up by trashy tabloids nationwide. And it was her two little children who were ultimately going to suffer. Not her. She didn’t give a damn. I just wanted it all to stop. For their sakes. Growing up knowing their mother was brutally murdered is going to be bad enough, damn it!”

  “Geez, Jenna, don’t you see? That vase, that argument of yours, it impacted a homicide scene. How in the hell were crime scene techs to know that broken vase wasn’t part of the brutal attack on your sister? What you held back from the police has helped obfuscate an already confounding investigation! Who do you people think you are? Above the law, or what?”

  Her mouth flattened. “It was a mistake, okay? I’m really sorry. I thought the Vegas police would catch the killer quickly. I thought it was just someone after the diamond, and that her latest drug binges wouldn’t need to come out. Then the longer it took to find her killer, the more complicated it became to even mention I was there. I…I started to get scared.”

  Lex swore, raked his han
d through his hair. “What, Jenna, makes this any different from what your father did in withholding critical evidence? Don’t you see? You’re playing the same game. And how am I supposed to do my job when you deceive me, hamstring me like this, huh? What’re you trying to do, make a mockery of what I do?”

  “Lex, no, it’s not like that—”

  “What’s it like then?”

  She lurched up off the chair, two hot spots forming on her cheeks. “I’ll tell you what it’s like. I have just betrayed my father! What I’ve told you could take—”

  “Hey, you hid evidence, also.”

  “Yes, I did. And in confessing to you, in telling you what my father has done, I could take my whole family down, including my innocent nephews. I have just alienated myself from everything I know, Lex. My father said if I told you about those notes I’d have nothing. If he finds out I have done this, I won’t even be able to go home. Because he—” she jabbed her finger toward the window “—owns the roof over my head. He owns my job. He owns who I am, Lex, and I’ve turned my back on him, on it all. I am on your side, damn it! Can’t you see? I am telling you this, and I’ll do everything I can to help you catch that killer.” Her voice caught, emotion filling her eyes.

  “You’re only telling me this because you were attacked, and now you’re scared,” he said bluntly. “Otherwise you’d have come forward earlier.” Like when I kissed you, like when you put your hand on my knee in the dark car…

  She slumped down into a chair, burying her hands into her face. “I was going to tell you before I was attacked, Lex. I had made a decision to come clean, about everything. I…I knew I had to pick a side.” She glanced up slowly, tears, mascara streaking her face. “And I did. I picked your side,” she said, her voice small.

  His heart constricted sharply. He crouched down in front of her, tilted her face to his. “You picked the right side, Jenna,” he said softly. “You did the right thing.” She began to sob, and he gathered her into his arms. She felt so good, so right.

  And she’d picked him.

  Jenna had put herself in his hands, and no matter his conflict over her actions, Lex was determined to do right by her. To keep her safe. But what were the implications—for him, his case, his job? Could he risk involvement?

  He closed his eyes. God, was it even remotely possible that she could be with him long-term, that he, the orphan son of a hooker-turned-croupier mother who’d been brutally murdered, could have some kind of future with this Las Vegas princess?

  Would it be such a terrible mistake to even try?

  Jenna slid her hand up the back of his neck and drew his mouth to hers. He felt her tongue against his lips, and his consciousness spiraled liked a wild, dizzying fairground ride, shades of red and darkness swirling behind his eyes as heat arrowed straight to his groin. He moved his mouth over her lips, parting them. They were wet, warm, salty with tears and the lingering notes of Scotch. She opened under him inviting, vulnerable. Lex’s heart began to pound as he teased the inner seam of her lips with his tongue. She moaned softly, sinking herself back into the cushions, drawing him on top of her. Her emerald evening gown slipped sideways off her breast and Lex’s breath clean stopped. He moved his mouth along the smooth column of her neck to the firm swell of her breast, and he teased her nipple, feeling it bead tight and hard under his tongue. It sent blood rushing between his legs, and he began to throb, hard, with exquisitely painful, urgent need.

  Jenna pressed her body up into his, kissing him deeper, wrapping her arms around him, wanting him, enveloping him. Breathing hard, Lex pulled back. While he could.

  While he had a shred of sanity left in his brain.

  She looked up at him, her lips swollen from his kiss, eyes dazed.

  “Jenna…this is…I mean…the case. I can’t—”

  She sat up, pulling the fabric of her dress back over her chest. “I’m tired,” she said simply. “I…I’m not thinking things through. I’m sorry.”

  Lex stared at her, his entire body, every damn molecule pounding a tattoo that said take her, take her now, she wants you, she’s yours…

  But he couldn’t.

  Not without removing himself from this investigation first. Not without thinking through the repercussions first, while he still could. Lex didn’t want to hurt Jenna. And he did not want to deny Candace Rothchild justice by having this case tossed out of court because of his actions.

  And Lord knew, he didn’t want to mess up his own life. Again. He couldn’t afford to lose his career.

  He swore to himself. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. This was what he’d been running from when he’d tried to dump her outside her mansion in the pouring rain.

  “Come,” he said, helping her up from the couch. “You take my bed, upstairs.”

  “What about you?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m going to work some things out down here.”

  * * *

  Lex flipped off the bedroom light, hesitating at the door. She was asleep already, out almost the moment her head hit the pillow. And there she was, in her shimmering green dress. In his bed. Jenna Jayne Rothchild, the Vegas princess. His lips curved, his heart feeling a rushing expansive sensation. He couldn’t abandon her now. She was going to be in for a rough ride when he went after her father. How in the hell was all that going to work out? Yeah, bro, never mind thinking things through—you’re already well and truly sunk.

  He closed the door with a soft snick, blew out a lungful of air and then went downstairs.

  Snagging an ice-cold beer from the fridge, Lex went to sit out on his porch, the hot night air silky against his bare chest. He took a deep swallow from the bottle and exhaled slowly as alcohol crept through his body.

  He put his head back, looked up at the sky—crystal clear and splattered with desert stars. A gentle warm wind rustled the leaves in his small garden. Lex felt alive, more alive than he had in years. He took another drink, and a small spark of excitement began to shimmer inside him. What if—after this all cleared up—they gave it their best shot? What if she really did want him? Long-term.

  Or was she just turning to him now because he was in the right place at her time of need? Maybe once things calmed down she’d scoff at what she’d done, tire of her blue-collar federal agent. Move on. To bigger and brighter things. To men who moved easily in her social sphere.

  Lex swore softly. He was a freaking nut job to think Jenna Rothchild was going to want the kind of life he could offer. What was he doing thinking of commitment, anyway? Most men he knew would sleep with the woman and be done with it.

  Besides, he reminded himself, he’d tried this road before. The orphan in him had craved family—a real one of his own. But he’d chosen the wrong woman, a high-maintenance social climber who had zero time or respect for his charity and volunteer commitments. Toss in a life-consuming law enforcement career, and that was a recipe for disaster Lex had no intention of repeating again.

  He snorted, took another swig of beer, feeling the soft explosion of bubbles in his mouth. He was a pretty big flake to even think of trying to make a family again. It was probably the furthest thing from Jenna’s mind.

  He drained his bottle, got up, paused as he heard something rustling in the foliage along the boundary of his yard. Lex narrowed his eyes, peering into dark shadows, the interplay of moonlight and shrubbery and soft wind toying with his mind. He couldn’t see anything, yet he felt an uneasy sensation. He went inside, slid the glass door shut and locked it. Then he went upstairs to check on Jenna.

  * * *

  Jenna blinked into the darkness as she felt Lex enter the bedroom. The room was full of moving shadows shaped by pale beams of moonlight streaming through the slats of the blinds, the wind in the tree outside his bedroom window. He came to the bedside, sat beside her, his bare torso a powerful silhouette in the surreal interplay of light.

  She felt his hand, warm, strong and gentle as he brushed her sleep-tangled hair back from her forehead. She
was hot, had tossed the sheet off, her evening dress slipping off her breasts again. But she didn’t move to cover herself up. She wanted him to see her.

  Jenna closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of his touch, his care. Because that’s what she felt—care. It was what she’d glimpsed, briefly, in his eyes. And all Jenna was certain of right now was that she wanted him. All of him. All the time.

  He was the first real thing she’d ever truly known in her strange whacked-up life. Lex was putting her in touch with the self she’d lost so many years ago, and Jenna was finding that she wanted something deeper than her shallow, glittering existence.

  She was prepared to give it up for a shot at making it work with Lex. A gamble, yes, but this was Vegas. And the odds were that if she won, it would be worth it.

  He caressed the side of her face, his thumb gentle against her bruise. A small shiver tightened her nipples and angled down into her belly. Jenna ached to wrap her hot body around his hard one.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  Jenna swallowed, almost hurting with need, exquisitely conscious of every part of her body. She sat up, slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders so that the shimmering fabric fell to her waist, her breasts feeling suddenly heavy, swollen under his scrutiny. “You tell me—” Jenna whispered, reaching for his hand “—if I’m okay.” She guided his hand to her breast. Lex inhaled sharply as his skin connected with hers. He cupped her roughly, drawing her closer.

  Kissing her hard, he opened her mouth, his tongue hungry, aggressive. Jenna’s world spun. She grabbed his hand, moved it down her abdomen, sliding it beneath her dress so he could feel the small silk triangle of her G-string. He groaned softly, moved closer, kissing her deeper, the sensation of his hand more urgent, more firm. Jenna parted her legs. He moved the fabric of her G-string aside, and she felt his finger on bare skin. Hot. Delicious. She opened her legs wider.

  “Jenna—” his voice was hoarse “—this is…”

  But she held his hand firmly between her legs, parting her thighs, drawing his body down on top of hers, as she sunk back on the bed. “I want you, Lex…” she murmured against his lips, her mind blind to anything but the sensation of his weight on top of her, his hand against her.