Tucker Tate was Bridger’s brother and vice president of Barron Entertainment, the media and hotel conglomerate that was Chase’s domain. They’d been dealing with a security problem at the casino for almost a year. As president of Barron Security Services, all problems—from the security detail for his brother Senator Clay Barron to the theft of oilfield pipe from a Barron Energy drilling site—landed on his desk. The occasional missing cow from the ranch, the odd employee embezzlement, the more frequent crackpot sending threatening emails—these bucks all stopped with him. It was his job to protect his family, even from themselves.
“Cash?”
Glancing up, he realized he’d tuned out Bridger’s play-by-play. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“Tuck did a good job isolating the Rowlands.”
“Are they all present and accounted for?”
“Yup. Max, Alex and Ajax, Braxton, Dexter. The king of cons and his larcenous princes. I had IT highlight their positions in each of the videos.”
Cash huffed out a breath that was a thinly disguised sigh. He strode to Chase’s in-home office, settled heavily at the desk and called up the info on the giant monitor. He leaned back, eyes tracking the glowing orbs highlighting faces on the screen.
Bridger settled a hip on the corner of the desk and twisted his head to see the monitor. “I have our IT team checking footage from Scottsdale, Nashville, Miami and New Orleans.”
“What’s their objective?”
“Who knows? Seems they really like Barron properties, though.”
“Jolly.”
“Yeah, figured that would please you.”
“Are we the marks or is it a guest?”
“Probably both.”
Cash closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. Could it get any more complicated?
* * *
Roxanne Rowland lined her lips with red pencil before adding bright red gloss. The woman in the mirror staring back at her was a stranger. Dragging fingers through her red hair, she fluffed the waves, startled anew by the bright color tipping her nails. She wasn’t used to the manicure, either. Dark, smoky shadows fringed her eyes, making them sparkle like amber. She refused to wear the tinted contacts sitting in a case on the counter.
Smoothing down the borrowed body-hugging black dress, she opened the bathroom door and collided with her older brother. His fingers gripped her biceps none too gently. “Time to go, Rox.” He studied her a moment. “You didn’t wear the contacts.”
She winced at the accusatory tone in his voice. “They hurt and make my eyes water. I had to redo my makeup three times before I gave up.”
He squeezed her arm as he strode away, pulling her along. She wobbled on the stiletto heels and teetered for a moment as she scrambled to find her balance. The high heels were as foreign to her as the rest of her getup. She wore jeans and boots. Not haute couture. Especially not a dress that cost close to a month’s salary—a dress she’d been told to tuck the tag inside and not to get dirty. That meant it would be returned to the store for a credit.
“What’s going on, Dex?”
“You don’t need to know, little sister.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Max is working.”
Maximilian Rowland—her father and sire of her four older brothers, Lex, Jax, Brax and Dex—whom they never called “Dad.”
“That doesn’t explain why I’m here. I don’t work with him.”
“You do now.” His voice remained implacable as he ushered her out of the hotel room. “This is big, Rox, and you’ll do your duty to the family. Or else.”
Or else? What did that mean? Dex didn’t enlighten her as they rode down in the elevator. When he’d picked her up at Las Vegas’s McCarran International Airport, all he’d said was that their father needed her help, and it was time to take her place in the family.
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I can’t help it.”
Dex cut his eyes in her direction and smirked. “What’s wrong, your feet hurt?”
“As a matter of fact.” Her feet didn’t just hurt, they ached like someone was shoving cold needles into her toes and hammering her arches with rusty nails. “You try wearing these shoes for five minutes.”
“I’m a guy. I don’t wear heels.”
“So?”
“So, you’re a girl. You do.”
“No, I don’t. I—” She didn’t get to finish her argument. The elevator doors opened and Dex grabbed her arm, jerking her out into a swirl of color and noise. He guided her into a corner, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“Stand here until one of us comes to get you.”
“What? No—”
“Shut up, Roxie. Do as you’re told.”
“You are not the boss of me, Dexter.”
“Tonight I am. Shut up and listen. There’s a man at the blackjack table. He has a propensity for redheads. Tall, curvy redheads.” He flicked the strap of her dress so it sagged off the curve of her shoulder. “When the time comes, you will sashay that sweet ass of yours to Max. You will ignore Max but you will make nice to the man next to him. Understood?
“No.”
“Tough. Just do as you’re told. You flirt. You distract. And you get him to take you up to his room. You get him naked and we’ll do the rest.”
“Now you wait just a minute, Dexter Row—”
He pushed her back into the corner, eyes hard. “You’ve had it easy all your life, baby girl. Time to pay up. We told Max he screwed up sending you off to those snooty schools instead of teaching you what you needed to know about the business. That ends tonight. Starting now, you’ll do your duty to this family.”
Dex draped a heavy necklace around her throat. Colored diamonds and old gold. He bent to her ear. “There’s more where this came from—all hidden where you won’t find the evidence, but the cops will. You try to walk away or turn us in? They’ll know just how deeply involved you are.”
“That’s blackmail.” Her voice remained remarkably steady despite the fear zinging through her.
“Welcome to the family, little sister.”
With those parting words, he disappeared into the crowd bustling around the entrance to the casino floor. When they’d arrived at the Crown Hotel and Casino that afternoon, she’d been excited. The resort was one of the jewels on the Las Vegas Strip. Like the naive twit she evidently was, she thought she was coming for a vacation at the luxurious hotel. Yeah, no.
She slipped her feet out of the heels and almost whimpered in relief when the thick rug cushioned her toes. She wasn’t sure she believed Dex’s threat. He’d always been something of a bully—a fact she’d put down to him being the youngest brother. Sibling rivalry rolled downhill. Alexander—Lex, her oldest brother—had always been aloof. He’d been thirteen when she was born, and they had nothing in common. By the time she’d turned five, he was already traveling with Max. Ajax, two years younger than Lex, was the next oldest. Tall, handsome and gregarious, Jax was a charmer. He’d always attracted the opposite sex. He and Braxton were what were sometimes referred to as Catholic twins—barely nine months apart. Brax was the scholar, always reading and studying. Wickedly intelligent, he had an innate ability to plan. Then there was Dex. He’d been five when Roxie came along, and he’d pretty much hated her from the beginning.
Roxie jerked her thoughts away from her family and concentrated on how she could get out of this mess. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Dex would carry through with his threat and not only set her up but make sure she took the fall. She knew that from experience. At the moment, she had no choice but to follow orders until she could figure out their endgame and how to avoid involvement.
“Get your shoes on, girl.”
Startled, she retreated deeper into the corner and squinted at Lex. At 35, he was debonair and aloof, and he scared her just a little. Okay, if she was honest, a lot. He might have been absent—like Max—for most of her childhood, but when he was around, he was as much a father figure as Max had be
en.
“I don’t want to do this, Lex. Whatever this is.” She made air quotes for emphasis.
“Don’t care what you want, Roxanne. You’re doing it. Get your shoes on and get out there. You make that smart mouth of yours pouty, bat your lashes and get the mark up to his room.”
“Or else? Dex already threatened me with that. I’m not impressed.”
He slid his big hand around her throat, and she gulped but raised her chin. “Not telling you again. Get to work.” Squeezing his fingers for good measure, he didn’t let her go until she had both shoes on her feet and was wobbling into the throng of vacationers.
She was terrified of falling flat on her face, arms and legs akimbo, her tush displayed in the air and her thong hiding nothing from the crowd of onlookers. “Slow down,” she hissed over her shoulder at Lex. He didn’t, the hand at the small of her back pushing her harder. “If I fall off these darn shoes and break my ankle, the great con will be a bust.”
* * *
Cash rubbed his eyes, a dull headache caused by staring at the bank of security monitors throbbing at the base of his skull. Tucker handed him a cup of coffee and a bottle of painkillers. He tossed back a couple of the pills and chased them with the hot black liquid.
“When did you tumble onto their presence?” Cash didn’t take his eyes from the live footage.
“Yesterday when they checked in. That new facial recognition software you had installed works like a charm. I have footage if you want to see.” Tucker watched the monitors, too.
“Just give me the rundown.”
“Max arrived first. Had reservations for a mini-suite under the name Grant Franklin.”
Cash scrubbed at his forehead with the heel of one hand. “And his sons?”
“Alexander and Ajax checked in together. Another mini-suite. Hamilton and Jackson Grant.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” Tuck’s voice hardened.
“Great. Go on.”
“Braxton checked in about an hour later. Lincoln Washington. And then Dexter checked in this afternoon. Reservations were for Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Cleveland.”
Cash sat up straight, whipping around to stare at the other man. “Hamilton, Jackson, Grant, Lincoln, Washington, Franklin and Cleveland. Now they’re just rubbing our noses in it.” His cousin looked confused so he laid it out. “Those are presidential last names. All of them. Except Franklin. But ol’ Ben’s still on the hundred-dollar bill.”
“It’s all about the money.”
“Yeah. Wait. Dexter brought a woman?” Cash pushed out of the chair. “Do you have a picture of her?”
“No. He checked in alone, was up in his room for about forty-five minutes and then left in a cab he caught at the front entrance. He hasn’t been back since.”
“You sure of that?” Cash walked to a monitor and tapped it. “That’s Dexter at the roulette table.”
“How the hell—”
Bridger walked up to them and cut his brother off. “We have a gap in the security surveillance somewhere. We’ll find it, Tuck. Sorry I’m late for the party, Cash. I was double-checking footage.”
“I want eyes on all of the Rowlands. Max is at the high-stakes blackjack table. Alex walked out about five minutes ago, after Dexter tossed him a high sign. Ajax and Braxton are roaming around on the slot machine floor.” Cash returned to his chair and swiveled it around. “I want our guys on them, Bridger.” He held up a hand to stop Tucker’s rebuttal. “Your security is good. Heck, we hired and trained them, but they look like casino security. My guys won’t.”
Bridger offered a feral grin to Tucker. “Little brother, you pick my guys out, I’ll buy you the biggest steak they have at the Barron House.”
The radio at Cash’s elbow hissed. “I have target two in sight. He’s with a woman. Redhead. Black dress. Lobby entrance.”
Cash’s eyes swept the bank of monitors until he picked out Alex Rowland. His eyes locked on the woman preceding the thief. She was tall but not slender. No, she definitely had curves in all the places a woman should, but she still looked sleek in the short cocktail dress. Her auburn hair was a mass of wavy curls, but he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes through the grainy camera lens. He stared at her, a memory swimming in the back of his mind. He knew her from somewhere.
Alex peeled away and Braxton took his place, herding the woman toward the table where Max sat, relaxed and cheerful. She stumbled and Cash found himself reaching forward as if to catch her. Braxton made no move to assist, and it was a stranger who offered a steadying hand. He managed to read her lips, the words and expression easy to translate. “Pardon me. I’m so sorry,” she mouthed before Braxton swept her along in front of him.
“Bridge, pull in some markers. Find out when the Rowlands added a woman to their crew. I want to know who she is.”
“On it.”
Cash continued to study the woman. She looked...uncomfortable. Unsure. If it was an act, it was a good one. She ended up squeezed between Max and the man next to him at the table, all but sprawled in the man’s lap. Something hot and angry lanced through him. Keying the camera on her face, he could see that she looked young and scared despite the getup. That didn’t fit the Rowlands’ MO at all. That odd sense of recognition continued to niggle at him and he sorted through memories of all the women he knew. He’d figure it out sooner or later.
He’d been so intent on the woman—girl—he’d lost track of the other Rowlands. “Where’s Alex? And where did Ajax and Dexter disappear to?”
Various scenes flickered on the monitors mounted to the wall in front of him and a lot of cuss words filtered into muttered conversations as Chase’s security staff combed the screens for a sighting. Something popped, and then there was a hum like a generator winding down. Moments later, lights dimmed, monitors died and the room was plunged into darkness.
Cash was out of his chair and headed toward the door as backup lighting kicked in. He tapped the emergency code into the keypad and had to shove the door open when the lock clicked. He heard Bridger shouting behind him.
“Lock down the counting room and the vault. Deploy personnel to all the exits.”
Knowing Bridge would take control of the security room, Cash sprang into action. He needed to get his hands on one of the Rowlands. And he definitely wanted to get his hands on the red-haired woman.
* * *
The lights went out and the packed casino floor erupted into pandemonium. Women squealed. Men shouted. Other voices rose, yelling above the melee in an effort to restore order. Lights from cell phones added ghostly illumination to the scene as emergency lighting flickered on.
Someone gripped Roxie’s arm and jerked. She attempted to pull away but hearing her name growled shocked her into compliancy. Max. She tripped after him, trying to stay upright. Blasted shoes. She hobbled in her father’s wake, then he shoved her at Dex with a muffled, “Get her undercover.”
The next thing she knew, she was tossed over her brother’s shoulder like a sack of flour, and no amount of beating against his back made him release her. She tried to kick her legs but his arm was an iron band across her knees. When they reached one of the exit doors, he set her down and backed her against the wall. A moment later, the door slammed open, missing her by a hair.
She watched a tall man sprint through the exit. Dark hair, broad shoulders, a shadowed jawline. His suit was likely hand-tailored. Roxie wondered who he was as Dex disappeared into the stairwell and the door closed. She pulled on the handle, panicked now that she was alone. The door didn’t budge. She had to get away.
Roxie turned, feeling the blood drain from her face. She recognized the man now. Cash Barron, standing there, bigger’n Dallas. She whirled to run the other direction only to be brought up short by two security guards who could play middle linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. She pivoted very slowly to face the man she’d never been able to get out of her fantasies. She was in so much trouble now.
“Well, wel
l, well. What do we have here?”
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TWIN SECRETS
Copyright © 2017 Jules Bennett
Published in Great Britain 2017
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited
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