by Lucy Leroux
Smoking artisanal cocktails served over dry ice were being handed out by waiters in dapper twenties dress. Every blackjack table was full, and he couldn’t even see the craps table behind the throng.
The baccarat group was still a little thin, but it was steadily building up. The sound of roulette table spinning underscored the droning murmur of conversation.
According to the doorman, over half a dozen women claimed their thousand dollars in chips. One or two turned their chips over to the boyfriend or husband they had accompanied, but the rest hung onto them. Trick eagerly checked out those four, mixing and talking with all the guests he knew by name, but none of the women were Tahlia.
Too wired to relax, he wandered to the bar to ask his brother-in-law for a beer. He handed him a cognac instead.
“You need to relax,” Jason leaned in to mutter. “You’re starting to sweat. If your pretty face wasn’t so familiar, this crowd would be looking for an exit right now. Some of them are probably half-expecting a police raid.”
Trick glanced around. One of the guys he knew from the pro-circuit was scrutinizing him and Jason closely. He smiled reflexively, lifting his glass in friendly salute before downing it. The man relaxed and turned his attention back to his game.
“Better,” Jason muttered, pouring him a refill. His eyes were fixed on a point behind his right shoulder. “Now keep that up when you talk to Tahlia. And for God’s sake, don’t rush over there. Let her come to you.”
Picking up his glass, Trick turned around, trying to project an air of careless unconcern when the reality was he was burning up to know if Jason was right. He sipped and sauntered, slowly making his way to the cashier, where a slim brunette in a black dress was standing with her back to him.
It is her. He couldn’t see her face, but his heart was beating too fast for it to be anybody else. Tahlia was claiming her complimentary chips. When she turned to face him, her eyes were on the chips. They shined brightly as if she was near tears.
Tahlia was blinking rapidly, clutching the small tray of chips like they were a lifeline. He was in front of her before she was aware of him.
“Hello, Ace. Care for a rematch?” he asked softly.
She gasped, her silvery-blue eyes dilating as recognition washed over her face. Reaching out reflexively, she shuddered and swayed.
Concerned, he put out a hand to steady her. The second he touched the soft skin of her upper arm, he relaxed. An odd mix of giddy contentment flowed through him. She reacted, too, sagging into him as if she needed the support of his arm.
“Why don’t we sit down?” He gestured to the alcove, where a private poker table was cordoned off with a black velvet rope.
She glanced around as if assessing the room for threats, but Tahlia allowed herself to be led to the booth behind the ropes. He ignored the many pairs of eyes that followed them as they took their seats.
The crowd was avidly curious to learn who had earned a seat at the prime table. Little did they know this entire setup was all about her.
Trick waved over a waiter. He said something in a low voice, sending the man rushing off to the kitchen.
He turned back to Tahlia, taking in all the changes in her since they’d last met. She was so much thinner. Her cheeks were sunken, and there were dark circles under her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
And was that a bruise on her hand?
“Is Maia okay?” she asked. “You do know her, right?” Tahlia’s husky voice quavered.
He reached out and took her unbruised hand. Her fingers were ice cold. Chafing it with both of his, he nodded. “I do. And she’s fine. She’s worried about you, of course. I was, too, when I realized you were the friend she’s been searching for all this time.”
Tahlia’s mouth opened and closed. She seemed at a loss for words. Wiping her eyes, she blinked rapidly. “I’m glad she’s okay. Tell her I’m sorry for worrying her…it couldn’t be helped.”
“You can tell her yourself,” he told her, but his words made her tense up.
“I can’t,” she sniffed.
He leaned in. “Yes, you can. I have friends who can help you. Some of them are here tonight. All we want to do is help.”
Tahlia stared at him, a little crease between her fine brows. “Who are you?”
“I’m Patrick, remember?”
She laughed and swallowed. The amount of strain she was under must have been enormous because her world-class poker face was nowhere in sight. Her emotions were raw, right on the surface for him to see.
“Yes, but how do you know Maia?”
“Oh.” He sat up. “I’m a friend of her husband Calen. He and my brother went to school together. Maia might have mentioned me by my nickname, Trick.”
Those amazing eyes widened. “Trick, Patrick, that’s you. I…uh, I’ve met your sister. You own a hotel, or rather a lot of hotels.” She snorted lightly and coughed, seemingly embarrassed.
It confused the hell out of him. Her reaction read more like dismay.
Trick squeezed her hand again. “I am part owner of the Caislean chain, along with my brother and sister. And you are a brilliant mathematician just a few dissertation chapters shy of getting her Ph.D. from Harvard.”
Her blush was instantaneous. “I’m not Good Will Hunting. I just like math.”
Delighted with her response, he let go and motioned to the waiter, who was hovering a few feet away. The man set down a large vanilla milkshake in front Tahlia.
“Maia said they were your favorite,” Trick explained with a little shrug. He nodded at the sealed deck on the table. “You can’t wipe the floor with me again on an empty stomach.”
“Thank you.” She drew the glass closer, her full lips wrapping around the red straw.
Okay, bad idea. Trick could feel his IQ taking a nosedive.
He forced himself to open the deck of cards. When it was safe, he turned back to her, shuffling automatically. He didn’t even want to blink, almost as if he were afraid she’d disappear before his eyes.
The fluted glass was almost empty before Tahlia spoke again. “That’s a nice technique,” she said.
“Not nearly as good as yours,” he replied, adding a flourish he’d spent weeks perfecting as a teenager.
Her lip quirked. “You’ve never seen my shuffle.”
“Well, actually, I meant your card-counting technique, but I’m willing to bet you have an impressive shuffle, too.”
“As a matter a fact, I do know a few tricks, but I don’t count cards.”
Trick laughed aloud. “Oh, come on. Pull the other one.”
“I don’t—not consciously anyway. I’ve just always been very good at calculating odds and have a good memory. Plus, I’m lucky. That’s what my Ama used to call me. She said I was her lucky penny.”
Her eyes grew distant, the tiny spark of exuberance he’d glimpsed when he shuffled the cards fading away.
“Was Ama your mother?”
Tahlia jerked as if he’d interrupted her woolgathering. “No. She was our housekeeper. But I suppose she was sort of like a mother. As close to one as I had.”
“And your father?”
Tahlia turned away, her eyes gravitating to the exit. “He’s dead.”
Like any gambler worth his salt, Trick knew he’d just played a bad hand. It was confirmed when she shot up from her seat.
“Wait,” he said urgently, taking her hand.
She hesitated, whirling to face him with a disturbingly blank stare.
Trick recognized that look. Over the years, he’d seen it in the face of a lot of women, the ones who came to the hotel trying to get away from abusive husbands or boyfriends. They all wore that same expressionless mien.
He’d always attributed that unnerving blankness to too many horrors either seen or experienced. A body could only take so much before it went numb.
“I meant what I said,” he said, infusing his voice with all the persuasion he could muster. “I can help. Believe it or not, I have some pr
actice getting women out of trouble. And if you need even more backup, then my friends are ready and willing to do whatever you need.”
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Two of them are here. They’re FBI agents.”
At the mention of law enforcement officers, Tahlia’s mouth slackened. “Patrick, how could you?” she cried.
Crap, that was badly done. Of course she thought she was in trouble. Someone most likely died in her apartment the night she disappeared. He shifted, prepared to block her if she bolted.
“Believe me, these two are on your side. One of them is my brother-in-law. The other is his partner, and both owe me a favor. A big one.”
He paused, stroking her wrist with his thumb. “I know what happened in your apartment. Someone broke in, forcing your window. The lock was broken. A second-floor apartment is more secure than one on the ground floor, but it’s still accessible for a determined thief. He was waiting for you inside.”
Tahlia sat frozen.
“It was one of your cousins, wasn’t it? Which one?”
Her lip trembled, and she mouthed something.
“What was that?” Had she said a name?
She cleared her throat, scanning the room as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I said there were two of them waiting.”
That last was a ragged little whisper.
Trick stifled the rush of adrenaline that made his blood run fast and hot. He’d never been this angry in his entire life—which was exactly the wrong reaction at this moment. The last thing he needed was to scare Tahlia off because of his lack of discipline.
It was make or break time.
“Tahlia, we don’t know each other well, but you can trust me. I’ve only scratched the surface of the shit storm that is your family, and I know you can’t face them alone. Not with their resources. But money and power I’ve got and let me tell you…I would bet everything I had on you.”
She blinked a few times. “So you’re offering to stake me?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s an excellent way of looking at it. I want to pit my resources against theirs.”
Tahlia hopeless expression didn’t change. “Patrick, this isn’t a game. There’s no chance of winning here. Those people—” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t even know how to explain who they are or even what they are.”
Trick wasn’t the hotel’s top salesman for nothing. “Things seem bad now, there’s no denying that. And maybe I’m not enough to instill much confidence. After all, you kicked my ass the one time we played. But I’m not stupid enough to think I can take on your family on my own. In my business, I’ve learned you are only as good as the network of people at your back. Talk to my brother-in-law Jason and his partner Ethan. I may not be able to convince you to accept my help. They are another story.”
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I’ll never admit to this in their presence, but they are damn good at their jobs. The very best. Talk to them and see how you feel. You have my word that if you want to walk away afterward, I’ll see to it that you have whatever you need. Cash, fake IDs—hell, you can take my damn car.”
Tahlia smile was small, but her eyes flashed like diamonds. Her teeth ran over her full lower lip as she appeared to think it over.
“Is one of these FBI agents you think so highly of the bartender over there?”
He cocked his head at her. “How did you know?”
She turned, checking out Jason at work from the corner of her eye. “I don’t think the lady he just gave a drink to is enjoying it judging by the face she’s making. Can’t really blame her since he used gin in a cosmopolitan. A real bartender wouldn’t make that mistake. And you would only hire the best mixologists under normal circumstances, wouldn’t you?”
He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was incredibly observant. Poker players studied human behavior, searching for the minute tells that gave away a bluff. But noticing that a bartender across the room used the wrong liquor was above and beyond.
Now he knew he was in love. Their children would be brilliant, beautiful, and self-aware.
“Jason and Ethan will be on your side, as am I,” he promised. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
This last made her stop and think. He could see the longing in her expression.
No one should have to face the kind of crap she was up against on their own.
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.” There was a hint of an unspoken again in her voice.
Okay, there was no fucking way in hell he was letting her out the door without him now. He’d pick her up and carry her to the kitchen himself if he had to.
“And I don’t want you to get hurt because you were afraid of taking help I’m more than capable of giving.” His eyes bored into hers, willing her to gamble on him. “I wasn’t kidding before. I do have experience against crazy family members and stalker types. More than you would guess. But you don’t have to take that on faith. If you don’t want to talk to Jason or Ethan, I can have Maia on the phone in under a minute. She’ll vouch for me.”
There was a long pause as she fiddled with the napkin under the milkshake glass. “You don’t need to do that…I’ll talk to your friends, but I can’t promise anything.”
Trick was thrilled, but her expression tightened as if she immediately regretted her decision. Patrick hurried to his feet, putting his arm around her. He was eager to get her in the back before she changed her mind.
They were halfway across the room when the lights went out. A blow to his back threw him off balance.
It happened so quickly he didn’t have time to brace himself. He hit the floor hard, and it knocked the wind out of him.
Using the reflexes honed by a thousand sparring bouts with Liam, Trick rolled, flipping to his feet the way he did whenever his older brother knocked him to the ground.
When he could breathe again, he called out to Tahlia, but it was doubtful anyone could hear him over the pandemonium breaking out.
People were screaming. There was the sound of running feet and glass breaking over the clatter of poker chips hitting the floor. He reached out, but the only thing his hand encountered was a man’s pant leg.
“Tahlia,” he called out again, hands out. He grunted when another body—a large man—barreled into him, hitting him on the shoulder. But this time, Trick kept his balance, automatically pivoting to minimize the impact. It happened so quickly he almost missed the burning sting on his palm.
Ignoring the sensation, he raced toward the faint light that shone into the room briefly when the kitchen door swung inward. Ethan was back there holding a flashlight.
“Patrick.” Jason was calling out for him.
“I’m over here,” he said, tracking his brother-in-law’s voice back to the bar.
They met in front of the swinging door. “Lights! We need light. I lost hold of Tahlia.”
Jason grunted. He pushed the swinging door open where Ethan was holding the flashlight up to a breaker box.
“Do you have another flashlight?” Trick asked. He needed to get back out there to find Tahlia.
The beam of light swept over him. “Why the hell are you covered in blood?” Ethan barked.
Trick glanced down at the ominous red slash staining his otherwise pristine white shirt. He swore aloud. “Fuck! My hand—I thought that hurt too much.”
“What the hell happened?” Jason asked.
“Give me the flashlight. I need to get back to Tahlia,” he pleaded. “Someone is running around with a knife out there.”
“Hold up,” Ethan snapped when he reached out to take the torch from his hands. He flipped a few switches, and light flooded the room. It came on in the main room as well, where the screaming abruptly stopped.
Ethan and Jason right behind him, he burst past the swinging doors. The makeshift casino was a mess.
The guests were milling around nervously. The waiters were trying to restore order by picking
up the broken glasses and strewn poker chips. Letting them take care of it, he ran back and forth across the space until he caught sight of a brunette standing near the window with her back to him.
“Tahlia!” He hurried over and took hold of her arm.
The girl turned, startled. It wasn’t her. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, backing away quickly.
Jason was right behind him, shaking his head. Tahlia was gone.
Tahlia ran down the alley, holding her aching hand against her chest. The man who’d grabbed her in the dark had twisted it so hard she was worried it was sprained.
When the lights went out, she’d been surprised, but not scared. At first, it appeared to be a random fluke. Then someone shoved her and Patrick, knocking them to the ground.
The impact stunned her. She landed on something rectangular and hard. It felt like a phone. She’d reached for it, intending to try and use it as a flashlight, but before she could press any of the buttons, the assailant reached down, capturing her arms in a painful grip.
Tahlia reacted on instinct. Instead of fighting him, she’d launched herself up, jumping into the man’s arms. She crashed into his chest, her fingernails raking across his face. He was wearing night-vision goggles.
Tahlia snatched them off with her free hand, tossing them aside while simultaneously twisting in his grasp. The move surprised the man enough to let go.
Blind in the dark, she stumbled into other casino-goers, escaping serious injury through sheer dumb luck.
She ended up walking into the bathroom door next to the bar. Moving quickly, she locked herself inside before crawling out the window and down the fire escape, tossing the phone into her purse and kicking off her borrowed heels along the way.
Tahlia prayed Patrick was all right. The man who attacked them might have a gun. She had no idea.
It’s okay, he’ll come after you. Patrick and the others would be fine as long as she wasn’t there.
