All In

by Aleah Barley

  Daisy glanced at her watch and frowned. She’d arranged to meet her sister for lunch at the small restaurant on the Hendrix’s first level. The tournament only gave players an hour’s break, and Lily was late. “I asked you to meet me at one.”

  “And it’s like—what—one fifteen?” Lily shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

  Lily was everything Daisy wasn’t. Tall, confident, outgoing, and—behind her oversize sunglasses—glamorous. She’d inherited her height and roller-coaster curves from their mother, and from the father she’d never met she’d received hazel eyes, a peaches-and-cream complexion, and bowed lips that drove men to distraction.

  If Ryan ever saw her, he’d forget all about calling Daisy “princess.”

  “I’m in town for the poker tournament.”

  Lily’s lips turned down, her sour expression not detracting from the perfection of her features. “I need to tell Bullet about this?”

  “Bullet’s the one who invited me.” Daisy frowned. “You’ve been talking to Bullet?”

  “Bullet’s good people. We get dinner on my night off—when I get a night off. He’s like a father to me, except he doesn’t run off and leave me holding the bill.” Lily yawned. “He talks to me. Unlike some people.”

  Hell. Daisy squirmed in her seat. Suddenly she was twelve years old again, hiding in their room while Lily tried to talk their mom down after the latest “forever guy” turned out to be a dud. “I’m sorry, Lily—”

  “Forget about it.” Lily waved a hand dismissively. “You want some food? I’m buying.”

  “You don’t need to do that, Lil—”

  “You’re telling me I can’t take care of my little sister?” Her big sunglasses slid down her face, showing hazel eyes and dark shadows on her cheekbones.

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “And I’m twenty-eight.” Lily rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re my little sister and I want to buy you coffee. I may not be a big-shot professor, but I’ve got money. I earn it.”

  “I know you do—”

  “You might not like my job, but it’s honest work,” Lily said. “I put food on the table when we were kids—not to mention sending you all that spending money at Harvard—so I can buy you a damn coffee now.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Daisy waved a waitress over. They ordered quickly, a black coffee for Daisy and a quadruple-shot latte for Lily. “You doing okay?”

  “Not really.” Lily kicked off one of the spiky heels she wore like tennis shoes. “I’m getting old. A couple more years and I won’t be good enough for the best shows. Then what am I going to be? Mom?”

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  “Beauty’s got nothing to do with it. My legs won’t take the abuse.” She let out a short yawn. “You didn’t call to hear about my problems. What do you want?”

  “The casino is hosting a party tonight.” Daisy shifted awkwardly in her seat. “For the tournament players. I’m going.”

  “And?”

  “And I don’t know what to wear.”

  “You—Daisy Adams—are asking me for fashion advice?” Lily’s manicured fingers shot upward. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, shoving her thick auburn hair away from her face. Her hazel eyes narrowed. Her painted lips pursed. “What’s his name?”

  This was why Daisy didn’t speak to her sister all that often. Lily might not have a sky-high IQ or two advanced degrees, but she always seemed to know exactly what Daisy didn’t want to talk about.

  “There’s no guy,” Daisy said, enunciating each word carefully.

  “Sweetie, the last time you asked me for fashion advice, you were six. You wanted to know if your My Little Pony shirt went with your leggings. There’s definitely a guy.”

  “I’m going with a friend,” Daisy said, stressing the last word. “His name’s Ryan. He’s staying in the hotel room next to me.”

  “Is he cute?”

  “Really, really cute.” Daisy crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Oh, sweetie, you’ve got it bad.” Lily’s gorgeous face scrunched up slightly. “Do I need to give you the talk about the birds and the bees?”

  “Don’t worry. We used protection—”

  “Daisy Michelle Adams!” Lily’s voice echoed through the small restaurant, making a dozen men glance in their direction.

  Once they spotted Lily, most of them kept looking. Even dressed in a pair of navy short-shorts and a white T-shirt, she was spectacular.

  Daisy shrunk down in her seat. Everyone was staring, even Mr. Blethins, who was sitting in the corner with a short red-haired man.

  They seemed like an odd pair.

  Blethins was thin and lanky with a nervous smile. His friend was small and lean. His muscles were tight. He had a scar under one eye and his nose had been broken at least once, if not a dozen times. He was wearing a green army jacket. Daisy didn’t recognize him from the tournament.

  The man leaned forward and Daisy recognized her mistake.

  They weren’t friends.

  The red-haired man was angry. His hands were clenched into fists. His gaze was harsh and penetrating.

  “You little minx,” Lily said, a little quieter. She leaned forward, blocking Daisy’s view of Blethins. “And you’re seeing him again?”

  “It’s not a date—you know I don’t do relationships. We’re just friends.” The waitress reappeared, dropping off the drinks at their table, and Daisy took a grateful sip of coffee, sighing happily when the caffeine hit her bloodstream.

  “And you want to look good at this party for your friend.” Lily stressed the word, as if it had a secret double meaning. “You got time to go shopping?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, you can’t borrow anything from me. You’re too tiny and I’m too slutty.” Manicured fingers drummed against the table. “Don’t worry, I’ve got friends in low places. I’m sure I can find you something gorgeous. My treat.”

  “I can pay—” Daisy swallowed the words before Lily could give her another talking-to. “I’m staying in room 811. You can drop the dress off at the front desk.”

  “And who’s going to do your hair and makeup?” Lily shook her head. She scrambled through her purse until she found an outdated cell phone. Her fingers flew over the keys, creating a reminder. “I’m not on stage tonight until late, so we’ll meet at your room at six?”

  Turning down her sister’s help wasn’t an option. It wasn’t even a good idea. Lily was an expert on clothes and makeup—even if she’d look good in a burlap sack—and Daisy was a mess. She tugged at her T-shirt. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Lily picked up her latte and drank half of it in one long sip. “You’re my sister. I can’t talk to you about your work—I don’t understand it—and we don’t live in the same town. This is the least I can do.”

  “Right.” So why was Daisy’s stomach churning? Why did she feel like she was letting Lily down? Lily was worried about her future—her career—and she looked so damned tired. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Lily’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips in the exact same move Ryan claimed Daisy pulled before she told a lie. “Nothing to worry about.”

  She finished off her drink and tossed a twenty-dollar bill onto the table. Way more than enough to pay for their coffee and a giant tip. She slipped her heels back on and stood up, towering over Daisy’s head. “See you later, sweetie.”

  Daisy wanted to stop her, she wanted to ask why Lily was lying, but she didn’t have the strength. Instead, she just watched her sister walk away.

  Daisy had stopped by Ryan’s table after lunch to tell him she’d go to the party. She hadn’t been happy about it. Her voice had been so damn frosty it could cool the entire casino. Still, she’d be standing at Ryan’s side, providing the introduction he needed to get on Blethins’s good side—finally. Then it would just be a matter of time before he found the
evidence he needed to take out Morelli.

  The mobster was going down and Ryan was going to be a part of it.

  Even if it was the last thing he did.

  Ryan adjusted his tie in the mirror. Thirty minutes to show time and he looked like an ass in a navy -blue suit. The outfit went with his cover story—traveling salesman equals suit and tie—but it made him feel foolish. He stripped off the clothes and got dressed again in dark jeans, a royal blue T-shirt that brought out his eyes, and a fitted sports coat.

  He could be a traveling salesman having a mid-life crisis, even if he was only six months on the wrong side of thirty.

  There was a knock on the door. He glanced at his watch. Daisy was early. He walked over to open the door.

  It wasn’t Daisy. The woman standing in the hallway was a buxom ginger poured into a pair of tiny blue shorts and a tight white T-shirt. She blinked at him. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

  “You were expecting Roger Rabbit?”

  “That makes me Jessica?” Her head bobbed up and down. “I can see it.” She put her hands on her hips, taking a stance Wonder Woman would be proud of. “‘I’m not bad,’” she whispered, her voice husky and seductive. “‘I’m just drawn this way.’”

  “Ryan Wilson.” He held out a hand.

  “Lily.” She took a step toward the door to his hotel room, as if she was expecting an invitation inside. He didn’t move out of the way. “Lily Adams. I’m Daisy’s sister.”

  The door to room 811 banged open and Daisy stomped out in red high heels and most of a little black dress. “Damn it, Lily. What are you doing out here?”

  “You said he was the guy next door.” Lily winked at her sister. “I wanted to see him. You didn’t tell me he was gorgeous.”

  It took Ryan a moment to catch up. The two women didn’t look like they came from the same planet, let alone the same bloodline. Daisy was cute and compact with curves in all the right places. She couldn’t be more than five feet, two inches. Her hair was inky black and her eyes were that dark soul-piercing blue.

  Lily’s strappy heels allowed her to look down on Ryan’s six feet and change. Tall, toned, and gorgeous, she was everything he’d always looked for in a woman…before he’d met Daisy.

  “You two are sisters?”

  “I know.” Daisy’s tone was dry. “It’s hard to believe.”

  Lily leaned forward confidingly. Her cheeks flushed a warm peach. Her tongue darted out to moisten full, lush lips. “She was switched at birth.”

  Ryan bit back a laugh. The two women may not look alike, but neither of them could lie worth a damn. “Now I see it.”

  “We’ve got to stop doing that,” Daisy said with a sigh.

  “What?” Lily frowned, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

  “I lick my lips when I lie,” Daisy explained. “You do it, too.”

  Lily licked her lips. “I do not. Damn it—” She cocked her head to the side, realizing what she’d just done. “I’m going to work on that. Like yesterday.”

  “And I wish I’d been switched at birth,” Daisy said. “At least then I’d know why I was so—”

  “Short?” Lily snorted. “Maybe your dad was a midget. You never know with Mom.”

  “Maybe your dad was a giant,” Daisy countered. “I wasn’t going to say short. I was going to say smart.”

  “Oh, that’s not genetic,” Lily teased. “You’re just a freak.” She reached out and straightened Ryan’s collar. Her fingers gripped his jacket just long enough to make an impact. “Nice to meet you. If you break my sister’s heart, I’ll kick your ass.”

  Then she turned and walked to the elevators, a Valkyrie in six-inch heels. A moment later, she was gone.

  Daisy let out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry about her. I’d say she was the one switched at birth, but she looks exactly like my mom. I’m the odd one out—the freak.”

  “I’m sure some guys appreciate that look,” Ryan said.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m appreciating what’s right in front of me.”

  Daisy flushed until her cheeks matched her rosy lipstick.

  Ryan blinked in surprise. “You’re wearing makeup.”

  “Yeah.” Daisy’s hand darted to her mouth; red polish glittered on her nails. “You don’t like it?”

  “It looks nice.” Ryan could see lipstick, blush, mascara, and smoky eye shadow that seemed to push her eyes over the line from dark blue to rich purple. Her midnight hair was blown out smooth and straight. There were probably a dozen other small things he didn’t notice. Daisy had clearly taken time with her appearance for the night.

  He took a deep breath. She smelled like perfume. Something pretty and floral.

  He missed the scent of oranges.

  “I like how you normally look,” Ryan said. “What does ‘Veritas’ mean?”

  “Veritas?” She frowned. “It means truth. Why?”

  “It was on your T-shirt the first day.”

  “It’s Harvard’s motto.”

  “And yesterday’s shirt?” Ryan asked. “What does ‘Fiat Lux’ mean?”

  “Let there be light. It’s the motto for UCLA.” Daisy was staring at him. “You like my T-shirts?”

  “Yup. Today’s didn’t say anything. It had pine trees on it.”

  “Giant sequoias,” Daisy corrected. “It’s from Yosemite. I presented at a conference near there last year. It’s beautiful.”

  His little bunny really was a genius. Ryan nodded, a strange sense of pride filling his chest. He’d bought her book but he hadn’t read much past the first chapter. Now he wanted to read everything she’d ever written—even if he only understood half of it—and sit in the front row at her next presentation.

  Of course, if he told her that, she’d probably kick him in the shins and run away.

  What kind of woman didn’t want a relationship? All of Ryan’s ex-fiancées had been desperate for a ring on their fingers and a claim on his heart…right up until they realized it meant being stuck with a selfish asshole for the rest of their lives. Daisy just wanted to skip to the final scene and push him away.

  He held out a hand. “Ready to go downstairs?”

  “I’d rather eat ground glass.” She took his arm and they walked toward the elevator.

  Ryan walked.

  Daisy stumbled and clutched at his side. “It’s the shoes,” she complained. “Lily said that any sister of hers had to be able to walk in high heels, but it’s harder than it looks.”

  “Want to go back for flats?”

  “All I’ve got is a pair of turquoise Converse sneakers. They don’t exactly go with Dolce & Gabbana, even though I’m pretty sure this dress is a knockoff.”

  If the heels meant she’d be reaching for Ryan’s arm all night, then he liked them. They stopped in front of the elevator doors and Daisy steadied herself while Ryan hit the button to go down. “You went all out,” he said.

  Daisy shrugged. “You said it was important. Is it for the case?” She threaded her fingers through Ryan’s. “Is it dangerous?”

  “No, I would never—” Ryan swallowed his words. Edgar Blethins had never shown any tendency toward violence, but every undercover assignment had some element of danger involved. He couldn’t guarantee Daisy’s safety one hundred percent. What he could do was mitigate the risk.

  “No one’s going to lay a hand on you.” If they did, he’d kill them. He’d left his gun locked up in his hotel room safe with his badge, but he could do some real damage with a cake knife. Or maybe he’d just borrow Bullet’s baseball bat. “Here’s the plan: we go in, we reconnoiter, we grab some snacks, we go back to your room, and I teach you not to draw on an inside straight.”

  “I would never do that. It’s statistically unlikely to result in success.”

  “Fine.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to beat a guy without leaving any marks.”

  Daisy grinned, as if she thought he was joking. �
��Could prove useful with the undergrads.”

  Thankfully, the elevator door dinged open before Ryan had to think of a response. They got in and traveled down eight flights to the casino’s main floor and the tournament reception in silence.

  Once the doors opened, the pounding music took over and they didn’t have to talk while they walked over to the small tables near the bar. Instead, Ryan could enjoy the feeling of having Daisy tucked against his side like she belonged there.

  Like this was a real date.

  When he had her seated in a tall bar stool—and off her treacherous heels—he leaned in close. “What do you want to drink?”

  “Vodka and tonic,” Daisy said. “Slice of lime.”

  Nice drink. Ryan nodded and went to order at the bar. Then he leaned back against the counter and observed the crowd.

  Most of the men were in suits. Most of the women were in cocktail dresses. Almost all of them had drinks in their hands. It was almost like the New York club scene, but the crowd was a little older and there were fewer drugs.

  He glanced back toward Daisy.

  Damn. From the front, her dress had been pretty enough. The black sheath had a scooped neckline and a hem that fell just above her knees. It was the perfect outfit for a university professor who was more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt than a fancy dress.

  But from the back, the dress was scandalous.

  The fabric fell away from her shoulders and cascaded down her back, leaving a river of bare skin before the fabric gathered again right above her round bubble butt.

  Ryan didn’t know how it was staying on, but he for damn sure knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  So did every other guy in the place.

  He grabbed his drinks from the bartender and marched back over. He was less than five feet away before he could spot the delicate gold chain that glistened between her shoulder blades. The tiny links were the only things holding the dress’s straps together, and he wanted to tear it apart with his teeth.