by Nell Stark
“Sitting on the biggest stack at the table and the third largest overall. Looking pretty good.”
They watched in silence for a while. At first, it seemed that Mac was playing more aggressively than usual, but Nova quickly picked up on a pattern. He was eagerly challenging the short-stacked players while actively avoiding showdowns with the only other player whose chip stack was remotely comparable to his. It was proving effective, especially since his primary opponent seemed to be operating under a similar philosophy. Between the two of them, they were efficiently dismantling the remainder of the opposition. The tournament organizers, who had to ensure that the field was whittled down to one third of its initial size by the day’s end, probably appreciated their strategy, too.
“Hey, look, there’s Vesper.”
Nova instantly lost all interest in the table. Every cell on high alert, she followed the line of TJ’s arm to where Vesper stood behind the last row of onlookers. Nova relaxed a little when she realized Vesper was talking with Priscilla. Vesper’s hair gleamed invitingly beneath the fluorescent lights, and Nova flashed hot at the memory of sliding her fingers through the cool, silky strands last night during an interlude of languorous kissing.
“Let’s go say hi,” TJ said.
Vesper saw them first. She must have caught a glimpse in her peripheral vision, because she never broke eye contact with Priscilla, but her body language changed. She shifted toward them and raised her chin slightly, a silent acknowledgment of their presence that made Nova feel possessive. Priscilla and TJ might be Vesper’s clients, but she was Vesper’s lover. She wanted to stake her claim in front of them—to slide her arms around Vesper’s waist and kiss her neck and make her blush. Instead, she shoved her hands in the pockets of her board shorts and hung back half a foot behind TJ.
“Young Theodore,” Priscilla proclaimed in her drawl. “How lovely to see you again. And you as well, of course, Nova.”
Somehow, Nova managed not to laugh at the “young Theodore” comment. “How did everything go today, Priscilla?”
“How did I play, you mean?” Priscilla looked at her shrewdly. “Like crap. Though it was still exhilarating.”
Nova swallowed down the urge to say something banal. Priscilla wouldn’t respect that. “Can I help?”
Priscilla cocked her head. “If you’re standing here right now, you didn’t come out smelling like roses either, did you?”
Inwardly cringing, Nova forced herself to laugh. She wasn’t about to expose the depth of her insecurity to Vesper—not right now, at least. “Truer words were never spoken. Tomorrow is another day.”
“That it is.” Priscilla’s eyes narrowed. “Are you entering the Omaha/stud eight event?”
“Might as well. See you there?”
“I do believe you will.” The shrill ring of Vesper’s phone curtailed their banter. “Take it.” Priscilla waved her bejeweled hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Vesper said. “And excuse me.” She stepped away as she answered the call.
“Good night, Priscilla,” Nova echoed, never taking her eyes off Vesper. When her shoulders hunched suddenly, Nova wondered whether the voice on the line was Biz’s.
A round of applause from the crowd distracted TJ, but Nova didn’t care what had happened in the game. She couldn’t hear Vesper’s conversation, but she could try to read her lips. Had she just said “thank you”? Was that a good sign? Not for the first time since the morning, Nova wished she had a real claim on Vesper, so she could insist on helping with her mission to oust Biz from the casino. The worst part about this entire scenario was that Vesper still seemed to consider sexual abuse an occupational hazard. Nova’s hands clenched automatically. As much as she admired and respected Vesper’s fierce independence, Nova couldn’t stop feeling that she was mishandling this entire situation in deference to the career she had worked so hard to build. But when keeping that career meant repeatedly sacrificing her safety, was it really worth it?
Vesper hung up and immediately met Nova’s gaze. She seemed tense, but not fearful. Acutely aware of TJ beside her, Nova spoke carefully. “Did your evening just get busier?”
“Yes. I need to go to my office for a while.”
“At this hour? Is everything okay?”
Nova felt a flash of annoyance at TJ’s immediate reaction to jump to the rescue—not that she could blame him, of course. When Vesper rested a hand on his arm, her skin tingled in sympathy.
“You know as well as I do that Vegas never sleeps.” She smiled, but it seemed rather forced. “Relax. Enjoy yourself.” She glanced too briefly at Nova. “Both of you.” She turned and hurried away, leaving them to watch her melt into the throng.
TJ sighed. “She works too hard.”
“She does.” Nova looked down at her watch to stop her face from betraying any hint of her unease. “It’s almost midnight. I’d better catch the last bus.”
“Bus?”
Nova’s stomach flip-flopped. TJ still thought she was staying at Valhalla. Could she get out of this without confessing where she was actually spending her nights? “I had to give up my room to some high roller,” she said, flashing what she hoped was a convincing grin.
“Damn. Must have been tough to find a place at this time of year.”
“Mm.” She stared toward the featured table and hoped he would let the subject drop.
“Nova.” His hand on her shoulder forced her to meet his concerned gaze. “What are you not saying? Are you sleeping in a car or something? Becau—”
“What? No!” She sighed in frustration, silently damning her own expressiveness. “I’m staying with Vesper.”
“You’re—oh.” In an instant, his frown of concern was replaced by a wide grin. “When did that happen?”
“Not long ago.” At least she could try to be vague about the timing.
“No wonder you busted today. You must be totally distracted.”
“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
He looked chagrined. “I didn’t mean it that—”
She shook her head and patted him on the shoulder. “Relax. You’re probably right. Just…don’t make a big deal to Vesper, okay?”
He scowled at her. “Do I look like an asshole to you?”
“It had to be said. You would have, in my place.”
“Probably true. And I’ll say something else, too.” He pointed a finger in her face, all trace of his puppyish enthusiasm gone. “Don’t hurt her.”
For a heartbeat, Nova was tempted to tell him that Vesper wasn’t the one in danger—that she was the one for whom this was only a fling. But TJ already knew too much, and this was none of his business.
“I won’t,” was all she said. But she might hurt me.
Chapter Sixteen
Vesper ducked into the stairwell and hurried up to the second floor, heart pounding in time with the rapid click of her heels. She clutched her phone in her left hand in case Jeremy called back with new information. Their conversation had been terse, his voice low and hurried.
Biz had me take him out to this place near Green Valley Ranch. He picked up two girls there. I think they might’ve been getting high in the car. They wanted to stop at a liquor store, so that’s where we are now. I think he’s planning to bring them back to Valhalla.
His news had made Vesper feel at once triumphant and anxious, and her agitation had only increased when she considered Jeremy’s situation. But he could take care of himself—she had to remember that. This wasn’t the first time someone had used a limo as a drug den. It was, however, the first time Vesper had been involved. She knew how other hosts handled these moments—some cajoled, some threatened, some turned a blind eye. All of them walked the line between catering to their customers’ whims and keeping the interests of the casino safe.
She paused on the landing, ran her fingers through her hair, and inhaled deeply to steady her breaths. By the time she entered the security center, she was once more in command of herself. Two levels o
f monitors ringed the semicircular office—fifty screens connected to almost two thousand cameras. When she first visited this room, Vesper had been surprised to learn how lightly it was staffed. Just a few security officers watched the monitors at any one time. Most of the video was only scrutinized after the fact, if a pit boss had noticed something suspicious. Tonight, the room was occupied by only one man, who looked over his shoulder at her approach.
“Hey, Vesper.”
“Flying solo, Carl?” she said as she perched on the empty chair next to his.
He shrugged. “Shaun went down earlier to help out with your whale, and Dan just ran out to get us some food.” She caught his quick once-over before he focused on her face. “So, what’s up?”
“I have a situation developing, and I might need your help. One of my clients just picked up two women in his limo. Jeremy’s driving, and he’s pretty sure the women brought drugs with them. They’ll be back here soon, he thinks.”
Carl shook his head as he turned to the nearest computer. “What’s this guy’s name? I need to pull up his file.”
“Bizmarck Deloreo.” Saying it made her want to brush her teeth.
Carl looked over his shoulder at her, frowning. “Isn’t that the asshole who—”
“Yes.” Vesper’s heart was suddenly racing again. Of course Carl would know about the incident from a few weeks ago, but the last thing she wanted to do was to rehash it with him now. She smoothed her dress to disguise the tremor in her hands and forced herself to roll her eyes. “He’s a real charmer.”
“Sounds like.” Carl pressed a few buttons, and Biz’s photograph popped onto the screen alongside a page of text. “Muckity-muck politician, eh?”
“He made his money in the Dot Com bubble right out of college. Switched to the big corporate scene for a while before eventually becoming a public servant.” She didn’t even try to curb her sarcasm.
Carl snorted. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him. Thanks for the heads up.”
Vesper was tempted to turn around and leave. Nova might still be downstairs. Jeremy wouldn’t mind taking them home. The scene unfolded before her inner eye—Nova’s hand brushing across her hips as they hurried up the stairs; Nova’s lips moving insistently across the nape of her neck as she fumbled with the keys. And once her apartment door had closed behind them…anticipation seared through her, burning away her anxiety. Vesper imagined backing Nova up against the wall, pressing their bodies together, holding her head in place while she licked and sucked at the delicate skin of her throat. Her imagination could easily conjure the desire that would be written plainly on Nova’s face and soft, needy sounds she would make. More. There was no use in denying it. When it came to Nova, she wanted more.
But just as she was about to stand, Biz’s photo caught the corner of her eye, and suddenly her memory was flashing back, back to Nova’s expression this morning when they had been discussing him. Nova had all but begged her not to allow Biz to take any kind of advantage. If he did break the rules, and Vesper let Carl handle it, there wouldn’t be any real consequences. Biz might be blackballed from the casino if he proved recalcitrant, but that was probably as far as Valhalla would go. And as Biz had made plain to her last night, there were many more fish in the sea.
“Actually, do you mind if I watch with you?” she asked Carl. “I’d like to see what he’s up to.”
“Fine by me.”
Ignoring the flames still crawling under her skin, Vesper crossed one leg over the other and focused on the cluster of monitors dedicated to the front entrance. To stop herself from thinking about Nova, she asked Carl about his wife and kids. He was just launching into a recap of his youngest son’s most recent Little League game when a black car pulled up. Moments later, it disgorged a leggy blonde, a petite brunette, and Biz.
“There he is.” Vesper leaned forward, eyes straining to catch every detail as he exchanged some kind of joke with his companions and then pulled them in close. Together, they began to make their way inside. Was he staggering because he was drunk or high, or were his movements jerky because he had a woman on each arm?
“We’ll pick him up there.” Carl pointed to an adjoining group of screens displaying the lobby.
“Thanks.” Vesper swiveled in the chair, tracking him as he entered the hotel. He stopped to have a conversation with the concierge, but his mouth was moving too quickly for her to successfully read his lips. As he skirted the World Tree Pool, he paused to take a selfie with the two ladies before continuing toward the elevators.
“Number three,” Carl announced when the doors opened. He pointed to another monitor. “There.”
Other people were waiting for the elevators, but no one else joined Biz and the women in number three. Vesper wondered what he had said to keep them waiting. As soon as the doors closed, the brunette pressed her body to his, grinding her hips against his leg as her hand drifted down his chest. When she began to trace the noticeable bulge in his pants, Vesper quickly turned her gaze on the other woman.
Carl shifted in his chair. “You sure you want to keep watching? I have to see shit like this all the time, but you can walk away.”
Vesper hardly heard him. The blond woman had opened her purse and pulled out what looked like a tin of mints. She flicked open the top and held up a small, white disc between her French-tipped thumb and index finger. Her lips moved, and this time Vesper could read them clearly. Ready for more, tiger?
In that moment, she would have wagered every cent in her savings account that the woman held not a mint, but a tab of Ecstasy. She watched as Biz, already panting from the hand job he was getting, opened his mouth more widely. When the woman delicately placed the tab on his tongue, he closed his mouth and sucked on her fingers.
“Looks like he found Molly,” Vesper said, not realizing until she heard her own words that she had spoken the thought. Her mind felt curiously detached, as though it were floating above her body. The smoking gun had just fallen into her lap. But what should she do with it?
Carl’s heavy sigh set the ends of his mustache quivering. “I’ll go break up the party and read him the usual riot act. Want to come along?”
The image on screen slid out of focus as Vesper contemplated the crossroads before her. Going about business as usual was safe. It was what Valhalla would want. Because of who Biz was—and more importantly, how much he was willing to gamble—the casino would give him a Get Out of Jail Free card. Wasn’t that the cornerstone of her entire career: that powerful people got exceptions to the rules? No one would blame her for slapping Biz on the wrist in the name of preserving the status quo and not ruffling feathers.
No. That wasn’t true. Nova might say that she understood Vesper’s priorities, but her eyes never lied, and they would tell a different story. For one insane moment, Vesper wanted to stamp her foot and scream about the injustice of it all—Samuel’s hands on her breasts; Biz backing her up against the wall; and in between, all the leers and remarks and inappropriate touches she had endured from so many men over so many years. At sixteen, she hadn’t had a choice. Now, she did. How many more times could she choose stability over self-respect before she lost some essential part of her soul? Vesper wasn’t even sure she believed in the soul, but maybe it was the difference between her and a host like James. She still had some principles left. He didn’t. This job would take everything if you let it, and for years, she had allowed it to erode her values.
No longer. Vesper straightened her spine and reached for her phone. “Don’t bother, Carl. I’m going to call the police.”
“What?” He looked at her as though she had suddenly sprouted a second head. “V, I know you don’t like the guy, but bringing the cops into this is a terrible idea.”
“He’s breaking the law. And if I were a betting woman, I’d lay down money that those women are prostitutes.”
“But you’re not a betting woman.” Carl was looking at her intently. “And this isn’t a gamble—this is suicide. If you call t
he PD, Steve will shit a brick!”
Vesper focused on scrolling through her contacts list, forcing herself into action. “Valhalla will come out smelling like roses. We’ll be lauded for taking a hard line on drugs.”
“By the authorities and the goody-two-shoes, maybe,” said Carl. “But calling the cops on a client is a real good way to discourage future business.”
He wasn’t wrong, and Steve would agree. Steve, who had the power to undo her years of hard work in an instant. Vesper’s heart trip-hopped in her chest. Her thumb hovered above the green button. She watched it tremble and suddenly hated her own weakness. Nova had called her strong, but Vesper knew the truth. All her life, she had taken the steps necessary to be self-sufficient. Now, it was time to do more than simply survive.
She looked up at Carl and read the trepidation in his face. “I’ll make sure Steve knows you weren’t involved. But I need to do this.”
Surrendering to gravity, she made the call.
*
Vesper stood near the concierge’s podium as a member of the Las Vegas police department led a handcuffed Biz around the World Tree Pool. A K9 cop followed them, her four-legged partner straining at its leash. Vesper fleetingly wished Biz had given the dog a reason to bite him. Behind them, a man in khakis and a DEA jacket gestured at the two other police officers who were playing escort to the women Biz had hired for the evening. The irony would have made her laugh, if it weren’t for her growing apprehension over Steve’s reaction to this spectacle.
When the lobby door slid open, a flashbulb went off, briefly turning the night to morning. After hanging up with the police dispatcher, Vesper had gone for broke and decided to call News 3. Apparently, the word had spread—several other affiliates had sent reporters, all of whom were trying to get a rise out of Biz as he was prodded toward the waiting cop car.
“What kind of drugs did you buy, Mr. Deloreo?”
“How much is your bail, Mr. Deloreo?”
