by V. K. Sykes
She arched her brows as she carefully slid her glass away from her. “So, let me make sure I understand this correctly. You’re saying I’ve been under active surveillance?”
He didn’t like the stubborn cast to her jaw. Did she really not understand that casinos monitored everything? “Hell, Sadie, of course. You, and dozens and dozens of others. It’s nothing to get worked up about, because it’s standard operating procedure at every casino. And you know how many surveillance cameras there are at the Oasis. We’ve been dodging them for the last three days, remember?”
She let out an angry huff of breath. “I suppose I should have known. You people are more than happy to relieve patrons of their hard-earned money, but will go to any lengths to avoid giving up a dime of your own, including spying on perfectly respectable tourists like me. Talk about a gross invasion of privacy!”
He’d been expecting anger from her—at least for a little while—but such righteous outrage? A casual player wouldn’t normally get bent out of shape about routine monitoring, and a professional card counter would expect it. Not only that, but it irked him that she would finger him as one of the bad guys. She should know him well enough by now to understand he had her best interests at heart.
“You people?” he asked, letting his irritation show.
“Well, it’s your casino. And it’s your job to enforce the rules, isn’t it, Sheriff?” Her rising color showed him she was really getting worked up. “Is this another interrogation? Is there another set of rules I should be following that I don’t know about? Perhaps I should even be calling a lawyer?”
Nick groaned. “Fuck, Sadie. All I did was ask whether your luck was holding out. I’m not interrogating you. I just want you to use that All-Star brain of yours and act sensibly.”
“Sensibly! I think not, Sheriff. No one, and certainly not you, is going to tell me how to use my brain or how to run my life. So, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions and advice to yourself.”
She threw her napkin down on the table and stood up. “I find I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. I’d appreciate it if you would call me a taxi.”
He sat there, stunned. “You’re kidding me, right?”
The cut of her jaw went from stubborn to mulish. “Now, please.”
Great. He could practically see steam blowing out the top of her head. There was no point in trying to talk her down off the ledge, at least not tonight. And right now he was so annoyed with her—and with himself—that he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
“Fine,” he growled. His chair made a loud scraping sound as he pushed it back.
Sadie grabbed her bag and stood by the front door as he called the cab. As he eyed her rigid body, Nick tried to figure out how a beautiful evening had gone straight down the drain in less time than it took him to chew through two bites of the ruined steak. He obviously hadn’t handled the situation as well as he could have, but Sadie had overreacted big time. Playing blackjack was obviously damn important to her, maybe even important enough to blow up their relationship. Not very flattering, by any analysis.
But, then again, were they really in a relationship? Was that even possible, given how he barely knew her? Why the hell couldn’t he figure this situation out?
Still, knowing so little about her was not normal for a guy who made his living watching and interrogating people. Of course, damn little that had happened between him and Sadie Bligh over the past forty-eight hours could be called anything approaching normal.
* * *
It was after one in the morning when Cassie finally knocked on Sadie’s door. Sadie had left messages on her friend’s hotel voicemail and on her cell phone, imploring her to come to her room the second she got the message. She needed to talk through this whole mess with Nick or she’d have to go down to the lobby bar and drink mojitos until she passed out. One minute she wanted to murder him using every medieval torture implement she could think of, and the next she was burning with shame for her outraged behavior at his house.
But what did he expect? He’d been spying on her, and he hadn’t even tried to deny it. Was he spending time with her because he genuinely liked her, or because it was part of his job? Just the thought that it might be the latter made her sick to her stomach, maybe as sick as when she’d heard the news about the Eagleton Prize.
Cassie sat down on the bed, her makeup decidedly worse for the wear. She looked like she hadn’t slept for days.
“Where were you all evening?” Sadie said. She heard the sharpness in her voice and instantly winced. “Sorry, Cass. I seem to have lost my manners tonight, along with my bearings.”
Cassie yawned, waving off her apology. “I met up with some girls at the Mirage and they talked me into going to see the Blue Man Group. We got a little drunk and, well...” She shook her head. “But forget about me, Sade. What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to go Chernobyl on me or something.” She studied Sadie’s face for a few seconds, and then nodded. “Ah, things went south with Saxon, right?”
“South? I’d say they’re nearing Antarctica by now, and headed straight for the Pole.” Sadie flopped down on the small loveseat in the window alcove.
“What the hell happened? I thought you guys were going to have a cozy evening at his place?”
Sadie pulled her legs up under her, feeling gloomier by the second. “So did I. In fact, it started out brilliantly with steamy sex in the shower before dinner. Nothing like that had ever happened to me. It was—”
She broke off as her throat pulled tight.
Cassie sighed. “Poor Sade. What a rollercoaster ride you’ve had, and we’ve only been here four days. What made it go bad tonight?”
Sadie had been pondering that question since the second she slammed Nick’s front door and jumped into the cab. There was the superficial answer— Nick had none too subtly told her to stop playing blackjack. But the real answer lay in her reaction.
She could have let his meddling slide. She could have simply nodded her head in uncommitted fashion when he advised her to take her winnings and quit. After all, they’d just had great sex—no, Guinness Book of World Records sex—and she’d been starting to think she and Nick had found something that might last past the end of the week. But then they’d had that unsettling conversation about her work and her family, a conversation that had felt almost like an interrogation. Then he’d made it clear she was the target of ongoing casino surveillance. That had been bad enough, but when he admitted to being part of it, she hadn’t been able to hold back the overwhelming sense of disappointment and even betrayal.
And, unfortunately, rage.
“He tried to get me to stop playing blackjack, Cass,” she said, the angry and defensive feelings rising inside her again. “As if that wasn’t obnoxious enough, he let it slip that the casino knew exactly how much I’ve been winning, because they have me under surveillance. They’re watching every move I make at the table. Every last stinking move. And Nick’s been part of it.”
“You have got to be kidding!” Cassie’s eyes popped wide with fury. Her reaction made Sadie feel a bit better. “What the hell for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“He claimed it was because I’ve already won a lot of money.” She bristled again as she thought of Nick’s blasé declaration that such surveillance was somehow the norm in Vegas. She found that very hard to believe. Maybe if a player was into the casino for a hundred grand or more. But in her case it was only a few thousand. While her winnings were substantial and important to her, they constituted less than a drop in the bucket for a major casino.
No, she was certain the Desert Oasis had put her on their watch list because they suspected her of counting cards. Nick would certainly have known that, and he’d lied about it—at least by omission. Okay, maybe he could accuse her of doing the same, but she was counting cards for fun and because it felt good, not because she wanted to rob the casino blind.
Cassie frowned. “So, he’s saying they put everybody who wins a
ny kind of serious money under a microscope?”
“It seems so.”
“Well, I find that pretty hard to believe.”
“Me, too.”
“But why would Saxon say it if it wasn’t true? Isn’t he taking a big risk by warning you that you’re being watched? I bet the casino could fry his ass for that.”
Sadie shook her head. “He wasn’t trying to warn me about the surveillance. When I asked him, he acted like it was no big deal. Just standard operating procedure,” she said bitterly.
That had really felt like a blade through the chest. Nick should have warned her, especially once he’d taken her to bed. To be fair, she understood that he’d get into trouble if casino management found out he’d warned her. But what was the probability of that happening? How would they even find out? No, if he really cared about her, he would want to protect her, not leave her hanging in the wind, unaware that security operatives were tracking her every bet.
Cassie stared out for a few moments at the dazzle of neon along the Strip before turning around to face Sadie. “There’s no denying Saxon is smoking hot, Sade. But I had my worries about him from the get-go. Remember? I didn’t like the way he hauled you downstairs that first night, but you wouldn’t let me go to bat for you.”
Sadie nodded. “Maybe I should have let you have a go at him. I’ll tell you something, I’m sick to death of other people trying to control my life.” She swallowed hard, trying to calm herself down, but all the pent-up frustration and wounded pride threatened to choke her. “I’ve let it happen all my life. I’ve worked like a she-devil on steroids to make my father proud, but I could never measure up. Then there was the Eagleton. You know how many years I slaved to win that damn thing, even at the cost of my only long-term relationship. And when I finally produced a paper worthy of the prize, the stupid committee passed me over. Now, I find something really fun, a little thing that makes me feel good again, and the guy who should be watching my back is sharpening his knife instead.”
That was the crux of it, really. Nick didn’t care enough about her to try to protect her. What man in her life ever had?
She threw one of the sofa cushions across the room, not caring how immature she looked. “I’m tired of drowning in bitterness and regret, Cass. Of just taking it and keeping quiet. I came to Vegas to make changes. Well, one change I’m making is that I’m not going to let myself be pushed around by a bunch of jackass casino bullies. I’m not doing anything wrong, and I’m going to keep playing. They can drag me away from the table and put me in leg-irons if they want me to stop, but I’m not walking away.”
Cassie dashed across the room and gave her a fierce hug. “You go, girl. To hell with them. And to hell with Nick Saxon, too, if he won’t stand with you.”
Sadie returned the hug, suddenly feeling drained of energy. “I’d drink to that, but I’m too tired to move. Thanks, Cass. I think I’ll be okay now. I just had to get that off my chest.”
After Cassie left, Sadie went through the motions of preparing for bed. She was exhausted to the point of dizziness, but her brain wouldn’t shift into neutral. Technically, she knew the casino had every right to monitor her play and, if necessary, throw her out onto the sidewalk for counting cards. Some card counting teams had milked Vegas resorts for millions before getting caught and tossed. Even though counting cards wasn’t illegal, the casinos couldn’t tolerate cheaters or they’d be inundated with them, and their profits would take a big hit.
But she wasn’t a professional card counter, and Nick knew that. He had to. She was just a college professor on vacation, one with a photographic memory and a gift for analysis. Why shouldn’t she be able to use those talents to bring a small measure of satisfaction into her life? It wasn’t like she was going to bankrupt the Desert Oasis. In a few more days she’d be gone from the Strip, with no plans to return any time soon. The casino would survive Sadie Bligh, whose brief presence would be less memorable than a flyspeck on the green felt of one of their tables.
She turned out the light in the bathroom and crawled into bed, her mind still racing. Yes, she didn’t have any immediate plans to return to Vegas, but maybe she shouldn’t be giving any hostages to fortune with declarations about not coming back. This crazy city had freed something inside her, though her father and her colleagues at the university would surely not agree.
Who was she kidding? They’d think she’d had a psychotic breakdown.
Back home, she’d been afraid to do anything that might cause disapproval. Here in Vegas, she could do whatever she wanted and not give a damn. She wouldn’t buckle under Nick Saxon’s or anybody else’s pressure.
But as angry as she remained, her heart contracted with pain when she thought of never seeing the sheriff again. Never lying in his arms as he awakened her to a whole new galaxy of sensations. Never talking to him again about the things that mattered in his life. Never having a chance to—
“Stop it,” she muttered under her breath. It was just a fling. Just another item to cross off her bucket list. She had to keep thinking positively. Now that she’d opened herself to the universe, maybe another Nick Saxon would come along.
Sadie rearranged her pillows and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Right. And maybe I’ll win the Nobel Prize, too.
* * *
Nick stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Did he look as lousy as he felt?
Oh, yeah.
Bloodshot eyes peered back at him, grim lines scored the corners of his mouth, and his hair spiked out in a hundred different directions. He’d fallen asleep—well, passed out—on the sofa. So, to say his shirt looked like it had been slept in was an understatement.
And then there was the goddamn torture device that seemed to be drilling invisible screws into his temples.
It had been a while since he’d given himself a brain-splitting hangover. Probably not since the last military funeral he’d attended a year ago. He vaguely remembered finishing the bottle of Shiraz that he and Sadie had started, and then uncorking a second. Not that he particularly liked wine—in fact he preferred beer and Scotch—but he’d kept enough of his wits about him not to start mixing different kinds of alcohol. This morning, he’d discovered the second wine bottle four-fifths empty.
Asshole.
He’d drunk himself into this heinous hangover because he was pissed at Sadie, but he was even more pissed at himself. He’d intended to take it slowly as he questioned her. He’d had no intention of even hinting at an accusation. There would have been plenty of time for that later, if and when he reached a hundred per cent certainty that she was a counter. But he’d made several uncharacteristic mistakes.
Then again, he’d never had to question a suspect after having had his ashes totally hauled by that very person. It was quite possibly the dumbest thing he could have done. Questioning her, that is, not sleeping with her. Whatever happened between them, he would never regret that. His only regret came from so thoroughly screwing things up.
But hindsight was always twenty-twenty. It hadn’t crossed his mind at the time that his common sense would go AWOL when she stuck her hand down his pants. What the hell was it about Sadie Bligh that kept knocking his internal gyroscope so far off its axis? Still, there was no point in rehashing last night, or in second-guessing himself for his mistakes. The stark reality was that Buzz Carson had stuck him with the assignment of nailing Sadie for counting cards. And if she really was counting, he’d have no choice but to blacklist her. The prospect of telling her that made his gut twist into knots, but his job was on the line.
Nick could always tell Carson to go to hell and make him assign somebody else to do the dirty work. But if he did that, he’d have to hand in his resignation letter at the same time. And that couldn’t happen. Losing his job was not an option. Not with what he had at stake.
As delicious and tempting as Sadie Bligh was, if things played out as badly as he suspected they might, he could get over her. He’d have to, f
or his mother’s sake.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m ready for more Skin,” Sadie announced into her hotel room phone.
“I’m assuming you mean the pool,” Cassie said, her voice thick with sleep. “Aren’t you up a bit early, all things considered? It’s barely ten o’clock. I was dead to the world when you so rudely woke me up.”
“Sorry, Cass. I couldn’t sleep. I gave up at six and ordered room service.”
“All right, I forgive you. Skin? Well, you can count me in for that, sweetie. I’m always up for an afternoon at the pool.” Cassie gave a noisy, waking-up yawn.
“Anytime you’re ready, then.”
“Sadie, I’m barely awake. And I’m a little surprised you don’t want to spend the day at the blackjack tables again. Especially after what you said last night.”
In the unforgiving light of day, last night seemed little more than a confusing emotional mess. Sadie’s volcanic anger had subsided not long after Cassie departed for bed, leaving only a hollow pain in its wake. As the hours ticked by, guilt had crept in, and the sneaking suspicion that she’d overreacted. While she could still think of many creative ways to torture Nick for being such a jerk, the thought of not seeing him again left her fighting a depressing emptiness that felt all too familiar. After working her way through two carafes of room service coffee, she’d come to the decision that she had to face the situation head-on or go crazy. That meant swallowing her pride and asking Nick to meet her tonight to have it out with him—one way or the other.
“Sadie, honey? Are you still there?”
“Sorry. I think I’ll take the afternoon off and play this evening. Anyway, we’ve still got four days. That’s ample time to clean out the casino.” She forced a laugh, trying to sound lighthearted for Cassie’s sake. But inside there was nothing that reflected the laughter. She felt adrift, cut loose from all her moorings, both old and new. Chicago Sadie, university professor and nerd, seemed to have been relegated to ancient history. Las Vegas Sadie felt like she’d just crashed and burned in a spectacular fireball.
