by V. K. Sykes
Tonight would probably be his last time with Sadie Bligh—the end of their Vegas fling—and he intended to make it a memorable night for both of them. Yeah, that made him a selfish bastard, but when it was over he’d do his best to make her understand why he’d had no choice. The chances of her forgiving him again seemed slim to none, but it was worth a shot.
She was worth a shot.
Feeling slightly better now that he had at least a half-assed plan to deal with her, Nick went into the ops center and looked around for his boss. He’d promised Carson an answer on Sadie today, but now he was going to ask for an extension until morning. All he’d been able to come up with as an excuse was to claim he’d been so preoccupied with his mother’s injury that he hadn’t been able to focus on monitoring Sadie. It was a lie, but a halfway believable one. Any normal boss would be sympathetic.
But Buzz Carson was not a normal boss.
Fortunately, he found out that the chief had left the ops center a short while ago, probably to welcome TinyZ on his arrival to the casino. That being the case, Nick could finally plow through the reports that had piled up. There was no rush to get back to the monitors, since Sadie wouldn’t be returning to the blackjack pit any time soon. He headed into his office and settled behind his desk to work his way through the reports.
But Nick quickly found he couldn’t concentrate. He couldn’t shake the restless, irritated feeling that he should be doing something—anything but frigging paperwork. Sadie Bligh had shot his concentration to shit, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t focus. After half an hour, he muttered a few choice curses and gave up.
Heading down to the casino floor to do a walkthrough he noticed that outside, the day was brilliantly sunny and hot. But inside the cavernous casino, the massive air handling units kept the temperature at a brisk sixty-six degrees, and the dim, eerie, lighting made it seem even cooler. Quite a change from his days in the desert heat of Iraq, where he’d had to battle both the harsh elements and the enemy. He didn’t miss that part, but he did miss being a Marine, doing a job that had real purpose. Being part of a real team.
“Hey, Nick.” DaRon Washington snapped a two-finger salute as Nick approached. One of the Desert Oasis’s smartest floor agents, DaRon blended in easily with the class of gamblers the casino attracted. Young, hip and immaculately dressed in a navy blazer and tailored gray wool slacks, he played the role of gregarious casino employee to perfection, managing to layer a joking, carefree personality on top of a wary, hyper-alert nature. More than any of the other security guys, Nick could count on DaRon to have his back.
“Anything interesting going on, DaRon?”
“Hell, yeah. Look at the crowd lined up outside the west entrance.” He jerked his head to the right. “Tiny’s due any minute. In fact, he was supposed to be here half an hour ago.”
Nick hadn’t paid much attention to TinyZ’s arrival arrangements. That was Carson’s baby. But craning his neck to look around the central bar gazebo that blocked their view of the west entrance, Nick did a quick double take. The crowd massed in front of the glass doors looked enormous and agitated.
“Let’s take a walk, DaRon,” Nick said, starting across the casino floor.
Four sets of heavy glass doors, now locked, lined the west side of the hotel and casino complex. An undulating mass of humanity pressed against them. Bodies—hundreds of them—filled the wide sidewalk and spilled down the block. At least twenty uniformed Las Vegas police had formed a cordon to allow TinyZ to enter the hotel without being crushed by his devoted following.
“Shit. I guess he’s popular,” Nick said.
“Dude, do you live under a rock? Popular? He’s the biggest act we’ve had here since the Black-Eyed Peas. All three shows sold out the first day tickets went up.”
Nick guessed he did live under a rock, because the rapper was barely on his radar. “I hear Mr. Z likes poker and blackjack. I suppose he checked in early to get in some table time before he gets down to work tomorrow.”
DaRon nodded as a convoy of stretch limos pulled up in the driveway. Screams erupted as fans tried to surround the cars but were pushed back by security staff and police. “He does like to play,” he said, raising his voice above the noise. “We’ve got teams assigned to close off any table he’s playing. He’ll have his own personal bodyguards, too. The man doesn’t take chances.”
Nick shook his head as the cops pushed the fans back so Tiny and his party could get out of their cars. “We’re going to set up a private table for him, right?”
“Unfortunately for us, that’s not what he wants. Tiny likes to pick his spots on the fly. They say he gets a kick out of meeting ordinary folks. He absolutely insisted on it, and the chief gave in. But the security team’s going to be all over him wherever he goes.”
“I don’t envy you guys. Sounds like a fucking nightmare to me.”
DaRon shrugged. “It’s under control. There have been a few incidents with Tiny’s crew at some hotels, but the chief’s not going to let anything like that go down here. Me, I’m looking forward to seeing him. Tiny’s a cool dude.”
Nick had heard about TinyZ on the news, but had never seen the man in person. The “cool dude” who had just hauled his massive frame out of the lead limo was anything but tiny. Nick put him at six-four and at least three hundred and fifty pounds. But he carried his massive bulk well. His black suit fit him perfectly, and could have been tailored by Savile Row. Underneath the suit he wore a bright white tee shirt, against which hung an impressive collection of bling. Tiny flashed a broad, disarming smile, waving at his fans. Security staff unlocked one door and police formed restraining lines so Tiny and his group could get through the crush.
The Desert Oasis’s general manager, Cole Johnson, shook Tiny’s hand the instant he came through the door. Buzz Carson followed immediately with his own handshake, though he looked far less impressed with Tiny than his boss was. Seconds later, the entourage was swept toward a private VIP elevator behind a phalanx of security agents. The buzz from outside grew louder as overly-excited fans tried to force their way inside.
Nick grimaced. “Something tells me we’re in for an interesting couple of days.”
* * *
Sadie grinned at her reflection in the fitting room’s full-length mirror. “Okay, now this is sexy.” She twirled, letting the full skirt of the red silk dress float out around her. The halter top showcased her breasts in a way that would have embarrassed her a few days ago.
“Hell, yeah,” Cassie said with a grin. “You’re going to need a shotgun to keep the hound dogs off you. Then again, I suppose Sheriff Studly will probably see to that chore.”
Sadie peered over her shoulder to double-check that her butt didn’t look too big. “From your mouth to God’s ears, Cass. I think I’m going to need a little extra help to encourage the sheriff to keep his attention on what really matters.”
As soon as Nick left the pool area, Sadie had collected Cassie and decamped to the Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace. It might be a dreadful lapse into immaturity on her part, but tonight she wanted to make Nick freeze in his tracks the moment he laid eyes on her. Since he had never seen her in anything but casual clothes, a truly spectacular dress just might do the trick.
Her doubts about the wisdom of seeing Nick again had faded the moment he apologized to her. Suddenly, her anger about what she’d seen as his betrayal had seemed a dreary waste of emotional energy. She had come to Vegas to escape her depression, not foster it. And, yes, her romantic fantasy would end very soon. But tonight she wanted the sheriff as much as she’d wanted anything in her life, and that included the Eagleton Prize.
Staring at the unfamiliar image reflected in the mirror, she froze, stunned by the absurdity of comparing Nick Saxon to an overarching goal she had spent so many years working to achieve. How could that be possible? She’d known him for less than a week, and after tonight she would probably never see him again.
The impeccably attired shop clerk
tapped on the doorframe and then swept into the fitting room, breaking Sadie free from the strange tension gripping her. “That dress was absolutely made for you,” the clerk enthused. “You look fabulous, and so sexy.”
“She’s out to hunt the hunter,” Cassie said wryly.
The clerk laughed. “Then the poor man doesn’t stand a chance.”
Sadie firmly squashed her worries about Nick back into their mental box. Just this once, she would focus on the fun. There would be plenty of time to figure out the rest of her life after tomorrow. “I’ll take it,” she said, slipping the wildly expensive dress over her head.
Cassie clapped her hands. “Atta girl. Now for the shoes.”
“I know the ones I want—the red heels we saw in the display case next door.”
Cassie looked at her as if she’d broken out of an asylum. “Are you serious? I looked at those already. Do you have any idea how much they cost?”
Sadie shot her a grin. “You’re forgetting that while you’ve been soaking up sun and shamelessly flirting at the pools, I’ve been plying my skills at the casino.”
“Right. And incurring the wrath of the very man you want to bowl over tonight. I still don’t know about this, Sade. I’m worried you’re playing with fire.”
Sadie took her time pulling her tee shirt over her head. “You think I’m being foolish, don’t you?” She tried not to sound defensive.
Cassie scrunched up her face. “Who am I to call you foolish? But I’ve wasted a lot of time chasing after guys I should have just let go. I’d hate to see you make the same mistakes I did.”
Sadie bristled. “You think having hot sex with Nick Saxon is a mistake? A lot of women would be happy to commit that particular error. Besides, isn’t this exactly why we came to Vegas in the first place?”
Cassie gave her a get off it look. “It’s not about the sex and you know it. If you could just screw the sheriff’s brains out and walk away, I’d think it was great. But it isn’t going to be that way—I know it, and so do you. That guy’s more than just a good time. He’s gotten into your head, and I’m really afraid he’s going to end up breaking your heart. And that’s the last thing you need right now.”
Sadie wanted to rail at her friend, but how could she? She’d been thinking the same thing over and over. But she’d throw herself into the lion cage at the MGM Grand before admitting it. “Losing the Eagleton is what broke my heart. It shattered my self-confidence into fragments so microscopic that I believed nothing could ever put it back together. But I was wrong. I let you talk me into this crazy trip, Cass—this wild woman fantasy—and guess what? It worked. I wouldn’t swear on the Bible that I’m healed and ready to go full blast from here, but these past few days have been life-changing.”
As she said the words, she felt her confidence rise. It was true. No matter what happened with Nick, she would never regret this trip, or anything she’d done here.
Cassie gave her a skeptical look. “You’re telling me you’re going to be able to walk away from here with no regrets?”
Sadie grabbed her purse and started toward the front of the store. “I won’t deny I might be sad to leave, and sad to say goodbye to Nick. But I’m not going back home to sit and wonder what might have happened if I’d been willing to take more risks.”
Cassie followed her out. “I hear you, Sade. That being the case, I guess we’d better get you those smoking hot shoes.”
* * *
Nick wolfed down a pastrami sandwich and fries at Nathan’s Deli. Sadie still hadn’t shown up at the casino when he left the ops center around seven, but he was sure it wouldn’t be much longer before she appeared at one of the blackjack tables. His taut nerves manifested themselves in a steady tapping of his left foot as he ate. He didn’t know what had wound him up more, the thought of his last night with Sadie, or the prospect of having to run her out of the hotel tomorrow. Either way, his normal equilibrium had deserted him.
Since Nathan’s wasn’t far from the casino floor, he decided to swing by the blackjack pit before returning upstairs to his ops center console. He wound his way through the army of slots in tight formation at the south end of the floor, relieved as always when he left behind the mind-numbing din of those hell-spawn machines. It didn’t seem to matter whether it was seven in the evening or seven in the morning, the slots stayed busy and noisy all the time. Nick knew first hand that there were addicts who didn’t move off their stools for twelve hours or more. Some of them even had those weird things strapped to their legs so they wouldn’t have to take trips to the restroom. It was that kind of crazy shit that often made him wonder why he was working here.
He had never been able to get a grip on what made gambling fanatics tick. Some had told him they got a rush almost like snorting coke when they won. Those types always came to a bad end, yet they kept coming back, day after day—whether it was to the slots, the tables or the sports book. He knew he should be thankful they did, because they paid his comfortable salary. But spending ten or twelve hours a day in a casino, watching ordinary Joes and Janes getting fleeced by the house, wasn’t his idea of a fulfilling career. Not for a guy who used to have a job that really meant something.
For months, he’d blamed Buzz Carson for making his life miserable. But as much as Carson deserved blame, Nick knew his frustration ran deeper than one screwed-up man’s vendetta. He just wasn’t cut out to spend his whole life helping a big corporation relieve people of money they couldn’t afford to lose. For now, though, he didn’t have a choice. But as soon as he built up his experience, he was determined he’d shoot for something better.
He entered the blackjack area and scanned the twenty tables, noting that only a dozen were operational. Most of those had only two or three players at them. He didn’t see Sadie anywhere.
The action normally intensified as the evening wore on, but the small number of players tonight was unusual, even considering the early hour. When he trailed his gaze around the perimeter of the blackjack section of the casino floor, the reason for the sparse turnout hit him immediately. Security operators practically outnumbered the players. He saw DaRon, who flicked him a quick wave. Nick returned his greeting with a nod.
The platoon of extra security staff appeared to have discouraged a lot of patrons from trying their luck at the tables. Whether having security watching over their shoulders made people uncomfortable, or whether they stayed away thinking trouble might be coming, was an open question.
As he made his way through the tables, Nick couldn’t help hoping Sadie would steer clear of the blackjack pit. She obviously didn’t appreciate being watched—she’d made that perfectly clear to him. Twice. Maybe she’d take a pass on playing for the evening. Better yet, maybe she’d head to one of the other casinos, something he wished she’d done earlier. Knowing her, though, that didn’t seem likely. His sexy little professor seemed to view her ability to gamble at the Desert Oasis as some kind of fundamental right, something up there in the Constitution with freedom of speech and the right to bear arms. He suspected she’d sooner walk over hot coals than let the Oasis drive her away without a fight.
Nick greeted more of the security staff as he headed toward the east elevators that would take him back up to the ops center. He’d almost cleared the casino floor when he heard a low but distinct whistle. Not a warning whistle. A wolf whistle.
He glanced over his shoulder, then spun around.
Every security operator had locked his eyes on the two babes who were strolling up one of the center aisles toward the blackjack pit. One, a long-haired blonde, shimmered in a short, sequined dress of royal blue. The other, shorter woman, whose wavy auburn curls were oh-so familiar, was dressed in a bright red halter dress that lovingly hugged her ultra-feminine curves. Predictably, though, she looked like she was having trouble with her high heels.
His heart banged in his chest, whether from anger or from arousal he couldn’t be sure. Hell, both, Nick guessed, because Sadie had shown up to the party dresse
d in a fuck-me outfit that he suspected would cause no end of trouble before the night was out.
Nick stepped back slowly until the columns of the elevator lobby afforded him cover. Flattening himself against the wall like he was taking on snipers in Ramadi, he peered around the corner. The last thing he needed was for Sadie to give him a grin or a wave in front of all his men. He hoped she hadn’t caught a glimpse of him when she’d stopped and cast surprised eyes around the platoon of security men.
Just then, she turned and whispered in Cassie’s ear. When Cassie responded, Sadie shook her head and continued up the aisle, clearly mustering as much dignity as she could with a walk that was somewhere between a sway and a stagger. Her friend trailed behind.
As Nick watched Sadie try to keep her balance on those dangerous red shoes, the urge to laugh warred with his anger. God, she was a character, and his world got brighter every time he saw her. And, she looked amazing—the prettiest, sexiest thing he’d ever seen. As she drew nearer, his eyes locked on to the way the soft red fabric of her dress hugged her gorgeous curves. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, and the neckline plunged low, revealing far more of her beautiful tits than he would have liked to have her display in this particular venue. Especially in front of the eyes of his security buddies.
His erection surged, more than matching his frustration. A primitive response to the sight of his woman entering a circle of voracious rivals.
His woman? Okay, what planet did that thought come from? He seriously needed to get a grip.
As Sadie more or less wobbled her way onto one of the middle seats at a twenty-five dollar blackjack table, he was surprised to see Cassie sit down next to her, on her left. Her friend had previously displayed no interest in blackjack.
