Deadly Odds

by Adrienne Giordano

  He stood for a moment, settling his mind. Taking in the quiet. The last few years, silence had grown to be his enemy. During silence he thought too much and obsessed over things he had no business obsessing over. Things like his professional life hijacking his existence.

  No wife. No kids. Barely a few friends. Real friends who stood up when everyone else sat down.

  What was up with the pity party?

  He had a life most young executives would kill for. Who wouldn’t want his life? The action, the fun, the high stakes.

  The rush.

  Kate.

  That’s who.

  From the second she’d walked into his office, his normally chaotic life had gone into overload. She disrupted his routine, his order. Even if it was insanity, it was his insanity. And she’d messed with it.

  All because he had a thing for the hot consultant.

  A thing.

  Way more than that. Every thought suddenly revolved around her. The way her hair fell over her shoulders, that soft wave at the ends curling just below her collarbone. And how she wore minimal makeup and was still astonishingly beautiful. And the way she made him work for every inch she gave him. Most women easily fell for his act, the flirting, the innuendos, the game. Kate? She rolled her eyes. Before today he’d never thought that would ever amuse him.

  “She’s…different,” he muttered.

  Different and working at Fortuna. Not even out of the gate yet and already this thing had problems.

  More problems, he didn’t need. What a pissy mood he was in. Fatigue. That’s all this was. After two nights of sleeping in his office a night in his own bed might lift him from this irritating funk.

  For no apparent reason, he walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge. Having just come from dinner with the ’rents this side trip to the kitchen seemed a waste of time.

  And the only things in his fridge were a couple of beers, butter and five water bottles. He’d given up keeping food here. All it did was create more work when he threw it all out.

  Hell, he’d spent a friggin’ fortune on a condo in the most sought-after high rise in Vegas and the place had it all. A view, valets, a concierge to handle groceries and dry cleaning, anything he wanted, he snapped his fingers and it appeared. The building name alone drove the price up a hundred grand. And for what? To never be here?

  “Some life, man.”

  His phone, of course, rang. If that phone went more than three minutes without bleeping at him, he assumed the battery had died.

  Some life.

  Liz Baker’s face lit up the screen. Liz Baker. Their history assured him that with a little effort he might find a place to land for the night. A warm, highly active place that would occupy his mind, keep him from thinking these stupid-ass boo-hoo thoughts.

  But he wasn’t about to do that. They’d dated a short time and somewhere in those three weeks, his let’s-keep-it-casual messages failed to reach their destination. Her response? She showed up at the casino with another guy. One she’d announced she was dumping Ross for. When her back-asswards attempt to make him jealous resulted in him wishing her luck, she’d panicked. She’d called him five times since, each time trying to lure him back with one outrageous suggestion after another on sexual positions they could try. As if that would be all it took.

  Remorse—or was it guilt?—dropped on him. He’d inadvertently misled her into thinking the relationship would include wedding vows. For the life of him he didn’t know how that had happened. And now, hooking up tonight, letting her think they had a shot at a future, that wouldn’t make him an asshole, it’d make him ten kinds of asshole.

  He swiped the ignore button sending the call into the folder with the other seven missed calls from the last hour. All he’d needed was an hour of peace. An hour to clear his head. And none of those calls had been urgent. Urgent calls at this hour only came from certain people. None of whom had called.

  He set the phone in the charger on the counter. He’d hit the shower, wash off the grime of the day and the piss-poor mood, collapse in bed and hopefully dream of a green-eyed, redhead.

  Don’s ring tone blared. Of course it did. And since he was usually in bed by now, this call meant issues.

  Ross snatched the phone up. “Hey.”

  “Kid, where are you?”

  “Home. What’s up?”

  “We got a problem at mini-bac.”

  * * *

  Kate unlocked her front door and considered dropping to her knees and crawling to bed. Even that sounded like too much pressure. Every inch of her was smothered with bone crushing fatigue. She’d spent the last three hours in her Vegas office, her mind continually drifting back to Mark. She’d replayed his word choices over and over and over. Had she missed something? Anything? Even a slight lead that might help solve his murder. She’d analyzed, made notes, sorted those notes, analyzed again and…nothing.

  Last night, she’d called Angel and told her everything she could remember, handing over a typed statement with the same info. Today, there’d been no update, but a task force had been set up. Local police departments along with the FBI had mobilized and the law enforcement community, as they often did for a fellow officer, had come together.

  Soon, they’d find Mark’s killer. With this kind of attention—a dead FBI agent to boot—they had to.

  Still in the doorway, she dropped her briefcase near the base of the stairs and glanced up. Sixteen stairs to her bedroom. Sixteen miserable stairs. Why couldn’t her home come with an elevator? How Ross kept up this pace, she’d never know. She’d been known to be a workhorse, but days like this one didn’t belong in her repertoire. Which was part of the reason she’d left the FBI.

  Not since her Bureau days had she felt this level of mind-numbing fatigue. And when this happened, she knew what she had to do. Drop into her bed and sleep hard and long until morning. No television, no emails, nothing but sleep.

  Her phone rang.

  Damn. No one called at this hour. Well, no one except her insane boss who sometimes called in the middle of the night for oddball and completely unnecessary reasons. Control freak. That’s what he was.

  Everyone else? They all knew she’d be in bed by now. So whatever it was wouldn’t be good. Or it could be Angel updating her on Mark’s case. She dug her phone from her purse. Ross. Unbelievable. The man worked insane hours.

  She punched the call up. “Hi, Ross. Everything okay?”

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m in town, but Don called and I’m heading back to Fortuna.”

  In town. As in here in Vegas. The dinner with his parents. He’d managed it. Good for him.

  She turned toward the door she’d just locked and somehow knew she’d be walking straight back out. “Mini-bac again?”

  “Yep.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Not horrible. That’s what’s throwing us. We’re doing a fill on the table to keep everyone playing. Don has his team checking video, but nothing is jumping out.”

  “Have they narrowed it to one person?”

  “There’s one guy winning more than the others, but it’s not that much. There’s a woman at the table. She’s winning. Could be nothing, but it’s…”

  “Weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced at the sixteen stairs leading to her bed. Not tonight. “I’ll drive back up.”

  “That’s not why I’m calling. It’s late and I don’t expect you to haul ass back there. If you wouldn’t mind, I’ll send you the video. Can you take a look?”

  Yes, she could look. But if she spotted something, she’d want to sit at the table herself and observe live play. “It’s all right. I’d rather be there. I just got home from the office anyway. I’m literally just through the door. I’ll turn back around and meet you there.”

  Now that she’d said it, the idea of driving sixty miles in the pitch black of the Nevada foothills when she could barely hold her eyes open scared the daylights out of her.

  She glanced
at the stairs again knowing the smart thing would be to go to bed. Get a few hours of sleep and then go back to Fortuna. But this Fortuna opportunity could make her career. If she did well for Robert Samuels, he’d make her a star.

  “You’re hesitating,” Ross said. “I’m guessing that means you’re dog tired. I’m just leaving Vegas. Tell me where you are and I’ll pick you up. I’ll have someone drive you back later. Or pack a bag and after we get mini-bac situated, I’ll get you a room and you can sleep. Whatever you want.”

  Sleep. That’s what she wanted. And not to have to drive to Lowville. Maybe she could grab a catnap in the car. It would sharpen her senses and give her a nice distraction from being trapped in a car alone with Ross and all that buzzing sexuality that made her sweat.

  She rattled off her address. What am I doing? “And I hope you don’t think I’m rotten company, but I’ll need to close my eyes on the way back to Fortuna.”

  “I’d never think you’re rotten company. The way I see it, a nap’ll make you sharper.”

  “Precisely. Ross, I have no idea how you keep up this pace day to day.”

  He paused for a second, let out a snort. “I have stamina.”

  God. Such a man. But one that made her laugh. “Couldn’t resist that one, could you?”

  “Nope. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  Ross pulled into his assigned spot in the executive parking lot directly behind Fortuna. In the passenger seat Kate slept. She’d changed into a fresh suit, but within minutes her head lopped forward and her mouth hung open as she snoozed.

  She may have even been snoring.

  He wouldn’t be the one to tell her all that though. Stupid, he wasn’t.

  The women Ross typically associated with would be horrified by such a display of vulnerability. No way. Those women never relaxed. They constantly checked their makeup and messed with their hair and clothing. They could be ready to drop from exhaustion and not one of them would allow him to see an unguarded moment.

  Kate? Out like a light.

  He killed the engine and turned to her. Watched her sleep for a few seconds, itching for a chance to run his fingers over her cheek. He’d touched her before, but not like he wanted to. Not intimately. And that’s what he wanted.

  He trailed his index finger down her cheek, stroking gently. In a few seconds he’d make a better attempt to wake her. Or was that creepy? He pulled back. Jesus, he didn’t know what to do about her. Any other woman he’d have his routine down. Hell, he’d had enough practice. And what that said about him as a man made his stomach twist.

  But Kate? She was different. How, he didn’t know. Not yet. The idea of finding out appealed to him.

  And that was definitely new.

  He dropped his hand. “Kate? Wake up.”

  She snored a little louder and he laughed before touching her arm. “Kate, we’re here.”

  The snore went away, but this time she moaned. Holy hell, that sound he hadn’t expected. Nope. And it definitely brought thoughts of a bed and naked Kate in it wearing those damned boots from the promenade shop. His pants grew tight and—crap—now he had a woody.

  Okay. Time to get rough. He shook her harder. “Kate. Get up.”

  If she moaned again, it would be too much for his horny self and he’d sit on the car horn until she came out of this stupor. Harsh? Absolutely.

  A man could only take so much.

  Finally, her eyes popped open and she bolted upright.

  “Whoa,” he said. “You’re fine. We’re here.”

  She swung her head left, looking straight at him, but even with only the overhead light from the parking garage illuminating the car’s interior he saw she wasn’t completely awake.

  “I fell asleep,” she said.

  “You did.”

  “Was it ugly? I’m told I’m an ugly sleeper.”

  An ugly sleeper. If only. “Not in my opinion.”

  “Oh, shoot. It was ugly.”

  Ross grinned. “Kate, you are determined to make me fall in love with you.”

  Then he did it. Leaned over and kissed her. And God help him if she slapped him with a sexual harassment suit.

  But she didn’t fight it. Not for one second. She, in fact, grabbed hold of his shirt and damn near pulled herself over the center console while slipping him a little tongue.

  Game over.

  This kiss? Epic. And that was saying something. She drew closer, the upper part of her body now flat against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her there.

  Don’t let go.

  Damn, he could stay this way for hours.

  She brought her hands up, cupped his cheeks. Her palms against his skin fired something inside and a burst of heat tore through him. He groaned, the sound reverberating in the quiet car, and Kate lurched back.

  No, no, no.

  “Wow,” she said, her hands still on his cheeks, her gaze locked with his.

  “And you’re stopping, why?”

  “Because this is bad. Really bad.”

  Then she kissed him again, drove that amazing tongue right into his mouth and—thank you—he knew he’d never have enough.

  They sat there for a long minute and as much as he itched to get her out of that suit, he kept his hands at her waist. When he touched her, really touched her, it wouldn’t be with a damned console in the way.

  When he explored that body for the first time, they’d do it the right way. Like adults and not hormonal teenagers about to crawl into the backseat.

  And he’d take his time.

  Besides, she wasn’t ready. The “this is bad” statement might have been his first clue.

  She lurched back again. Yep. Not ready.

  Her chest rose and fell a couple of times, her breathing rapid and Ross felt it too. That strain for air.

  The want.

  She kept her gaze on him, those green eyes, even in the dark, intense.

  Freaked.

  Time for an icebreaker.

  “So,” he said, “that was above average, yes? Next time, I’m thinking more tongue on my part. What do you think?”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes flew wide. This time though, she wasn’t freaked. This time, all he saw was laughter.

  Thank you.

  He might just get himself a replay. In a bed. When naked. Her in boots.

  Yep, yep, yep.

  She dropped her hand, smiled at him. “I think that was just about perfect.”

  “Good. I don’t want you to think…”

  “Stop.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Whatever you were going to say. Stop. I wasn’t saying no and I certainly wasn’t fighting it.”

  Damn, this was a good woman. Reasonable, smart, no pretenses. Rational.

  He ran his finger down her cheek. “You’re going to destroy me. But I’m gonna enjoy the ride. Now, let’s see why Don dragged us back here.”

  * * *

  Kate stood back while Ross pressed his thumb against the pad at the entrance to the surveillance room and held the door open for her. On the way up, she’d hit the ladies room, gave her flattened hair a fluff, freshened her lipstick and cleaned up the mascara smudges from her catnap. All in all, she’d managed to look as if she hadn’t just slept like the dead for the last forty minutes.

  Or kissed the hell out of her client.

  What an idiot. Blame it on her foggy brain or curiosity about the magic of Ross Cooper, super stud, but yowzer, she’d jumped into that kiss with total abandon. All she could hope was Ross wouldn’t feel the need to share the details with Don.

  Or his boss.

  Later, she’d discuss it with him. Chalk it up to a long day and a weak moment. She’d also discuss the new discovery that she was a flaming liar. Nothing about that kiss had anything to do with a long day or weak moment.

  That was lust. Pure sexual attraction.

  Deal with it.

  Inside the surve
illance room, Don stood in front of the bank of wall monitors barking out instructions to his team members manning keyboards.

  “He’s back,” he said. “One of our guys from last night. The son of a bitch is losing.”

  Ross held his hands out. “Last I checked that’s a good thing.”

  “Not when I’m trying to nail his ass. Kate, I need you on video. I don’t care what we have to pay you or how long it takes, I don’t trust this guy.”

  Alrighty then. She moved between them, scanned the monitors. “Is anyone at the table winning?”

  “Nothing to be concerned about. Maybe he knows he’s hot so he’s laying low.”

  Or maybe he’s not cheating.

  “Or maybe he’s not cheating,” Ross said.

  “Wonder boy, I’m telling you, somethin’s off. We’re gonna find out what.”

  Kate pointed to the far right monitor. “Zoom in on his hands, please.”

  The image popped up on the screen just as a woman vacated her seat at the table.

  “Ooh,” Kate said, “Spot at the table. I’ll sit and play, see if I notice anything. Watch his hands for me. Is someone down there keeping an eye on the table?”

  “Yeah. Plainclothes. And the pit is up to speed.”

  “I’ll go down with you,” Ross said. “Time for a walk-through.”

  She glanced back at him. “Do your glad-handing thing and schmooze him. Get us a name.”

  Just as Kate slid into the vacant seat at mini-bac, Ross entered the pit, stopping to confer with a couple of supervisors. Two minutes later, he sidled up to the table, smiled that wicked GQ smile of his. Kate was immediately entranced. The man knew exactly how to disarm people. Quick flashing grin, a pat on the back, a light touch on the arm. Male or female, he knew all the buttons to push.

  Something she’d be wise to remember.

  Their target sat in the last seat at the table and Ross edged in next to him, engaging him in light conversation.

  If this man were a cheat and a casino executive had sidled up to him, he’d be showing signs of distress. Some sort of discomfort. But…nothing.

  If he’s a cheat, he’s a master.

  Kate placed her chips on the table, opting to bet for the player’s hand. The suspected cheat did the same. The dealer—the banker in mini-bac—dealt two sets of cards, one set for the banker, one for the players and flipped them.