Deadly Odds

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Of course, sir. Whatever you need.”

  “I need you to figure out why my casino is losing money. And do it fast.”

  * * *

  Ten hours into a day filled with questioning dealers, studying table play and having one of Fortuna’s drivers take her home so she could pack, Kate returned to the suite Ross had arranged for her the previous night.

  Between the chaos of these last days and Mark’s death, her energy had tanked. Severely. And Angel had gone quiet on her. No updates into their friend’s death.

  She jotted a note to call Angel in the morning.

  For now, she’d focus on her current task. At least in the suite, she could throw on her PJ’s and prop her feet up while reviewing the remaining mini-bac footage from the previous night. She’d already studied it, frame by tedious frame, for hours. The only thing of interest had been the woman at the table writing down the cards dealt at each hand. Which was allowed in mini-bac.

  Still, maybe it was something.

  Maybe not.

  She’d look into it.

  In the next frame, elderly Mrs. Miller sat down at the table. Kate smiled. The woman had clearly recovered from her fall and, although moving slowly, seemed well enough to sit at the tables and gamble.

  Good for her.

  A knock on the suite door had Kate glancing down at her flannel lounge pants. The guard Ross had insisted putting out there?

  She checked the peephole found a waiter on the other side. She’d met him the day before when Ross had introduced her to the members of his VIP team.

  “Room service, Ms. Daniels,” he said.

  “I didn’t order.”

  “Compliments of Mr. Cooper.”

  The bastard.

  His being nice would not help her quest to not fall for him. And her being rude by sending this man away without even opening the door would not score her any points with Ross—her client—or his staff.

  The bastard.

  She opened the door. “Hello, Damon.”

  He pushed the cart through the doorway and Kate noted a glass pitcher of iced tea and a bottle of wine on the tray. The man was covering all bases and had paid enough attention to know she liked iced tea.

  At the small dining table by the window, Damon moved the contents of his tray over, setting the table for her.

  “Would you like me to pour something, ma’am?”

  Kate checked the wine. Her favorite. Bastard. She supposed there were any number of ways he could have discovered her go-to wine.

  “He is good,” she muttered.

  “Wine?”

  “Not yet. I still have work to do. I’ll stick with tea for now.”

  Later though, she’d enjoy the wine.

  With a flourish, Damon revealed the contents of the plate hidden beneath the room service lid. And, of course, this wasn’t any plain old room service lid. It might have been metal—Kate wasn’t sure—but it was white with the Fortuna logo emblazoned on top.

  Kate stared at the ice-filled crystal platter where a bowl brimming with tiny black grains sat in the center. Surrounding the bowl were eight smaller ones containing colorful accompaniments. And, oh wow, she knew what this was.

  “Is that caviar?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Cooper thought you would enjoy it.”

  As good as Mr. Cooper was, he should have checked if she liked caviar.

  Blech.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Thank you, Damon. This looks…lovely.”

  At least it would to someone else. Someone who hadn’t grown up on a ranch and loved a side of beef. Sending it back though? After Ross had tried to be considerate?

  Completely rude.

  But, maybe…hmmm.

  Kate reached for her purse, pulled out some bills and handed them off. “Thank you, Damon.”

  “You are quite welcome. And thank you. Please call if there’s anything you need.”

  “I will. Damon, is Armand available?”

  Armand, the butler assigned to her suite, had been in the hall when she’d returned earlier and he’d introduced himself.

  “Of course, I will send him to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Within minutes, Armand knocked. An older man of about sixty with thinning white hair, he wore a suit with a red tie emblazoned with the Fortuna logo.

  “Thank you for coming, Armand. I need your help.”

  “Of course, Ms. Daniels. What can I do?”

  She eyed him. “It’s rather sensitive. I need your word that you’ll keep it confidential.”

  “Absolutely, ma’am.”

  Working in Vegas, the man had probably heard that line a thousand times. He’d probably never heard this request though.

  She pointed to the caviar. “Get rid of it.”

  He glanced at the plate, then back to her. “I’m sorry?”

  “The caviar. Get rid of it.”

  “Is something wrong with it?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He cocked his head. “Is it not what you ordered?”

  “That’s the problem. I didn’t order it. Mr. Cooper, in an extremely thoughtful gesture, sent it. He has no way of knowing I hate caviar.”

  “Ah. And you don’t want him to know you didn’t eat it.”

  “Exactly. At the same time, this extremely expensive food cannot go to waste.”

  He held up one hand. “I understand. I’ll handle it.”

  “Please don’t throw this food away.”

  “I won’t. I have an idea.”

  “I haven’t touched it.”

  “I see that. Do not be concerned. What else can I bring you?”

  She hadn’t eaten dinner and that side of beef she’d thought about a few seconds ago sounded like a banner idea. “I’d kill for a steak. Could you bring me a steak, please?”

  “Of course. Shall I leave the beverages?”

  She glanced at the wine and knew she’d be hitting that bottle before the night was over. “Yes. Thank you.”

  By the time her steak arrived, she’d be curled up and ready for the wine. All in all, a perfect evening. Steak, wine and no caviar.

  All she had to do was keep it from Ross.

  * * *

  At 9:30, after finally finishing his emails—at least for the day—Ross stood in his office washroom checking the day’s stubble in the mirror. Probably wouldn’t hurt to run the electric razor over his face. Still on the clock, he needed to head up to the club and put in an appearance at a birthday party one of his whales had thrown for his wife.

  Dog-tired and totally unprepared for a schmooze-fest, he needed an infusion of energy. Normally, he kept moving, not thinking about the glad-handing as a task so much as a necessary part of the dream job he’d broken his back for.

  After these last few days? He was too damned whupped to make small talk.

  To suck up.

  Immediately, his mind wandered to Kate. She wasn’t the type to hang out in one of the hotel lounges. Nah, he imagined her sitting in her suite working or reading a book.

  He was all for relaxing, but something told him Kate Daniels didn’t get out much. She enjoyed her quiet time.

  Every once in a while, people needed to change things up. Bust out of routine. For him, doing what Kate was probably doing right now would be busting out. And after that caviar delivery, he hoped she might be feeling friendly toward him. Both professionally and personally.

  In the two days he’d known her, she’d wormed her way onto his good side. He liked her dedication, her lack of fear when some wacko broke into her room and her ability to not fold when his boss yelled at her.

  Strong woman.

  But, so far he hadn’t seen any blockbuster discoveries from her on the security front. Was that fair given she’d just started?

  With Samuels, it didn’t matter. He ranked right up there with love and war and all things being fair. And if their numbers were down again in the morning, Samuels would take each of them apart.<
br />
  One by one.

  Piece by piece.

  Still, his personal feelings regarding Kate Daniels hadn’t yet been sorted out. Was he attracted to her? Yes. Did he want to act on that attraction? Yes. Should he? No.

  Because at the end of this assignment, one of them would look bad. Either he’d look incompetent while she was a rock star or she’d be the incompetent one for not fulfilling her responsibilities.

  But, hey, maybe they’d get lucky and both come out of this rock stars.

  He finished his shave, cleaned out the head of the shaver and snapped the plastic cap on the end. The shaver went into the cloth bag for storage and he slid it into his toiletry bag. Everything stowed and in order, he stuck the bag in the vanity and headed back to his desk.

  On the way, his phone rang.

  Mrs. Miller.

  He stopped, propped a hip on his desk, swinging a leg. “Hello, gorgeous. What can I do for you this evening? And keep it clean.”

  “If you wanted me to keep it clean, my dear boy, you shouldn’t have left me this lovely gift.”

  Uh, lovely gift? He hadn’t left her a lovely gift.

  Marcia.

  She’d probably sent her something after Mrs. Miller’s fall. Typically, his on-the-ball assistant alerted him of these things. With the lunacy of the last two days, she may have forgotten.

  “Did you like it?”

  “My darling, you know I love caviar.”

  Ross coughed. Caviar. Holy hell. Marcia sent caviar? He’d kill her. Total budget buster. A wine and cheese tray maybe.

  “I do know. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  “Yes. And that lovely Armand delivered it. He’s such a nice man.”

  Armand? This was getting flukier and flukier. What the hell was Armand doing delivering room service? “I’m glad you’re happy. How’s the hip?”

  “Oh, it’s fine. A little sore and bruised. You could kiss it and make it better.”

  “I could, but then I’d never get enough of you. Then you’d cast me aside and I’d die broken-hearted. You don’t want that on your conscience.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  Ross cracked up. The woman was a damned riot. “On that note,” he said, “you should get some rest. Ice that hip or something. You sure you don’t need anything?”

  “I’m fine. Go do whatever it is young, single men do these days. Be careful.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He disconnected, pondered the mysterious caviar delivery and dialed Armand’s number.

  Ross stood in the hallway outside Kate’s door laughing to himself. Had to love a woman sneaky enough to stage a regifting so she wouldn’t waste four hundred bucks worth of caviar.

  Damn, he should have thought that through. With Kate, none of his usual schmoozing tactics worked.

  He liked it. That she was different. She didn’t expect the usual fuss from him. Ross Cooper with a low-maintenance woman. His mother’s prayers may have been answered.

  All he had to do was make sure he didn’t blow it.

  And it started by knocking on the door. “Kate? It’s Ross.”

  “Oh, uh, hi,” she called from inside. “Give me one second.”

  Could she be in bed? Seriously?

  One second turned to a solid two minutes before she opened the door wearing, not surprisingly, black yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt. A woman ready for a relaxing evening.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Come in.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course. I’m surprised to see you. Is something wrong?”

  He waited for her to close the door then leaned against one of the marble support beams near the sitting area. He’d arranged for her to have one of the oversized suites so she’d have room to spread out and looking at the small conference table with folders neatly stacked in a row, he’d made the right decision.

  Total workaholic. Kindred spirits, the two of them.

  Her laptop sat on the sofa, the screen still illuminated. He smiled at her.

  “You’re working.”

  “I am. I’ve been checking the mini-bac footage.”

  “And?”

  “You need to adjust the cameras over the tables.”

  What now? “Did you find something?”

  “Yes and no. The overhead view is off. A different angle will give us a better look at the players’ hands. Also, Don called earlier. Earl Wicker.”

  “Our guy from last night?”

  “Yes. He’s clean. Dead end. He spent last week at Dominion without issue. I’m crosschecking to see if any other players have been at Fortuna and Dominion on the nights when revenue was off. We’re also double-checking the credit of all the dealers who worked the tables in question at both casinos.”

  “You think I have a bad dealer?”

  “No. I’m being cautious by making sure no sudden spending sprees are happening.”

  After all the background checks they did, all the video surveillance, the idea of a dealer cheating and not getting caught would be disappointing. But part of the lure of gaming was the adventure. The risk. The rush. With all of that came people who wanted to screw casinos.

  Hopefully, it wasn’t one of their own. Ross glanced over at the room service cart. The reason for this little visit. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t like caviar?”

  Her body froze, but he’d give her credit because her face was a mask of nothing. No widening gaze or pursed lips. No horrified shock.

  Nothing.

  Sensing he’d busted her, she grinned. “That fink. He ratted me out.”

  “No. Mrs. Miller did. Apparently, she forgot Armand told her not to say anything about his caviar delivery. She’s absentminded sometimes. She called to thank me.” He leaned in, got right up to Kate’s ear and whispered, “Being the curious sort, I wondered why Armand was delivering room service.”

  Kate let out a soft breath, the warm air grazing the side of his neck and, like every other time he got within a foot of her, his body buzzed. She did that to him. And being alone in a hotel room with her? That sent his mind all kinds of interesting places.

  Later. Right now he had to clean up the embarrassing caviar disaster. Convince her that, with her, he had no interest in being the player she knew him to be.

  That alone scared the hell out of him. But fear was good. Fear meant change and growth.

  He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Nice try, toots.”

  “Dammit.”

  Ross laughed. “Believe me, it took some convincing before he fessed up.”

  She leaned back, gripped his jacket and tugged. “I’m sorry. It was a wonderful gesture. It was. I just can’t stomach the stuff and didn’t want to insult you. I asked Armand to make sure it didn’t go to waste.”

  “Which he did.”

  “I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.”

  “You’re not. I should have checked first. I thought you’d be impressed. But you’re…”

  “What?”

  “Different. I need to do better for you.”

  She set her hand across his forehead, concern clouding her eyes. “Are you feeling okay? What happened to slick, confident Ross?”

  Seriously? He was trying to do the right thing and she was breaking balls? He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his forehead. “Knock it off. I’m conflicted and you’re giving me shit.”

  “I’m sorry. It was too good to pass up.”

  “I know. I like that about you too. I like a lot about you. You make me want to chip away and see what’s underneath. And I’m not talking about sex. For once. And that’s a scary friggin’ thing. My whole M.O. is bent with you.”

  “Ross—”

  He held up his free hand. “I know. It’s business. I should stay away. That’s my other problem. You don’t work for me, but right now you’re under Fortuna’s employ. I don’t fraternize. Not usually. Which creates a problem because I really want to fraterni
ze. With you. And that’s dangerous.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I have the same concerns.”

  At least they were on the same page. Whatever the hell that page was. Damned confusing this whole thing. Before he did something stupid, like kiss her again, he backed up, moving closer to the door. “I should go. One of the whales is having a birthday party.”

  Kate rolled her eyes, obviously thinking he was making excuses to party. As tired as he was, he wanted an excuse not to party. “I have to go,” he said, probably more to convince himself. “You don’t say no when a guy who drops ten million at your tables invites you to his party. The party alone is a quarter of a million.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t seem too excited to attend this shindig.”

  He shrugged. “I’m…tired.”

  Well, hell. Wasn’t he the whiney baby tonight? Poor Ross Cooper needed his bottle and a blankie.

  Damn.

  No one to blame but himself. The life of a workaholic—like any addiction—was a slippery slope. It started slowly, rather than a drink it was a few extra minutes each night, then an hour that stretched into two hours and before he knew it, fifteen-hour days were considered knocking off early.

  Yeah, things needed to change. And he needed to stop isolating himself with his job and actually spend time with people he cared about. His mother might be locked in a cell of disbelief, but she’d be happy to hear it.

  “Ross? Are you okay?”

  That depended on her version of okay because he was about to break a cardinal rule, so probably, no, everything was not okay. “My friends are falling around me left and right.”

  She eyed him. The narrowed look of a woman not too sure where the conversation was going. “I don’t follow.”

  “Guys I never imagined settling down are doing it. Having kids even. Babies everywhere all of a sudden. There’s three of us left—” he grinned—“the holdouts who are still unattached. We’ll see who’s the first to go. My money is on Jase. He was born to be a husband and a dad. That poor bastard has had his heart broken so many times, he should start his own support group. Burke? Forget it. He’ll be single forever.”

  “And what about you?”

  He shrugged. “It hasn’t happened yet.”