Bet Me

by Catherine Mann

  Damn.

  With no time for second thoughts, she dove into plan B. Or out of it as the case might be. She jerked the zipper of her dress down far enough to allow it to puddle on the floor. Stepping out of the mound of fabric, she hit the call key on her cell twice to put another call through to Pearson. She ripped off the thigh holster, dropped it, the weapon, her purse and phone into the mountain of satin. The best she could hope for was that Pearson would either hear what was to come, or he would assume something was wrong when she didn’t respond.

  If she were lucky he would send help…fast.

  She straightened just in time for the door to open.

  The lights came on and Fuentes stopped abruptly, his gaze landing on her, the door still open and resting against his hand.

  Clarissa trailed the fingers of her right hand down her abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The look of disappointment on Fuentes’s face wasn’t what she had been going for.

  When Rita Russo and Mark Weldon entered the room behind him, she understood why.

  She was made.

  LUKE DIDN’T LIKE THIS one little bit. Maybe he was a washed-up cyclist and maybe he didn’t know the first damned thing about undercover work, but he did know a dangerous situation when faced with one.

  Cris…Clarissa was on her own. That was dangerous.

  He stuffed his feet into his shoes. He was dressed; there wasn’t any reason for him not to go up there, too. He wouldn’t get in her way.

  He could just be handy in case she needed him.

  Decision made, he was out the door and headed for the elevator.

  On the twenty-fifth floor, he checked with Douglas. According to the security guard, Mrs. Jennings had gone up to Club Red about thirty minutes prior. Luke headed up one floor, sticking with the elevator, considering his aching knee.

  He’d spent the last half hour replaying those moments when they had been making love, and he had to say he had never met anyone who made him feel the way Clarissa did. He did not want to lose her. She didn’t care about his soon-to-be-history celebrity status or his money. He liked that a lot.

  He liked her.

  No way was he going to hang back when she could be in danger.

  The security guard at Club Red insisted that Mrs. Jennings was not there. She had come, yes, but she had left to get her cell phone.

  Luke knew that wasn’t correct because she’d had her phone when she left the room.

  Something had to be wrong.

  He spotted his friend Shannon. Clarissa didn’t trust Shannon, but she was Luke’s friend. And he was desperate. He was certain she could help.

  CLARISSA IGNORED RUSSO’S GLARE and Weldon’s leer. It was Fuentes’s hard stare that concerned her the most. His ego would be bruised. Never a good thing for a woman in her position.

  “I told you,” Russo snarled. “You’re a fool, Fuentes. She’s a goddamned cop.”

  Weldon finally shifted his attention from her. “We can’t push her over the balcony from this room.”

  Now there was a unique idea. “If anyone goes over the balcony,” Clarissa said, speaking louder than necessary for Pearson’s benefit, “it’ll be you, Weldon.”

  Russo pointed her furious glare at Fuentes. “You screwed up, you take care of her.”

  The last thing Clarissa wanted was for those two to get away. If they walked out of this room, they could be out of Vegas before LVMPD had time to respond.

  “Actually,” Clarissa said, going for broke, “I’m afraid I’m a problem for all three of you.”

  Weldon’s gaze narrowed, as did Russo’s.

  “What the hell is she talking about?” Weldon demanded of Fuentes.

  “I’m afraid he’s as in the dark as the two of you,” Clarissa warned. “You see, I’m not just a cop. I’m ATF. Backup is in the hotel. I would suggest that the three of you start working out a strategy for cooperating. Unless, of course, you want to do time in a federal prison.”

  She held her ground, didn’t flinch while the three obviously considered her words.

  “If she had backup,” Fuentes finally spoke up, “she wouldn’t be standing here like this.” He gestured to her mostly naked body. “She’s bluffing.”

  Well, thank you, Sergio.

  “I’m not bluffing,” she countered.

  A rap on the door drew everyone’s attention there.

  Fuentes checked the security peep hole. He glanced at Clarissa before opening the door.

  She knew it was far too soon for LVMPD to have arrived.

  Shannon Bainbridge joined the crowd. At least Clarissa had her answer about Bainbridge.

  Clarissa’s triumphant feeling wilted when Luke Jennings stepped into the room after the woman he thought was his friend.

  Her heart dropped all the way to her stilettos.

  Their gazes locked and Clarissa recognized the fear in his. Not for himself, but for her. The realization squeezed her heart.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Fuentes,” Bainbridge said. “I just learned that Miss Rivers is LVMPD.” She glanced at Luke. “And I’m afraid Mr. Jennings knows far too much.”

  The shock in Luke’s face deepened the regret Clarissa felt. She was trained for this kind of thing. He was ill prepared and undeserving of the fate these four surely had in mind for the two of them.

  “Can I put my dress back on now?” Clarissa demanded, drawing the focus back to her. Her plan was damned thin but she had to do something. She could not let her operation get an innocent civilian killed.

  She couldn’t let Luke get hurt.

  “Step away from the dress,” Fuentes ordered. He reached beneath his jacket and removed a weapon.

  Well, there went that plan.

  “Luke is upset about his damaged knee,” Bainbridge piped up. “His career is over. No one would be surprised if he turned suicidal.” Her gaze landed on Clarissa. “And took the new woman in his life with him.”

  “You’ll pay for this, Shannon,” Luke snarled, his fury blazing past the shock.

  “Excellent idea, Shannon,” Russo said. “Weldon and I will take Luke back down to his room. You and Shannon,” she said to Fuentes, “bring her down in another minute or so. Going in such a large group might draw suspicion.”

  At least they weren’t going to die here and now. That was something.

  Each added minute provided opportunity.

  “I am armed, Jennings,” Weldon cautioned as he patted his jacket. “One unexpected move and you’re dead.”

  Luke didn’t answer the man, and he didn’t take his eyes off Clarissa until Weldon had pushed him out the door.

  Fuentes approached Clarissa with extreme caution. He picked up her dress. Her .22, purse and phone remained on the white carpet. He toed the weapon over to Shannon, then stomped the phone.

  Clarissa hoped Pearson had figured out something was wrong.

  “Put the dress back on,” Fuentes ordered.

  Since she didn’t want Luke out of her sight too long, Clarissa made quick work of obeying this jerk’s order. When her dress was zipped, Fuentes ushered her out of the room. Bainbridge, the .22 hidden in her jacket pocket, followed.

  “We’ll take the stairs,” Fuentes commanded. “I don’t want to risk running into anyone in the elevator.”

  Suited Clarissa. More of that time and opportunity.

  As they moved down the first flight, Fuentes kept his right hand clamped around her left arm. The weapon was in his left. She knew from the way he’d zipped her dress and poured her drinks that he was right handed. Good.

  Bainbridge was directly behind them. Clarissa was banking on the idea that she wasn’t in the habit of shooting people.

  One…two…

  “Three!” Her right hand manacling the rail, Clarissa shoved her weight into Fuentes as they hit the first step on the next set of stairs.

  Fuentes regained his balance, but Clarissa was prepared for that. She clamped down on his arm with her teeth and rammed harder into him wi
th her trunk at the same time.

  This time he stumbled. Clarissa’s arm twisted but she didn’t let go of the railing. Fuentes took several strands of her hair with him as he stumbled down the stairs. His weapon discharged, the explosion deafening.

  Bainbridge rushed toward Clarissa.

  Clarissa stuck out her foot in the woman’s path and gave her a push, sending her tumbling after Fuentes.

  Kicking off her stilettos, Clarissa ran back the way they had come. She banged on the first door she reached and shouted, “Call the police!”

  She skidded to a stop at the elevator, stabbed the call button, then banged on a nearby door and screamed for help again.

  The elevator doors opened and the car was filled to capacity with…of all things…cheerleaders.

  LUKE STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of his room, Weldon’s handgun aimed at him. Russo was on her cell phone attempting to call Fuentes since he hadn’t shown up with Clarissa yet.

  She had to be all right. Luke wouldn’t believe anything else. He couldn’t lose her now; he had only just found her.

  “Something’s wrong,” Russo said. She glanced at Weldon. “Get rid of him. I’m going to find Fuentes.”

  Russo opened the door and Clarissa barged in.

  “Drop the weapon,” Clarissa ordered.

  Russo looked her up and down, then scoffed since Clarissa was unarmed. “Where’s Fuentes?”

  “He’s lying at the bottom of the stairs,” Clarissa said, “with his friend Bainbridge. Hopefully with a broken leg or neck.” She shrugged. “Or whatever. A whole precinct of LVMPD cops are on their way up.” She looked from Russo to Weldon. “Now would be a good time to give up.”

  “Get out of my way,” Russo ordered.

  Clarissa shook her head. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you.”

  Weldon stormed over to the door. “I’m getting out of here,” he announced.

  “There are about a hundred cheerleaders out there,” Clarissa warned. “They’ve formed a human barrier and unless you’re prepared to shoot them all, I would suggest you figure out a way to cut a deal.” Clarissa looked from one to the other. “After all, you two are just middlemen. You know ATF is going to want bigger fish.”

  Weldon and Russo exchanged a look.

  “LVMPD!”

  The door burst open and the room was suddenly full of cops dressed in SWAT gear.

  Luke crumpled into the closest chair.

  They were safe.

  His gaze settled on Clarissa.

  She had saved his life.

  And he had almost gotten her killed by trusting the wrong person.

  4:00 a.m.

  CLARISSA’S CASE WAS CLOSED more than twenty-four hours early. That had to make her the winner of the bet, head start not withstanding.

  Russo and Weldon were spilling their guts. Bainbridge and Fuentes were both at the hospital, being treated for their injuries.

  And Luke. Clarissa’s gaze sought and found him beyond the chaos of the police station. Luke was safe. And so was she.

  She hiked up her dress so she could walk without stepping on the hem and strode toward the captain’s office where Luke waited on the bench outside the door. When she reached the bench, she collapsed next to him.

  “How ya holding up, Luke?”

  He stared straight ahead. “I’m a little numb.”

  She knew the feeling. Fully aware of what he was probably thinking, she slid her arm around his and leaned close. “Thanks for trying to help.”

  His gaze collided with hers, his brow furrowed in confusion and irritation. “I almost got you killed. I brought the enemy right to you.”

  “And if you hadn’t showed up when you did, I would be dead right now. You and Bainbridge were the distraction I needed to formulate an alternate plan of escape.”

  His frown relaxed. “I did?”

  “That’s right,” she confirmed. “If you hadn’t showed up when you did, I would be dead for sure.” Pearson had heard enough of the conversation between her and Fuentes to send backup. But it was Luke’s move and the cheerleaders who had bought her the time and opportunity she needed.

  Luke sagged against the wall. “So I guess this is it.” He turned his head to meet her eyes again. “I guess our marriage is over.”

  She had to smile. “Actually—” Clarissa leaned in close to whisper in his ear “—I was hoping we could get a new room, since yours is a crime scene, and have that encore you promised.”

  He smiled, the beauty of it taking her breath away. “You mean you’re free to go?” He glanced around the crowded station. “You don’t have to do a final report or anything?”

  The bet she’d made with Kim and Dorian clearly included turning in the final report. “That can wait,” she assured him. “But this—” she pressed a kiss to his handsome jaw “—can’t.”

  Funny, Clarissa considered, as they left the station, she hadn’t been looking for forever…and somehow she was pretty damned sure she had found it.

  THE JOKER

  Catherine Mann

  To Trudy Bulat—the coolest aunt I ever could have wished

  for. I’m so grateful to have married your nephew so he

  could share your awesome-ness with me! Thanks for all

  the support you’ve shown for my stories, even long before

  they ever saw print. I love you!

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  BEING A PRINCESS was a real pain in the tiara.

  Wearing the crown and fifty-plus-pound royal garb of her native country of Cantou threatened to give Las Vegas Police Detective Kim Wong a debilitating rash and backache. And the police station hadn’t even been called to order for morning brief yet.

  She shuffled from foot to foot, shoes too tight as she stood with her fellow police officers on the Las Vegas police force. Yeah, they were smirking.

  “Zip it, Jakowski,” Kim said, “or I’m gonna send your wife a picture of you in drag there.”

  Coughing into his hand, the smirker hushed and rejoined his conversation with an older detective in plaid shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and a camera around his neck.

  Aside from this whole costume party being the strangest morning brief in history, the clothes brought back all the reasons she’d decided to put the pomp and circumstance behind her for a life where she controlled her choices. Hanging out with the coffeemaker burping sludge into the pot, Kim bolstered herself with thoughts of the wager she’d made with her two best pals, also detectives, Dorian Byrne and Clarissa Rivers.

  The bet? Who would close their case first this weekend. The stakes? A very precious—and rare—week off. With staffing cuts, it was tough enough to snag a three-day weekend, much less a full week off. Except in a quirk of fate they had all qualified for the lone week off available—now it was a draw as to which of them could take it.

  Their boss, Captain Bill Pearson, was riding the whole department’s back to clean up the town the weekend before a big influx of tourists for the Labor Day extended holiday. Finishing up fast and first would rate extra kudos around the water cooler.

  Every cop not on another detail had been assigned to work undercover in a suspect casino. She would be working the Great Wall Casino. The tip on the Great Wall would barely warrant attention on a normal day, but her boss was really wigging. So he was paying more attention than normal to an unreliable snitch with a heroin habit who vowed stolen diamonds were going to be moved through the Asian-themed casino this weekend, jewels somehow linked to a radical revolutionary group in Cantou.

  Normally, they would just do a cursory check, not a deep undercover gig. Except this wasn’t a normal weekend. Captain Pearson was definitely not in a normal mood, with politicians breathing down his neck and his wife breathing fire not too privately about all her husban
d’s overtime.

  So here Kim stood in fifty pounds of embroidered garb.