Bet Me

by Catherine Mann

  She raked her fingernails along her shoulder and resisted the urge to replace her tiara with a jeweled baseball cap. She truly respected the beauty and history of her heritage, but she’d picked a new path for her life years ago. However, for this weekend she had to impersonate her spoiled brat princess cousin, Ting.

  Lucky for Kim’s case, she and “Princess” Ting could be identical twins.

  Not that either of them was really royalty. The whole imperial thing had ended thirty-eight years ago in a military coup. Her family was allowed to keep their titles out of courtesy only.

  A hand rested on her shoulder, jolting her. She turned to find Dorian had slid through the masses, past a lion tamer and a vacationing couple. Dorian wore a prim suit, lucky her, but her undercover get-up would come soon enough.

  “Hang in there, my friend,” Dorian consoled. “It doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. We all know you can kick any man’s ass with your black-belt qualifications—not to mention your street moxy.”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “I can barely walk in this thing. But sure, whatever.”

  Dorian dipped her head and whispered, “Kim, are you sure you’re up to this?”

  “I only needed a few stitches, not major surgery.” Itching. Not pain. She wouldn’t think about the bullet wound. A nick only, really.

  “That doesn’t mean getting shot didn’t mess with your head.”

  Kim forced a smile. “You just want to shift the odds in your favor of getting that week off.”

  “I’m only watching my friend’s back.” She grinned. “Not that I could recognize your back in all those clothes you’re wearing.”

  “It’s better than being darn near naked,” Kim pointed out—Dorian would be wearing streetwalker gear soon enough.

  A scowl turned Dorian’s expression fierce. “Point taken. The stilettos are guaranteed ankle-breakers”

  “I respect my country’s historical wear, but dang, this stuff chafes.”

  “Once you get through the welcome ceremony at the Great Wall Casino, things will be more laidback. You’ll have freedom to dig around for leads on the diamond trafficking. Lucky for us, your family connections presented the perfect in. You should be able to move around without too much notice.”

  “Obviously you’ve never seen Ting featured in Celebs Magazine.”

  Clarissa Rivers made her way past Jakowski in drag to join them. “Too bad they couldn’t give you a purple tiara. You like purple.”

  “I’m sure Ting has one shoved somewhere.” Her cousin made full use of the family coffers to pamper herself.

  “At least you don’t have to go undercover as a maid or a hooker.” Clarissa tugged at her outfit’s apron in obvious disgust, the magenta costume obviously striking some kind of negative chord.

  “You’ve got me there.” Kim eyed her two friends, grateful for their support. They really could be out working their cases now, getting a head start on her, but they’d come here to look out for her, to make sure she had her feet under her since the shooting a month ago. “Thanks for coming over to check on me. But I’m sure you need to get back to your own assignments.”

  Clarissa tapped Kim’s tiara. “We wouldn’t have missed your launch for the world.”

  The room was called to attention for Captain Pearson. “Be seated. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today, so let’s get straight to it and start with getting Detective Wong out on the street.”

  Deep breath. Time to make her grand march to the front of the room. Bye-bye burping coffeepot.

  Kim tossed her head back and strode forward, willing the crowd to part.

  Which it did.

  Hmm. Apparently the royal blood still shooshed through her veins after all. Her protective entourage—police officers all decked out in dark suits—flanked her on her way to the front of the room.

  Captain Pearson nodded to her as he stepped aside to make room for Kim and company. “Good. You all look good, convincing. Well done, detectives. We’ll get started soon. We’re just waiting on one final individual, your personal bodyguard.”

  What? All itchy sensations disappeared in light of a full tingle of irritation. “Personal bodyguard? I think I’m insulted.”

  Pearson shook his head. “A bodyguard posing as your escort. It will look strange in the casino if you don’t have an escort.”

  “Of course, you’re right.” Irritation slid away, which then gave the itching full rein to return. “I’m thinking with my ego rather than my brain.” She was still stinging after getting winged on that domestic dispute job last month. She didn’t doubt herself, but she feared others would.

  “We’re concerned about security on this one, Wong. It goes beyond the jewels. There’s been a threat called in on the royal family given the shaky relations between some rogue factions in the U.S. and in Cantou.”

  “I’m a U.S. citizen now.”

  “But you’re not yourself this weekend.”

  Of course. Already her brain was getting muddled.

  “This weekend, you are Ting in the eyes of your mother country. If the tip about a diamond transfer to fund underground armies in Cantou is true, they won’t care if you’re the princess or not. You’re royal. That’s cause enough to put a price on your head. So, regardless, we want a robust security detail, and what makes the most sense is a big burly boyfriend.”

  A boyfriend? She searched the room full of her fellow detectives. At least she could be sure she wasn’t getting the jerk Jakowski, since he wouldn’t scare off anybody in his spandex skirt and pink lipstick. Somebody really should have told him to shave his hairy legs.

  Shuddering, she turned back to her boss. “You’re kidding, sir.”

  “I’m afraid not,” the captain said from behind the podium. “And the most logical choice would be the man well known for hanging out with the Wong women—”

  A slight inkling started to niggle through. Oh, no.

  “—when he was deployed to Cantou—”

  He couldn’t mean—

  “—two years ago on assignment with the U.S. Air Force.”

  Oh, no. Pearson totally did mean—

  The door opened wide and in lumbered Kim’s bodyguard/escort to the whooping and applause of her fellow police officers, who must not have realized this man wore the uniform for real. He wasn’t a rent-a-hunk.

  Uh-uh. He was a man she wouldn’t have forgotten regardless of his size. The looming guy wore Air Force blues, with a uniform jacket covered with ribbons and silver wings attesting to his career bravery. A military pilot who’d darn near stomped her heart a couple of years ago when she’d made her annual journey to her homeland. It should have been a fling. Instead, it had been an emotional code red, courtesy of the most intense, serious…sexy man she’d ever known.

  Captain Marcus “Joker” Cardenas.

  A HALF HOUR LATER as he marched down the dingy halls of the police station on his way to the limo with Kim, Marc figured he would do anything for his country. After all, he had served in uniform for ten years, fought overseas in the Middle East and Asia. He’d even lost a fiancée because of his devotion to the Air Force.

  Yes, he would do anything for the USA. But acting as Kim Wong’s bodyguard for a weekend was really pushing the envelope.

  Still, Uncle Sam called for him to participate in this bizarre assignment for his country…. He hadn’t even had a chance to say more than hello to the woman once he’d walked into the briefing room. Her boss had taken over and hadn’t stopped talking until he dismissed them.

  Two years ago Kim had gotten to him in a way no other woman had—and then dumped him on his patriotic butt. Her family, her country were all more important than him. And here they were again, except he didn’t know if she’d changed.

  What poor luck he’d been selected for this assignment—protecting a princess, even if she was pretending. Okay, not poor luck at all. He’d been on the short list of military contenders for the assignment. He’d been a military cop before entering flight tra
ining, and he’d worked some dark ops before. Plus the fact that he knew the woman and he became the perfect person to add to the protective detail.

  But he was the best man for the job, and the thought of her in the line of fire twisted knots in his gut even now.

  Damn. He could use some of that coffee they’d left behind.

  What he didn’t understand was if Kim Wong was a cop, a naturalized American, why had she been so tied to her country when they’d dated two years ago? It didn’t make much sense to him.

  Must have been a convenient brush-off.

  Great. That made this assignment all the more fun. As if he wasn’t already pretty much mad at the world. Shortly after he and Kim had split, he’d fallen into a rebound relationship with a woman who lived near his base. She’d been the opposite of adventurous Kim. Seemed perfect for settling down.

  Wrong.

  His fiancée had dumped him at the rehearsal dinner a year ago because of his dangerous job. Fine. So he’d taken some shrapnel when his barracks had been blown to bits. It wasn’t like his job had been a surprise to her. If he heard one more friend say how it was better he found out now, he would knock their block off.

  Yeah, yeah, he wasn’t an easygoing, chuckle-a-minute sort of fellow, but it took a lot to make him mad, too. For the most part he was unshakable.

  Pity pissed him off. So what would Kim think of the scar he sported on his face now? And was that even Kim under all that red-and-orange embroidered garb? It was wrapped so tightly around her he wasn’t sure she would be able to make her way to the limo waiting outside.

  The crowd stalled in the hall near the exit sign, apparently some holdup with traffic outside. The two women flanking Kim thrust out their hands.

  “Morning, Captain Cardenas,” said an uptight chick in a suit buttoned so snugly it might well choke her. “Dorian Byrne.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He went through the motions, his eyes still on Kim.

  “And good morning to you.” The lady in a rosy-red maid’s costume started to shake his hand before pausing to scratch her arm.

  Poison ivy, or what? Nothing contagious, he hoped. He shook her hand and prayed for the best. “I assume you’re detectives who work with Kim.”

  Detective Uptight pursed her lips so flat even a collagen implant wouldn’t have survived. “Yes, sir, we do. And I assume you’ve got some exceptional training for them to have brought you in, because Kim’s never needed backup to this degree before.”

  The cop/maid waved a finger in his face. “There’s some serious crap going down at the Great Wall this weekend.”

  Kim snorted. “Yeah, right, heavy crap, Scooter says. Which doesn’t mean much from a heroin-addicted snitch who likes to think he’s a real cop because he manages to hold down a job guarding furniture storage containers.”

  Still, even with Kim’s dismissive comment, the warnings of danger at the Great Wall Casino sent a shot of premonition up his spine he hadn’t felt since seconds before his barracks blew underneath him over in Rubistan. He was supposed to be her bodyguard, but he’d been told this was a low-key gig. The thought of something actually going down…The 9mm strapped to his waist under his uniform jacket brought him much-needed reassurance. He would use any means at hand to keep her safe.

  Kim perched a hand on her hip. “Thanks, pals, but I am here and can talk for myself. I am smart enough to take whatever help they give me—as long as that help is smart enough not to get under my feet so much we are tripping over each other.”

  A not-so-subtle reference to the way they’d met, slamming into each other in an open-air market. Her hands full of fruit. His arms full of kimonos and pearls to give his family—suddenly smashed with all her produce.

  They’d both laughed so hard he couldn’t help but be entranced by her smile, the crinkle in the corner of her eyes. The fact was that very few people made him smile. He came by his call sign Joker as a joke in itself, because he was renowned for having no sense of humor. Somehow around Kim, the world seemed…lighter.

  Or it had then. Not so much now. Not with a breakup between them and jewel thieves near the deposed princess of Cantou, Ting Wong or Wong Ting. He never could get the name order right in the traditions of her world but he’d tried.

  She’d tried.

  They’d failed.

  And it hurt.

  With the broken engagement dogging his ass as well as his screwed up relationship with Kim, he wasn’t in the mood for anything serious.

  “Uh, are you still with us?” Rosy Clothes Maid interrupted his thoughts. “We really just stopped by to give you a send-off, but if you two are going to stand here and do some kind of Bogey and Bergman moony-eyed thing, I’m going to punch out now and let you finish on your own timetable.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder at Detective Uptight. “Besides, Dorian’s got a date with a garter belt and merry widow.”

  Now that snagged his attention, except such clothing was in his mind on a different female…. Kim.

  He stared into her eyes, all he could do with this hall full of people around them. Probably for the best since their last meeting had been a roaring argument, so unlike him. So very like the tumultuous woman who’d spun his world more than any barrel roll in an airplane.

  A shrill whistle split the air, along with a shout to head out. The road was cleared.

  “Well, Kim, it looks like we’re about ready to load up, so I guess from here on out I’m supposed to call you Ting.”

  She flinched. “Yes, I imagine so. I’ve thought through the whole undercover op and hadn’t considered that one part—the name change. Ting.” She smiled that secret smile of hers that used to bring him to her or her to him and lead to…

  No. Stop. This was to be a protective detail and some downtime in a casino. Nothing more.

  Then she smiled again and he knew it could be far more if they weren’t careful. She glanced over her shoulder as if gauging the privacy level, stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. “Marc, for what it’s worth, I am sorry about the way things ended. We both deserved a better farewell than a public argument. And speaking of public, that’s probably all we need to say here.”

  Part of him wanted to trust she meant what she said, because then he could close the door on a relationship that had tainted his broken engagement of a year ago. But that same broken engagement also made him leery of trusting anyone right now, especially his own instincts when it came to women. Kim—Ting—could very well be offering up this reconciliation as a part of her job, to help make their fake relationship look all the more real. That tiny seed of doubt took hefty root in his mind.

  Either way—truth or playing a game—his answer would be the same. He smiled right back, ready to press on out that exit door and into the waiting limo. “Then I guess lady luck has shined on us after all, because we’ve been given a second chance to say goodbye with less fanfare this go round.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  KIM DECIDED SHE MUST be a freak, because sitting in the backseat of a luxurious limo with tinted windows gave her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.

  Okay, technically “flashback” would be the correct term, according to the shrink the police department had made her see after the shootout. A shootout that had nicked her and killed her partner.

  She’d spent more time than she liked on “Dr. Freud’s” couch, discussing her smothering childhood limousine days when she’d had no life of her own, every move dictated by her royal grandparents. Her parents and Ting’s had both died before Kim’s teens in a fluke skiing accident—an avalanche. Her grandmother had been terrified of losing the remaining members of her family and determined the two girls would do the old ways proud.

  Breaking away seven years ago had been hard, really hard, especially since she did love her family. But she wanted a life free of the money, extravagance and trappings, as much as her cousin Ting embraced the whole kit and caboodle.

  And the part that still bit most? Meeting Marc…Knowing Marc…Giving up Ma
rc because of family pressure two years ago had been the spurring event that had given her the backbone to make the break permanent. Of course he’d let her go mighty easily, stinging her pride, sealing her decision. Up until then, she’d simply played at being a cop. Running home every time her grandmother called for her to participate in some special function.

  After Marc, she found the guts to tell her family no more sprinting home at their whim—and she put in her papers to be considered for detective.

  Now he sat beside her again, his hot leg muscles pressed to hers. How she could feel him through the layers of clothing and beading, she had no idea, but his heat, his touch…

  Oh, yes. She felt it.

  She shifted her attention away from him and to the window, most of Las Vegas apparently still sleeping off their partying from the night before. Light tourist traffic meandered along the sidewalks—casinos and showplaces oddly dimmer during the day with at least a few of their thousands of lights off.