by Jo Leigh
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, aware of what was going on. Just because she wasn’t used to casinos and skintight dresses didn’t mean she hadn’t had to deal with her fair share of pickup lines.
“I insist,” he said, leaning closer.
The arm around her waist surprised her, but only because it hadn’t been preceded by a cheer. Ryan wasn’t even looking at her. Everything about him had gone into caveman mode. He stood ramrod straight, his nostrils flared, his pupils darkened his eyes and he pulled her so close he practically bent her sideways.
“Is there something we can do for you?” he said, and hell, if she thought the stranger’s voice had been deep, Ryan’s was just damn dangerous.
“Nope, nope.” The man stepped back, not accepting the challenge. “Sorry to have disturbed you.”
Ryan didn’t move. Not an inch. From her quick glance, Angie realized he was holding up the game. The interloper ceded his territory to the alpha dog and crept off. It was like something from a nature documentary.
“You okay?” he asked.
His voice was still low, but it had softened as he moved in so close she felt his breath on the shell of her ear. She wondered if he’d had one drink too many, because this didn’t feel like part of the game plan.
“I’m fine,” she said, frowning. “But you’re supposed to be neglecting me.”
“Sir,” the croupier interrupted. “Would you like to pass on the dice?”
Ryan dropped his hold on Angie and turned a brilliant smile on the waiting crowd. “Do you guys want me to pass the dice?”
Like a flash mob, the entire group yelled out some version of “No way,” quite a few of them with far more cuss words. Angie could only see him from an angle, but even she recognized the power he exuded, and if she hadn’t believed all the stories about his legendary conquests before, she did now.
She polished off her drink and looked around for a cocktail waitress. Ryan evidently threw the ideal numbers, and his fawning audience grew even more exuberant.
She didn’t find the waitress but she did discover Marcus sitting at the circular bar in the center of the room. He was alone, his back toward the bar, watching the craps table. Actually, he seemed to be watching Ryan through the space created by the dealers.
Curious that he hadn’t looked her way. Also curious that for the first time, Marcus seemed tense. He was leaning forward, his weak chin jutting out, the martini glass in his hand gripped tightly enough for her to notice. Perhaps he was sizing up Ryan as a likely target. If so, tonight’s performance should help nudge him in the right direction. The blackmailer had waited until after the retreat was over to send the initial text message, but the move to Cancún could be enough to change the M.O.
Ah, something else snagged his attention. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, put his glass down on the bar behind him and started texting.
It occurred to her that there had been at least two cheers since she’d turned her attention to getting another drink. Which meant that Ryan was ignoring her. Good. All part of the sting. Now it was her turn to react. With a pronounced pout, she left the table and headed for the bar.
As she made her way she looked past the stares and outright leers to get a broader picture than she’d been able to while standing behind Ryan. To her left were the big glass doors to the courtyard, and to her right, the hotel lobby, which was separate from the spa lobby. They were equally flashy, but this one didn’t inspire calm and relaxation. Soft mood music would never be heard in this cacophony, for one thing. Here, the front desk looked as if it was made of black oil and the uniforms of those who worked it were that much tighter on very fit bodies.
She checked back to find Marcus still texting, looking serious but less intense, but she slowed her step in a delayed reaction to something she’d seen by the front desk.
Looking again, she found what had caught her eye. Tonya Bridges, behind the desk, speaking to one of the assistant managers. Angie recognized the dark suit and the lapel pin that signified the man in charge.
Without another thought, Angie shifted her trajectory. Not in a straight line to Tonya where she stood, but where Angie estimated Tonya would be in a few minutes. Angie walked very slowly, which did nothing to discourage a couple of young men who needed to be cut off from the booze.
Ignoring their attempts to speak with any kind of coherency, Angie observed Tonya quickly scan several pages before the man pulled her into a conversation. Tonya gave off every indication that she didn’t want to speak to Mr. Assistant Manager. Visibly worked up, he grabbed her just above the wrist.
Angie was no longer walking slowly. All her danger alerts had gone red at that touch. Tonya smiled, but even at this distance, which was closing by the second, Angie could see how strained it was.
Held up by a large party of tightly packed revelers, Angie didn’t lose her cool. She waited the minute it took for the group to pass. There was Tonya and the man who’d touched her, and they were separate now, his hands by his side, his posture tight.
Angie was just within hearing range when the manager said, “Let me know if you need any more faxes. Anytime. At all.”
Tonya looked back at him for a moment, then pressed on, right into Angie’s path.
“Hi there,” Tonya said, quickly folding her paperwork and sticking them in her purse. Her voice was as breezy and casual as she’d been this morning at yoga. “I saw you at the craps tables. Ryan looked like he was having a heck of a lucky streak.”
“Yeah,” Angie said, glancing back to the table. She wasn’t able to see Ryan from this angle, but she did catch a glimpse of Marcus, still sitting at the superlong, elegant open bar that went all the way around the pit where the band continued to knock out terrible covers of Journey and Kansas. She brought her gaze back to Tonya. “He’s on fire.”
Tonya gave her a questioning head tilt. Angie had already thought about what her reactions should be in this situation. She’d specifically had Tonya in mind, given what they suspected about her father’s gambling activities. Quick as a wink, Angie slapped on a loving smile, complete with an indulgent eye-roll that wouldn’t have fooled a high school girl let alone a woman raised by two therapists.
“I gather you don’t play,” Tonya said. She looked great in black skinny jeans and a blue silk short-sleeved blouse. She’d gone heavier on the makeup without overdoing things, and Angie had a strong feeling she was on the hunt, but not for the fax man.
“Oh, no,” Angie said, exaggerating her expression. “If I’m going to give away my money, I want it to go to something that needs it. This casino is doing fine without me.”
Tonya chuckled, but there was no humor involved. “No, the house always wins. Were you headed somewhere specific?”
Angie looked back again, this time catching a quick glimpse of Ryan and a young woman who seemed to be standing very, very close. “No,” she said. “Well, I was trying to find a cocktail waitress.”
“Are you all right?”
Angie turned back, lowered her eyes, avoiding the other woman’s. “Peachy,” she said. Then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“No, it’s okay. Why don’t we head toward the big bar. If you want to, that is.”
“You’re not booked?”
Tonya smiled, but the grin didn’t hold. She was looking behind Angie’s shoulder.
When Angie followed her gaze, she saw Ira walking past the table games, and she wondered if he was heading to the sports book. A few seconds later, Delilah followed him. There was no smile on her face, either.
“I can’t believe it,” Angie said, making sure she was looking at the craps table.
“Can’t believe what?” Tonya asked, her voice very strained.
Angie sighed. “Nothing. Just, Ryan’s having himself a time.”
Tonya started walking more toward Ryan than the bar. It was interesting that being with Tonya, who was very attractive, had a sort of dampening effect on the men around them
.
They didn’t speak until they were midway between the still-texting Marcus and Ryan, who’d picked up not one, but two admirers. They were both young, college age, probably. Over twenty-one, at least, but not by much. They weren’t touching him, but they were clearly in his orbit. Rooting him on with a lot of hair-touching and giggling.
He couldn’t have been rolling the dice this whole time, and when she moved slightly to her left, Angie saw that he’d lost a considerable number of chips. The ones he reached for were black.
“Wow, those are hundreds,” Tonya said, then pressed her lips together.
“It’s not the money,” Angie said, stepping a few inches closer to her would-be friend. “He knows he can’t go too crazy or my business manager will take away his cards. Still, I hate gambling. I’ve always hated it.”
“Oh?”
“Ryan isn’t a compulsive gambler.” Angie made sure she sounded defensive.
Tonya didn’t say anything, but questions were there in her eyes.
Angie bit her lip, then sighed. “It broke up my family. Among other things.”
“I see,” Tonya said. “Believe me.”
Okay, so Tonya knew about her father’s gambling problem. It was clear from her reaction, from the way she looked at Ryan. “Anyway, it’s no big deal. Most of the time, he’s wonderful. And we don’t come to Vegas often.”
“No, I’m sure you don’t.”
Angie smiled bravely. “What about that drink, hmm? I’m getting desperate.”
Tonya returned the grin, and they headed once more toward the bar, but she stopped two steps in. So sharply, Angie had to turn around to find out what had happened. Of course, she knew it was the sight of Marcus that had stopped Tonya. It was evident there was no love lost between those two. And who was that standing next to him?
Angie put herself next to Tonya, then faced Marcus and his flashy companion. Now Angie understood the shocked expression on Tonya’s face. Marcus was trying to find the woman’s tonsils with his tongue. The woman was several inches taller than him, had long, curly red hair that had to be out of a bottle. And her dress made Angie’s look like a tent. Especially across the bust. When the two of them came up for air, Angie was surprised again to find out the woman was legit gorgeous. A ten, at least. Marcus was a two on his best day.
“Is that Marcus’s girlfriend?”
Tonya barked out a laugh.
“Oh, God.” Angie turned her head, feigning acute embarrassment. “I didn’t mean...”
“It’s fine. Marcus has...special needs.”
Looking back at Ryan, Angie guessed that he’d seen the Marcus-and-call-girl show, as well. But that didn’t matter in the least because one of Ryan’s young admirers had gone from looking to touching. “Damn him,” she snapped. “I don’t even know why we bothered.”
Silence followed, and Angie didn’t have to look to know that Tonya had seen Ryan’s new best friend. Angie made sure she looked hurt, but not surprised. This was not new behavior she was witnessing.
Then, Ryan touched the blonde. His fingertips brushed her cheek as he swept back a loose strand of hair. Something inside Angie twisted. It was crazy because the jealousy she’d felt when Ryan had spoken to Jeannie was nothing compared to the body slam she felt now. Which she was supposed to be faking and not experiencing all the way down to her stupid polished toes. The sudden itch to pull the blonde out of his reach scared the hell out of her.
She abruptly turned away and met Tonya’s sympathetic eyes. Angie swallowed hard and tried unsuccessfully to force a smile. This was good, she told herself, she was supposed to look as if the rug had just been pulled out from under her. After all, the man she loved had just broken her heart in two.
“Look,” Tonya said. “Why don’t we get out of here? I’m sorry I said anything at all about Marcus. He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t mean any harm.”
Angie nodded, heading for the doors. “It’s all right. Everyone’s got something to hide. I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression about Ryan. He can be very sweet. He loves me. He does.”
“I’ve seen you two together,” Tonya said, keeping up with Angie’s quick steps. “It’s obvious he’s mad about you. Casinos are just bad news, that’s all.”
Behind her, Ryan’s voice carried over the noise of the slots, of the music, calling her name. She didn’t want to stop. Not just because of the role she was playing. Seeing him with that girl rubbing up against him had been painful enough, but when he’d touched her...
She needed to leave, now. Get away from Tonya, from the job, from everything until she could clear her head. Somehow she needed to make sense of the churning in her stomach, the tightness in her chest.
But before she could make her final move, a hand gripped her arm, and a fresh cascade of unwanted emotions poured through her. When she turned to look at Ryan’s stricken face, she didn’t have to act at all.
8
RYAN’S HEART LURCHED in his chest as his focus narrowed to Angie and only her. The look of betrayal she’d given him hit low and hard, as if he’d done something unforgivable.
He hurried back to the craps table, and as he stuffed chips into his pockets he called out Angie’s name. He didn’t have to fake his desperation.
How had that one look made it stunningly clear that she wanted no part of him? Not even sure he’d picked up all the hundred-dollar chips, he darted through the crowd to the exit and chased after Angie and she was fast, even on those heels.
It was Tonya who brought some reality back to the situation, and he was damn grateful for it. He’d caught her reflection in the glass display case, and just like that he was back in the game. Shit, the past couple of minutes...
Tonya followed him with no attempt to hide what she was doing. Worried for Angie’s safety? Gathering more data for possible blackmail?
He sped up for a few paces. “Angie, wait.”
She didn’t look back.
Fine, he could deal with that, at least until they got to their room. If he didn’t have a heart attack first. His reactions were messed up. He needed to calm down, let her keep ahead of him. Make sure he gave himself time to turn off the weird and unexpected panic that made it difficult to breathe.
They’d passed the gate to their private courtyard. A few folks were using the spa pool, people from their group. None of the suspects. Ryan didn’t pause but the clicking of Tonya’s heels stopped. He walked more quickly now that they were a few feet away from their bungalow. Angie opened the door before he had a chance to get out his card key and he had to hustle before it closed behind her.
Once inside with the bolt locked, he let out a long breath. He almost asked her what the hell she’d been doing, but he didn’t dare say a word before he checked the room for surveillance. He put his finger up to his lips. Angie’s startled nod told him that she wasn’t thinking clearly, either. The bug sweeper had been locked away along with his real cell phone. He took out both, put the phone in his pocket and began the scan.
Angie hadn’t moved. “I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said. “Do you need anything in the bathroom?”
“Yeah, give me a second,” he said as he hurried to make sure the room was clean. No red lights went off as he scanned, which wasn’t surprising. A moment later, he left the bathroom to Angie.
With her night things held close to her chest, she barely looked at him as she slipped past him and closed the door.
He continued the sweep, wanting to be done. He’d have preferred to use the time alone to regroup. The fact that he’d confused reality and work bothered him a hell of a lot. He’d fought hard to keep work and personal business separate but more than that, he had no need or desire for this kind of...emotion. He didn’t get entangled. Not ever. Now he felt up to his ass in alligators, unable to find solid ground. It sucked.
At least there were no red lights on the sweeper as he moved it carefully through their room. This particular device could detect not only all kinds of radio
frequencies but pinhole lenses of tiny cameras. Finally he was assured that no one had planted a bug, but that still left one more item to check. He went to the laptop he’d left on the dresser.
The plastic tab was no longer in place. Someone had screwed around with the laptop.
Everything extraneous left his thoughts as he replayed each word they’d said since they entered the room. Habit and discipline had insured that neither of them had misspoken. There was no camera in the dummy computer for just this reason. However, there was a microphone.
He was at the bathroom door in three strides. Of course it was locked, why wouldn’t she lock it? But he had to get in there, now, because whoever had been in the room might be listening to everything, and she needed to be on her toes until their team in L.A. had a chance to check out the hard drive.
He knocked. Loudly. “Hey, sweetie. What did you lock the door for? Was I really such a bad boy?”
He leaned against the door, but got nothing. Not even the sound of the water running. When it opened, he nearly knocked her over, but he did manage to grab on to her shoulders. Her naked shoulders. A towel covered her breasts, but the naked part was far more important.
“Are you drunk?” She was stiff in his hands but allowed him to walk her backward until he could close the door.
Releasing her was more difficult than it should be, which pissed him off. This was business, dammit. “Someone’s been in the room,” he said, leaning in, noticing that the only clothing she had on was a red thong. He considered running out and getting her a blanket to cover herself with, but a tilt of her head stopped that thought in its tracks.
“Well?” she asked, clearly having had to wait too long for him to explain.
“Wait,” he said, letting her go in order to turn on the water in the shower. He thought about dunking his head under the spray, but that would be admitting far too much. When he straightened, she was close enough to him that he could see the small gold flecks of her dark brown eyes. Still, he leaned in. “No cameras. No radio frequencies in any part of the room. It’s the laptop. We need to get it scanned,” he said. “Right now.”
