All In: A Vegas Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  Martin looked at his watch as if it held the answer.

  “Something I can help with?” I asked. “Otherwise I’ll just go back to my spot in the poker tournament, though security in that place is tighter than a nun’s ass.”

  Martin snorted at my joke, then looked me up and down. Really looked at me, weighing my worth and his options. Making a decision.

  “Okay,” he said. “Come with me. And do not breathe a word of this to anyone, yes?”

  “Roger that,” I said as I followed him out of the office.

  Jackpot.

  43

  Bryce

  Yegorovich was a talker.

  It drove me nuts. I liked to sit silently while playing poker, alone in my own thoughts. Analyzing and strategizing and planning my next attack. A chess player thinking 20 moves ahead.

  But Yegorovich talked nonstop. He chatted up the dealer. He made small talk with the other players. He talked out his thought process on every hand. Knowing that the cameras were on him, he announced things out loud for the audience. “I suppose I should spend less time counting casino profits and more time practicing!” he said after losing a close hand. The crowd ate it up.

  It was probably why I’d lost against him in the tournament last week: because I couldn’t concentrate on my own game. The constant talking drove me insane. Deep down I knew that was part of Yegorovich’s strategy, but I didn’t want to admit to myself that it worked.

  But Sage? She wasn’t fazed by it at all. She took it in stride. If anything she fed off it, throwing back jokes and teasing comments while they played. When Yegorovich muttered, “Diamonds, diamonds, too many diamonds,” after seeing the flop, without missing a beat Sage said, “Come on, Vlad. Every girl knows there’s no such thing as too many diamonds!” That made the crowd laugh harder than anything Yegorovich said.

  There were a lot of interactions like that. A comment here. A joke there.

  And by God, it was working.

  Yegorovich was a good sport, but I was certain Sage was getting to him. He was used to bullying a table and controlling the spotlight. Most players were intimidated while playing against a man as powerful as him. He wasn’t used to someone like Sage stealing all the attention.

  And she stole the attention well. She looked amazing in that dress, a tasteful amount of cleavage showing. The jewelry I’d given her was a splash of class to go with her attitude. And those lips…

  Good lord. Those lips could turn a gay man straight.

  Now, to be clear: she wasn’t winning. The guy in the designer shirt was. Sage wasn’t even close. But it didn’t matter because she wasn’t there to win. She was there to distract Yegorovich so we could claim the real prize. And she was doing her job masterfully.

  But could she distract him when it counted?

  “I’m in,” Eddie said at 8:21. “Heading to the roof now. Won’t be talking much, but I’ll try to say something when we’re in the elevator on the way back down.”

  “Hot damn,” Xander replied. “I’ll get in position.”

  “Nice work,” I said. “I’m driving to the loading dock now. Good luck, Sage. We believe in you.”

  For a brief moment, Sage glanced at the camera and smiled. A smile that was just for me. A bunch of butterflies started swirling in my stomach and it had nothing to do with the fact that we were about to knock off a casino.

  I closed my laptop and tossed it on the passenger seat, then started the engine.

  I believe in you, Sage.

  44

  Eddie

  I tried playing it cool as I followed Martin through the casino. Up a flight of stairs we went, weaving through service halls before coming to a bank of elevators.

  I recognized them as the special elevators that serviced the penthouses and the roof. We were entering them one floor above the special hallway where we’d make the switch.

  Into the elevator we went.

  “You are quiet,” Martin said as he pressed the button for the roof, then punched in a code into the keypad. 1-4-3-4? I think that’s what it was.

  I shrugged. “You said not to talk about this job.”

  “You are not curious?”

  “I know when to keep my head down and my mouth shut. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, boss.”

  “A good answer.” I wasn’t sure if he was complimentary, or suspicious.

  The elevator climbed for what felt like five minutes and then opened on the roof. The moment I stepped out the wind hit me, whipping my jacket all around. The Las Vegas skyline was breathtaking from up here, lights and colors in every direction. And ahead of us was the flat surface of the helicopter pad, currently empty.

  “We wait,” Martin said.

  I tried to remain calm. It wasn’t easy. The Istanbul hotel was over to our left, where Sage and I had spent days watching this very roof as the helicopters came and went and came again. Four floors up I saw what looked like a couple having sex, a man bending a woman over the desk toward the window, her hands up against the glass. It reminded me of what Sage and I had done. The way she surrendered under my hands, held down on the bed while I pushed one finger up inside her pussy, then another…

  I shook the image off.

  I wondered what was going to happen when this job was over. The smartest thing was for the four of us to split up and go our separate ways. That was the safest way to avoid getting caught. Yet the thought of never seeing Sage again…

  I saw the helicopter before I heard it, a flickering light above the horizon to the east where McCarran International was. Moments later the THWOMP THWOMP THWOMP of the rotors drifted toward us. The helicopter flew right at us, hovered above for a few moments, and then descended.

  This is it.

  I knew the routine before it happened. Three men jumped out of the helicopter, submachine guns held across their chests. One of them came toward us, made sure we were friendly, and then gazed all around the roof as if an ambush would occur at any moment.

  Martin remained stationary the entire time with his hands clasped in front, so I did the same.

  “Ladno,” one of the men said.

  Martin gestured for me to follow as he climbed the steps onto the helipad. It was a red passenger helicopter without any storage area; there was only the two seats for the pilots in the front, and a separate compartment in the back where two seats faced forward and two faced backward. The crates were stacked in there, big black ones made of heavy duty plastic and wedged between the seats on the ground. Martin grabbed the one on top and dragged it toward him, motioning for me to grab the other end. It had handles on the side, allowing for us to carry it between us.

  It was heavy. Very heavy. Exactly like a crate full of dirty money should be.

  I struggled to contain my excitement as we carried it down the steps and placed it on the push cart.

  We retrieved the second crate the same way, carrying it down and placing it on top of the other. Then Martin pulled out a white cloth sheet and tossed it over the crates to conceal them. Add some eye holes and a mouth and it would look like a big bulky ghost.

  Martin had kept the elevator waiting, so we pushed the cart right inside. He thumbed the G button for casino Ground Floor. The doors closed and then the elevator machinery hummed as we descended.

  Martin breathed a long sigh of relief, leaning a hand on the wall.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Yes. They are scary men.”

  “They look it.”

  “I always breathe easier when they get back on the helicopter and leave our casino.”

  “When will that be?” I asked.

  He slapped the crate. “When this is delivered and approved.”

  Bingo. Confirmation that the delivery men didn’t leave until Yegorovich checked the money and gave the thumbs-up. Which begged the question: if Sage successfully distracted Yegorovich, how long would these guys wait on the roof? 10 minutes? 20? Would they get antsy and march down into the casino, submachi
ne guns in hand?

  No time to think about it. We were descending rapidly into the casino. I scratched my temple to put the ring close to my mouth and asked, “So Martin, where are we taking these crates?”

  “You’ll see,” he said. “Special place.”

  I already knew, obviously, but I was just relaying to the others that I had the crates and we were on our way. Hopefully they were in position and ready to go.

  The elevator slowed, then stopped, then the doors opened.

  “I’ve got it, boss.” I positioned myself behind the cart and pushed it forward. He nodded and led the way down the hall.

  Unlike Sage and Xander, this was my first time visiting the special hallway. It looked exactly like our practice setup in the warehouse, uncannily so, although it had a real ceiling rather than a false one. The service elevator was at the far end. The stage door and bathroom hall door were on the left up ahead, while the loading dock door was ahead on the right.

  This is it. I pushed the cart slowly while Martin led the way, glancing back at me to make sure everything was okay. My anticipation grew as I neared the pivotal moment when we would make the switch. The stage door was six yards ahead. Now four.

  Where was the distraction Xander was supposed to provide? If we went through all of this only to deliver the money safely to the service elevator I might just go back up to the roof and throw myself off the edge.

  Suddenly the door to the bathroom hall opened. The last thing I expected to see came running our way: a dozen college girls in tight, skimpy dresses.

  “Xander!” they shouted and screamed and pleaded. “Xander! Where’s Xander!”

  Martin widened his stance like a football player and spread his arms to keep them back. “Stop! What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  The double doors next to me opened, revealing the stage area. Xander grabbed the cart and smoothly pulled it into the stage area. At the same time he used his other hand to swing the replacement cart forward, just like we’d practiced. He handed off the cart and I took it seamlessly, twisting it until it was in roughly the same position as the first.

  It was lighter. A great deal lighter than the crates with the money. Hopefully the other guards wouldn’t notice…

  “Eddie!” Martin shouted, still trying to block the girls from pouring past. “What the hell are these girls doing here?”

  “Looking for that singer guy?” I said. “Xander something?”

  As if that were his stage cue, Xander came strolling into the hall. “Sorry, friends. Security must have sent the autograph line back this way.”

  The girls lost their minds when they saw him, a cacophony of high-pitched screams.

  “Girls! You have to go around the other way,” he said.

  They didn’t hear him. “Xander! Xander! Sign my chest!” One girl pulled down her top to reveal a breast the size of a grapefruit and a pierced nipple.

  “Other side!” Xander shouted, waving. “Go around and I’ll meet you by the side stage!”

  Martin relayed the information while pushing them back toward the bathroom hall door. One of the girls turned and sprinted the other way so she would be the first in line for autographs, and the others quickly did the same. And just like that it was quiet again in the hall.

  I turned to Xander. “The fuck is wrong with you, country boy? Casino guests can’t be back here.”

  He put up his hands. “Don’t blame me. I didn’t tell ‘em.”

  Martin was laughing as he came back to us. “Relax, Eddie. There is no harm, yes? That was a nice show.”

  “Sure was.” Xander tipped his hat. “Sorry about that, boys. Carry on.”

  He slipped back through the door toward the stage area.

  Martin shared a silly grin with me before we began moving again.

  I pushed the cart and immediately cringed: one of the wheels was squeaky. Loud and noticeable. Goddamnit, Xander. We discussed this. You even said you bought a can of WD-40…

  But Martin didn’t seem to notice. He launched into a story about a stripper Yegorovich once sent to the security room after an especially crazy night, and how she had the biggest ass cheeks he had ever seen. Very clearly ass implants, which he said were growing in popularity back in Russia, but he preferred a woman with a natural posterior…

  I nodded along but barely heard him over the drum of my heartbeat in my ears.

  The service elevator opened as soon as we reached it. Two guards waited inside. Martin pulled the cart into the elevator car, thanked me for my help, and told me to take the rest of the night off.

  The doors closed, and then I was alone.

  One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

  I backtracked to the stage door, peeking my head inside. Xander was surrounded by the college girls, a lone cowboy hat in a sea of glittering dresses while he autographed whatever they put in front of him, giggling and laughing the whole time.

  Behind him was the cart. The real cart from the helicopter.

  “Okay, okay, that’s it!” Xander said with a laugh. “I have to get going, but here’s something for y’all to remember me by.”

  He tossed them a handful of guitar picks. It was like throwing chum into a pool of sharks. Then Xander grabbed the cart and pushed it into the hall while I held the door open. I remained behind while he pushed it to the east loading dock door and knocked. The guard opened it for him and he disappeared inside.

  Once again, I was alone in the hall.

  “The switch has been made,” I said in a quivering voice. “We’ve made the switch! The money is ours!”

  45

  Sage

  “Straight beats two pair,” the dealer said, gesturing to Yegorovich. He smiled and took the pot from the bald man sitting to my right.

  The silence in my ear piece was excruciating. Nothing from Eddie for close to 10 minutes, then a brief snippet of a conversation he was having with the other guard in the elevator. And then nothing at all for a few more minutes until, blessedly, we heard Eddie’s voice again.

  “The switch has been made! We’ve made the switch! The money is ours!”

  Oh my God.

  It was happening.

  This was really happening.

  We were robbing Yegorovich.

  I was down a lot of chips. I’d stopped counting them because it didn’t matter and would only distract me. I wasn’t trying to win anymore; all of my focus was on the banter with Yegorovich himself. Poking, prodding, and occasionally flattering his ego.

  Now it was time to make it count.

  The dealer began dealing out a new hand when one of the special guards walked up and whispered in Yegorovich’s ear. He nodded and steepled his fingers on the table.

  He was going to leave to check on the money after this hand. Time to work my magic.

  I peeked at my cards. Two of Hearts and Four of Diamonds. Garbage.

  Better milk it for all it was worth.

  Yegorovich glanced at his cards and hesitated. Like he was intending to fold so he could leave but was now reconsidering since he had something good.

  But good enough to stick around?

  “Hey Vladdy,” I said. I’d been calling him that for the last few hands and I could tell it drove him nuts. “If I go all in right now will you call me?”

  He blinked in surprise—along with everyone else at the table. He glanced down at my cards, up my cleavage, then stopped on my eyes. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Because you have a chance to knock me out and increase your stack.”

  “He who goes all in before seeing the flop rarely lives to see another hand.”

  “What is that, some old Russian saying? Don’t be a coward. Let’s have some fun for the people watching.”

  The crowd responded as I’d hoped they would: with a smattering of cheers at being recognized. I gestured at the crowd without taking my eyes off my opponent.

  He studied me for a long moment. I could see him thinking it over. Making his
choice.

  And I saw, with perfect clarity, that he would not do it.

  “Tell you what!” I said, feeling brave. And desperate. “I’ll even show you one of my other cards.”

  I flipped over the Four of Diamonds.

  The crowd gasped. So did the other players at the table. The dealer said, “Ma’am, you are not allowed to—”

  “Let her do as she wishes,” Yegorovich commanded. “If she desires to tell the world her secrets then that is her mistake to make.”

  “It’s not a mistake because I’m going to win.”

  The announcer was silent, like he didn’t know what to say about all of this. Like he’d never seen this before.

  Yegorovich pointed. “You never actually said you were all in.”

  “Not yet,” I admitted. “I want to know if you’ll call me if I do.”

  “You will have to place your wager and then see.”

  He could make me go all in and then just fold. Toying with me. He’d been toying with the other players—including me—like that since we sat down.

  I needed him to stick around.

  I put an arm over the back of my chair and looked around the crowd. “I thought Russians had bigger balls than that!” I loudly said.

  The crowd laughed. A nervous laugh. Jokes at Yegorovich’s expense were dangerous.

  “But okay,” I said. “I’m all in.” I gave my chip stack a shove, toppling them forward and sending chips rolling across the table.

  The other players didn’t seem interested in playing our little game. One by one they all folded.

  The guard who had whispered in Yegorovich’s ear shuffled his feet.

  “Very well,” the oligarch finally said. Loud enough for everyone to hear. “I call you, little girl.”

  “We’ve got an early all in bet!” the announcer said when he finally found his voice. “Let’s see what Parker has to go with that Four, probably a face card or an—oh my goodness, a Two and a Four off-suited! What a bluff!”

  Yegorovich smiled as he turned his cards over. He had a pair of Nines. In a patronizing voice he told me, “Do not cry yet. A lot can happen between now and the river, yes?”