Deadly Odds (28 page)

Don walked out of the conference room, bearing down on him like a tiger on the hunt.

“Got a sec?”

When Don asked anyone if they had a sec, it meant one thing. A verbal ass-kicking.

And Ross had had enough of that in the last two days.

“Not really.”

“Too bad.” Don jerked his head toward Ross’s office.

Marcia snatched the clipboard away. “We can finish the rest later. Go talk to him. I’ll stall your appointment.” She peered around Ross. “Don, you’ve got five minutes and I’m sending his next one in.”

“Thanks,” Ross whispered.

“Forget that. I won’t have your reworked schedule destroyed again.”

Ross followed Don into the office and closed the door before taking his seat behind his desk. Don remained standing. A typical power play move. “What do you need?”

“How about you getting your head out of your ass.”

“Sure. I’ll work on that. What’s next?”

“What happened, bubbie? Kate leave a quarter on your pillow?”

Whenever Ross moved on from a woman, Don liked to make jokes that Ross ended it by leaving a quarter on her pillow. As if to pay her for her services and be gone.

Overall, it annoyed the crap out of him. But he chalked it up to one of those battles not worth fighting.

Ross sat back. “If you’re done, I’m busy.”

“Yeah, right.” He waggled a finger. “Listen up. Don’t be stupid. Three marriages taught me hard lessons. Spotting a good woman is one of ’em. Kate’s a good woman and you’re fucking it up.”

That’s it.
Game over. “
I’m
fucking it up? She screwed me.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t have to believe it. I know it. I didn’t like her idea and she took it over my head. I mean, why would an old woman who has more money than she knows how to spend risk jail time? It’s nonsense.”

“Kid, this is Vegas. Nothing is out of the question.”

Ross locked his jaw, bit down hard enough for pain to shoot through his teeth. Survival with Don meant staying in control. “What you’re doing? It won’t work. Kate knows her boss. Just like we know Bob. When she had that conversation, she knew what would happen.”

“Bullshit.”

More than done and refusing to get sucked in, Ross shrugged. “Marcia! Send my next one in.”

Don let out a breathy laugh. “Kid, I gave you more credit than this. Guess I was wrong. But it’s not my problem if you want to be a dumbass and let this girl get away. Hell, I should be happy. Maybe I’ll make a move on her myself. There’s a certain chemistry between us.”

Ha. Sure. Good one. Before he’d let that happen, Ross would cut off both his arms.

“Ross?” Marcia said from the doorway. “Mr. Abrams for you.”

“Thank you, Marcia.” He looked up at Don. “Don was just leaving.”

* * *

“There she is.”

Kate sat in the surveillance room watching Mrs. Miller approach mini-bac 18, obviously one of her favorite tables due to the amount of time she spent at it.

Immediately, Kate texted Don. He been checking in every fifteen minutes and just generally driving her insane since their rather tension filled meeting adjourned the day before. The night had been a long one. Between the headache, her bruised ribs and her varying degrees of anger and hurt over the Ross situation, she needed to get this assignment wrapped up and go home. Back to her quiet townhouse and normal routine.

Maybe she’d even take a week off and visit her family at the ranch. Enjoy her mother’s cooking and riding her horse. Fresh air, good food, lots of laughs.

All after Operation Ross Is Mad At Kate was over. If nothing else, it was forward progress. She cared for Ross, but she wouldn’t be treated this way. He’d condemned her before even giving her a chance to explain. Before thinking that perhaps, just maybe, she wouldn’t do that to him. Before having any faith in her at all.

All because of his ego.

And that was unacceptable.

Always.

“Whatcha got, Kate?”

She turned. Don walked toward her, his round body moving at a clip. For a man thirty pounds overweight, he could move when he wanted to.

“Mrs. Miller. Mini-bac 18.”

“Shit. Epstein just went to another table.”

Karl Epstein, the dealer they suspected of doing the false shuffle.

“Of course he did.”

And how she wanted to be down on the casino floor, sitting at that table observing. But if the dealer knew who she was, if he recognized the consultant that by now the staff was buzzing about, she’d risk blowing their scheme.

“Hang on,” Don punched at his phone. “We’ll move him again. Yeah, kid,” he said into the phone. “Move Epstein back to mini-bac 18. Your whale’s mother just showed up…. Yeah…awright.” He ended the call. “Ross’ll take care of it.”

“Excellent.”

“I talked to him for you.”

He what?
No, no, noooo,
he did not discuss her and Ross’s personal relationship.
Please, no.
Horror complete, she gawked at him. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know. But I’m too old for this shit. I need him sharp. He’s no good to me like this. And if he’s stupid enough to let you get away, he’s a dead loss.”

Kate grinned up at him. “You know, you really are sort of irresistible. It’s a wonder there’s only been three wives.”

“Wanna be number four?”

She laughed. “No. Thank you though. And I appreciate you trying with Ross.” She squeezed his wrist. “But stay out of it. He and I will deal with it. One way or another.”

Don gestured to the bank of monitors on the wall. “Here we go. Dealer switch.”

Behind him, the room’s door opened and in strode Ross, looking his usual pristine self, hair in perfect order, jacket buttoned, tie-knot a step above perfection. Kate felt a low squeeze in her belly. Even when mad at him, he affected her.

It was all just…wrong. The argument, her twisted attraction to a man she had no business being attracted to, all of it, simply wrong.

“Right on time,” Don said. “We’re about to see what this broad is up to.”

Kate glanced over at Wally, one of the surveillance guys seated two down. “Can we zoom in tighter on the shuffle?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Don poked at the four foot screen on the wall. “And then split that screen on the big monitor. I want to see player two’s hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seconds later the dealer and Mrs. Miller appeared on both monitors. Kate leaned in to study the smaller version while Don and Ross focused on the overhead one.

“Wally,” she said, “would you please zoom out on this other monitor so we can see the entire table.”

“Sure.”

An overhead view of the table appeared on the third monitor. Kate glanced at it, but went back to the monitor directly in front of her while the dealer shuffled.

“Was the shuffle clean?” Don asked.

“I think so. Hard to tell. Keep an eye on things while I look again.”

On her monitor, she rewound the video, let it play again.

“Oh, crap.” This from Ross.

She looked up. “What?”

“She just tapped.” Ross pointed at the screen where Mrs. Miller sat with her arms folded on the table, fingers resting against her forearms. “Wally, back that up. Watch her index finger. Right hand. It’s a small movement.”

And there it was, the slightest of taps. And all at once, the energy in the room exploded.

“Wide view,” Don hollered. “Physical office. She’s signaling to someone.”

On the screen next to Kate, Wally zoomed out bringing mini-bac 18 and the two surrounding tables into view.
Right there.
Kate tapped the screen where a man stood on the far side of mini-bac 18 observing play. With a direct sightline to Mrs. Miller. “Him. Who is he?”

“No idea,” Ross said. “We’ll get someone on him. If he’s been playing and goes to the cages, snatch him up. I wanna talk to him.”

Don beelined for the door. “I’m going myself.”

Kate watched as the next hand was dealt. “There!” She leaped from her chair, all that contained energy spewing, forcing her to move. “She did it again. And look. His lips moved.” She spun to Ross. “Did you see it? Wally, back that up.”

Ross’s gaze ricocheted from one monitor to the next. “She’s signaling and he’s transmitting. Son of a bitch.”

Oldest game in town. One person signals to another and the other person relays the order of the cards to someone else. Possibly at the table. The simplicity of it was almost ridiculous yet so effective, even under state-of-the-art security measures.

Ross leaned over, scooped the handset off the desk and dialed. “It’s Ross. Our guy down there might be transmitting the order of the cards. Either that or he’s talking to himself. When you get down there, snatch him up and bring him to one of the holding rooms. I’ll meet you there.”

He disconnected and headed for the door. “Kate, if Mrs. Miller moves from that table, let me know. If she cashes out, we’re screwed.”

* * *

Forty minutes later, after notifying the Gaming Commission they had a situation, Ross walked into one of the secure holding rooms on the ground level of the casino where they’d escorted the suspected relay man.

Don stood on one side of the room, casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. The room itself was a no-frills, white-washed deal with an equally no-frills industrial table and four chairs. Two on each side. In the corner, an overhead camera complete with audio caught everything. Since the 80s casinos were required to record all sessions with potential cheats, eliminating any opportunity for a he said, she said.

“Gentlemen,” Ross said, setting the tablet he’d brought in with him on the table, “how we doing?”

Don waved one hand. “Our friend here isn’t talking. Won’t even give me a name.”

They’d see about that.

Their guest, a guy in his thirties, wore a light blue dress shirt. His dark hair was cut short and gelled back and his wire rimmed glasses gave him a studious appearance. The entire look screamed polished businessman.

Ross slid one of the metal framed chairs away from the table, it’s legs scraping against the tiled floor. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat. “Things could change in the next few minutes.”

The guy flicked a glance at Ross then Don.

“Now we’re talking,” Don said, “whatcha got, kid?”

Ross gestured to the tablet on the table. “What I have is video. Lots of it.”

“Bullshit,” the guy said.

Excellent. One thing Ross loved was calling a bluff. He scooped up the tablet, brought up the videos the surveillance team had looped together and hit play.

“Take a look. We’ve built a timeline of your activities over the last three days.”

“So?”

Ross sat forward, tapped his fingers on the table. “You’ve been busy. Watch that video until you get to about 5:36.” He pointed at Don. “You might want to see this.”

Don pushed off the wall, wandered over. “What is it?”

“Seems our friend here met with someone in the casino lounge on Monday.”

The guy flicked another glance at Ross and he held up his hand. “Before you say anything, let me add that one of the members of our security team has experienced a couple of disturbing incidents. The first being someone breaking into her room. The second? That one really creates a problem for you.”

The guy shrugged. “I want a lawyer.”

“Good. Because you’ll need it.”

“5:36,” Don said.

“Keep watching. A man will walk into the lounge and sit at a table with our friend here. That man will have a large, hooked nose.”

“So?”

“So,” Ross said, “you need to think about this. Hard. Think about your friend and the type of guy he might be.”

Ross couldn’t say it. Not when it involved the murder of a federal agent. And possibly the attack on Kate, but this dumbass needed to know the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

And he was about to get sprayed.

As soon as the FBI saw the video of these two men meeting, this thing would go from cheating at a casino to murder.

The suspected cheat shifted in his chair.
Atta, boy.
Ross scraped his chair back, stood, adjusted his sleeves and rebuttoned his jacket. “I’ll leave you to think about it. Mr. Sickler will stay here in case you want to tell us what you’ve been up to in our casino. You’re cooked. It’s just a matter of how cooked. Someone from the Gaming Commission is on the way. Based on this video alone, they can hold you while they investigate your buddy with the hook nose.”

He nodded at Don and turned toward the door.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ross sat again, leaned forward on his elbows while Don pulled one of the unoccupied chairs out and slightly back from the table and planted himself.

In the last three seconds, the energy in the room had swelled from a reserved calm to an electric crackling. A live wire about to ignite.