Double-Crossed Read online

  “Your family has its favorite personnel for jobs like this, and none of them are in Vegas. Forget about me and everything we’ve talked about. That is, if you’re sure. Once this call is over, there’s no going back. This number won’t be available, and I’ll be in touch like before.” Once the job was done, Sofia would use the burner phone she’d have delivered by courier and they’d finalize things.

  There was only a moment of hesitation. “Promise me you’ll humiliate him as much as he has me.”

  “I’ll do my best. You have fun in the city, and once things are done, answer the phone you’ll get as a gift. Destroy the one you’re using now somewhere not near your home or the airport. If you decide to keep it and you get caught, you’re on your own.”

  “When do you want me to leave?” Sofia asked, not sounding as upset.

  “Today,” she said. A little space from his wife would deny Victor the chance to do something not in his usual routine she couldn’t overcome. She’d been following him for a month and he was a shit bag, but a fairly consistent shit bag. “Depending on what’s going on, I might be done in the next couple of weeks, so try to be on the next plane to solidify your alibi.”

  Reed hung up, trashed her phone, and grabbed her overnight bag. It was still early, but she needed to make a trip to one of the buildings she owned. The money she’d made was mostly invested in ways that would take time and effort to trace back to her, and she’d made enough of it to retire and not have to deal with the Sofias of the world.

  Anonymity from her clients and the world was something she’d learned coming up the ranks, and it was a solid way to keep her freedom. Retirement, though, wouldn’t come until the game lost its allure, so she’d keep at it and continue to diversify her investments.

  A big portion of her real estate portfolio was made up of strip malls and warehouses, which weren’t huge moneymakers, but like everything she did outside of work, they were safe bets. The small place on the way to Red Rock Canyon was being rented by a lawn maintenance company, and one of the only ones she’d had built. The young guy who leased from her had no idea what was right under his feet.

  The ministorage next door was another spot she’d constructed, and the car in the middle unit had Georgia plates from her last job, so she switched them for Oregon ones and placed the proper paperwork in the glove compartment on the off chance she got stopped. She then went through the opening in the false back wall of the unit and took the steps to the tunnel that led next door. It was the only way into the basement of the warehouse.

  It took an hour in her little studio, but when Reed was done, her dark hair, blue eyes, and slim waist were gone. The image in the mirror was a blond scruffy-faced man with a prominent paunch—totally believable as an accountant from a small town in Oregon.

  “Hopefully you were serious, Sofia.” She put on the glasses and combed her hair to the side. “Victor’s about to lose big.”

  * * *

  “Would you have a problem working after-hours every so often?” Dean Jasper, the accounting manager at the Moroccan Casino, asked Brinley Myers.

  Brinley was still settling into her apartment in Las Vegas, but the opportunity her neighbor had told her about was too good to pass up, even if she wasn’t quite ready. That was, if she could actually get hired. Vegas, she was starting to understand, was all about the Strip to some people, but there was more to a casino than the actual gambling. This job was pretty much a nine-to-five gig with awesome benefits and salary, and she’d probably never see the gaming floor.

  “As long as you give me a heads-up so I can arrange a sitter,” Brinley said and nodded for more emphasis. This job paid almost three times the one she’d left in New Orleans, and considering that had been in her mom’s firm, this was a sweet deal.

  “You have children?”

  Dean’s question made her wonder if that was going to be the thing that sank her chances. “Only one.” She held her finger up and smiled. Finn was her reason for the move.

  A fresh start seemed in order after the biggest mistake of her life had been convicted of drug trafficking and would be a guest of the State of Louisiana penitentiary for the next thirty-eight years. Being incarcerated should have stopped the loser’s demands about Finn, but no such luck. A collect call seemed to come every few days, and the more she declined, the more persistent the idiot got.

  “My son Finn—he just turned one.”

  “Here.” Dean took a card out of his top drawer. “This is the day care I use for unexpected work stuff, unless you have someone set up. They’re really good, and they have those cameras throughout the place, so you can check in on him if you want. They’re open twenty-four-seven and will accommodate last-minute stuff. My kids love it.”

  “Thanks.” She placed the card in her wallet and took it as a good sign. “Do you have any more questions for me?”

  “Can you start Monday?” Dean closed the folder in front of him and held his hand out.

  “Thank you, and yes.” She shook his hand and stood. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”

  “I think you’ll be a great fit, so I’ll hand you over to Naomi Williams. She’ll navigate you through HR, and she’ll also be your office mate.” Dean picked up his phone, and a few minutes later a beautiful African American woman with a pencil stuck behind her ear entered and waved her out.

  “Nice to meet you,” Naomi said as they headed for the elevator, “but please tell me you’re not a Republican religious nut with a sequined pin of Mitch McConnell hidden away in your underwear drawer.” Brinley couldn’t be sure, but Naomi sounded totally serious.

  “No way.” The inside of the car was completely mirrored, like some throwback seventies decorating, and the lighting made her skin wash out against her blond hair, even with the red highlights. Her coloring was a combination of her parents’, and her green eyes were something both her mom and dad had in common, at least according to her mother. Her father was someone she didn’t remember, and he’d never been a part of her life. She didn’t feel the lack of his presence, except for moments when she saw something in herself she supposedly got from him. “It’s a George W. Bush pin or nothing.”

  “Jesus Christ, I hope you’re joking. Being stuck in our box of an office with that last woman was like spending my days trapped with Jerry Falwell. She thought my soul was beyond saving, but that didn’t stop her from going on and on about it. The old bitch finally got fired when she hosed me down with holy water.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I have a silk blouse with water stains to prove it, so no, not kidding.”

  “I doubt you’re that far gone, and no to the rest of your list. With a one-year-old, I never have time to watch the news, much less join a religious cult.” They entered the second floor where HR and the security center of the casino took up the entire space. “Wow, that’s a lot of cameras.”

  “Don’t believe the commercial, girl. What happens in Vegas is filmed for eternity, and if you try to pocket a chip that doesn’t belong to you, one of these goons will break your fingers.” Naomi stayed with her as she got her paperwork done and they issued her an ID badge. “Here’s my phone number. Call me if you need something, and I’ll see you Monday. Maybe your little one will eventually be interested in a playdate with mine.”

  “That’d be great. Do you have a boy or girl?”

  “Amelia’s two and a handful.” They shared pictures as they headed to the employee lot so Brinley would know where it was. “Your badge will get you in, and all you need to do is pick the first spot that doesn’t have someone’s name on it.”

  “Thanks for all your help,” she said taking Naomi’s hand. “I have a feeling you’re going to make this fun.”

  “Thank the gods Dean wised up this time. The job is boring—accounting, after all—but the town’s a blast. If our kids like each other, maybe we can split a sitter and go out some time.” Naomi gave her a one-armed hug, and it made Brinley feel good about her decision t
o interview. “It’ll be nice to have a new friend to blow off steam with. See you at nine on Monday.”

  “I’ll be here.” She walked back toward the entrance where they’d valeted her car at Dean’s insistence. “Well, Brinley, this will certainly be different,” she whispered to herself when she handed her ticket over.

  All the mistakes she’d made over the last three years had played in an unending loop in her mind as she’d driven west, and she was ready to stop binge-watching. The woman she’d been totally committed to had broken her heart, but that had been no reason to completely upend her life with massive changes. Not that one night of heavy drinking and then sleeping with a loser was completely upending your life, but the residuals that had come from that experience had sent her down a different path.

  Her ex had taught her that a woman could be a bitch. The kind of bitch who would not only sleep with a couple of your friends but mention a few things she didn’t like about your body on the way out the door with your luggage because the bitch didn’t own any.

  That delightful rundown of all her shortcomings, combined with way too much alcohol and betrayal, had made her think jumping the fence back to men was a genius idea, and she’d ended up in bed with the tweaker Jarrell. But—and there was a big-ass but in this story—there were mistakes like putting the Hubble telescope into space with the lens in backward, and then there was Jarrell. Granted, she had Finn, and she wouldn’t trade him for anything, but Jarrell had latched on after he found out she was pregnant and convinced himself it was his.

  Finn was hers, and she put father unknown on his birth certificate, not wanting Jarrell anywhere near either her or her son, but that’d been wishful thinking. That hadn’t stopped the unending calls, and she’d had enough. One night of bad sex shouldn’t have been an invitation to have to deal with Jarrell and his family for the rest of her life.

  “This isn’t exactly the quiet town I was going for, but it’s a great place to get lost in.”

  Chapter Two

  Robert Wallace reclined in his office chair and loosened his tie. He’d been up for most of the night, a responsibility he’d thought he’d put behind him when he took over at the Moroccan, but it was a big night and he stayed to make sure everything went off with no hiccups. The Moroccan had been a pit when he got in the top spot, but now the local paper reported they were the it spot for boutique casinos. Never mind he’d paid the reporter to write the article, but it would generate business eventually.

  They were sandwiched between the Bellagio and the Cosmopolitan, and their room census was full for the next four months. The only kitschy thing about them was the tiki bar at the center of the casino floor. There were no fountains, pirate shows, or volcanoes up front, but his tables were full because of excellent service and the perks they offered that had nothing to do with free rooms and buffet dinners.

  “You going home soon?” his assistant, Alex Bell, asked.

  Alex was the only one aside from him who knew all the secrets the Moroccan held, and he trusted him enough to let him live with those secrets.

  “I’ve got a meeting, then I’m heading out.” He really wanted to drink, but he needed to be clearheaded for the next hour. “You got that bitch out of my house?”

  “We put her in one of the premier rooms next door. Victor said he’d take care of getting her on the plane when she realizes there’s no going back.” Alex poured him a cup of coffee and dumped three teaspoons of sugar in it. The drink probably wasn’t manly, but it was how Robert’s father always fixed it for him after his mother died.

  “Still too close for me, but Victor probably thinks he’s got a chance now that she’s vulnerable. She’s good in bed, but the bitch is crazy.”

  “Victor’s a great swordsman in his own mind, fucking all these young airheads who fall for his hype. But he’s fucking with fire playing this game.” Alex fixed another cup and sat across from him. The extremely handsome young man did more than help him run the casino—he was his personal fixer. “You don’t drop Diego Moretti’s daughter and try to leave her penniless without blowback.”

  “Diego’s family has no muscle in Vegas, so I get how Victor thinks he can chance it.” He closed his eyes and savored the hot coffee as it went down. “Sofia’s become a broken record about the things she wants, and it’s not his hype, Alex, it’s his wallet. Fat old fuckers are gorgeous only when they have money. Remember that.” September in Vegas was always stifling but the casinos were always kept a cool sixty-eight. That and the constant flow of pure oxygen kept the money flowing.

  “Don’t count out the Morettis so fast, Bobby,” Lucan Terzo said, coming in without knocking.

  The young arrogant asshole was the son of Francesco Terzo, and Francesco’s money was what had turned the Moroccan around. That was the only reason he tolerated these damn meetings and Lucan’s use of the nickname Bobby. He hated it and had given enough beatdowns in his life to have earned being addressed as Robert. Putting a hand on Lucan or anyone in the Terzo organization was the fastest way to be shown the dumping grounds in the desert he was sure the Terzos used to rid themselves of problems.

  “I never discount anyone, Lucan, but Sofia Madison is Victor’s problem.” He stood and opened his arms for an embrace he disliked as much as his nickname. He waited for Lucan to sit before retaking his seat.

  “Diego and me are second cousins, so thanks for the heads-up. A problem keeping marriage vows sometimes becomes a problem keeping any vow.” Lucan laughed and patted himself on the crotch. “Thinking with your dick never did anyone any good, my father always says. There’s a time and place for that, and it’s not ever while you’re doing business.”

  “That’s why I’m not married,” Robert said, smiling.

  “This is a place full of beautiful women, so I sympathize, but my father also says real men eventually marry and have families. It’s our responsibility to the future.” Lucan had two men with him who nodded like idiots at whatever the young genius had to say, and the sight made him tired. “Enough about that. You got something for me?”

  Robert took a ledger out of his safe and handed it over. “It’s all distributed like Mr. Francesco wanted.”

  “He’ll be back in town later today—he’s swamped, but he wants to talk to you this week. We need to double what we’re doing now, and he wants you to handle it. Have a plan in place to show him when he calls.” Lucan stood and buttoned the jacket of his linen suit. The cut reminded Robert of the sixties, but it was stylish enough to make Lucan appear more like a model than a thug.

  “I never want to disappoint, but—”

  “Bobby, think before you say anything”—Lucan cocked his head to the side—“well, disappointing. Have Alex here suck your dick if that’s what it’ll take to clear your mind, but get your plan together. Papa isn’t after excuses. He doesn’t tolerate them well, and you don’t want to see what happens if you disappoint him.”

  “Thanks, I’ll work something up.” He stood as well and shook Lucan’s hand.

  “Sorry about the dick joke, Alex,” Lucan said, patting Alex on the chest on his way out. “You got a week, Bobby.”

  The door closed and he dropped back down and reached for the whiskey after dumping his coffee in the trash. “There’s no fucking way we can double what we’re doing now and get away with it. We’re at the max. It’s like these fuckers want to get caught, and if that happens, we’re all going down. I’m not taking the rap for them and their stupidity no matter what they threaten me with.”

  “You want me to talk to Lucan and see if I can reason with him?” Alex asked after he called down for Robert’s car. “If not, we’ll think of something. Like, working our way to double, but not all at once.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he cautioned. “I make the deals, not you. Besides, we got other shit to worry about.” He swallowed the whiskey and moved quickly to Alex, forcing him to his knees. “Maybe that little shit had a point about reminding you what your position is.”


  “Think before you start something you might not like the results of,” Alex said, getting back to his feet. “You wouldn’t want anyone to question your manhood.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, and keep your ideas to yourself.”

  * * *

  Reed took her valet ticket and rolled her bag inside to check in to the cheapest room Bellagio had. The lanyard around her neck for the accounting convention hosted by the hotel had the name Bill Smith, and she wasn’t the only one in line wearing that particular fashion statement. Accountants weren’t exactly party animals, but Vegas seemed to bring out everyone’s wilder side. The call girls working the check-in line were subtle but seemed to be doing okay with the conventioneers. That was probably the only reason the security team hadn’t cleared them out of the lobby.

  “You want to grab a drink later, honey?” The young blonde was pretty, but not someone she’d met before. Not that the girl would recognize her. “I know a great place if you can afford it.”

  “Maybe later.” She stopped the woman’s wandering hands and smiled. “I just drove twelve hours and I doubt I could get it up, even for you.” Reed reached in her pocket. “How about a down payment for later? Here’s my card.” She handed over a card with her number and six hundred bucks.

  “Are you sure? You shouldn’t be so trusting, honey.” The women pressed the money back into Reed’s palm but kept the card. “Here’s my number.”

  “What’s your name?” She really didn’t have time for this, but sometimes lost sheep were hard to ignore, and unless her instincts were way off, this woman was new to the game. It was obvious from her clumsy flirting and her trying a little too hard. Too many of the kids she’d grown up with had left the system too early and ended up where this woman was, or worse. If she was here at the urging of a bastard boyfriend, maybe she could offer her peace for at least one night.

  “Jayden,” she said, moving along with her in the line. She toyed with a loose thread on her skirt, as though needing a way to keep her hands busy.