All In (12 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Sex with Ryan rocked her world. It was on Daisy’s list of top five lifetime experiences, right up there with getting her first PhD, getting her second PhD, earning tenure, and running the tables at the Rollio. Only, sex with Ryan wasn’t a one-time thing with kisses, crying, and smiling for the crowd. Sex with Ryan was personal, private, and—most importantly—it was repeatable.

In fact, they’d repeated themselves a few times during the night.

Sleeping with Ryan, on the other hand, that was an entirely different level of pleasure. It was calm and peaceful, and when Daisy woke up, she didn’t want it to end.

So, she nestled into the crook of his arm until his breathing changed from slow and even to…interested.

“You’re still here.” Ryan dragged her back even closer, pressing his morning wood against the curve of her ass.

“I’ve got nowhere to go,” she lied. “We don’t have to be downstairs until two.”

“Good,” Ryan said. “I had a dream about you.”

“Was it good?”

There was a long pause, so, his dream hadn’t been good.

Fuck.
Daisy straightened, trying to pull away, but his strong arms refused to let her go.

“Can I ask a question?” Ryan said, his voice little more than a rumble.

Daisy didn’t reply, but she was so close, there’d be no mistaking the tension in her body or the way her head quirked to the side. Almost as if she was nodding her agreement.

“Your story the other night. You didn’t tell me the end.” Ryan’s fingers were digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises, not that Daisy would notice with the mess of love bites he’d left there the night before. “The strip club manager? Tony? Do you know where he is?”

Her throat went dry. This wasn’t the question she’d expected at all. “You sure you don’t want to ask if I have any STDs? Want to know if I’m taking the pill?”

“I’m just wondering how far I’m going to have to go to beat the man’s ass.” His mouth nuzzled against her shoulder. “And what cops I’ll need to avoid when I get there.”

Daisy took a deep breath. She’d already told Ryan her darkest secret and slept with him more than two nights in a row. She’d given the man her body—there were bite marks on her hip that she hadn’t minded so much after he’d stopped to kiss them better—so what were a few more words to bleed the tension off her soul?

“Every good story has to have a plot twist…and a hero.” Daisy’s fingers curled into fists. “You sure you want to hear the ending?”

“Extremely,” he said.

“Promise me something,” Daisy said.

“Anything.”

She wanted to ask him not to think less of her, but that was unrealistic.

He was going to hate her. After all the things he’d said about Bullet—all the questions he’d asked—there was no way he’d respect her afterward. It didn’t matter. Ryan deserved the truth.

“You can’t arrest anyone.” What was the statute of limitations on using someone else’s ID? Daisy couldn’t remember. It was probably less than the statute of limitations on assault. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Promise.”

“Anybody die in this story?”

“No.” Daisy was emphatic.

“Then we’re good.”

Right. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “You remember when you asked me what Bullet would do if he caught someone messing with his poker tables?”

“Vividly.”

“Two days after Tony walked out of the trailer, I stole Lily’s ID and my mom’s tips. I went to the Rollio—the casino where Bullet used to work—and I sat down at the poker table. I played for sixteen hours straight, until my legs were numb.” She snorted. “I thought money would solve all our problems.”

“Money doesn’t hurt.”

“At least it would have gotten us out of Desert Pines.” Daisy closed her eyes, remembering the sound of chips clacking together and the electricity of the game table. “I won two million dollars.”

Ryan let out a low whistle. “Impressive run.”

“It was…right up until Bullet pulled me into a back room and double checked the ID I was playing under.”

“Fuck.” His entire body shifted. Weight slammed into her side and her muscles tensed. He must have used one of those whacky martial arts moves because when Daisy opened her eyes, she was flat on her back and he was staring down at her with wide eyes. His lips pressed together in a tight line. “How old were you again? Fourteen? You could have been killed.”

Damn it. The FBI agent wasn’t going to listen quietly. He was going to add commentary.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “You want to hear the rest of my story?”

“I want to lock you up in a dungeon where I know you’re safe.” He blew out a long breath before settling on top of her, the weight of his body covering hers completely. “But I’ll settle for the rest of the story. What did Bullet do?”

“He gave me fifty bucks—on top of my original stake—and drove me home. The next morning, he drove me to school. He brought me breakfast.” She smiled at the memory. “He took an interest. He said I was so damn smart, and it was his responsibility to make sure I got an education the honest way instead of in jail… He was there when Tony came back.”

“And?”

“Tony was banging on the door. It woke me up. He was calling out for my mom and Lily—he was screaming all the things he was going to do to them.”

It had been a nightmare. Her mother hadn’t even been at the trailer at the time; Cherry had been out all night trolling for her next boyfriend. It had just been Daisy and Lily locked in the bedroom, huddling together on Daisy’s single bed.

Then the black sedan had pulled down the street.

“Bullet drove up onto the grass when he saw what was happening. He didn’t even turn the car off, he just jumped out and tackled Tony to the ground. Broke his nose. Broke his arm.”

“Good for Bullet.”

“I don’t know what Bullet said after that—he still won’t tell me—but Tony left town the next day. He even left the fucking state.”

And that’s why Daisy would do anything Bullet asked for the rest of her life. It was why she spent every Christmas and Thanksgiving in a city she hated. It was why she’d canceled her meetings for the week and headed to Las Vegas based on the old man’s gut feeling.

It was why she’d see this thing through to the end—finding the problem at the poker tables—even if it meant losing any possible future with Ryan.

“I’m buying Bullet a beer,” Ryan said easily, but the tension in his body told her he wasn’t unaffected.

Fuck.
Daisy’s teeth worried her bottom lip. “You’re mad.”

“Not at you. Never at you.”

“At Bullet—”

“Not at Bullet, either” The FBI agent shook his head. “Hell, I might have to buy him another baseball bat.”

But the expression on his face didn’t change. The man was pissed.

Daisy tried to roll away, but Ryan refused to move. The body that had seemed like a cozy blanket a few minutes earlier now held her captive.

“It was a shitty situation,” he growled. “You were a kid. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that crap.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “So, tell me about your perfect childhood.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Green eyes flashed. “You could have been hurt—you could have been killed.”

It was like looking in a damn mirror. Daisy blinked as she recognized the same tight expression she’d worn when Ryan had talked about the shooting.

The fear was absolutely irrational and completely bone-chilling.

If something had happened to either one of them, they might never have met…

Daisy swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” She gave him the reassurance she hadn’t been able to ask for the night before. “I’m alive—I’m safe—I’m here.”

And then she kissed him softly, pressing her lips to his until his entire body softened and he relaxed enough to let her in.

Chapter Nineteen

Ryan had tossed and turned half the night, dreaming about a dark-haired girl he couldn’t protect. Ten years earlier, he’d been nineteen years old and in college, hitting the books hard and partying even harder. It had been his first year living on his own and he’d made the most of every day—and every night.

If he’d ever made it out to Las Vegas back then, he would have spent the entire time gambling and flirting with showgirls.

He never would have gone out to Desert Pines.

That didn’t stop regret from filling his belly.

When he’d asked Daisy where Tony was, he’d been half afraid the man would still be in town.

Close enough for Ryan to curl his fingers around the man’s neck.

But Bullet had already taken care of the problem.

Ryan hated to admit it, but he was beginning to genuinely like the old casino manager.

Kissing Daisy, he levered himself up onto his elbows. “You are a strong, beautiful, woman. I’m going to take a shower—then we’re going out to breakfast.”

Daisy had told him more than once that she didn’t “do breakfast.” This time Ryan didn’t wait for her to get out the words. He vaulted out of bed. “Don’t go anywhere.” He hustled into the bathroom. “And don’t run away!”

“Why would I run away?” Daisy asked.

“I have no idea.” Ryan’s head popped back out of the bathroom. “Why did you run off yesterday?”

“I had a meeting with Bullet.”

“And the day before?”

Okay, that one might have been a little irrational. Daisy made a face. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Good.” Ryan disappeared back into the bathroom. The shower started up, and she could hear water pounding against tile. Daisy had promised not to leave, but now all she could think about was getting back to her room, her clothes, and the laptop that would keep her entertained until the last round of poker started in the afternoon. What the hell was she going to do in Ryan’s hotel room all morning?

She checked her cell phone—no juice.

She turned on the television. News. News. A morning show trying to pretend it was news. Cartoons. She hadn’t watched cartoons since she was a kid, and even then, they’d been more Lily’s thing then hers.

She turned the television off.

There were papers on the bureau. A stack of file folders and computer printouts with an FBI logo on them. Daisy shouldn’t look at them. Really. Ryan hadn’t told her not to, but he didn’t need to. She was a grown-up. She knew the difference between public, private, and top secret.

The files were definitely top secret.

She stood up and walked over, dragging a finger over the nearest manila envelope. Ryan had already told her everything, about the mafia kingpin and the shooting in the warehouse. The scar on his shoulder blade had been raised and raw under her fingertips. The folders might contain all sorts of deep, dark, government secrets, but she already knew the worst of it.

Didn’t she?

Her gut churned. Her breath was coming faster. She should just go back to bed and watch cartoons.

Instead, she flipped open the top folder and started to read.

Five minutes later, she was still trying to make sense of the files. So much information filled her mind. It was all so harsh and violent, clearly written out in black and white. Then there were the pictures. She really shouldn’t have looked at the pictures.

The picture of Ryan covered in his own blood—his face pale, his eyes closed—would haunt her until the day she died.

Her hand shook as she turned over another photo.

This one was different. The man in it was alive. Undamaged. Whole.

A slender red-haired man in a buttoned down shirt stared out at her.

He was good-looking in an odd way, his features too fine-boned to be called handsome but the scar under his eye keeping him from being pretty. His lips were full. His hair was so damn bright, like a copper penny.

He looked familiar.

Daisy’s brow furrowed.

She didn’t hang out with gangsters or mafia dons. She was a college professor half a country away from the Morelli family. Where had she seen this man before?

There was no mistaking that hair.

The bathroom door opened and Ryan stepped out, fully dressed and drying his hair with a hotel towel. He stopped short when he spotted her. “You shouldn’t be looking at those.”

“Yell at me tomorrow.” Daisy held up the photo. “Who is this?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Her stomach clenched. It hurt to hear the words. She might not be an FBI agent, but she cared about Ryan. She didn’t want to see him hurt.

She wanted this whole thing to be over so they could get out of Las Vegas and go—where? Los Angeles? New York? It didn’t matter, as long as they were both safe and happy.

She made a face. “I’ve seen him.”

“Hell.” Ryan swore. There was a long pause. “I don’t know his name—no one knows his name—but he’s freaking dangerous.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s the fifth man at the warehouse.” His voice was cold. “That’s the guy who shot me and Jack. Now…” He stalked over toward Daisy, the towel falling to the ground, his jaw clenched. “Where the hell did you see him?”

“Here.” It felt like a lifetime ago but it had only been two days. “I had lunch with Lily—I was asking her to help me find a dress for the party—and he was in the restaurant talking with Blethins.”

“Show me.” Ryan reached out, gripping her arm. His fingers were like iron, his face was stony. “You’ve still got access to the security cameras, right?”

Daisy nodded.

He didn’t move. He didn’t let go.

“I need clothes.” She swallowed hard. “My computer’s next door. I need clothes for the hallway.”

“Right.” Ryan didn’t let go. He dragged her over to his suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt. “Put this on.” His grip finally relaxed as he thrust the soft cotton into her hands.

Daisy wanted to argue. She could wear the clothes she’d had on the night before. They were only going a few feet, damn it. But she couldn’t find the words.

Ryan looked so angry—so broken.

The image she’d seen moments ago flashed in her mind. Ryan on the ground, covered in blood. Hurt and vulnerable. For a man whose life depended on his strength and skill, what must it have been like to be hurt that way?

She shimmied into the T-shirt. Sometime in the last few days, she’d stopped thinking of Ryan as a giant—so tall she had to push herself up onto her tiptoes at the same time he bent down so they could kiss—but the blue fabric came down to her knees. She smoothed it once, twice, and then bent to rummage through her pants for her key card while Ryan grabbed his badge and his gun.

Then she led the way next door.

Her computer was on top of her bureau where she’d left it the previous morning. She snagged it and sat down on the edge of the bed, popping the top on the laptop and entering her password with smooth fluid movements that belied the worry in her heart.

If Ryan faced the same man who’d shot him before, would he survive a second time? Or would he end up like his partner? Stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. Or worse? Would he end up dead?

And what about her?

Could she bear it if her phone rang one day and the man on the other end of the line told her that Ryan wasn’t coming home?

Fuck.

She swallowed hard as she pulled up the security portal for the Hendrix. The camera she needed was in the restaurant. It took her a moment to find the relevant footage.

There were Lily’s long legs and high heels. Her sister’s bright smile was distracting, even on the screen. And there—in the back of the room—was Blethins, sitting at a table with a strange man.

A man whose back was to the camera.

“Is there another angle?” Ryan asked.

“Probably not.” Daisy swallowed hard. “It’s not the casino floor.” Her fingers flew as she looked for more footage. The shooter was clever. He’d kept his head down on his way in and out of the restaurant. She moved to the foyer camera. “There.” She slammed a finger down on the pause button.

The man’s face was only turned toward the camera for an instant, but it was enough.

The full lips and scar under his eye made for easy identification.

“Son of a bitch,” Ryan swore. “Show it all to me—from the moment he enters the casino to the moment he leaves.”

They watched the footage together in silence.

It was less than twenty minutes. The man walked in and headed directly for the restaurant where Blethins was waiting. They ordered drinks and talked for a little while. Blethins did most of the talking, his expression smooth and unreadable.

At the end, the shooter paid for the drinks and left, going out the same door he’d come in.

“There’s got to be more.” Daisy frowned, rewinding to the moment where the shooter had paid for the drinks. “Maybe the waitress can identify—”

“He paid in cash.” Ryan slumped beside her. “He probably left a perfect fifteen percent tip, not too much and not too little. The waitress isn’t going to remember him. It’s a lost cause.”

“It can’t be.” Daisy watched the small sliver of video again.

The man dragged his wallet out of his back pocket, then flicked two bills from it, leaving them on the table without a second thought. Then he shoved his wallet back into his pocket and left.

She watched it again.

And again.

Something picked at the edge of her brain.

“There.” She paused the video. “Do you see what I see?”

“A man paying for drinks?”

“No.” She jabbed at the screen and the smallest sliver of plastic visible in the man’s open wallet.

“Is that a credit card?” Ryan asked. “Can you make out the name?”

“Nope. Not a credit card.” Daisy couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she stared at the sliver of green plastic with a stylized sun in the corner. Someone else wouldn’t have caught it, but Daisy knew that logo like she knew her own name. “It’s a room card for the Rollio. Which means we’ve got him.”