Deadly Odds (5 page)

“Morning, Mr. Cooper.”

“Morning, Bruce.” They strode past and Ross jerked his thumb. “Drop team. They’re collecting the drop boxes from the tables.”

“Do you know everyone by name?”

“No, but I do my best. We have over ten thousand employees. Like every business, we have turnover. Every time we get a new employee in the casino, I get a file on them and introduce myself.”

“A good practice. They know you’re hands on.”

“Yes, they do. And it’ll stay that way.”

An hour later, while doubling back toward the mini-baccarat tables, a young blonde woman wearing a chic black dress and towering strappy heels stopped him. She was a tiny little thing, but her doe-eyes and sleek bob gave her a presence—refined, yet sexy.

“Hey, boss.” She smiled at Kate then went back to Ross. “Got a sec?”

Ross excused himself and the two stepped away. After a brief conversation, Ross returned. “That’s Steph. She one of my VIP team members.”

“VIP team?”

Ross nodded. “They manage the biggest gamblers. Whatever the whales need, her team is responsible for getting it.”

“Who’s on the team?”

“Anyone who comes in contact with the player. Housekeepers, butlers, the concierge, casino hosts, credit managers. You name it. No matter what their function, they’re the best we could find.”

Something caught her eye, but Ross was still in tour guide mode and directed her attention to the ceiling where all that hand-carved molding had probably taken a year to create.

“1,500 cameras are monitored 24/7 by surveillance agents. Seventy-five percent of the cameras can rotate 360 degrees. The zoom is so tight we can see the serial numbers on a bill.”

She slowed her pace and focused on the man sitting at what Ross had earlier identified as table six.
Whoa.

“Kate?”

She grabbed Ross’s jacket sleeve, halting him. Being obvious right now would possibly tip someone off.

He cocked his head and studied her. “Something wrong?”

“Look enamored.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not a problem.”

She rolled her eyes—
such a player
—but moved closer. To anyone watching, she was a woman flirting with the more-than-handsome man next to her. With the way Ross Cooper filled out a suit, no one would think her crazy. She tilted her head up, stared at his lips a second and, well, maybe she wasn’t pretending to flirt because—wow—her body had gone on a full tingly alert. Ross cocked his head, clearly enjoying the show. She smiled and inched closer.

“There’s a man at mini-bac. Green shirt. Call Don and ask him to check that tight zoom of yours. I think Green Shirt just capped his bet after the dealer showed the winning cards.”

Wouldn’t this be something? Her first day at Fortuna and she catches someone trying to slide an extra chip on his bet while the dealer was distracted paying the other players.

Ross grabbed his phone. No questions. No comments. No skepticism. Just immediate action.

He stepped away from passing patrons, spent all of fifteen seconds on the phone with Don, then walked back to Kate. “He’s having surveillance check it. Give me a second to talk to the pit.” He squeezed her arm. “Wait here.”

He strode into the pit area, smiling at the diamond-draped women, slapping the backs of a couple of the male players. A master glad-hander at work. No wonder the gaming industry loved him. Young, ambitious and handsome, Ross Cooper was gaming’s thirty-four-year-old George Clooney.

And she might have a mad crush on him. Which didn’t bode well for her no-fraternization rule. Certain things she wouldn’t do. Getting personally involved with a client or a co-worker ranked right up at the top. For a woman bent on a career, the fallout could be too costly.

She’d worked too hard to lose her professional reputation over a simple crush. Over sexual attraction.

After talking with the pit boss, Ross came back to her. “You called it. Surveillance checked the video. He moved the bet. The dealer will warn him. He’s a new player. Supposedly. We’ll keep an eye on him. Nice catch,
Ms.
Daniels.”

“Thank you,
Mr
. Cooper. Now, can I see your surveillance room?”

He slapped his hand against his chest. “A little forward, don’t you think? I mean, really, I’m not that kind of guy.”

Kate rolled her eyes. If ever a man deserved a slap, it was Ross Cooper. “Please. You are definitely that kind of guy.”

Chapter Three

Just shy of Ross dropkicking his good sense and making a move on Kate Daniels, his phone buzzed.
Ignore it.
He’d like to.
There’s a departure.
For him anyway. Call it exhaustion, call it a lack of female company since Fortuna’s opening, call it being horny, but he suddenly wanted to ditch his job.

Can’t
. The phone buzzed again and he ripped it from his belt. Marcia. “Hey.”

“Problem,” Marcia said. “Mrs. Miller fell at table thirteen.”

Ah, shit
. When a high roller—a whale among whales—brought his eighty-year-old mother to the casino, there’d be no delay in checking on her. Plus, her wicked humor reminded him of his grandmother and he’d developed an affection for her. “How bad is it?”

“I’m not sure. We called an ambulance just in case. Figured you’d want to know.”

“You figured right. Thanks.”

Before Fortuna opened, Mrs. Miller had accompanied her son on gambling trips to Dominion. In the time he’d been at Dominion, Ross had grown to enjoy her unabashed love of bawdy behavior. Pretty much, he enjoyed
her
. She made him laugh and not take life too seriously, and that could never be underrated. In fact, Ross suspected if she were younger, she’d make a pass at him.

Hell, she made passes at him anyway.

He shoved the phone into his belt holder, grabbed Kate by the elbow and dragged her along as he hustled to table thirteen. “FYI, I was about to convince you to have a drink with me, but the mother of one of my whales was injured in a fall.”

“Is she okay?”

No reaction on the warning shot about the drink. Interesting. He loved a woman who made him work for it.

Ross went left around the craps tables, bumping Kate, but hanging on to her arm so she didn’t go over. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem. Where are we going?”

He pointed straight ahead. “Right here. Table thirteen.”

A crowd had gathered next to the table and he pushed his way through. Mrs. Miller would hate this. A proud woman, she wouldn’t want rubberneckers gawking at her. “Okay, everyone, let’s clear out. Nothing to see.”

In the middle of the aisle lay Mrs. Miller in her Chanel suit. Her pixie cut gray hair standing on end—which she’d also hate. Her chunky, gold necklace had slipped tight and the damned thing was probably choking her. She stared up at him, grey-blue eyes busting with tears.

The scene brought back the wrenching memory of finding Gram sprawled at the bottom of her stairs. They’d had a dinner date planned and when he’d swung by to pick her up, he found her. She’d been lying there for hours with a broken hip, unable to get to the phone. If he hadn’t shown up…
Don’t go there
.

Horrible thought.

He squatted down, eased the heavy necklace away from Mrs. Long’s throat and forced the grin she often cooed over. “Hey, gorgeous. Why are you on my floor causing a ruckus?”

She tried a smile. Flat out failure.
Damn.
He grabbed his handkerchief from the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and blotted her tears. “You know I’ve got you. Where does it hurt?”

“My hip.”

Not good.

“We’re not gonna move you then. And no trying to get up.”

She opened her eyes, stared up at him. “This is humiliating.”

“Falling?”

“Lying on this fucking floor.”

He cracked up. Even in pain, she embodied a certain image—powerful and fierce, so much like his gram—and being spread out on a casino floor wouldn’t do.

Distract her
. Surrounded by gawkers—
did these people not have money to lose?
—he stretched out beside her, propping himself up on his elbow. “I don’t see what the issue is. I run this place and I’m down here.” He leaned forward, getting right next to her ear. “I know you’re playing me. All you want is for me to lie here with you.”

She huffed. “Ross Cooper, I should skin you. Young man, if I were forty years younger, you’d be terrified of me.”

“I’m already terrified. If you were forty years younger I’d be your love slave.”

Mrs. Miller laughed, but it was followed by a wince. “You devil. Don’t make me laugh.”

Next time he talked to Gram, he’d tell her this story. She’d appreciate the wackiness of him on the floor, talking dirty to an eighty-year-old woman. He was either going to hell or he’d be a hero. “Oh, come on. You know you love it. You’re the one who invited me into the sauna last week.”

“You rejected me.”

He snorted. “I didn’t
reject
you. I was working.”

Her lips spread into a forced smile, but her eyebrows pressed into a tight line.

Around them, the security guys cleared the rubberneckers. “Ambulance just pulled up, Mr. Cooper.”

“Thanks, Marty. I’ll stay with Mrs. Miller until they get in here. Did we locate her son?”

“They left him a message,” Mrs. Miller piped up. “He’s in a meeting.”

Meeting. Right. Ross knew from the Miller’s casino host that the meeting included a brunette and a blonde dressed in matching Catwoman suits.

“Marty, leave Mr. Miller a message to meet us at the hospital.” Ross clasped Mrs. Miller’s hand. “I’ll stay with you until he arrives. How’s that?”

The look she gave him, those grey-blue eyes cloudy with pain, but thankful and scared all in one, nearly tore him in two.

“Thank you.”

“You bet. Just stay off my floor. I can’t have these gamblers distracted by sexy grandmothers. I got a business to run here.”

“If I were forty years younger…”

He smoothed her hair and tugged one of the short strands. “Promises, promises.”

* * *

I want him.

Kate stood at the edge of the aisle watching paramedics transfer Mrs. Miller to a gurney while her mind replayed all the ways Ross Cooper could destroy her.

1. He’s a player.

2. He’s a player.

3. He’s a player.

And that list didn’t include shredding her professional reputation if she got mixed up with her seemingly irresistible client. For that reason, these crazy lust signals her body sent needed to be smothered. Just wiped out.

Fast.

“Ow,” Mrs. Miller complained.

“Hey, guys, go easy,” Ross said in a voice that was neither harsh nor gentle and enough to let the paramedics know they’d better take good care of their patient.

I want him.

So much for smothering the idea
. Right now, she couldn’t get enough of this man lying on the floor comforting an aging woman.

Complication. Huge one.

She’d been hired by Fortuna’s owner and chances were, at some point, she’d have to play hardball with Ross. His and Don’s reactions to her presence this morning already hinted their irritation. Sure they’d accommodated her, but they didn’t want a consultant picking apart their operation. Who could blame them?

The paramedics secured Mrs. Miller on the gurney and headed toward the exit. Ross turned back to Kate and motioned her to walk with him. “Sorry about this. When her son arrives, I’ll come back.”

And now he was worried about ending their meeting. “It’s fine. Really. I can meet with Don while you’re gone.”

“I shouldn’t be long.”

“Take care of her. If you’re detained, I can come back tomorrow.”

The exit doors slid open and Kate stepped into the warmth of an eighty-degree October day. Under the awning, the paramedics loaded Mrs. Miller into the ambulance.

Ross turned to Kate before hopping into the back of the ambulance. “I’ll be back.”

* * *

After close to two hours spent with Mrs. Miller—God forbid her son should take a break from the Catwoman twins—Ross entered the executive suite scanning emails on his phone while he walked.

The man’s mother—that fierce, amazing woman—was in the hospital and he couldn’t drag himself from the Bat Cave any sooner? Unbelievable.
I should have kicked his ass right in the emergency room.
At least he wouldn’t have had far to go for treatment.

Marcia leaped from her chair, grabbed her notepad and followed him into his office. “How’s Mrs. Miller?”

“She was in x-ray when I left. The doc doesn’t think anything is broken.” Ross tossed his phone on the desk, slipped off his suit jacket and hung it in the closet. A piece of lint—at least it better be lint—caught his eye and he swiped at it.

“Did her son arrive?”

Her son. The insensitive dickwad.

“Yeah,” Ross said. “Eventually.”