Heartless Rebel (3 page)

 
          
Cara
drew up short as he stepped into view. Mercy, he was a handsome man. Tall,
dark, with the kind of brooding good looks that could grace a feature film. In
fact, he reminded her of someone. An actor she couldn’t quite think of at the
moment. She hadn’t watched a movie in so long that it was no wonder she
couldn’t come up with a name. That’s what working twelve hours a day did for
you.

 
          
“Guests
aren’t allowed in the staff areas,” she told him.

 
          
“Then
don’t go into the staff area,” he replied, the corners of that sardonic mouth
turning up in a heart-pounding grin.

 
          
What
would his mouth feel like on hers? Would those lips be as hard and demanding as
she thought? Or would they be gentle, thorough and absolutely addictive?

 
          
Her
vote went for absolutely addictive no matter what. Not only that, but she could
listen to him talk for hours. There was something about a British accent that
turned her into a puddle. It sounded so enchanting, as if every British person
lived a life of glamour and knew exactly what to do in every social situation.
Beside him, she felt small, insignificant. Unpolished.

 
          
Cara
pushed a strand of hair over her shoulder, willing away the heat, the achiness,
this man inspired. “You shouldn’t be talking with me, Mr. Wolfe. I have a job
to do, and you’re a guest.”

 
          
“But
I like talking to you, Cara.”

 
          
“Only
because you think you can score,” she said, trying to infuse her tone with
acid. It didn’t quite work because his smile didn’t waver.

 
          
“Ah,
so now we come to the truth.” He set his drink aside, shaking his head at the
waiter who hovered. The waiter disappeared. “Call me Jack.”

 
          
“I’d
rather not.” Oh, but she would. Repeatedly. She imagined saying his name while
they were entwined. The room would be dark, the atmosphere sizzling. She closed
her eyes as a bead of sweat dripped between her breasts. Why was she thinking
these things? She never did this, never wanted a man she’d only just met. Never
wanted to sink into a hot, dark bed with him.

 
          
“I
think you would,” he said, his voice a deep, sensual purr. “You feel this thing
between us, too. You want to know more.”

 
          
Cara
swallowed. “You’re mistaken,
Jack
. I
want to finish this game, and I want to go home and get out of this outfit …”
Her words trailed off as the look on his face grew more intense.

 
          
“And
I want to get you out of that delightful outfit.”

 
          
Her
heart was pounding, thrumming, making her dizzy. “At least you’re honest.”

 
          
“But
you aren’t.” His smile mocked her.

 
          
“I
admit I find you attractive,” she defended, heat enveloping her. Whether it was
the heat of embarrassment or the sexual heat of being near this man, she wasn’t
quite sure. “But I don’t know you, and I’m not in the habit of going home with
men I don’t know.”

 
          
That
was the honest truth, though she was beginning to wonder if she didn’t need to
let her hair down a little bit. She’d been so uptight since coming to Nice. And
now, with the task she faced before this night was through, tension roiled
inside her. Maybe a night with Jack Wolfe could relieve the tightness beneath
her skin.

 
          
So
long as he didn’t figure out that she was the one responsible for him losing.

 
          
“Then
perhaps we should get to know each other,” he said.

 
          
“Perhaps,”
she replied, surprising herself in the process. Was she really considering
this? Or was she letting the flattery of a man like him flirting with her go to
her head? Or maybe she didn’t know what to say, so she said the first thing
that popped into her mind.

 
          
No
matter what, however, she wasn’t leaving with Jack Wolfe. Because as soon as
this game was over, she was taking her money and going home to New Orleans. Her
conscience pricked her, but what choice did she have?

 
          
For Mama, Evie and Remy
, she told
herself.
I’m doing it for them
.

 
          
He
took a step toward her, his big body radiating heat and sexuality. She wanted
to melt against him, wanted to let the big strong man rescue her. Except that’s
not what Cara Taylor did. She took care of herself, and she didn’t need
rescuing. Not ever.

 
          
“I
look forward to it,” he replied smoothly, his silver eyes darkening as his gaze
slipped down her body. It was a blatantly sexual look—and she loved it.

 
          
What
she didn’t know was why. “It’s time to return to the table,” she said quickly,
sidestepping him before he could touch her. Because if he touched her, she was
afraid she wouldn’t have the strength to do what she needed.

 
          
She
caught Bobby’s gaze as she made her way back to the table. His brows were drawn
down, his face twisted into a cruel sneer. Her heart thumped for a different
reason now. If she didn’t do Bobby Gold’s bidding, there was no telling what
he’d do to her. Money would be the least of her worries.

 
          
IF
NOT for Cara, Jack would have gotten bored a long time ago. The cards were too
easy, too inconsequential. If he lost, he’d make it back on the stock market.
But he wouldn’t lose. He never lost. People thought he had the good luck gene
in spades, but the truth was he’d learned to rely on his skill with probability
and numbers because he had to. Once his father had died, once his brother Jacob
had abandoned them—and then Lucas shortly after—the responsibility to take care
of his younger brothers and sister had fallen to Jack.

 
          
He’d
needed to use every resource he had in order to make money, but it wasn’t
enough. He could take care of his family’s finances, but he couldn’t heal the
open wounds that refused to close. They’d all, every one of them, suffered at
the hands of William Wolfe. He’d tried to fix it, but nothing would ever make
it right. Annabelle, sweet Annabelle, would carry the scars of what William had
done to her for the rest of her life.

 
          
Jack
shook off the memories of his sister’s scarred face and focused hard on the
game. This was no time to get lost in thoughts of the past. Fifteen million
euros in casino chips were piled in the middle of the table. The sheikh was
sweating profusely and Count von Hofstein’s brows had drawn into a permanent
frown.

 
          
Even
Cara looked pensive. She was biting her lip again, that luscious lip he longed
to suck between his own. Her fingers, so certain and sure as she did her job,
were trembling. One of the men at the table, an insignificant man with a red
tie he’d recently loosened, seemed to glare at her as if he were trying to
impart a telepathic message.

 
          
She
looked up then, directly at Jack, and his gut clenched. She seemed … uncertain.
Her expressive eyes were wide and her creamy skin appeared to have lost a shade
of color, making her appear pale and fragile.

 
          
“Sir?”
she said.

 
          
It
took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. And that it was his turn.

 
          
“Call,”
he replied, tossing his chips into the pile. Because he was tired of sitting
here, because he wanted to get out of the dark, cloying atmosphere of this room
and back into the fresh air. Because he wanted to talk Cara Taylor into getting
into his car and going for a drive along the coast. He still had a few days
before he had to be in London for Nathaniel’s wedding. Spending it in bed with
a vibrant woman like Cara seemed a perfect plan.

 
          
The
man in the red tie, the only player who hadn’t folded this round, laid his
cards on the table with a smirk. “A full house, Mr. Wolfe,” he said. “Queens
and kings.”

 
          
Jack
only sighed. “That’s excellent.” And then he flipped his cards over one by one.
Ten. Ten. Ten.

 
          
The
man’s brow glistened.

 
          
Jack
flipped over the two of hearts and the man sucked in his breath triumphantly,
his fingers reaching automatically for the pile.

 
          
“Not
quite,” Jack said as he turned over the last card. The man’s jaw dropped.

 
          
Count
von Hofstein groaned.
“Mein lieber Gott.”

 
          
Cara
Taylor looked at the last card and smiled. But the corners of her mouth wavered
as she did so. “Four of a kind. The gentleman wins.”

 
          
Jack
stood. He didn’t feel satisfaction or triumph. He simply felt
done
.

 
          
“If
you will excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I’m going to cash out.”

 
          
Cara’s
fingers definitely trembled as she gathered the cards. Red Tie glared at her
furiously before turning to look over his shoulder. A prickle of awareness
tingled through Jack. This wasn’t good, and yet it was too late to change the
outcome. Dammit, he’d known Bobby Gold was up to something.

 
          
As
if in confirmation of the fact, Bobby stepped from behind a door at the other
end of the room. He stopped to talk with one of the bouncers. A few seconds
later, the man made his way toward the table. The other players were getting up
to stretch their legs, but Jack didn’t miss the look on Cara’s face when the
man stopped beside her and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

 
          
Beefy
fingers spanned Cara’s upper arm as she turned and walked toward the back of
the room with him. Another croupier stepped from the wings—a blonde with fake
breasts and a spray tan—and took out a fresh deck.

 
          
“Gentlemen,”
she cooed. “Surely you aren’t finished yet. Mr. Gold would like to spot each of
you fifty thousand euros as his gift to remain in the game.”

 
          
Jack’s
intuition kicked him in the gut as Cara disappeared behind the door Bobby had
just exited. He knew what fear looked like, knew the kind of terror an abusive
man inspired. He’d witnessed it often enough growing up. Cara Taylor was scared
about something.

 
          
And
he couldn’t leave without finding out what it was. He’d been unable to protect
his siblings from William Wolfe’s wrath, but he’d be damned if he’d let Cara
get hurt tonight.

 
          
* * *

 
          
Cara’s
cheek stung where Bobby had backhanded her. Blood trickled down her lip from
where his ring sliced her. She sat on a small chair in a win-dowless room and
cursed herself for her inability to do what he’d wanted.

 
          
But
as she’d stood there, looking at the pile of chips in the center of the table,
she’d known she couldn’t cheat. Mama would be ashamed of her. She would be
ashamed of herself. The only thing she had was her integrity. To allow someone
else to take that away?

 
          
Unthinkable.

 
          
And
yet she now wished she’d done just that. Because Bobby was furious. He’d hit
her and screamed at her and locked her up in here. She didn’t know what came
next, but she was certain it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

 
          
She
dropped her head into her hands and sat there, waiting. Bobby was ruthless, but
she didn’t think her life was in danger. And once he got over his anger, he
might let her return to the tables. She was very good at what she did, and
Bobby knew it. But she wasn’t willing to compromise her integrity. She simply
couldn’t. If they knew where they each stood on the issue, then she could keep
working and Bobby would never put her in a position like this again.