All In (13 page)

Chapter Twenty

There’d been no movement in the case for months and then suddenly, everything seemed to move at once. Daisy shimmied into a fresh pair of jeans and led the way to Bullet’s office, rambling to Ryan while they walked. He didn’t hear half of what she had to say, but the salient points got through.

The Rollio wasn’t just another casino. It was the casino that Bullet had managed for most of his life—the place where Daisy’s sister worked—and where Daisy had worked when she was a kid. It was the same damn casino she’d walked into at fourteen, trying to win the money to take care of her family.

It was a lucky break.

If the shooter had chosen any other hotel in town, they’d have had to call in Stephanie and a boatload of federal lawyers to get the information they needed.

Instead, Bullet had listened to a hurried explanation and made a single phone call. There’d been a two minute talk before he’d emailed over the snippet of footage that showed the shooter’s face.

“You’re really an FBI agent?” the casino manager growled.

“You’ve seen my badge.”

“Could be fake,” Bullet shrugged. “You could be CIA.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan said.

The old man laughed. “You definitely sound like FBI.” There was a long pause. “You going to arrest me for that little—uh—incident in the bathroom?”

“You sorry?”

“Not a chance.” The man raised his gaze to meet Ryan’s eyes. “Hell, I’d do it again. You had your hands on one of my girls.”

And that was why Ryan would never arrest Bullet—no matter how many fights the old man got into. The guy might be a remnant of a different age where casino managers dragged cheaters into the back room instead of turning them over to the police, but once upon a time, he’d been faced with a hard decision and he’d made the right choice. Instead of leaving Daisy to the wolves, he’d taken her under his wing.

He was the reason she’d gone to Harvard.

Hell, he was the reason she’d survived.

“I’m not going to arrest you.” He let the man off the hook. “I might ask you for a few pointers, but I’m not admitting that a guy your age kicked my ass.”

Bullet chuckled warmly. “And I can do it again—” The phone on his desk rang twice. He picked it up with a grunt, listened for a minute, and then slammed the receiver down without saying a single word. “Your boy’s name is Eric Jones—the last name’s probably a fake—and he’s been staying at the Rollio all week. You can pick him up any time.”

Ryan’s head jerked backwards. “He’s still there?”

“Called in a room service order twenty minutes ago. Waffles.”

It couldn’t be that easy. Could it?

Of course not. As soon as Ryan had the name, he called Stephanie and the agent in charge took immediate control of the situation. Eric Jones might not be on the top ten list at Langley, but he’d shot two FBI agents and caused a hell of a lot of damage. The man was a professional shooter. A killer.

It took Stephanie twenty minutes to find a judge to write the necessary warrants and another hour to drum up a tactical squad staffed by hard-nosed agents in flak jackets who nodded to Ryan when they picked him up at the front entrance to the Hendrix.

“You sure you want to come with us?” Stephanie asked as Ryan climbed into the back of a tactical support van. The fancy cocktail dress she’d been wearing the day before was gone, replaced with pleated navy pants and a bulletproof vest. Her pale hair was pulled back into a tidy ponytail. The gun on her lap gleamed. “We can pick him up without you.”

“I need to be part of it.” Ryan settled onto the bench seat across from her. He was still wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but no one said a word about his casual appearance. They were too busy prepping for battle.

The door to the van slammed shut.

Through the back window, he could just make out Daisy standing on the sidewalk watching him drive away. She looked so damn small in his T-shirt. He wanted to hop out and promise her that everything was going to be okay, but this wasn’t the time for making promises he couldn’t keep.

His gut tightened. The weight he’d been carrying all morning suddenly seemed overpowering.

Staying in Las Vegas with a death threat looming over his head had seemed reasonable the night before, when no one knew where he was. But once the shooter spotted him, there’d be no denying facts. One word from the man to his lawyer and the entire Morelli gang would come slamming down on Ryan like a ton of bricks.

Staying in Las Vegas after the arrest would be like signing his own death warrant.

It would be putting Daisy in the kind of danger he couldn’t protect her from.

It would be risking her life, simply because he couldn’t live without her soft kisses and sweet smiles.

Fuck, he should have said good-bye.

Too bad. Their relationship had always been temporary. Now it was over. She’d know that he had to go back to New York. She’d understand. Right?

He accepted a bulletproof vest from Stephanie, tugging it on over his head. “I want this done.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Daisy’s gaze never left the computer screen in Bullet’s office. The security team at the Rollio had been able to give them a direct patch into their user interface, allowing them to see everything that happened at the other casino.

Like the FBI team pulling up outside the front door with their guns blazing.

It was all happening so fast.

Her breath came faster as she watched the Rollio’s security escort the team inside and upstairs to one of the hotel floors. Hard-faced men and women swarmed the area, shoving guests out of the way. And then Ryan stepped up to knock on a room door.

Why Ryan? Her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to hit something. Why wasn’t another agent making the arrest? She shook her head. She knew better. Ryan would want to be the one to do the deed. He was the one who’d been shot. He was the one who felt responsible for his partner’s injury.

Arresting the shooter wouldn’t just serve justice. It would also fulfill some of Ryan’s driving need for revenge. It would make things easier for him when he went back to work in New York City.

Realization slammed into her.

After Ryan made the arrest, there’d be nothing to keep him in Las Vegas. He’d be gone. And he hadn’t even told her good-bye.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

The door on the screen opened.

She couldn’t watch.

She turned toward Bullet, burying her head in the big man’s chest. “I can’t…”

There was a long moment, and then Bullet’s arms wrapped tight around her middle. Until a few days earlier, he’d been the only man she could count on—the only man she’d ever loved. He didn’t let her down now. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” Gnarled fingers stroked her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay.” Air hissed as he sucked in a breath, watching the screen over his shoulder. Finally, he relaxed.

“It’s finished. Ryan’s got him in cuffs. Everything’s okay.” There was a slight pause. “You know I’m not crazy about the Feds, but your guy looks good out there. Like he knows what he’s doing. You should be proud of him.”

“He’s not—he’s not my guy.” Daisy fumbled to find the words. “It was only supposed to be a fling. He’s got a life back in New York. That’s where he belongs. He was never going to stay.”

Bullet’s hands stilled. He took a step back so he could look her directly in the face. “Did you ask him?”

“Excuse me?” Daisy frowned.

“Your FBI agent seems like a pretty stand-up guy. Did you ever ask him to stay?”

“I couldn’t—he doesn’t care about me that way. We’re just friends.”

Bullet’s brow furrowed. “He’s been following you around for days—instead of working—and every time I see the pair of you, the man’s smiling like you hung the moon. That’s not how most people treat their friends.”

Daisy blinked in surprise. Was he right? Was Ryan the one for her? Her hands clenched in her borrowed shirt. The worn cotton smelled like Ryan—clean and masculine—and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that he was still standing in the room with her.

Just the thought made a smile cross her lips.

Unfortunately, she’d never given him a reason to stay.

Their entire time together, all he’d ever done was smile and laugh. And all she’d ever done was try to drive him away.

She’d never told him that she cared and now it was too late. He wasn’t coming back, except… there was still the last round of the poker tournament. He had to come back for that, right? The FBI might have caught the shooter, but they hadn’t figured out where Morelli and Blethins had stashed the money. Ryan’s job wasn’t over. He’d show up to play, even if he wouldn’t come back to say good-bye.

Right?

“How much longer until the poker game starts?” Daisy asked, surprised by the edge of desperation in her voice.

Bullet glanced at his watch. “Couple of hours.”

“Good. I need to get ready.” During the entire poker tournament, all she’d ever done was shake the wrinkles out of her T-shirt before she went downstairs. Now she wanted something different. A pretty blouse or a flirty dress? Did she have time to call up Lily?

Was this what it felt like to get ready for a date?

The thought made her heart race, but—for once—she wasn’t afraid. She was excited. She was going to see Ryan again.

She
had t
o see Ryan again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The poker chips rattled. The room had been rearranged for the big event and now a single table stood on a small stage in the middle, surrounded by cooing fans and television cameras. “At least we’ll get some publicity out of this,” Bullet complained. “Even if the damn owner only gave us two months to set everything up.”

Daisy smoothed her borrowed sundress down over her knees, frowning at the bright cotton flowers on the pink background. She’d spent an hour finding just the right dress in one of the casino’s stores, but it looked like she could have put the time to better use by brushing up on her poker skills.

She’d shown up to the table an hour early and waited impatiently to see her golden-haired FBI agent, but every time someone entered the room they brought with them a new round of disappointment. Now the dealer was opening fresh boxes of cards and the chips were being handed out.

Ryan wasn’t coming.

He didn’t care about the tournament or the ten-million-dollar pot. He didn’t care about finding the person who’d been screwing around with the Hendrix’s take. He didn’t care about Daisy.

All he cared about was Victor Morelli.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise. He’d been up front and honest about his intentions from the beginning—he was just in Las Vegas for an assignment. But it still hurt like hell.

“Where’s the pretty boy?” one of her opponents asked, a businessman in a plain blue suit.

“Looks like he couldn’t take the heat,” Blethins said, laughing openly. It was the first time the man had shown any kind of amusement and it made Daisy’s skin crawl. “Better this way, just the real professionals. A battle of intelligence, not foolhardiness.”

Even without Ryan, there were three other players at the table, but Blethins didn’t seem to be worried about them.

Clearly, in his opinion, Daisy was the only one worth playing against. Then again—if he was to be believed—he’d learned his technique from reading her book.

Her lips pressed together into a thin line. Maybe she should rewrite the damn book. Mathematically it was correct, but it didn’t fully capture the culture and capabilities of poker.

Hell, there was less than a chapter on bluffing.

That could come later. For now, she inclined her head in Blethins’s direction and held her breath as the dealer started handing out cards.

Ryan had done his job. Now it was Daisy’s turn.

Time to find the cheater.

And when she did, she wasn’t going to turn him over to some golden-haired FBI agent with a hard-on for justice.

Hell no. She was going to make sure the man regretted ever stepping foot inside the Hendrix.

If it was the last thing she did.

The cards had been dealt. She gave them a quick glance; a pair of sixes stared back at her. It wasn’t much, but it was a decent start.

Her gaze moved to the cards being laid down in the center of the table. Then her head lifted as she took in her opponents. It had to be one of them, right? There was no sense rigging the cards at the Hendrix and then walking away from the biggest pot in the casino’s history.

Four faces stared right back at her, all waiting to see what she did next, searching for her tells.

Damn, she hated poker.

Time to make her move. She shoved a handful of chips toward the center of the table. “Ante up.”

Twelve hands later, the other players seemed to have relaxed. Daisy was the one who couldn’t think straight. She was second-guessing every move she made. None of it felt right. It was supposed to be pure mathematics—if she was playing against one of the poker machines out in the slot hall, it
would
have been pure mathematics—but every time one of the other players glanced her way, all she could think about was the way Ryan had talked about poker.

And bluffing.

And love.

If something was worth having, then it was worth taking a risk on.

For a few moments she’d thought Ryan might be someone she could end up with. She loved him, but she hadn’t been willing to risk everything on him when she’d had the chance.

Instead, she was stuck at this table, playing poker over and over again while—for the first time in her life—her calculator of a brain struggled to comprehend something more than pure mathematics.

Like the pot in the table right now. It was closing in on a million dollars—big enough to make most of the other players back out. The only players left in were Blethins, Daisy, and the man in the blue suit. They’d all made introductions. His name was Charles, but some of the other players called him Trick. He was a professional poker player—a shark—and his technique was everything Ryan had told her about.

It was sharp and angry.

It depended on his ability to look another player in the face and know—without a doubt—what they were holding.

It had nothing to do with math.

Maybe if Daisy had been more like that, maybe if she’d been less concerned with beating the odds, then Ryan might have shown up for the last game.

He might at least have said good-bye.

Her spine straightened. She sat up in her chair. She might not be a professional poker player, but she had two PhDs and most of a third. She was the smartest woman—no, smartest person—in the room by a long shot and she was funny to boot. She deserved to be loved.

Her grip tightened on the cards. She had a full house, twos and tens. It wasn’t chicken shit, but it wasn’t what she’d like. Not with so much money on the table.

Her breath was coming faster as she calculated the odds over and over again in her head. It was time to make the final ante. Time to figure out exactly where she stood.

The odds weren’t good. She didn’t need to bet high. She didn’t need the risk, but then—

There.

The professional’s gaze dropped slightly to the right, as if he wasn’t quite as confident in his cards as he’d been projecting all night.

Anything worth having was worth taking a risk for, and for once Daisy didn’t want to make the smart move. She wanted to take what she’d learned from Ryan and use it in real life.

“All in.” She shoved her tower of chips forward and all around her, the crowd murmuring in surprise.

The move was wild and reckless.

It was completely unexpected.

Daisy felt a rush of heat and excitement as adrenaline raced through her veins. This buzz, right here, was why people played poker. She’d never felt this kind of excitement before—ever.

She’d never had so much to lose.

Across the room from her, Bullet was leaning against the doorway, blinking in surprise. Up close Charles was beginning to sweat. The professional’s brow was furrowed. His hands shook ever so slightly as he pushed his cards away. “I’m out.”

Good. Her lips widened into a happy grin, and—

“I’ll see your bet,” Blethins said without even rechecking his cards.

Cocky bastard.

Daisy took a deep breath as the chips moved across the table.

Time to see if it had all been worthwhile.

Time to win.