All In (8 page)

“Want to go back for flats?”

“All I’ve got is a pair of turquoise Converse sneakers. They don’t exactly go with Dolce & Gabbana, even though I’m pretty sure this dress is a knockoff.”

If the heels meant she’d be reaching for Ryan’s arm all night, then he liked them. They stopped in front of the elevator doors and Daisy steadied herself while Ryan hit the button to go down. “You went all out,” he said.

Daisy shrugged. “You said it was important. Is it for the case?” She threaded her fingers through Ryan’s. “Is it dangerous?”

“No, I would never—” Ryan swallowed his words. Edgar Blethins had never shown any tendency toward violence, but every undercover assignment had some element of danger involved. He couldn’t guarantee Daisy’s safety one hundred percent. What he could do was mitigate the risk.

“No one’s going to lay a hand on you.” If they did, he’d kill them. He’d left his gun locked up in his hotel room safe with his badge, but he could do some real damage with a cake knife. Or maybe he’d just borrow Bullet’s baseball bat. “Here’s the plan: we go in, we reconnoiter, we grab some snacks, we go back to your room, and I teach you not to draw on an inside straight.”

“I would never do that. It’s statistically unlikely to result in success.”

“Fine.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “I’ll teach you how to beat a guy without leaving any marks.”

Daisy grinned, as if she thought he was joking. “Could prove useful with the undergrads.”

Thankfully, the elevator door
dinged
open before Ryan had to think of a response. They got in and traveled down eight flights to the casino’s main floor and the tournament reception in silence.

Once the doors opened, the pounding music took over and they didn’t have to talk while they walked over to the small tables near the bar. Instead, Ryan could enjoy the feeling of having Daisy tucked against his side like she belonged there.

Like this was a real date.

When he had her seated in a tall bar stool—and off her treacherous heels—he leaned in close. “What do you want to drink?”

“Vodka and tonic,” Daisy said. “Slice of lime.”

Nice drink. Ryan nodded and went to order at the bar. Then he leaned back against the counter and observed the crowd.

Most of the men were in suits. Most of the women were in cocktail dresses. Almost all of them had drinks in their hands. It was almost like the New York club scene, but the crowd was a little older and there were fewer drugs.

He glanced back toward Daisy.

Damn.
From the front, her dress had been pretty enough. The black sheath had a scooped neckline and a hem that fell just above her knees. It was the perfect outfit for a university professor who was more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt than a fancy dress.

But from the back, the dress was scandalous.

The fabric fell away from her shoulders and cascaded down her back, leaving a river of bare skin before the fabric gathered again right above her round bubble butt.

Ryan didn’t know how it was staying on, but he for damn sure knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.

So did every other guy in the place.

He grabbed his drinks from the bartender and marched back over. He was less than five feet away before he could spot the delicate gold chain that glistened between her shoulder blades. The tiny links were the only things holding the dress’s straps together, and he wanted to tear it apart with his teeth.

“Maybe you should go change.” He slammed the drinks down on their table. “Shoes, clothes, the whole nine yards.”

Daisy blinked at him in surprise. “You don’t like my dress?”

“I love it.” He’d love it even more on the floor of his hotel room. “But you’re probably cold. Want my jacket?”

“No, I’m fine.” Daisy was looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. It was probably true. All he could think about were the miles of skin her pretty black dress was revealing and all the men who were salivating over her.

She wouldn’t change.

She wouldn’t take his jacket.

So, he took the only option left and slid his hand possessively onto the small of her back. Let the other men salivate. At least they’d know who she was at the party with. Anybody who didn’t get the message would earn a quick punch to the face.

For a moment Ryan thought Daisy might object. Then she leaned into his side and sipped her drink. “I don’t get out a lot,” she said. “I went to the university Christmas party, but that’s because my boss made me.”

“Did you like it?”

“I hooked up with a grad student in Classical studies. He had nice hands.”

When he was done punching poker players, Ryan could head to Los Angeles and make it an interstate crime wave. Then he remembered that Daisy only had one-night stands. The Classical studies guy had probably thought he’d hit gold, right up until she’d kicked him out on his ass.

Poor bastard.

That wasn’t going to be Ryan. Not tonight. Not with the way Daisy looked in that dress. When the night was over and he’d made nice with Blethins, he was going back to Daisy’s room to strip off her dress, pull her down onto the bed, and cherish her until she forgot all about her rules and came apart in his arms.

It was the perfect plan.

Ryan drank his beer quickly, watching the crowd. “Do I have nice hands?”

“Among your many other fine attributes.” Daisy gulped her drink. She glanced around, looking anxiously for a waitress to bring her a refill.

She was finishing her second drink when Blethins stopped by her table holding a small hardback copy of
Ante Up
. The man held it out almost reverently. “I had to run back to my room to get it, since you weren’t sure you’d be here.”

“Right.” Daisy wobbled forward on her bar stool. “You got a pen?”

“I do.” Ryan pulled out a ballpoint pen and handed it over. “Ryan Wilson,” he offered, introducing himself to Blethins for the third time. His smile was open and friendly. His expression was honest, even though all the words coming out of his mouth were lies. “Sales executive, based in Massachusetts.”

“Edgar Blethins.” The gray-haired man nodded. “I’m an accountant.”

“Gee, that sounds interesting.”

Blethins was still staring at Daisy, watching her sign the damn book. “It’s not very interesting.”

“It probably gives you an edge at math, though,” Ryan said, trying to connect somehow. When Daisy put down her pen, he snatched up the copy of
Ante Up
. “Helps you figure out this stuff.”

“This stuff is a statistical model for winning at poker.” Blethins sneered. “It’s brilliant. I haven’t lost a game since I read this book.”

Okay, so they probably weren’t going to be exchanging best-friends-forever necklaces anytime soon. Ryan just needed an invitation up to the man’s room and a few private moments near the guy’s computer. He grinned. “That’s so interesting.”

Daisy was staring at him as if he’d just spoken in tongues. “You’re interested in my work,” she said softly. “No one’s ever interested in my work.”

“Of course I’m interested.”

“No one’s ever interested,” she repeated. Then she smiled and her expression lit up the entire room. It was like she’d been smacked with a happy wand.

If she wanted him to be interested in her work, then Ryan would go back to school. He’d study until his eyes bled if it meant that Daisy would smile at him like that. He’d definitely finish reading the damn book.

He flipped through the slim volume, blinking in surprise when he saw what Blethins had used as a bookmark. The key card was the same shape as a credit card. It had a black strip on one side and the word
Hendrix
printed on the other in spiky gold lettering. It looked exactly like the card in Ryan’s back pocket, but this card was different.

This card would let him into Blethins’s room.

Jackpot
. Ryan allowed a thrill to travel down his spine as he palmed the key card. Forget making friends—Blethins was clearly a lost cause. All he needed to do was sneak out of the party and run up to Blethins’s room without the other man noticing that the card was missing.

Piece of cake.

Even if it meant leaving Daisy alone with the man for the next twenty minutes.

His teeth ground together.

He didn’t want to leave Daisy. It didn’t feel right.

On the other hand, finding out the accountant’s deep, dark secrets—and discovering where Morelli had stashed his cash—felt like the best thing in the freaking world.

And when it was over?

He’d celebrate his victory by seducing Daisy the right way, champagne, kisses, and a long, hard fuck against the nearest wall. The things he was going to do to her… He’d give her so many orgasms, she wouldn’t be able to think, let alone push him away.

The short-term risk would be more than made up for by long-term gain.

Ryan made his decision. He stood up and slid out of his jacket. He handed the blazer to Daisy. “Put this on,” he said, not giving her an opportunity to object. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Charming,” Blethins sneered.

The guy wasn’t just a criminal. He was also an asshole.

Ryan smiled. “Maybe the two of you could talk about statistics.”

“I’d love to.” Blethins sat down across from Daisy, clearly pleased to have her all to himself.
The moron
. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Ryan ducked toward the bathrooms, waiting until he was sure Blethins was focused on Daisy before turning and cutting toward the elevator. He hoped like hell that Blethins didn’t have nice hands…whatever that meant.

Chapter Eleven

Edgar Blethins was boring, even for an accountant. Daisy talked to him about statistics for a few minutes before sending him on his way. The music was loud. The party was crowded. She wanted to go back to her room and eat something that wasn’t finger food.

But first, she’d stop by the bathrooms and find Ryan. He could come back to her room with her.

He was cute and smart—when he wasn’t pretending to be someone else— and though they might not be dating, he made a pretty good friend.

She might be a little tipsy.

She stood up and swayed in her high heels.

Strike that.

She was really tipsy, bordering on drunk. It was the third vodka tonic that had done it. Her brows furrowed. Okay, it was probably the first vodka tonic that had made her tipsy. With the third one, she was hammered.

It felt good.

For the first time in ages, she felt completely and utterly relaxed. All her worries had vanished in a haze of club music and alcohol. She wanted to find Ryan and tell him.

Then she wanted to kiss him silly.

It was against the rules, but, at the moment, Daisy was feeling like a rebel.

She tightened her grip on the borrowed jacket, enjoying the masculine scent that clung to the collar, and took a tentative step forward.

“Watch yourself, doll.” A large hand gripped her arm as Bullet rushed to stop her from falling. “You doing okay?”

“Sure thing.” She licked her lip, tasting the last hint of vodka and lime. “I need to go to the restroom.”

“Okay.” Bullet wrapped his arm around her side. “Let’s go.”

“Men’s room,” Daisy clarified. “I need to find Ryan.”

There was a long pause. “Ryan’s not in the men’s room, Daisy.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “He must have gone back up to his room. I’ll go there.”

His room was probably better anyway. It was late. She was horny. The soft kisses she had planned could just as easily turn into something else. A burst of electricity zipped through her body to bury itself deep in her core.

Oh, yeah. She was going to get laid tonight.

“He’s not in his room,” Bullet interrupted her thoughts, his voice gentle. It was the same tone he’d taken when she’d wanted to drop out of Harvard because it was so damn hard. It was the same voice he’d used at her mother’s funeral.

Her stomach rolled. “What aren’t you telling me, Bullet?”

“Your boyfriend—Ryan—I’ve been keeping an eye on him.” There was a short pause. “You know he’s got a woman visiting him at all hours? Some leggy blonde?”

The woman from the first morning. Daisy was going to throw up. “It’s not possible.”

“She was at his room last night.”

It was a mistake; she let out a sigh of relief. It had all been a giant mistake. “Ryan wasn’t in his room last night. He was in mine.”

“Before he went to your room, doll.”

Before. Her head was pounding. Was that why he’d shown up at her room all wet from the shower? He’d wanted to wash off the scent of his girlfriend before he seduced Daisy.

Why couldn’t she clear her head?

“Where is he now?” Daisy asked.

“Security said he got off at six.”

Fuck.
There was no reason for Ryan to be on the sixth floor. Unless…maybe he was investigating, she thought hopefully. Then she remembered the way the blonde had walked confidently in her high heels and tight dress.

She was every man’s fantasy.

The liar.

“I really liked him,” she said. “I really, really liked him.”

It took everything she had to admit it. Hell, she’d been afraid to think the words. Her stomach churned and her body went cold. It had only been a one-night stand, but somehow Ryan had managed to find a chink in her armor.

Still, it could have been worse.

She could have fallen in love.

Daisy bent down and undid the thin straps of her heels, sliding her feet out and standing barefoot on the nightclub floor. The tiles were sticky to the touch, but she didn’t care. There were too many people in the club. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe.

She needed to get out of there.

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Breakfast tomorrow? I want to talk to you about this poker thing.”

“Of course.” She pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to kiss Bullet’s cheek. “You’re the only good man I know.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, doll.” Bullet laughed, but he squeezed her arm before letting her go.

Over the years Ryan had been undercover as a bartender, a gangbanger, and a thief. He’d lived in the ghetto. He’d partied with badasses and genuinely bad guys. And breaking and entering always gave him an adrenaline rush.

He stopped in front of Blethins’s door and dialed Stephanie’s private number from memory. It was almost ten o’clock at night and she still picked up on the third ring.

“This is Block,” she said.

“DiNatto,” Ryan responded. “Am I legal snooping in Blethins’s room?”

“You got an invite?”

“I stole his card key.”

“You’re good,” Stephanie said. “We got a warrant yesterday afternoon.”

“Good.” Ryan kept the phone tucked beside his ear as he dropped the key card into the lock. The room inside was a mirror image of the one he was staying in on the eighth floor, except for the mess. “This guy’s a slob.” His nose wrinkled up as he picked his way through a pile of clothes.

“Agents in New Jersey said he’s tidy.”

“Huh.” Ryan bent down beside a pile of men’s jewelry, cuff links, and a gold chain. “Then I think this place has been tossed.”

“Any suspects still on location?”

“Nope.” He kept his hands in his pockets, careful not to touch anything.

“You got your gun?”

“It’s in my room,” Ryan said.

“Jesus—”

“It ruins the lines on my coat. Besides, this place is crawling with security. I don’t want some casino rent-a-cop jumping my ass because he sees my gun.” Ryan bent to look under the beds, checking for anything the thieves may have missed. No such luck.

“You see his laptop?” Stephanie asked.

“I see it.” Ryan toed at the machine. It was in pieces. “Some of those whiz kids in Langley may be able to make something out of it, but I’m not uploading any files tonight.”

“Shit.” Stephanie swore. “Can you tell what they were looking for?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Give me your best impression.”

“I think someone was pissed off and trying to make a mess. Everything’s dumped out and a bunch of stuff was broken. They might have been looking for something, but I suspect they were just angry.”

“Think Morelli knows we’re on to him?”

“No way to tell. Could be Morelli, could be random.”

The room was quiet. The only sound he could hear was Stephanie’s breathing on the other end of the line. “Well, hot damn, DiNatto. It looks like you’ve got a real investigation on your hands. Take some pictures and get the fuck out of there before someone catches you.” There was a long pause. “You want me to talk with hotel security? I’ve got pretty good connections at the Hendrix. I might be able to get you the security tape from the hallway.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said, thinking about the laptop upstairs in Daisy’s room. “I’ve got access.”

“No shit.” The other agent sounded impressed. “And here I thought you were just another pretty face.”

Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her he’d almost immediately blown his cover under the influence of a pretty smile and a head injury. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Good to hear, because you’re not that pretty.” She disconnected.

It was time to get back to the party. Ryan needed to find out who would want to send Blethins a message. He just hoped the bad guy didn’t decide to take another run at the accountant while he was at the party, sitting across the table from Daisy.

Fuck
. His gut clenched. If anything happened to her, he’d never be able to live with himself. Then again, he wouldn’t have to. The murder spree he’d embark on would either end in a hail of bullets or with him locked into an electric chair, courtesy of the state. He wiped his fingerprints off the doorknob and hustled back down to find his little bunny.

He wasn’t going to leave her side for the rest of the night.

Hell, he might just stay forever.