Code Name: Nina's Choice (Warrior's Challenge) (36 page)

A friendly face could
be yo
ur worst nightmare, like the handsome man who
had watched her as she’d made her way into work tonight lingered in her mind.
He wore shades and a T-shirt with a beer logo, his lean body filled his jeans
and cinched at a taut waist. Muscles twined down stron
g
arms. Dirty blond hair, cut short, topped a handsome face with a sharp-edged
jaw that floated in her memory. She’d only seen him out of the corner of her
eye, but he had watched her. That concerned her. He might be trouble; she would
watch and see.

“I
might cut it close, but I don’t miss my mark,” she said
coolly, shifting her shoulder to hint she didn’t want his hand on her. Gordon
moved his hand, but looped a finger in her hair, curling the strand.

“Headlining the show
is an option for you, Lumin.” Hi
s words carried the
unmentioned part of the contract in his gaze.

Turning in her chair,
she glared up at him. “I’m exactly where I need to be, Gordon. Thank you.”

“You’re talented.”

“I know that, and I
can get another act if I have to.” She cemented her ga
ze
to him. Her mama offered a lot of wisdom about the entertainment world. One
piece she never forgot was about men like Gordon. Their power and position went
to their heads, but they only possessed it if you let them intimidate you.
There’s
a boatload of
street smarts behind your elfish
beauty,
her mother told her before they left for Europe.
Use
it wisely and never show them who you really are.

“Lumin!”
Star called out as she entered with a
gaggle of female performers behind her. “Tonight you’re coming ou
t with us.”

She shook her head.
The girls in the show were new to Vegas, and that included the ones that had
been around for a couple years. They loved to indulge in the nightlife,
flirting with college boys and rich businessmen, who forgot they were marri
ed when they came to town. “No thanks, Star.”

“Yes,” Star insisted
as she flopped down at the makeup station beside her. “There’s a new band
playing here at the Grand Palms. They’re Canadian and apparently they rock.
You’re coming.
At least for an
hour.”

G
ordon had taken a step back, not being included in the girl
talk. He gave her a heated gaze and then began barking orders at some of the
younger girls, who were still intimidated by him. Star rolled her eyes and
stuck out her tongue behind his back
,
which
made Lumin laugh.

“One hour. No more. I
have studying to do.”

“God, girl, you and
your
studying. I’m surprised you don’t glue
those law books to your backside.”

“Got them on my iPad,
don’t need them glued to my backside,” she threw back.

“Hurry up and get
changed. The group is on in fifteen minutes and we have to
get to the other side of the casino.”

The Grand Palms’
three-billion-dollar investment rivaled the biggest on the Strip. She knew the
owner Steven Porter and his wife Moira. For billionaires they w
ere down to earth people. At least Moira was. Her parents
had been friends with them, and they were asked to keep an eye on her while
they were away in Europe.

Steven Porter owned a
good portion of Hollywood, and his wife Moira was the salt of the earth ty
pe. Although Steven seemed like the ultimate Alpha boss,
always dressed in Gucci and Gabbana designer clothes, sitting behind the wheel
of fancy cars, Moira kept him turning in circles whenever she was around. She
didn’t have anything to do with the casino
life, but
being the wife of a magnate meant they lived in Nevada with their twins for
half the year and LA for the other half. Lumin often babysat the twins if they
had an event. Moira didn’t want a nanny, even though Steven had brought four of
them home.
One, he’d brought from England. Within
hours the stuffy nanny was relieved of duty. Steven would grumble and Moira
would tell him to stifle it, which always made Lumin laugh.

They seemed totally
different in personality, yet the love they shared was palpa
ble. Steven’s polar ice-colored eyes always softened when
they settled on Moira. They beat the odds, and left the divorce courts and
paparazzi hungry and turning themselves inside out for a story. Steven kept his
business face on whenever he was in the com
pany of
women who wanted his attention, and they always wanted the attractive
billionaire’s attention.

Like her parents,
Steven and Moira weren’t just married; they had a continual love affair. Since
Lumin had been on her own, she’d been offered jewelry, e
xpensive clothes, dinners and straight out cold hard cash to spend a
night with the wealthier tourists. None of them wanted love or a future, and
she had resigned herself to the same fate. Men only saw the outside of her and
never wanted to know what was u
nder the beauty.

“I’m ready,” she said,
throwing her hair up into a ponytail and thrusting the shirt she’d had in her
bag over her head.

Star grumbled as she
quickly scrubbed her face free of the makeup. “Who do you think you’re going to
impress with that
outfit?” She flicked a
dissatisfied
look in Lumin’s direction.

“Not going to impress
anyone. Just going for one drink and then I’m out of there.”

“When was the last
time you had a boyfriend?” Star asked, pulling her toward the door.

“Think I kissed a boy
i
n
grade
eight,” she wisecracked.

“Seriously?”

“I am serious. I don’t
have time for a boyfriend, and who the heck am I going to find in this place,
except transients?”

“Those are the best
kind,” Star tossed over her shoulder leading the way down the narrow
corridor toward an exit the performers used to short-cut
the crowds in the casino. “They’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Believe that would be
defined as a slut,” she said, grinning at Star.

“Guys are called
studs, and we get the title of slut
because we want a
good time. How is that fair?”

“Life isn’t fair, but
it gets fairer if you have a profession instead of being at the whim of guys
like Gordon.”

“He’s an asshole, but
if you weren’t so beautiful he’d leave you alone.”

“I’ll wear a bag in
the future.”

* * * *

Tony needed to use the
head. Turning the corner, he stopped short and stared at the poster. “Neptune’s
Daughter,” the name of the water show premiering at the Grand Palms, stared
back at him and his stomach did a little tumble. It ha
d
been hours since he’d eaten. An odd, skittish feeling jumped through his blood
as he gazed at the beautiful, lithe creature balancing on a beam high in the
air. Her smile made his heart beat quicker, and her blue eyes moved something
else below his belt.
He didn’t forget a face, and
he’d just seen hers an hour ago. Looking to the bottom of the poster, Tony read
the publicity tag and her name: Lumina. What a beautiful name. He shook his
head to clear it.
Get with it, man.
He swung around the corner into th
e bathroom, and had an idea while he was in there.

A performer in this
town knew it better than most tourists. She might have a lead to who Pedro was.
Maybe even where to find him. Lumina looked like a pageant queen or the high
school homecoming queen, and
he doubted she’d have
anything to do with Pedro’s type, but he reminded himself that a sweet girl
with innocent eyes could be deceiving. After eleven years with the SEALs,
witnessing women and children who sacrificed themselves for a cause in the
Middle E
ast, a face was only a covering. What lay
below in the mind and the heart held the truth about a
person.
He worked his way toward the theaters
and lucked out.
A
buxom brunette had Lumina in tow, and they were hot-footing it toward the
clubs. He kept up wit
h them, but out of their sight.

Coming on as a horny
tourist was probably something she was used to. His gut told him she wouldn’t
tell him a thing if he came on to her. How should he play this out?

Five minutes at a fast
pace brought them to “La Vida,” a
night club he and
Mace frequented when they came for a quick Las Vegas jag. He and Mace had
gotten their first tats together here in Vegas. They were well sheeted to the
wind, but the guy doing the tat was an artist instead of an ink hacker.
Luckily, he di
d a good job. SEALs didn’t ink
themselves with anything that could identify their profession, but most guys
had at least one tat that had meaning. Swim buddies would often do it. Mace and
he had inked their right shoulder blades with two sticks of dynamite
, the fuse almost burned out, and instead of TNT written on
the stick they inked their mothers’ initials.

Lumina and her friend
slid past the line of waiting short, glittering skirts, and guys in suit pants
using their outside voices, putting on their mach
ismo
for the ladies. He had to get inside, and he didn’t have time to wait in the
lineup. The girls obviously knew the big bastard who kept the crowd in line.
Here
goes nothing.

“Lumina!”
He broke into a run toward the guy.
“Hey man,” he said, putting a pa
nt into his voice.
“My sister just went in there. I need her now.
Family emergency.
Can you get her?” A tight crease lined
his brow to keep the expression tense. “Please.” He knew damn well the guy
couldn’t leave his post, but whether he’d let him in was a
nother question. The bouncer was built like a brick
shithouse. He hoped he had a brain the size of a dust speck.

Bubba, or whatever his
name was, unhooked the thick, twined rope and jerked his head.

“Thanks, man.” He gave
him a quick punch on the arm before heading into the head banging remix of a
top ten song. Bodies gyrated on the dance floor with little room to move.
Normally that would be a good thing, and a great excuse to get close to the
girl o
f choice, but right now it sucked. Using his
search grid, he scanned the crowd. Where the hell had she gone? He worked
through the crowd to get a better look at the people at the bar. Bingo.
Far right.
He straightened, removed his shades and
hooked them on
the collar of his shirt. Straight up,
that’s how he’d play this. Squirt was somewhere in this city, and the sand in
the hourglass was draining fast. He wasn’t leaving until he had knowledge he
didn’t have before.

Lumina’s back was
toward him, but her frie
nd saw his gaze centered on
them, and she quickly said something to her. Lumina whirled around with a
perfect pirouette. Blue eyes he could drown in narrowed at him. Everything
about her was delicate. Ethereal was the best he could describe. He loved women
with long legs, and she had a pair that had him slipping
from his intent on working her until he got what he wanted.

With only twenty feet
to go, he saw a guy intercept and step in front of her. Maybe the guy was just
pushing his way into the bar to get a
drink, but as
Tony neared he saw the guy had gripped Lumina’s upper arm. He wore a suit and a
knockoff designer watch. Tony curved to the right to get a different vantage
point. The guy had Lumina pushed up against the bar and was talking in her ear.
Her
body was as tense as a board, and she shook her
head. The grip the guy had on her arm deepened, pressing into her skin. Did she
know this guy? He seemed at least ten years her senior.

As the guy
’
s fingers dug deeper and caused a quirk of pain on Lumina’s
f
ace Tony reached out and gripped the guy’s wrist,
giving it a twist. He released his hold on Lumina and turned with a jerk.

“Who the
fuck are
you?” the guy bellowed. Tony had run
into plenty of guys high on some psychedelic drug; their eyes always gave the
m away. Perspiration beaded on the guy’s forehead.