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“Drum technician, mostly. But I do whatever
Tiny needs. And whatever Leroi tells me to do. They take care of
their peeps.” His eyes raked over her, stopping at her breasts. He
didn’t try to hide his avid interest. “Wanna dance?”

Sadie gave an involuntary jerk that almost
made her spill the remainder of her drink. Something in Kev’s eyes
made her uncomfortable. But saying no seemed rude, especially when
Tiny and Leroi had made a point of seeing to her comfort. She
gulped down another mouthful and set the glass on a side table. She
misjudged the height of the table and the glass made a heavy clunk
as it landed, sloshing the drink around. “All right. But I think I
should be going soon.”

Kev grimaced. “You just got here. Tiny’ll be
pissed if you bounce.” Impatiently, he reached for her and he
guided her to a spot where they could dance.

As Sadie started to move to the thumping
beat, Kev gave her a broad grin and two thumbs up. She laughed,
starting to relax and feeling more than a little drunk. That last
mojito must have been stronger than it tasted, because it was going
straight to her head.

After a few minutes Sadie thought the song
would end, but the music never stopped, segueing from one tune to
another. Surprisingly, and without any help from her brain, her
body got into the rhythm, dipping and swaying. She might be the
clumsiest dancer in the room, but right now she thought she looked
almost graceful, and Kev certainly seemed to think she was dancing
just fine.

Unfortunately, Kev also seemed to think
dancing was a contact sport. Every way she moved, he was right on
top of her, bumping her hips or her ass, or practically slithering
down her back. The more he touched her, the more uncomfortable she
became. And as the dancing went on, the room turned unbearably hot.
Sweat streamed down her forehead, stinging her eyes, and her body
started to tremble with fatigue. She came to a stop, her breathing
ragged and scorching her throat.

“You okay?” Kev said. He snaked his arms
around her waist and pulled her against him. He had an erection,
which he prodded into her hip.

Sadie’s stomach gave a sickening lurch and
she tried to push him away. “Let me go. I need to get some air. My
head’s spinning.”

“Maybe I should take you to your room.” He
dropped his hands to cup her ass.

“Like hell,” she gasped, slapping away his
groping fingers.

Someone pounded on the door hard enough for
the knock to be heard over the deafening music. Three seconds
later, an even more insistent knock sounded. Sadie jerked away from
Kev and saw Leroi opening the door. Nick brushed past him, stepping
into the foyer of the suite.

The cavalry had finally arrived.

“We’ve had a noise complaint from other
guests,” Nick yelled over the music as his eyes searched the room.
He took another step forward and Leroi smoothly shifted in front of
him.

“Hey, man. Nose out of our business,” Leroi
growled. “We got damn near the whole floor, so who’s
complaining?”

“Everyone above and below you,” Nick growled
back. “We have strict noise nuisance regulations, sir, and it’s
almost two in the morning. I’m sure your boss wouldn’t be too happy
if someone called the police. The cops might not take such a
charitable view of your activities as we do.” He took two more
steps into the room and this time Leroi didn’t try to stop him. The
other two security men kept pace behind the sheriff.

A dizzying sense of relief drained the blood
from Sadie’s head. Overheated and nauseous, she felt wobbly on her
feet. The sheriff was right, damn him. She was in over her head,
and had been from the moment she agreed to come up to Tiny’s suite.
She would let him lecture her all he wanted as long as he got her
back to the blessed quiet of her own room.

She managed a weak wave and he headed
straight for her, pushing his way easily through the crowd.

Unfortunately, Kev chose that moment to drape
his arm around her shoulders and nuzzle his face into her neck. The
feel of his clammy skin combined with the overpowering odor of pot
made her head spin. Horrified, and trying desperately to keep her
stomach where it belonged, she gave the stupid jerk a hard shove
with the last of her strength. Caught off guard, Kev yelped and
went crashing to the floor, bowling over two other dancers in the
process.

Sadie turned and staggered in the other
direction, straight into the sheriff’s waiting arms.

“Okay, Saxon. You’ve had two days to keep an
eye on your little friend. What’s the verdict?” Carson’s flat-iron
face split into a gloating grin.

Carson had insisted on meeting at nine on the
dot, even though Nick didn’t normally start work until early
afternoon. He took a swallow of the lukewarm coffee the chief’s
secretary had just brought in. Over the top of the mug, he snuck a
look at the crooked planes of Carson’s nose, so obviously broken in
that fight years ago.

Way to go, Dad.

Nick had pondered his approach for dealing
with Sadie’s situation for more than twenty-four hours, and had
thoroughly rehearsed his lines. The more he worked it through in
his head, the better he liked it.

“You were right, Chief. I’ve monitored her
play for two days. There’s no question she’s counting.”

Carson sat straighter in his chair, his bushy
white brows arching in surprise. “Good for you, Saxon. I wasn’t
sure you had it in you. All right, then, you might as well get
right at it. You know what you have to do.” He reached for his
phone, obviously thinking he’d dismissed Nick.

“Just a minute, Chief,” Nick said. “I’m not
finished.”

Frowning, Carson thumped the phone back down.
“What the hell else is there to say? She’s counting—she goes. She
should have been out of here yesterday. All your screwing around
cost the house money.”

Nick didn’t rise to the bait. He calmly took
another drink of coffee while the chief’s face started to redden.
“It’s true Ms. Bligh is using a counting scheme, but she’s a total
amateur. It’s my guess that she read about counting in books or on
the Internet, and decided to give it a whirl. She’s a really smart
woman with a photographic memory—a math professor, actually. From
the University of Chicago. For someone with her brain, it wouldn’t
be all that hard to get an edge on the odds.”

Carson stared at him, his gaze now more sly
than hostile. “She wouldn’t be the first professor to try to clean
out a casino. Look at that jerk from Boston who tried it with teams
of his students.”

Nick nodded. Everybody knew that
story—Hollywood had made it into a movie. “That case was totally
different. Sadie Bligh plays alone, and not for big stakes. The
friend she’s with hardly goes near the tables, and when she does,
she doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.”

He paused for a moment, raising his eyebrows
as if asking for permission to continue. If Nick had to bow and
scrape a bit to rescue Sadie’s pretty ass—said ass and the rest of
her currently in her bed, sleeping off what would be a massive
hangover—he would.

The image of Sadie curled up like a little
girl in her bed flashed through his mind. As angry as he’d been
with her last night, he’d been consumed with worry, too. The
pounding music had been mostly an excuse for him to barrel into
Tiny’s suite, certain something was very wrong with Sadie. And it
was. Christ only knew what would have happened if he hadn’t
intervened. After he’d carried her back to her room and tucked her
into bed, he’d stood there for a few minutes, just watching. The
emotions that had flooded him, the sense that he had to protect her
from the big, bad world, had left him shaken down to his bones.

“Go on,” Carson prompted in an impatient
voice.

With effort, Nick focused on his boss. “We
know successful counters follow standard betting patterns—that’s
the whole point of what they do. But Ms. Bligh plays
inconsistently, and doesn’t always properly scale her bets when she
has the advantage. I know that it could be a tactic on her part,
some misdirection she throws up knowing we’re monitoring her. But I
doubt it. She’s shown no sophistication in her play. Any effort to
throw us off has been lame.”

“Yeah, maybe. But the bottom line is that she
keeps winning, doesn’t she?”

“She’s had a good run,” Nick had to admit.
“But she’s just a talented amateur, Chief. I really don’t see her
as any kind of threat. She’ll be out of here in a few more days and
that’ll probably be the last time we see her.”

Carson smiled, obviously getting ready to
spring his trap. Nick no longer had any doubt his suspicions about
the chief’s motives were correct. Carson was setting him up for a
fall.

“You said you’d give me your recommendation
today, but I haven’t heard one yet.” The chief tilted back in his
leather chair, folding his hands like a cartoon corporate
executive.

The conversation had played out almost
exactly as Nick had scripted it. He believed he’d made a reasonable
case. But if this meeting was a charade, he’d know within
seconds.

“Well, we can’t tolerate card counting of any
kind, no matter how unsophisticated,” Nick said in a firm voice.
“So, my recommendation, Chief, is that we bar Ms. Bligh from
further blackjack play at the Desert Oasis, both now and in
future.”

There. Carson could try to hang him high, but
Nick knew he’d made the correct call. Sadie wasn’t a con artist,
and she didn’t deserve to be blackballed from every casino in the
country.

“Aw, that’s nice. Why don’t we send her
champagne and a box of chocolates, too?” Carson sneered. “That’s
some impressive sanction, Saxon. Your little friend runs a counting
scheme, but we let her play every other game in our casino? And
leave her free to count cards at every other house in the country?
Sure, that makes sense to me.”

Nick dropped his hand down beside his chair
and clenched it into a fist. Christ, he hated sarcasm. And he hated
the smug look on Carson’s face. “First of all, I’d appreciate it if
you’d stop referring to Ms. Bligh as ‘my little friend’. I’m a
professional, and I’ve handled this situation professionally.”

“The jury’s still out on that, Saxon. You’ve
been spending a hell of a lot of time with her. In all kinds of
places. You’ve been monitoring her
closely
, so to
speak.”

Nick held on to the edges of his fraying
temper. Whatever else he’d done, he
had
investigated Sadie’s
card-counting and arrived at an honest and appropriate conclusion.
“You’re rejecting my recommendation?”

“Your recommendation comes out of your ass,
Saxon,” Carson said with a snort. “Or, should I say, out of your
dick. What do you think? Of course I’m rejecting it!”

The fury surging through Nick’s body brought
him to his feet. Carson bolted up an instant behind him.

“Go for it, Saxon. Take a swing. Make my
whole year.” Carson’s mocking grin was an invitation to disaster,
and Nick knew it. As much as he’d love to break the guy’s nose—just
like his father had—there was too much at stake. One punch and his
ass would be thrown out the door. No other hotel or casino would
hire him after he’d decked his boss. Not to mention that Carson
would likely file assault charges against him.

The two glared at each other for several long
seconds, neither backing down. Finally, Carson’s gaze shifted away,
and Nick felt a small measure of satisfaction.

Very small.

“We’re done, Saxon. Get out of here,” Carson
spat out in a furious voice. “Go tell your honey to pack her bags
and check out today. Then put her on the goddamn blacklist.” His
lips curled into a sneer. “I’m sure you have the skills to ease her
pain.”

The contempt in the chief’s voice clawed at
Nick’s gut, and he knew he had to get out of there before he lost
it and did something stupid. He strode to the door, but before
opening it he turned back to face Carson again. The man’s
triumphant look turned his stomach. “Chief, this is dead wrong and
you know it. This isn’t about a card-counter. It’s about me.”

“You heard your orders, Saxon. Now, let’s see
if you have the balls to carry them out.”

Asshole.
“Just watch me, Chief.”

* * *

Sunlight poured into the room through the
wide open drapes, dragging Sadie out of a mind-numbing sleep.
Gingerly, she pushed herself up on the pillows, groaning as her
temples pounded out a sickening rhythm. Flopping back down, she
started to massage her head with the tips of all ten fingers.

Forgot to close the stupid drapes when I went
to bed last night.

At least she’d managed to get out of her
dress and under the covers. She was quite sure that had been no
mean accomplishment, since she had only the dimmest recollection of
having entered her room, much less undressing herself down to her
panties.

With a gasp of horror, she sprang back up to
the sitting position as her mind began to focus. The sheriff had
brought her back to her room. Correction. He had
carried
her
back to her room when she all but passed out in his arms. What in
God’s name had happened to her? Yes, she’d imbibed three or four
mojitos, but spread out over several hours. How had she managed to
get so drunk? It didn’t make any sense.

She groaned, dropping her aching head into
her hands. What an idiot she’d been to go up to Tiny’s suite. She
knew better than that—she knew how jerks like Kev looked at
drunken, naive women. That woman last night wasn’t her. Sadie Bligh
didn’t do stupid things. Didn’t take those kinds of crazy risks.
What in heaven’s name had happened to her?

The Eagleton Prize
. That’s what had
happened to her. Or not happened, actually. She had let that
crushing disappointment turn into a crippling doubt that had shaken
the very foundations of her life. Factor in all the temptations
thrown her way in Vegas, and it was a recipe for disaster. The
point wasn’t how her father or her colleagues would feel about her
behavior. It was how
she
should feel.