SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (6 page)

“What was that about?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

I
shrugged, not having an answer. That was just Drew. She knew it as well as I did. I waved to her jeans and sweater. “After you change we’ll head down.”

She nodded
, moving to the bathroom off the main bedroom. The bathtub equaled the size of my apartment. Gold fixtures gleamed and tiny bottles of complimentary soaps and shampoos stood in line ready to do battle against dirt and oil.

“Remember the game plan,” I said as I followed her to the bathroom.
“Join a table; lose a few hands and flirt like crazy. Grab as much attention as you can, but be careful, these guys won’t be blinded long.”

“I know.”
She pushed me out of the room and shut the door in my face. “It’s going to be fine, Ian. I can handle myself, you don’t have to worry.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

The rushing sound of water drowned out her reply. I sat on the bed, going over the plan in my head. Was I missing something? Had I overlooked some angle that would cost us? When the game was in play I was untouchable, focused on winning and that’s it, but not this time. Too much was at stake, like Mickey’s life for starters. I traded my Levi’s for a pair of Armani slacks and tossed my flannel shirt on the bed. I fumbled with a dark blue tie, and after a few minutes of struggle, I threw it across the room. This would have to do.

Ten minutes
later the bathroom door opened, revealing the backlit silhouette of Frankie in a tight black dress made out of one of those marvel of science materials that clung to all the right places. The dress barely reached the middle of her thighs and rose with her every breath. A wide v-cut and miracle bra displayed her c-cup breasts, shocking the shit out of me. She was stacked, something that until this moment, had escaped my notice. Fuck, when had she grown into a woman? Don’t think about it. I took one last peek at her breasts before gaining control over my libido.

“What do you think?”
She twirled in front of me.

“You’ll do.” I
tried to keep my voice even, heartbeat calm. Damn, she was gorgeous. The thought of black lace panties flew through my mind, and my mouth went dry.

She held out a Rub
y choker. “Do me…up?”

Dropping the choker into my sweaty palm, s
he turned around and lifted her hair from the nape of her neck. Soft pale skin tempted me as I drew the choker in place. I trailed a shaky finger along the back of her neck. She shivered. My body tightened with lust and my breathing turned harsh. On the third try, the tiny metal lock snapped in place, and I stepped away. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Ready?” I asked,
flipping through my mental rolodex of reasons why Frankie was off limits. Best friend’s sister. A damn good employee. The one woman I trusted. She deserved better.

“Let me grab my bag.” She reached past me
, her hand brushing my arm. I flinched and she smiled. “Something wrong?”

“You’re doing it on p
urpose, aren’t you?” I laughed. Relief replaced lust. She was playing me to prove she could handle herself.

She batted mascara thickened lashes. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me.
” I leaned in, using my size to intimidate her. Not that it worked. “I’m out of your league and old enough to know better.”

“Oh, I love a challenge,” she gushed with fake sincerity.

“Good.” I tugged on a red curl draped across her shoulder. “Here’s one for you, win me enough money to save your sorry brother’s ass.”

Her face sobered.
“Let’s go break the bank.”

The noisy casino floor, crowded with tourists, reminded me of the red light district. Everyone looking to score. Desperation hung in the air like the stench of boiling potatoes in a Hell’s Kitchen tenement. I maneuvered Frankie past the suckers’ nickel and dime games and slot machine jungles, all the while keeping an eye out for Drew. Machines yelped, spitting out quarters like street corner whores.

At
the back of the casino a small alcove set off from the rest of the games beckoned. All but screaming: High rollers only. A bald bouncer in an overpriced suit guarded the inner sanctum. His shoulders were the width of a linebacker and his smile just as unfriendly. As hot as Frankie looked in her black, clingy dress, the bulge in his sport coat had nothing to do with her appearance. Glock, I guessed. We’d found the right place. Now we needed a way in.

Frankie
took the lead. “What’s the buy-in?”

“More than you got, baby-doll.”
The bouncer grinned down at her. She bit her lip and whispered something in his ear. His eyes widened, and she nodded. I stood back, watching her work. She really was an incredible actress. “Show him the money,” she said to me a few seconds later.

I pulled the cash from my pocket. It looked a lot more impressive than it was, fortified with paper to increase the bulk.
I flashed it, and quickly tucked it away before he took a closer look.

“Okay.” He stepped
to the side to let us in, but before we entered, he put a restraining hand on Frankie’s arm. “No cell phones.”

“Okay.”
She slipped a hand into her bag and handed her phone over. I guessed this was the reason why Drew hadn’t called. The bouncer turned to me, his lips curving into a frown as his hand hovering over his gun. “No weapons. No trouble.”

“Fair enough.”
I nodded, removing the .38 from the holster at the small of my back. “I’m not the one you have to worry about though.” I motioned to Frankie. “Ten bucks says she cleans the place out.”

“You’re on,” he said, taking the .38 from my hand
and slipping it into his pocket. I took Frankie’s hand, pushing through the heavy door and into the world of wealth, privilege, and ten thousand dollar poker chips. Like a bad western all heads swiveled Frankie’s way. It wasn’t just the clothes, hair, and makeup. She had an aura of power and sex that brought lesser men to their knees. But not me, I was immune. Who was I kidding? A few more minutes in the suite and I would have been on my knees begging. Shaking my head, I followed a few steps behind her. Close enough for the sharks to know she wasn’t fresh meat.

The room was full of m
en in tuxedos smoking Cuban cigars while girls a quarter of their age hung on their every word. Diamonds could make up for a lot, and by the amount of bling in the room, there was much to be forgiven. I spotted Drew toward the back of the room. He was working a table with six players. The rainbow colored chips in front of him relaxed me. Our eyes caught, and I turned away to scan the room for Frankie.

She
walked through the crowd as if she didn’t have a clue. It took her three minutes to zero in on her mark, a table in the dead center. There were five players, all middle-aged men and one open seat. Over a million dollars in chips sat at the table. It was a hustler’s dream. “Mind if I join you?” Frankie leaned in, giving the players a glimpse of cleavage.

An overweight
, bald man wheezed out a hello. “Take a seat, sweetie, but I have to warn you. The stakes are pretty high.”

She fluffed her hair.
“That’s okay. It’s my boyfriend’s money, and he’s got a lot of it.” The men laughed. She sat down and removed a couple thousand from her bag.

A
waiter came over. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes, please.
I’ll have a glass of champagne. The good stuff,” she added with a flirtatious grin. “Charge it to the penthouse.”

Hearing that, t
he table immediately accepted her into the fold. Now it was my turn. I took an empty seat at a table two away from Frankie. Three men all dressed in dark blue business suits, played hand after hand without comment. I pulled out a few thousand and got down to business. Poker, often called a game of luck, took much more. To win you had to know the game inside and out, but more importantly, you had to know your opponent. I don’t play the cards I’m dealt but the guy sitting across the table.

Eve
ryone had a tell. Some people are adept at covering them while others shine like diamonds strung around a mistress’s neck. The tapping of a foot, the pulse of a vein, or the dilation of a pupil gave you away. Bluffing was an art, and you were born with the ability to lie, or you picked another game. Even more vital was the ability to recognize a lie and have the balls to call it.

“
All in,” I said on a stone cold bluff. My face gave nothing away. The other players groaned, tossing in their hands, and I raked in another pot. Apparently my opponents hadn’t read the Wilde Guide to Poker. Checking Drew’s chip lead, I smiled. He was doing well, but not good enough to get us killed. Frankie, one the other hand, had a huge stack of chips in front of her. Even more amazing the other players at her table didn’t seem to mind. I knew she was good. Hell, she beat me regularly, but I’d never seen anything like this. Maybe bringing her wasn’t such a lousy idea after all.

I glanced at my watch
and stifled a yawn. 2:00 a.m. We’d been playing for six hours straight. My cards started to blur and a losing streak was imminent. Drew looked to be in the same shape, switching from Jack Daniels to coffee. I played a few more hands and cashed out. Rule number four in the Wilde poker guide: Know when to get the fuck out. I caught Drew’s eye and gestured to the door. He nodded. I moved to stand behind Frankie, and like a lover, leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Call it a night.”

She
gave a small nod. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. But I just got an offer I can’t refuse.” The men groaned, calling out regretful goodbyes. I helped her to her feet as she raked the large pile of chips into her bag. We left, alive and a few grand richer.

I retrieved my gun and
her cell phone from the bouncer while Frankie flashed him her winnings. She said, “Looks like you owe Ian ten bucks.”

His eyes drifted over her body.
“Care to go double or nothing?”

“No.
” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Can’t say I blame you, brother.” The bouncer smirked. “Girls like that usually cost money, not make it.” Frankie rolled her eyes and we walked away.

“Some night,” she said as we headed for the elevator.

“Unbelievable.” I skirted a drunken couple. “
You could probably win the whole five hundred.”

She
beamed. “You didn’t do too badly either.” From the look of our combined winnings, we were close to our goal. She tossed her hair back. “I’m kind of wired. What’d you say we grab a drink?”

The exhaustion
plaguing me disappeared in an instant. “Sounds good.” We turned from the elevator and headed to the casino bar. It was late and the bar was nearly empty. An expensive looking call girl sat at the bar, spilling quarters into a video poker machine. The bartender polished a glass, looking bored as hell in a city of a million sins.

Frankie sat
down at a table toward the back and tugged at her high-heeled shoes. Sensual pleasure flickered across her face as her foot slipped free. My mind flashed to seeing that look in a different situation—her lying on top of me, naked, hair brushing my chest, mouth on mine.

Where the fuck had
that come from? Until last week the thought of Frankie naked seemed incestuous. It had to be the lacy panties. They were every great man’s downfall. That and Oval Office blowjobs. With a sigh, I headed to the bar. I caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a beer for me and a Jameson on the rocks for Frankie. While I waited for our drinks two guys in polo shirts and sockless shoes moved forward. Frankie smiled politely as they approached, but her eyes grew cold.

The bartender set
down our drinks. “Eight-fifty.”

I
glanced over to the table, shook my head, and handed him a hundred. “Thanks.”

“I don’t want no trouble,” he said,
pocketing the cash.

“
It’s not up to me.” I gestured to the two pretty-boys. The blond one leaned over Frankie, practically drooling. She sat frozen, spine like steel, while the guy laid down his rap. I grinned. She was showing remarkable restraint. If we’d been at home the guy would’ve worn his teeth as a necklace by now. I reached the table in time to overheard him say, “I’ve got some blow in my room.” He winked at her. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

“No
thanks. If you don’t mind, I’m with someone.” She flicked a finger at me. Stupidly, he never looked up. If he had, he’d have seen me standing over him, cracking my knuckles.

“I’m all the man you need.”
He seized her leg, and her eyes narrowed. His hand slid farther up her thigh. “Come on baby.”

Baby? Where’d this guy get his pickup lines? Cheesy 80’s movies?
I’d about had enough, but before I crippled the guy, Frankie slapped his hand away, saying, “Leave now, or I’ll castrate you.”

He
grabbed her chin. Red marks formed under the pressure of his manicured fingers. “You like it rough?”

She flinched, pushing from him, but he held fast.
Her eyes blazed, and before he knew what hit him she had his nuts clenched in her fist. “Get your fucking hands off me.” She squeezed, increasing the pressure as the seconds ticked by. Beads of sweat grew on his upper lip and he slowly released her chin. In fairness, she released his balls, and he jumped from the chair, knocking it backwards with a loud crash. She glanced down at the tip of her sharpened nail and smirked. “What’s a matter tough guy?”