Gerald obviously liked games.
Lucy stood, glaring at the casino owner. She had researched him, of course, studying his athletic image in hundreds of Internet pictures. The man was good-looking, apparently brilliant, and ruthless in his business deals. Watching the mesmerized crowd lean toward the stage, she had to admit he had that something else too—the showmanship of a champion con man—a magnetism she knew could draw people like lemmings off a cliff.
The man was flat-out people-genic.
Lifting his hands, Gerald quieted the crowd. “Thank you for coming.” On his left hand, a black stone glittered in a gold signet ring.
Lucy fixated on the ring to avoid his hypnotic lure. What stone could be so refractive and still appear so dark? A black diamond, maybe? Her professional self wanted to peer at the ring under her jeweler’s loupe.
That wasn’t going to happen.
“As many of you know, this project has been years in the making.” Alec Gerald surveyed the courtyard, working the crowd with his voice and easy mannerisms. “Our gem exhibit opens in a few weeks and will be the largest private collection of gems in the world. Carat for carat, we will outweigh England’s crown jewels.”
Lucy’s eyes never left him. Though his voice was cultured and smooth, Gerald’s posture was wide-legged and slightly aggressive. Formidable. Her eyes traveled from his polished shoes up his body. The curve of quad muscle showed through his pants when he shifted to the side. His torso was taut and gave way to wide, burly shoulders. A bump on the bridge of his nose indicated he’d been in a fight or two.
Gerald was a brawler, then.
With that piece of information, Lucy was able to place his stance. He stood like a martial arts fighter, slightly forward, able to move right or left as the situation required.
Ready to react to a threat, even in showman mode.
That was not good for her. Not good at all.
Lucy pondered the man on the stage, not happy with the picture she was forming of her opponent. Gerald’s playful words, five o’clock shadow, and slightly long hair all seemed to suggest a man of desultory casualness. Indeed, the articles she had read on him went on, and on, about his genial public presence. A veritable man of the world, who’d been-there-done-it all, twice. A man who could offer the all-elusive it to anyone with a plane ticket to Vegas. A man so charming, he didn’t need to shave twice a day.
But her instincts told her this was wrong. Gerald was a serious man who only pretended to be lighthearted and casual.
She would have to watch her step.
“Miss.” A waitress in a medieval wench body corset and fishnets handed her a glass. “Your drink.”
“Thank you.” Lucy held the glass of amber liquid up to the light. Two ice cubes, a good sign. She took a deep drink, rolling the earthy flavor across her tongue. It was a smooth single malt with a hint of peat smoke and berries, a Macallan or Glenmorangie, maybe even a Glenrothes? Her heart rate settled, and she turned her attention back to the Alec Gerald show.
“Tonight was a taste of our magnificent theater production.” Gerald smiled. “The concierge will be giving away tickets to thirty lucky people for tomorrow night’s show.” The crowd cheered, and Gerald tucked one wide palm into his pants pocket.
When they quieted, he continued. “And be sure to check out the dragon cadre flying protection patterns over the crown at the top of the casino,” he said. “The elevator in the south hall can take you to an observation deck for a better view.” He gestured to his right and then looked over his shoulder, directly at her, holding her gaze uncomfortably long.
Lucy looked away. When she peeked back, he still watched her, his lids slightly lowered over assessing eyes. He had seen her, then. The dress had worked. She controlled her panic. There was no way he could know what she really planned. She saluted him with her drink and smiled, just another half-dressed chick in the crowd.
“Or perhaps you’d like to walk on the wild side?” Alec Gerald said as if he spoke directly to her.
Lucy lost her smirk at his suggestive tone. Goose bumps traveled up her arm, and she tossed back the rest of her drink. The ice banged hard against her front teeth.
Gerald’s gaze returned to the crowd. “When you’ve worked up your appetite, one of our five-star restaurants will be happy to satiate you.” He drawled the word satiate, and it echoed elusively through her mind.
Sat-i-ate.
Lucy took a deep breath and focused on the job at hand, the one that would get her brother Joey out of hock. Gino had told Joey that Gerald kept his keycard on him at all times. She studied his black tuxedo. Even from her distance, she could see the suit was custom made, meaning the jacket pockets were probably sewn tightly into the lining.
She would have to be quick to outmaneuver him.
Her hand tightened on her empty glass. There hadn’t been time to dust off her rusty pickpocketing skills after Joey’s hysterical visit. She needed to get her confidence up before taking on the King of Las Vegas. Con man rule number one: swagger was the most important ingredient in a tasty soup of plunder.
Lucy perused the crowd for a good mark. The high-roller with a call girl on his arm would work. The woman was dressed as a naughty nurse. He was guaranteed to have a wallet on him somewhere—medical care was expensive.
Showtime.
Lucy set her glass on a tray and pulled her shoulders back, trying to shrug off the respectable woman she had become. The dress strap dug into the back of her neck like her overburdened conscience. She ignored the dress and her conscience and strutted toward the high-roller, setting each foot directly in front of the other to give her hips the maximum sway.
Con man rule number two: always keep ‘em looking away from your hands.
The nurse saw her moving in on her client and turned her back to Lucy, blocking the high-roller’s view.
Lucy kept strolling.
She brushed arms with the nurse and stumbled against the high-roller. “Oohhh.” She teetered on her heels and her hands snaked up the man’s pudgy middle to his breast pocket. “Excuse me.” Voilá. She moved the man’s fat wallet to his pants pocket and stepped back.
The nurse gave her a knowing look. “Check your wallet,” she said to the man.
Lucy kept her expression confused.
The high-roller frowned and patted his breast pocket. “It is gone. My wallet is gone!”
Security guards rushed forward and surrounded her before she could respond. “Gentlemen, pleeeassse.” Lucy let her words slur and held her arms out to her side. “I just tripped.” She raised her palms. “Sometimes a trip is just a trip.”
“Here it is.” The high-roller pulled his wallet from his pants.
“See.” Lucy pasted an overly bright smile on her face. “Have fun.” She winked at the nurse and wound her way to the edge of the stage.
The lift had gone well.
Did that mean she hadn’t changed after all, or was it simple muscle memory at work? It didn’t matter. It was a conversation for another day. Bottom line, she was ready for bigger fish.
She was ready for Gerald.
Behind her, the crowd still listened to Gerald’s every word. As he talked, the angles of his face shifted compellingly. “The entrances to the fetish rooms are on the perimeter of the casino, leading to a dungeon playground which will tempt the curious and challenge the connoisseur.” Gerald talked about sex with an ease that made her wonder which end of the spectrum he would fall on.
Gerald would be a connoisseur.
“Lastly, the Crown Jewel offers Vegas’s only all-inclusive experience. Meaning, you can have your fun, and even some danger in our dungeons, and pay for it, too.” The crowd laughed at Gerald’s forthrightness. “Thank you for coming. Savor your experience.”