Page 46 of Lady Luck

I scoffed in disbelief. “No. Bare minimum, a family member needs to be informed so they can keep an eye on her.” I held his stare.

He just rolled his eyes before nodding at his dad. “Call her.”

Relieved to be making some kind of progress, I waited while the brief call was made, not bothering to listen in favor of watching Miss Barb for further signs of distress. She was still sitting down in front of the slot, rummaging around in her purse, seeming content to ignore us all.

I didn’t blame her.

I also didn’t dare approach her in case it set her off again, but I also didn’t want to leave until someone besides these two morons was here.

“All right. She was nearby, so she’ll be here any moment.”

Blond scoffed. “Straight from cleaning suites, no doubt.”

Tired of not knowing who exactly I was dealing with, I asked the dynamic duo for their names.

“Terry Juno, Entertainment Manager,” Ponytail said as I shook his hand in spite of the fact that he introduced himself with his title.

“Alexander,” his son muttered without meeting my eye or offering a hand, his gaze fixed on the casino entrance.

I knew that whoever Terry had called had arrived when Alexander straightened and his smarmy face transformed. Gone was the apathetic man from the past ten minutes as he lumbered over to Miss Barb and laid an overly familiar arm across her shoulder.

I clenched my fists, more perturbed by this entire interaction than my first one with Miss Barb.

Alexander leaned by her ear and said gently, but clearly enough to be heard, “Hey, Miss Barb, someone’s here to see you. Your charm, our Lady Luck. Maybe she can get this cold machine warmed up for you.”

“Hey! I’m here. What’s going on? You said Grandmother needed help?”

My breath caught at the sound of her voice just as Bree brushed by me, only granting me a quick, confused glance before going right to… her grandma?

“See, there she is,” Alexander said to Miss Barb in that same feigned tone of gentle concern.

They both looked at Bree, whose back was to me, so I watched Barb instead, hoping we were about to get to the bottom of this.

Bree’s grandma frowned as she looked her granddaughter over. “Felicity. What are you wearing?”

The lethal tone that she used to address her granddaughter, whether she was lucid or not, bristled against every one of my protective instincts. It took a concerted effort for me to shove down the urge to interject in Bree’s defense.

But I did make a mental note then and there to never ask Liem that same question again.

Bree shook it off. “Grandmother? It’s me, Bree. Not Felicity. Not… Mom,” she said, her voice genuinely gentle.

Miss Barb didn’t respond but continued scowling at Bree’s very normal outfit of jeans and a T-shirt.

“She just seems a little out of sorts. We were thinking maybe she skipped a meal or needs a nap,” Alexander said, obviously already growing bored with it all.

Bree wisely ignored him and his unhelpful, made-up assessment, left her grandmother’s side, and walked over to Terry. She crossed her arms when she reached him and kept her voice low as she asked, “How long has she been like this?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He looked at me but then paused, probably just now realizing that he never asked for my name. “But this… gentleman,” he continued, waving a hand in my direction, “was here before we came over, so he may be the best one to ask.”

Bree’s slate-gray eyes found my gaze, her eyebrows raised in expectation and a bit of suspicion. I smiled softly at her, despite the stressful situation, and mouthed, “Hi.”

She returned the smile, a bit of tension leaving her shoulders. I inclined my head, inviting her to step aside so I could explain without moronic interjections or her grandmother overhearing. Totally lucid or not, I didn’t think anyone needed to hear themselves being talked about.

She accepted, fussing with her bandana headband as she started toward me. Alexander moved as if to grab her arm and prevent her from coming over, and to my immense satisfaction, she side-stepped him before he could make contact and gave him a glare I hoped to never be on the receiving end of.

The idiot didn’t take the hint, hissing, “We don’t know this guy, and I already told you what happened. Let’s just take Grandmother up to her room, order her some room service, and let her rest.”

The familiarity with which he said “Grandmother” and not “your grandmother,” especially considering how he’d treated her until now, made me want to toss him into the Gulf. And then run him over with my new houseboat.

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