Page 40 of Don't Bet On It
“I don’t like him.” I was firm on that and determined to change the subject. “I’ve never liked him.” In defense of what felt like relentless questioning, I looked up … and found a familiar figure skulking around the edge of the bar and heading toward the stairs. “Isn’t that your father?”
Ruby swiveled quickly, her eyes following my line of sight. She scowled when she spotted Ryder. “What the hell is he doing here?” she complained as he scurried up the steps. He was running faster than anybody his age had business doing whenstairs and limited lighting were involved. “Do you think he’s hiding from us?”
“It kind of seems that way, doesn’t it?” I mused. I hadn’t seen Ryder Stone since I’d left him locked in the storage room. “Has he been back at the casino since that first day?”
“Not that I know of.” Ruby was grim. She had no love or respect for her father. That had fallen by the wayside a long time ago. “The thing is, if he has stopped by, Rex wouldn’t volunteer that information. I have to ask him daily.”
“He would lie?” That didn’t sound good to me.
“Not lie,” Ruby replied. “He just wouldn’t volunteer the information. He wouldn’t want me to worry, so he would keep the information to himself, if he could.”
“Zach is the same with me,” Olivia said. “I’m not all that worried that Ryder would want to hurt me or anything, but I am the one who uncovered his financial misdeeds. Zach doesn’t want me getting worked up. He’s desperate to keep me calm even though he doesn’t realize that I recognize exactly what’s happening.”
“So what is he doing here?” I asked Ruby.
“I don’t know.” Ruby was thoughtful as her gaze moved up to the ceiling, as if she could see through it and ascertain who her father was meeting with. “I can’t very well go up there and spy, can I?”
She might not be able to do that—if somebody recognized her, the news would spread—but I could. I slammed down the rest of my drink. “I’ll be right back.”
Ruby called out to stop me, but it was too late. I checked the Chandelier on every floor but couldn’t find him. One thing that did catch my attention was the exit to the skywalk that allowed walkers to pass Las Vegas Boulevard above Strip traffic. Maybe Ryder hadn’t been meeting somebody at the bar. Maybe he had been trying to cross over to the Stone. If so, why? All thedoors were being monitored. What, exactly, was his plan here? Whatever it was, I knew it wouldn’t be good. Not for any of us.
12
TWELVE
Fighting with Tallulah was my new favorite cardio.
She made a big show of being “over” it, but I could tell she liked the sparring as much as I did. We were careful not to let things get out of control—Kyla wouldn’t stand for it—and we’d both become masters at needling one another but only when our boss wasn’t around. When Kyla made an appearance, we were adults. As soon as she was gone, we were the opposite of adults.
“How are the genital warts?” she asked in a voice only I could hear as she passed behind me, carrying a tray laden with drinks.
The only man at the blackjack table—Arthur Blackstone—was so focused on his cards that he didn’t bother looking up. He owned ten of the biggest car dealerships in the state, and rather than travel with an entourage, he preferred gambling alone. That made me like him.
“Oh, you know,” I replied in breezy fashion. “They sting some. Probably like those pimples you popped on your ass last night.”
Tallulah stopped moving and pinned me with a dark glare. “I believe you’re getting me confused with whatever whore you’re currently dating.”
I managed to keep a straight face, but it took effort. “No, I just read your diary.”
She snorted. “As if I still keep a diary.”
“Really?” I cocked my head. “I thought for sure Zach said you had a diary. Maybe Olivia told him about it or something. I believe it reads,Dear Diary, I wish Ronan would look at me like I look at cheesy fries.” I mock clutched at my heart.
“Cheesy fries?” She snorted. “I’m not a cheesy fries fan.”
“Who isn’t a fan of cheesy fries?” I was honestly flummoxed. “I mean, cheesy fries are the best thing ever invented.”
“No, that’s doughnuts.”
“Ah, so you’re a fan of the sweets instead of the salty. Since you run salty, that doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, though.” I flipped a card for Arthur’s benefit, and he won the hand. He didn’t react. There was no pumping fist or smile. He simply sipped his cocktail and waited for me to deal again.
“Everybody knows that chili is better on fries than cheese,” Tallulah argued. She refused to let it go, which was one of the things I both loved and hated about her. She was like a cat with a feather toy. “Cheese only belongs on vegetable trays.”
I made a face. “Um … cheese belongs on everything.”
“It does not.”
“Cheese makes everything better.” I would die on this hill. “Name one thing that cheese isn’t better on.”
