Page 7 of Russian Roulette
Jade Stone.
The girl with the captivating brown eyes I can’t get out of my mind. She gave off weird vibes from the moment I spotted her across the crowded casino.She’s definitely up to something sneaky. I feel it in my gut. She probably believes she’s flying under the casino’s radar with her casual clothes, oversized eyeglasses, and meek appearance. Instead, she stands out more than if she was dressed up for a glamorous night out.
I’ve spent my entire life learning to read people by their body language. Dad started teaching me when I was six years old. When we worked as street hustlers, our ability to size up our marks made a difference in whether we ate saltine crackers or decent food for dinner that night.
He allowed me to fail numerous times to teach me. Over time, I learned to detect every eye movement, lip twitch, and imperceptible change in breathing. I’m an expert at reading people.
It’s what I do best.
Jade Stone can’t fool me, no matter how hard she tries. I need to find out what she’s up to before Giovanni gets his hands on her and she vanishes forever. A crazy plan forms in my mind. All I need is a little help from my friends to pull it off.
I take out my cellphone and start making calls.
5
JADE
“Excuse me, miss,” a man says, clearing his throat behind me while a hand taps me firmly on the shoulder.
I whirl around, irritated at being touched by a stranger to find a large, muscular man in a tailored black suit standing directly behind my stool.
“I’m with casino security. You need to come with me,” he says politely and firmly. He pats the gold name tag on his suit. ‘Leroy Justice, Casino Security,’ it says in big, bold letters.
I stare up at him in disbelief, both confused and terrified. “What’s this about?” I ask, trying to prevent my voice from showing the anxiety churning in my stomach.
“We’ve detected possible suspicious activity through our surveillance cameras,” he answers, motioning toward the ceiling. “We need to ask you a couple of questions. It will only take a few minutes of your time.”
My gaze shifts upward, but I can’t spot the cameras. I knew there were surveillance cameras everywhere. That’s not a surprise. Whatisa surprise is that my behavior has caught their attention when I’ve been careful.
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I protest. “I’m sitting here, minding my own business and playing the slots. I’m not even winning. In fact, I’m down twenty bucks right now.”
“I didn’t say you were,” he responds, giving me a tight smile. “This will only take a few minutes, then you’ll be on your way. Don’t worry, it’s just standard procedure. Grab your things and let’s go. It would be better if you don’t make a scene. We prefer not to alarm the other casino guests. I’m sure you understand.”
His stern tone tells me there’s no point in arguing. My heart pounds rapidly in my chest as my mind races. What did I do to be flagged by security? Nothing that I can think of other than sitting at the same slot machine for two days. That alone might be enough.
Rising from my stool, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and quickly walk beside him. He guides me through the glass doors leading from the casino into the hotel lobby. After passing through a set of restricted doors and navigating several long, carpeted hallways, we arrive at an outer door that opens to a dimly lit parking garage.
Now, I’m starting to panic.
I’ve watched enough gangster movies to realize it can’t be good if casino security takes you away from the premises and out of sight of others.
“Where are we going?” I ask. “Are you the police? If not, I’d prefer to stay inside the building.”
“No, as I said before, I’m with the Imperial Hotel and Casino security. We prefer to do our questioning off site.”
I bet they do.
Perhaps in a dark basement where they tie you to a chair, beat you unconscious, and make you swear to never set foot in Vegas again. I halt at the open doorway and use my body to block the door from closing. “Can you show me more identification?”
“Of course.” He fumbles in his pocket and retrieves a laminated security card. The card matches his name tag. It appears legitimate, though I still have doubts.
He mutters a few words into his cellphone. A dark, stretched SUV with tinted windows emerges from a parking spot and squeals to a halt in front of us. He steps up and opens the front passenger door.
“Hello again, Jade Stone,” says the passenger in a deep, throaty voice. The man raises his sunglasses and fixes me with those mesmerizing green eyes I can’t forget. “Hop in. Let’s go for a little ride.”
Well, this is just fucking great.
It’s the weirdo snake guy from the casino. Can this guy not take a hint? What do I need to do to convince him I’m not interested? I can’t understand why I drew his attention. Especially when I look like absolute hell. If I was trying to seduce a guy, I’d do the exact opposite of everything I’ve been doing. Maybe even comb my hair.
