Page 3 of Russian Roulette
“Here you go,” I say, passing him the money. “Buy something for the cat, too.”
“Thank you,” he replies, smiling gratefully and revealing his misaligned, yellow teeth. “Don’t go inside the casinos, missy,” he warns, pointing a gnarled finger at me. “Or you’ll end up the same as me. I’m telling you, don’t do it. They’re the devil’s playground. Nothing good will ever come of it.Never.”
I nod in response and quickly move past him. His odd warning unnerves me. Once inside the casino, I put the homeless man out of my mind and head straight for the slot machine I played last night. The casino is nearly empty, with only a few guests aimlessly milling around or sitting at card tables. Most are sporting tired, bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes, and desperate expressions from gambling all night.
I’m uneasy and on edge today after spending most of the night on my computer searching for more information about Natasha. Time is critical. If I can’t locate her in the next few days, I’ll need to abort my plan and head out somewhere new. There’s no way I can go back to my apartment in Los Angeles. If the Russian mafia thinks I’m dead, I need to stay that way.
I take a deep swig of my energy drink before I sit down on the stool. Having slept only a few hours last night, I need something strong to keep me moving. My bad habits are slowly catching up with me.
“Is this seat taken, honey?” an elderly, red-headed woman interrupts my thoughts before plopping heavily on the stool beside me.
The scent of her cheap perfume fills my nostrils, instantly threatening to trigger another migraine. I give her a polite smile. “No, it’s open. Go ahead.”
She sets her enormous purse on the floor between us, its open top revealing a large plastic bag inside filled with quarters. Smiling, she takes it out and shows it to me before setting it beside the slot machine.
“I brought my stash with me,” she says with a hearty giggle. “It’s surprising how fast coins pile up in the bottom of my big purse. I swear, this bag must weigh ten pounds. For a long time, I’ve collected quarters. I call it my fun money. It’s a secret stash my husband doesn’t know about.” She giggles again and winks at me. “He’s dead asleep in our hotel room upstairs with a hangover. I’ll be back before he even realizes I’m gone. I snuck out.”
I nod politely, hoping she’ll take the hint I would prefer not to be disturbed. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s that multitasking isn’t a strong trait of mine. I work best when I can hyper-focus on one task at a time.
She slides on a pair of bifocal glasses hanging by a chain around her neck and fumbles with the colorful buttons on the machine. When nothing happens, she takes her glasses off and leans forward to get a better view.
“How do you work this damn thing, honey?” she asks after a minute. “These fancy machines confuse me. What happened to the good old slot machines they used to have in Vegas? The machines where you pull the lever and the pictures flip?” She makes a rolling motion with her hands. “My favorites are the ones with fruit. Cherries were always lucky for me. Does this machine even take quarters? All I can find is a slot for credit cards.”
“These are the video slot machines,” I explain. “Don’t worry; they still have the older ones that accept coins.” I point to the far side of the casino. “Over there behind the bar. There’s an entire wall of the older slot machines to play.”
She glances over to where I’m pointing and starts gathering up her stuff with a loud huff. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to play these fancy machines by yourself. By the way, there’s a young man watching you. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s getting ready to come this way.”
“What?” I swivel around to look. “Who?”
Oh no!
The blonde guy from last night is leaning against the big circular bar in the center of the room with a tall, frosted glass in his hand. Once again, he’s dressed in black pants and a white shirt with the top four buttons undone. I wonder if he’s in town for a bachelor party or a wild weekend with friends. Perhaps he stayed up all night since he’s here early, though he certainly looks refreshed and bright-eyed this morning. And devilishly sexy, same as lastnight.When he catches me glance his way, he places his drink on the bar and makes his way across the room.
Well, this is just great.
I take a deep breath, fighting an inexplicable sudden urge to jump up and flee from the casino. He’s moving too fast, and I’m trapped. In no time, he’s standing next to me, a faint smile gracing his lips.
“I thought I recognized you,” he remarks. “Weren’t you in this exact spot late last night? Are you glued to your stool?”
When I don’t answer right away, he crosses his arms and leans casually against the slot machine in a relaxed stance. The enticing aroma of his cologne wafts toward me. My first instinct is to ignore him and hope that he’ll go away peacefully. When he doesn’t take the hint and leave, I realize my usual tactic won’t work with him. Given his striking appearance, I suspect he’s not used to being ignored by women.
I glance up at him, attempting to conceal my irritation, then return my gaze to the machine. For a moment, I consider feigning being unable to understand English. “Yeah, I was here last night,” I finally concede.
He slightly raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to one side, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What’s your name?”
“It’s J—,” I automatically begin to say my real name, Jill Miller, but then catch myself. What the hell am I doing? There’s no way I’m revealing my name to him or anyone else in this town.
Jill Miller is dead.
My eyes shift to the hand of the lady seated next to me. She’s staring straight ahead and trying to pretend she’s not eavesdropping on our conversation. Big, Southwestern-style rings cover her chunky fingers. One gaudy ring grabs my attention.
“It’s Jade,” I blurt out. “Jade…Stone.”
I notice the way his eyes spark with interest, and I realize I’ve made a huge mistake. I’ve given him a fake name that sounds like something out of a cheesy spy movie. It’s too late to change it now. I turn back to the machine and start pressing buttons at random, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he leans even closer, so close that I can feel the heat of his body against mine. “Jade Stone,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue. “That’s a porn star name if I’ve ever heard one. Do you expect me to believe that’s really your name?”
