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“Why?”
“There’s no guarantee Martin will be at tomorrow’s get-together. He’s going to the race track with his entourage in the afternoon. He’ll need to blow off the adrenaline when he’s done and that will be my first in.”
Another disgusted grunt came from Tyree. Joan nodded her approval.
“Tonight,” I agreed.
“Now if we’re done I need a massage, nap, and a long, hot shower before I have to play nice with filth.”
Joan stood. Tyree reluctantly followed, looking like he wanted to protest.
Or more to the point, kick Catarina off the team.
After a quick goodbye, the Marshals left.
“I don’t think Jasmin will have a problem recruiting Catarina if that’s the status quo,” Jack quipped.
“You’re not wrong.”
I grabbed my abandoned tablet off the coffee table and opened Rhode’s report.
Jack stared at the chair Catarina had vacated.
I had less than five hours to learn everything I could about Catarina Keys and Martin Jackson.
NINE
The villa at The Boulevard Hotel was a ten thousand square foot monstrosity of opulence. It took up the entire top floor of the hotel leaving no luxury spared. From the marble pillars to the heavy ornate furniture, chef’s kitchen, six bedrooms, to the indoor pool, and two hot tubs. It was a space reserved for V-VIPs. For men and women who could afford a three million buy-in. However, as far as I knew Martin Jackson hadn’t sat a table. He’d bought in, received his half a million in promo chips but hadn’t used them. He seemed more focused on his nightly parties.
My boss was unhappy.
Any attempts I made to get Martin to the tables was met with a smile and a proposition—he’d sit a game but only if I sat next to him as a good luck charm. The proposal was mild by comparison. Some of the things I’d been asked to do as a casino host were downright strange; some lewd, some out-and-out bizarre. It was my job to fulfill my clients every whim. Make the trip to Las Vegas the fantasy. Sexual favors were a hard pass, setting up hookers under the pretense of being strippers not unheard of. So sitting next to a rich man while he blew millions of dollars at a baccarat table wasn’t entirely out of the question but Martin gave me the creeps.
And the more I turned him down, the more interested he seemed to get.
Such was the arrogance of spoiled rich men who weren’t used to the word no.
Tonight’s party was no different than last night’s. Loud music, women in all states of undress from barely there ‘dresses’ to bikinis that were nothing more than strings. Men mostly in suits, some in sweats and t-shirts, some in shorts lounging by the pool. The crowd was a mix of young and old. The young being the women. I wouldn’t guess any of them over twenty-five.
I was the old hag in the room and the only woman modestly dressed. That was until a wide-eyed, blonde bombshell walked in with a tall, statuesque brunette. The poor girl looked like she was ready to run screaming out of the villa. I hoped she would; she didn’t look like she had any business being at a party like this.
One more walkthrough and check in with Martin and I could call it a night.
I found him leaning against a marble pillar looking like a lord watching his subjects. Leering was more like it, but I was actively ignoring the creeps the guy gave me. He was a snake in a suit. A man like Martin could only dream to hold the air of authority like Wilson did.
Wilson.
He was in Vegas.
I’d done the smart thing and told him I was too busy to see him. After I got home from Idaho, I rethought my position. Wilson was important to my grandmother. I couldn’t risk falling for him. I planned on taking more trips to Idaho to spend time with my grandmother and the last thing either of us needed was my visits being awkward.
I was using his time in Vegas as a test.
All I had to do was keep my distance knowing he was so close and I’d pass.
“Atlee, beautiful,” Martin drawled. “Won’t you stay and have a drink with me?”
Hell no.
