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But she still wasn’t budging calling in sick.
I wasn’t sure if I thought that was stupid or brave as fuck she was willing to do her job and pass us information. No, I knew what I thought—as the team leader of Takeback I thought she was brave. As the man who was sleeping with her and wanted to protect her I thought it was stupid.
Unfortunately, I had no say.
Short of locking her in a safehouse until this was over, which would mean I could kiss any possibility of getting to know her better out the door.
Was my need to be close to her worth risking her life?
Again, unfortunately the answer was yes.
My selfish needs knew no bounds. Another reason I had no business getting close to the woman.
THIRTEEN
I fiddled with the watch on my wrist, careful to not accidentally press the button on the side. Wilson was right, it looked like an Apple watch and functioned like one, too. Before Wilson had taken me home Jack set the watch to sync to my phone. It also had cellular service so I didn’t need my phone near me to make or receive calls.
The device should’ve made me feel better but now with a full understanding of what was happening I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.
Wilson had called Martin Jackson a monster. The scary thing was, he looked normal. Sure, he was a little creepy with his ‘sit with me and be my lucky charm’ but that wasn’t abnormal for Vegas. The man dressed well, spoke well, was good-looking in an average sort of way. He carried himself like any other rich playboy looking to flex his wealth and get laid.
How many other monsters were floating around town, looking normal?
“Hey, Atlee,” Diana happily chirped as she descended the stairs of her two-bedroom courtyard villa.
The apartment was half the size of Martin’s but coming in at just over five-thousand square feet it was impressively large. It had all the makings of luxury with less flash.
“Good afternoon, Di. I haven’t heard from you today so I’m just checking in.”
The beautiful fitness model turned social media celebrity turned professional poker player tossed herself on the plush leather couch.
“I heard you did well last night,” I commented.
That was, if you considered ‘well’ about a hundred grand shy of a million.
“It seems crazy to say this, but it was a shit night.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “You know sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back to being a nobody.”
“Diana, you were never a nobody.”
She waved her hand and smiled.
“Thanks,” she grumbled. “I just mean go back to the person I was. It’s exhausting playing the role of a Ditzy Diana. Sometimes it’s hard to remember who I’m supposed to be and when. At first it was fun. It felt like a social experiment, you know? The more makeup I put on, the less clothes I wore, the more skin I revealed, the less serious I was taken. It was fascinating to watch.”
“The old Dolly trick,” I noted.
“Yes! People underestimate Dolly. But under those wigs and pushup bras is an intelligent woman who played the music industry. They thought they could pull one over on her until they learned she was smarter than they were.”
“But you’re done being Dolly?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s not fun anymore but I have too many people depending on me to call it quits.”
Unlike Martin, Di didn’t travel with an entourage. Her assistant, who was never far from Diana was a friend from college. Luci didn’t buy into the bullshit fame brought. She was a level-headed smart woman who kept Diana in check. And she had two bodyguards. The protection was necessary to guard the large sums of cash she left the casino with.
Something the general public wasn’t aware of, but high rollers and VIPs didn’t take their winnings in a check or wire transfer. They bought in with a cashier’s check. The amount of the initial buy-in was paid in the form of the buy-in—that was Nevada state law. But the proceeds beyond the buy-in were paid in cash. A check could be canceled. A wire transfer intercepted. Cash was king. And leaving a hotel with a million dollars shrink-wrapped in hundred-thousand-dollar bundles needed to be protected.
I’d been Di’s host last year she’d been visiting the property. She should’ve no longer had access to me after my promotion, but the hotel allowed her request. That meant I knew Di fairly well. She was not Ditzy Diana when I was around. She was just herself. And seeing her both in public and behind closed doors when she was makeup-free and in lounge gear, I knew the show she put on. I also knew Luci. The woman was straightforward and a good friend.
“Luci only wants what’s best for you. And you know she hates Vegas. If you told her you were done she’d probably jump for joy.”
