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I need tickets to Slam.
Phew. That was easy enough.
Sure thing. For how many?
Two.
I immediately thought of poor Catarina having to spend the evening at a nightclub with Martin.
Quiet and private or dance floor?
Please say dance floor.
Privacy.
Shit.
Done. Enjoy your evening.
“What’s that about?” Wilson noisily asked.
“Martin requesting bottle service and privacy at Slam,” I told him while I tapped out a text to the manager of the nightclub. I didn’t look up until I had confirmation Martin would be taken care of.
“Damn, she’s good,” Jack muttered.
“I hope so because Slam is known for their privacy booths. The normal, anything-goes-in-Vegas is amplified at the club. It isn’t unheard of for orgies to take place in the back.”
Jack’s admiration turned into a frown.
“Cat’s smart,” he said somewhat unconvincingly. “She’ll have it in hand.”
I hoped he was right.
With nothing left to talk about and exhaustion creeping in it was time for me to go home.
“I’m gonna head out and let you get ready for your night.”
Wilson and Jack shared another look, this one not as long and at the end of it Jack stood, leaving his laptop on the counter.
“I got shit to do. See you later.”
I watched him snatch up his phone and key card off the counter and head to the front door. A moment later he was out of sight. The door opened then closed, leaving me alone with Wilson.
Now it was really time for me to leave.
I couldn’t be trusted with Wilson.
“From now until this is done, Jack will be your bodyguard,” Wilson announced.
“What?”
“He’ll shadow you but won’t interfere with your work. Rhode will monitor your whereabouts at all times.”
It was impossible for Jack to shadow me through the casino. I had access to places he wouldn’t be allowed. Not to mention, private meetings with my clients he wouldn’t be welcomed to join.
“Jack following me around isn’t an option.”
“Then you’re calling in sick and staying at a safehouse until this is over.”
