Fever. Elaine Overton

the vague question, never taking his eyes off the scenery below.

      “Honestly…I don’t know. None of my guys spotted her doing anything even the remotest bit suspicious…besides winning. Under different circumstances, I probably would’ve blown it off. But there is no way she could’ve won that amount—that quickly—without cheating. Lady Luck is not that generous.”

      “Then how?”

      “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was counting the cards.”

      “That’s impossible.”

      Ike shrugged his shoulders. “It’s been done.”

      “Not in my casino.” Bobby leaned against the front of the desk. “Besides, the chances of that are what? Like, one in a million?”

      “Greater than that. But it is possible, how else could you explain it?”

      Bobby returned to his position by the window. “I don’t buy it.”

      Ike slumped back in his chair. “Okay, you were watching. You tell me how she did it.”

      “I don’t know how she did it. But I do know that she didn’t count the cards.”

      He paused for a long moment. “Find her and bring her to me.”

      Ike shot straight up in his chair. “Why? It’s not even your money she was taking.” Ike spoke with obvious anger.

      Bobby swung around at the venomous tone. Despite his small stature, he was a big man in Las Vegas. As the sole owner of the Desert Rose Casino, his name carried a lot of weight. There were very few men who put the fear of God in him. But when Ike, his godson, was angry, he shot to the top of that list.

      Bobby was certain Ike would never turn on him, he knew the boy loved him as much as he was loved in return. But when Ike was angry, there was something in those dark eyes of his that just didn’t seem…normal.

      Bobby was sure it had something to do with the Navy training, and those years Ike had spent as a SEAL. No matter how Bobby tried, Ike would never discuss those years with him. But like everyone else, Bobby had heard rumors of some of the things done to the young men who volunteered for the special tactical training. The cruel and often barbaric treatment was supposed to prepare them mentally and physically in the event they were ever delivered into the hands of the enemy.

      Maybe one day, Ike would confide in him, but right now, all Bobby wanted was to defuse a volatile situation. He recognized the emotion in Ike’s eyes right away. He’d been on the receiving end of that look of jealousy—raw and dangerous—several times since the day he purchased the Desert Rose, but never from this young man. All this over a woman he’s just met?

      “Ike, I know you think I’m some lecherous old man who jumps on every pretty woman who crosses my path—”

      Ike arched one eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

      “Not this time. All I want is information. Think about it…what if she was using some new technique. Some new way to cheat that neither of us is aware of. This thing could kill Vegas overnight. We need to know what she knows.”

      The chances of Roxie having a photographic memory were slim to none, but new technology was being confiscated in casinos everyday. The chances of her using some new methods that he was just not familiar with were much more believable, much more acceptable. And a lot easier to prove.

      Ike unleashed a gruff breath, as much as admitting Bobby was right. “Okay, I’ll check with some of my sources, and other casino security teams to see if they have encountered anything like this.”

      Bobby’s eyes cut to Ike quickly before he looked away. “Still, find the girl and bring her.”

      Ike’s dark eyes watched him.

      Bobby felt the mental daggers in his chest, and held up his hands in surrender. “I just want to know what she knows.”

      “What makes you think she’d willingly come?”

      “Invite her as my guest.”

      Ike’s eyes narrowed.

      “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior. But one way or another, she’ll tell me what I want to know.”

      Ike stood, and headed toward the door. “Okay, I’ll find her, but I think you may be in for more than you bargained for with this one. She doesn’t charm easily, and she sure as hell won’t be intimidated.”

      Bobby still stood at the window as he heard the door close behind him. He was wondering about the woman who could make such an impression on his godson in so short a time.

      Chapter 3

      They both seemed surprised by the other’s appearance, as if both were expecting to see very different people standing before them.

      Ike couldn’t speak for the other, but he’d expected to see a curly-headed beauty with killer legs instead of a gnarled, old Hispanic man wielding a deadly weapon.

      “If you want to get in here, you’ll have to get past me!” the man hissed with a heavy accent. “And I’ll beat you to death before you move one piece of furniture.”

      Ike twisted his mouth in concentration as he took in his frail adversary, who wore faded corduroys and a plaid button-up shirt. He’d learned long ago not to be fooled by appearances. Obviously, the man had mistaken him for someone else. Could Dean have given him the wrong information?

      Ike’s former partner from the police force was an invaluable resource when it came to getting background information on the frequent con men who patronized the Desert Rose. Tonight, he’d come through again when he did a trace on the license plate number Ike’s men had recovered from Roxie’s car. This was the address on record for the woman he now knew as Tessa Sanchez. But now, Ike was wondering if his mystery woman had covered her tracks better than he thought.

      He needed to confirm his suspicion quickly. After all, there was no use in wasting time on a dead end. He carefully extended his hand. “Ike Bancroft. I’m looking for Tessa Sanchez. Does she live here?”

      The old man looked down at Ike’s extended hand, and Ike watched him, fully prepared to dodge out of harm’s way if that cane came anywhere near him.

      The old man’s eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”

      “I’m a fri—”

      “Who is it, Theo? That Realtor again?” A woman’s soft voice called from another room.

      “No, some man who claims to know you.”

      “Me?” A small Hispanic woman pressed her way in front of the man, anxiously pushing her glasses up on her nose. Her curly head bobbed as she inspected Ike from head to toe. “Do I know you?”

      Ike felt his heart sink as he took in the older woman. I’ve been had. He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong address.” He started to turn away, and paused. “Do you own a light blue Honda Accord?”

      “Yes, why do you ask?”

      Ike could see a ray of hope in the distance. “Did you lend it to someone yesterday evening?”

      “Yes, our daughter, Roxie. But, why are you asking these questions?”

      Roxie. Ike took a deep breath, and felt relief sweep over his entire being. He hadn’t lost her after all.

      “My name is Ike Bancroft. She and I met the other night. Can you tell me how to get in touch with her?”

      “Son usted loco?” the man interrupted emphatically. “We do not know you—you could be some crazy man. Usted podría ser un maníaco para todo sabemos!”

      Ike arched an eyebrow. His Spanish was rusty at best, but he was sure he heard the word maniac in there somewhere.