Hard to Hold (7 page)

5

F
OURTEEN
HOURS
LATER
, Colton was beginning to think his instincts might have been wrong. He’d been so certain he was on the right track, that he was minutes away from locating Madeleine. He blew out his breath in frustration and turned away from the check-in desk of the seedy motel he’d tracked her to on the outskirts of Reno. It was nearly four in the afternoon and he reluctantly admitted he had no idea where she was.

After he’d stopped for gas at Zeke’s place the night before, he’d followed the mountain track down to where it joined the main road, and then concealed his truck in a thick growth of brush and waited. There was a good chance he’d passed Maddie coming down the mountain. She would have seen the headlights of the truck and ducked into the underbrush to hide. But when two hours passed and she didn’t appear, he acknowledged that she must have made it to the highway ahead of him. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d hitched a ride.

He’d pulled into the nearest truck stop during a busy breakfast shift and had passed her photo around to the weary truckers tanking up on coffee. He’d let them know the girl was in serious trouble, and if he didn’t find her before the local police did, she could end up dead. He’d gotten no response.

It had been the same with the next half-dozen truck stops he’d visited. He was running out of options. He hated to think of Maddie hitching a ride from a stranger in a privately owned vehicle. Truckers at least had a code of honor on the road. Maddie would be safer with any of them than she would be with some nameless creep who just happened to be driving by.

Colton had been sitting in the parking lot of the last truck stop, trying to figure out what to do next when a brute of a man had tapped on his window. It was one of the truckers. He told Colton how one of his buddies had picked up a girl outside of Winnemucca the night before. She’d been headed to Reno. She’d asked the driver to recommend a cheap motel, and he’d given her a name. That was all he knew.

It had been a lucky break. Colton had made it there in under two hours, only to have the promising lead deteriorate into a complete dead end. The Last Chance Motel was cheap, but if Maddie really had been there, it seemed she’d been repulsed by the seediness of the establishment and had moved on. However, just to be certain, he made the manager open every room so he could check for himself that she wasn’t there. There had been several female occupants, but none of them had honey-colored hair and eyes. The Last Chance Motel had been his last chance, all right.

He stood near the window in the small lobby and glanced speculatively up and down the street. This stretch of road was comprised almost exclusively of cheap motels, pawn shops, liquor stores and bond bailments. Colton didn’t know what personal demons Maddie needed to settle in Reno, but he did know she was desperate for money. If she was looking for a place to crash, she’d need to find a place that didn’t strap her financially. He blew out his breath in frustration. If he had to search every motel on the strip, he’d do it. The dump across the street called the Hold ’Em Inn was as good a place to start as any.

He put his sunglasses on and had his hand on the door when his attention was arrested by activity at the Hold ’Em Inn. One of the guest room doors opened and a woman emerged. Even from a distance, Colton could see she was drop-dead gorgeous. She was slender, but nicely curved in all the right places. She wore a short cocktail dress made of some shimmery gold fabric that plunged low in the front, and her slim feet were encased in a pair of delicate, strappy sandals. Her honey-gold hair had been swept up into a loose bundle of curls at the back of her head, and she carried a tiny, glittering purse in one hand. As Colton stared, openmouthed, a taxi pulled up. She had opened the door and climbed into the backseat before Colton was galvanized into action.

Wrenching the lobby door open, he sprinted across the parking lot to his truck. That was his fugitive who had just morphed from teenage grunge to elegant sophisticate. The transformation might fool some, but not him. He had her in his sights, and this time he wasn’t about to let her get away.

He tailed the taxi through the congested downtown Reno traffic, keeping at least six cars between them. When the cab drew up in front of the posh Glittering Gulch Resort & Casino, Colton pulled his truck to the side of the street and waited. He watched through narrowed eyes as Madeleine climbed out of the backseat and then leaned in through the passenger window to hand the driver some bills. The doorman of the exclusive casino all but prostrated himself at her feet as she turned to enter. Colton snorted in disgust as she gave the man a brilliant smile and swept through the enormous doors.

Yep, he’d sure misread her. She’d done a hell of a job putting on the damsel-in-distress act, and he’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Oh, he had no doubt she was in some kind of trouble, but she’d demonstrated she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Colton swiped a weary hand across his eyes. He had no reason to feel so disappointed, but dammit, he’d never felt so completely
used.
It didn’t help that he had only himself to blame. If he’d just done his job and taken her into custody at the diner in Lovelock, he wouldn’t be sitting here now, remonstrating himself for his stupidity. Or recalling how hot her kisses had been. Or how he had wanted nothing more than to pull her beneath him on that sofa and make her forget about everything but him.

With a low growl of frustration, he pulled up to the entrance of the casino and thrust the truck into Park. He leaped out and dropped the keys into the valet’s hands.

“Keep her close by,” he muttered. “This won’t take me long.”

He strode into the casino and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the relative dimness of the interior. Despite the fact it was still early, the place was thronging with people in T-shirts and Bermuda shorts, and above the laughter and noise was the steady hum of slot machines being furiously worked. The rich, dark carpet was offset by the glittering chandeliers and soft, recessed lighting, and the brilliant flash of colors from the slots.

Colton hated casinos. He disliked everything about them, from the glitz and glamour of the decor, to the phony friendliness of the staff, to the greed that motivated both the owners and the patrons. Worse, he hated what gambling inevitably did to the unwary. He’d seen more than his share of good folks completely ruined by the lure of the one-armed bandits or the gaming tables.

Impatient, he scanned the crowd. He spotted the security personnel keeping a close watch on the machines, and beyond that, the pits where the gaming tables were located. Waving away a scantily clad waitress with a tray of drinks, he worked his way through the slot room toward the tables.

The place was cavernous, despite the deliberate effort to make the individual gaming areas cozy. He’d paused, debating whether he’d find Maddie at the craps or the blackjack tables, when some instinct made him look across to the far side of the casino. There was no mistaking her glorious hair or the body sheathed in shimmering gold. She was speaking with one of the security personnel, and even as Colton began to thread his way through the crowd, the man opened a heavy, ornately carved door and waved her through.

Colton reached the door less than a minute later, but before he could push it open, he found his way blocked by a granite slab of a man who put a restraining hand on his arm. Colton’s first instinct was to throw the hand off. Instead, he gave the guard a chilling look.

“Is there a problem?” He knew his voice was unfriendly, bordering on rude, but he was too impatient to be polite.

The man removed his hand, but Colton didn’t miss how he stepped forward just enough to prevent him from gaining access to the room beyond.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard said, looking anything but apologetic. “This is a private gaming salon.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we require our guests to adhere to a certain...standard.” His gaze dropped meaningfully to Colton’s black T-shirt and jeans. When he met Colton’s eyes, his own were courteous but implacable. “However, we do have a boutique here in the casino that carries menswear, sir.”

Colton gave a bark of disbelieving laughter and ran a hand over his hair. “Great,” he muttered. He could have pulled out his badge and insisted on gaining entry as a U.S. marshal, but the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. He wouldn’t risk Madeline making a run for it. With a stifled curse, he spun on his heel and strode away.

Twenty minutes and several hundred dollars later, he returned to the private salon. The henchman guarding that sacred portal gave him a swiftly assessing look, taking in the black dress shirt beneath the black sports jacket, and then stepped back to open the door for him.

Inside the private salon, Colton quickly scanned the opulent room, noting the distinct difference between the clientele here and the touristy gamblers in the outer casino. This was a high-stakes salon, a fact evident in everything from the expensive designer clothing of the customers to the richly luxuriant furnishings. As he strolled through the room, he knew he was being scrutinized, both by the pit bosses and by the hidden cameras that fed the monitors located in the secluded back rooms of the casino.

He accepted a Scotch and soda from an elegant hostess and sipped it leisurely as he made his way from one crowded table to the next, seemingly trying to decide where to throw his money away.

He spotted Madeleine at one of the blackjack tables and nearly choked on his drink. She had a man on either side of her, and while one leaned down to whisper into her ear, the other stroked her shoulder in a manner that could only be called proprietary. For her part, Madeleine was laughing in delight as she flashed each of them coquettish glances and playfully considered her cards.

If Colton hadn’t seen the transformation for himself, he’d never have believed her capable of such behavior. There was no trace of a tomboy or damsel in distress in the creature who sat perched at the gaming table, her breasts displayed to full advantage by the plunging neckline of the dress she wore. The short skirt revealed a long expanse of slender thigh, and Colton’s fingers tightened around his glass.

She hadn’t seen him. He moved away from the table and took a seat at the nearby bar, turning to watch her as she played. She commanded attention. Even the dealer seemed entranced by her throaty laughter and flirtatious looks. A small crowd of people had gathered around the table to watch, and Madeleine played to them like an expert.

Colton also noticed she had a growing pile of chips on the table in front of her, and although she occasionally lost a hand, he realized she was winning significantly more. An hour passed as he watched. Her pile of chips doubled, and she was attracting attention from more than just the patrons. He kept an eye on the security people who had moved closer to the table and were talking in hushed tones as they watched her. If Colton had any doubts about what Madeleine was doing, they were dispelled by the presence of those men.

Madeleine was a card counter.

While that wasn’t strictly illegal, the casino retained the right to remove anyone they suspected of gaming the system, and Colton knew Madeleine was in danger of being forcibly escorted out of the high-stakes salon. He also knew they could bring her to one of those hidden back rooms and question her—or do things to her that might not be entirely legal.

Setting his drink down, Colton strolled over to the table and leaned down to speak into her ear. God, she smelled good.

“Game’s up, darlin’,” he said softly, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair at her temple. “Collect your winnings before the big bad boys over there decide you don’t deserve them, and let’s go.”

She stiffened as he spoke, and although she didn’t look at him, he could sense her shock. She hadn’t thought he would find her. Or at least not so quickly. She recovered swiftly, though, scooping her chips into her hands and rising gracefully from the table.

“Thank you so much, but I need to leave,” she said, smiling sweetly at the dealer as she handed him a valuable chip. “Big brother’s found me, so no more fun.”

Only Colton knew she meant big brother as in the Feds, rather than any sibling relationship. She ignored the protests and friendly farewells that her departure generated. She spared Colton just one swift glance before she determinedly pushed past him and sailed gracefully toward the private salon’s exit door. But Colton had seen the anguish and hostility in that one glance, and knew she was furious with him for interfering. For putting an end to her amazing winning streak.

He fell into step beside her, cupping her elbow in his hand. “The last time I checked,” he murmured, “card counting wasn’t looked upon favorably by the casinos.”

“How did you find me?” she demanded in a low, tight voice.

“Darlin’,” he drawled, “there was never any question of my finding you. In fact, it was almost ridiculously easy.” He was lying through his teeth, but there was no way he was going to let her know the frustration and anxiety he’d felt at not being able to immediately track her down. “In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you actually wanted me to find you.”

She made a low sound of irritation, but otherwise ignored him, making her way toward the cashier’s cage. Colton estimated she had close to five thousand dollars’ worth of chips in her hands. But in the next moment, he saw two of the casino security guards threading their way through the crowds toward them, and he suspected Madeleine might not get the opportunity to cash out.

“C’mon,” he muttered, and steered her toward the exit. “I’ll come back later with the chips, but right now I think we need to leave.”

“No way,” she protested, trying to pull free from his grasp. “I’m not leaving here without my money.”

“First of all, darlin’,” Colton growled in her ear, “you don’t have any choice in the matter. You’re in the custody of a deputy marshal, and if you’d like me to cuff you and read you your Miranda rights here in front of everyone, I’m happy to oblige. Secondly, if those apes heading in our direction have anything to say about it, you’ll be lucky if you leave here with your skin intact, never mind your precious chips.”