License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel) (12 page)

A man came to the counter. “Wickstrom. I have two bags.” He pulled a ten from his pocket as the baggage clerk jumped to find the man’s suitcases.

There’s my signal. Right on time.

Rock got to his feet, pulled his flash powder out, eyed the tile where it should land for perfect placement, and tossed it. Good thing he had a good arm and precise aim from playing baseball in high school. An instant later, he slid into place just as the smoke cleared and there stood Tate Cox, international playboy, dressed casually in obviously expensive slacks and a dress shirt, Italian leather shoes.

Tal’s right. Cox looks like a dandy.

Tate had the kind of rugged jawline, dark hair, and athletic build a majority of women found attractive. Rock gave him that. And of course he had a buxom brown-eyed blonde, a real stunner, on his arm. The blonde was wedged into a tight red dress so short and low cut only the tiniest scrap of material held it together in the middle.

Rock realized with a start that the blonde was Lani in disguise in a blond wig. She looked so patently all-American white bread it was startling. Where had all her ethnicity gone?

“Why if it isn’t Rock Powers.” Lani laughed with delight. “Did you arrange this just for me, Tate? You know how much I
love
magic.” She stroked Tate’s arm as she cooed the words. Then she smiled and winked at Rock. “I’m always telling Tate he has the magic touch.”

Rock balled his fist as a wave of jealousy crashed over him. Despite her earlier denial, Lani’s attraction to Tate seemed genuine. She was either a damn fine actress or an impressive liar, or both. Rock wondered again how much Lani had faked with him. And why the hell hadn’t anyone bothered to tell him to expect Lani to show up with Tate?

Rock had to force himself into action. Before Tate could answer her question, Rock reached behind Lani’s ear and pulled the diamond tennis bracelet the Agency had given him for the trick from behind her beautiful lobe with a flourish. “What’s this? Diamonds?”

She took the bauble from Rock’s fingers and fixed a sultry smile on Tate. If Lani had aimed that smile at Rock, it would have been enough to make his toes curl. Instead, he wanted to punch Tate out.

“It’s beautiful. Help me put it on, Tate.” She grabbed Tate’s chin, pulled his face around, and planted a deep-tongued affair on him as Tate simultaneously fastened the catch of the bracelet.

Was Lani trying to torture him? Show him she could pull his chain at will as she had in the past? Or was this some kind of test? It took all his stage training not to lose his professional cool.

“I produce the jewels and he gets all the credit.” Rock cocked a brow and held his hands out for her.

She laughed, giddy with the attention, took his hands, pulled him to her, and planted one directly on his lips. It wasn’t the tongued affair she gave Tate, but it was good enough to distract her. A flash went off from somewhere. The paparazzi had arrived. Just as quickly, hotel security stepped in to ward the guys with the cameras off.

Rock squeezed her hands, let go of one hand as he squeezed the other more firmly, and deposited a tiny playing card between one of her beautiful breasts and her dress.

So this was the only feel he was going to get of his wife. He would have tucked it into her bra if she’d been wearing one. Rock was so deft with his movements and his distraction she didn’t seem to notice he’d ever let go of one of her hands.

Or maybe Lani was just letting him do the trick and playing along.

“He’s a wonder, Tate. A treasure.” Her eyes sparkled. “Do some more magic! Please.” She made perfect pouty lips.

“I think she’s hoping for the necklace that matches that bracelet.” Tate winked.

“Sorry to disappoint. No more diamonds up my sleeve.” Rock produced a pack of cards out of thin air. “Just ordinary street magic.”

“Magic is never ordinary. Show it to me.” She clapped and laughed like a delighted teen. She was so convincing, it was hard to believe she was really Lani.

A crowd grew around them. It may have been Rock’s imagination, but he felt a gaze more intense than a common crowd’s watching him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he kept up the act and tried to determine where his sense of unease was coming from.

Rock shrugged easily. “Card tricks are the soul of street magic. Every card tells a story.” He held the deck out to Tate to inspect with the joker faceup. A warning,
someone’s watching us
. “Look it over. Verify for yourself that it’s just a regular deck.”

Tate took it, hefted it, and examined it for any sign of marking. “Looks all right to me.”

“If your reputation is accurate, you know cards. You’re sure?”

Tate nodded. “I’d stake my golden reputation on it.”

Rock fanned the deck out. “Excellent. Take a card, any card.”

Tate grabbed a card.

“Don’t show it to me! Memorize it.” Rock pulled a pen from his pocket and held it out to Tate. “Write your name on it on the face. Good. Now put it facedown back into the deck.” Rock did some more fancy shuffling, throwing the cards out and pulling them back. Then he had Lani cut the deck.

“Are you concentrating?” he asked Tate.

Tate nodded.

Rock closed his eyes and frowned in apparent thought. He was supposed to look as if he was concentrating, but he could perform this trick in his sleep. He was really listening to the crowd and trying to pick up on the vibe. Something still wasn’t right. After a few seconds had elapsed, Rock slid a card from the deck without looking. He opened his eyes and held the card up with a flourish for Tate to see. “Is this your card?”

The audience gasped.

Tate grabbed the card. “Well played.”

Rock bowed his head in a falsely humble gesture, holding his arms out, palms up like a showman. “Wait.” He smiled at Tate’s blonde. “Is that a card I see peeking out of your dress?”

The audience followed Rock’s line of sight right to Lani’s lush cleavage.

She gasped and reached to pull the card out of her dress, but not before Tate grabbed her hand. “Allow me.”

Damn him
, Rock thought.

Tate pulled the miniature card from the fake blonde’s dress with a flourish and a leer, every bit as much of a showman as Rock. “I’ll be damned.”

He held the card out for Lani and then the rest of the crowd to see. “My card, shrunken. The amazing shrunken card trick.”

“And that’s your signature, too, I presume?” Rock pointed to the card.

Tate grinned. “No shit. It is indeed. If I find any charges I didn’t sign for on my bill, I know who to come after.”

Lani shook her head so that her platinum highlights fell around her face, her bountiful breasts bounced, and the bracelet on her wrist glistened under the neon lights. “You are a smooth one,” she purred to Rock. “I generally feel it when a man slides something beneath my dress.”

Rock winked. “The ladies only feel me when I want them to.” And he wanted her to feel it.

“And I imagine you’re very good then, too,” she said with enough seduction in her voice to make Tate reach out and put his arm around her.

Rock resisted balling his fists, smiled, and nodded toward the card. “That’s your lucky card.”

Tate pulled her close. “She’s lucky with
me
tonight, magician. Very clever show. Now, keep your hands off my woman.” Tate’s eyes danced with challenge.

The man had nerve and a sense of humor and irony.

“Join us in the casino,” Tate said. “Drinks are on me.”

“Generous guy.” The very strong feeling they were in the crosshairs hadn’t left Rock. “Drinks are free in the casino and I’m banned from the tables.”

“I’m not and I have cash. Plenty of it. And a seat at a private high-stakes table. Come and watch us play. I could use someone watching to make sure the game stays clean. No dirty tricks.” Tate held his gaze. “Know anything about Texas hold ’em?”

“A thing or two,” Rock said. “That’s a game that requires a lot of luck. The odds favor the house.”

“Not if you have the right skills,” Tate said as the crowd dispersed.

Rock wondered whether Tate was all bluff. “And those would be?”

“A knowledge of human psychology and probability,” Tate said as he ran his hand up Lani’s waist and rubbed her bare arm with a challenge to Rock in his eyes.

“You’re talking to a man who counts cards. I’d love to watch. I can’t play, of course. But how about a friendly wager?”

Tate cocked his head. “What are you thinking?”

“I’ll watch you play and write down what I would have done in your situation. The lovely blonde here—”

“Gillian,” Lani said and winked.

“Gillian,” Rock repeated, “will keep track and announce the winner at the end.”

“What are we playing for?”

“Honor’s enough for me,” Rock said. “And a bottle of the house’s best champagne. Loser buys and toasts the winner.”

Tate held out his hand for a shake. “Game on.”

Rock shook and stepped aside to follow Tate and Lani through the casino to the private back room.

Tal had given Rock the mission details. Rock was to play bodyguard to Tate the great secret agent. Keep an eye out for dirty dealing. Watch to make sure no one poisoned Tate’s drink. Or reached for a gun. Guns shouldn’t be a problem. Security checked for them, and knives, big sticks, and heavy belt buckles, anything that could be used as a weapon, as the players arrived. Piece of cake duty, really. Except for the poison. To Rock’s knowledge the casino had never checked for that.

Once again, Rock wondered how Tal could have forgotten to mention Lani. This had to be a test. Lani was Tate’s real backup.

Clyde Bancroft was one of the high rollers who’d be playing. Bancroft had gained some notoriety as an ambitious and talented online gambler looking to make his way in the real world of high-stakes poker. He was also a financier for Archibald Random, a name Tal had spoken with hatred, and other bad dudes whose names the Agency determined Rock didn’t have a need to know.

Bancroft’s MO was to invest his clients’ funds in short sales of successful companies. In the current economic climate, with so many previously profitable companies either failing or faltering, short sales had been a good bet in general. But Bancroft liked to put the odds in his favor. If inside information, blackmail, and corporate espionage failed him, he orchestrated terrorist attacks on the companies to ensure their stock fell and he made an exorbitant profit.

Unfortunately for him, both the Agency and Homeland Security had become wise to his scheme and better at predicting and preventing terrorist attacks. They’d thwarted one too many of his attempts at terrorism and now Bancroft was bleeding money. His investors, none of them exactly nice guys, were getting nervous and demanding their money back. On pain of torture. Or death. Or both.

Bancroft had the brilliant idea to win back the money he owed his investors at a high-stakes game of hold ’em. Tal was certain he wouldn’t play fair there, either. Tate, who apparently was the best gambler in the Agency, was charged with stopping Bancroft from winning. And preferably, to further bankrupt him. In his public persona, Tate had a reputation as a gambler. His presence at the table wouldn’t be suspect.

The Agency had the same goals as Bancroft—make sure the risks they assumed were minimal. With taxpayers wanting an accounting of every dollar spent, the Agency didn’t need the embarrassment of Tate losing the fifty-million-dollar bankroll they’d given him. NCS wanted the return of both their money and their most glamorous agent, whole and alive.

Tate’s job was to concentrate on the cards and game and Rock’s was to watch for funny business and threats. Just watch and signal Tate should anything look shady. Yeah, Rock had excellent powers of observation. Which didn’t mean he was going to simply sit on the sidelines as instructed and let Tate handle everything.

NCS hoped by applying enough financial pressure to Bancroft, they could turn him and get him to spill what he knew about RIOT’s plans in exchange for protection.

For the scheme to work, no one could suspect any connection between Rock and Tate. No friendship. No reason for Rock to help him play. Which is why NCS staged the public first meet.

At the door to the private room, the bouncer patted them down. Fortunately for Rock, he didn’t pat down Rock’s hand. Rock was wearing his thumb gun. It was a tiny one-shot wonder. But then again, in a pinch one shot might just be the difference between life and meeting the great magician in the sky.

“Is this standard procedure?” Lani asked Tate as the bouncer ran his hands down her curves.

Does every man in town get to feel up my wife except for me?
Rock wondered.

“I couldn’t fit a weapon in this dress if I tried.” Lani as Gillian laughed prettily. “I couldn’t even fit in any underwear.” She winked at the guard. “I’d be happy to go through the full body scanner, like at the airport.” She shrugged. “I’m used to it. For some reason, I’m always picked for that duty anyway.”

“Everyone just wants to feel you up, baby,” Tate said.

The bouncer patted Tate down and gave him the all-clear. Rock remained unimpressed with the bouncer’s weapon-detecting skills, certain Tate wouldn’t walk into that room unarmed.

The dealer looked up at them. “Mr. Cox, welcome. You’re just in time. I believe everyone else has arrived.” He pointed to an empty chair. “We held number five for you. At your request.”

Tate nodded. “Thank you.”

Tate had chosen a seat just past the midpoint of the deal. Interesting choice. Usually the later in the deal, the more information a player had and the greater the odds of winning the pot. Which meant the later players played more hands. Generally poker games at casinos played nonstop with players constantly joining and leaving the game, not beginning at once, as was the case for this game. In the case of joining an in-progress game, accepted strategy was to wait for the big blind to get to you before beginning. That gave you plenty of time to watch how the others play before you had to bet.

The same could have been said with this game. Either Tate was exceptionally cocky in his ability to read the other players, or someone else had more clout to get the prime position.