Playing the odds (18 page)

"Even public servants need a few days off now and then," Caine retorted, then held Serena at arm's length.

He'd changed so little, she thought. Though both her brothers had inherited their father's height, Caine was lean and rangy. Nearly thin, Serena mused now with sisterly objectivity. Yet he had a fascinating face, all planes and angles, with a powerful grin he used to his advantage and eyes nearly as dark as her own. His hair waved carelessly around his face—blond with hints of red. Looking at him, she could easily see why it was reputed his skill with women equalled his skill as a lawyer.

"Hmm. She hasn't turned out too badly, has she, Alan?"

With an arched brow Serena turned to her oldest brother. "No," he answered, giving her the slow, serious smile that suited his dark, brooding looks. He looks more like Heathcliff, she thought, than a U.S. senator. "Though she's still a bit scrawny." He took her chin in his fingers, turning her face right and left. "Pretty girl," he stated in a perfect imitation of their father's burr.

"Maybe you should have married Arlene Judson after all," she said sweetly. Then, relenting, she wrapped an arm around each of her brothers. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"

Justin sat on the corner of Serena's desk and watched them. She looked very small between the two tall men, but for the first time, he noted the resemblance between her and Caine—the shape of the mouth, the nose, the eyes. Alan was a larger, rougher version of Anna, yet all three of them carried Daniel's stamp. It seemed so clear now, Justin wondered that he hadn't recognized it the first moment he'd seen her.

Perhaps it was seeing them as a family, picturing Serena as a sister. He thought of Diana and felt a twinge of regret. He'd done all he could there, Justin reminded himself. Still, he'd never known what it was like to have that basic, lifetime kinship any more than he'd ever have the place in Serena's heart that belonged to family.

"How long are you staying?" Serena demanded as she pulled them both inside the office.

"Just over the weekend," Alan told her as Caine took a quick, thorough study of her office.

"So you've taken yourself a partner after all," he said to Justin. "We were all a bit surprised after you'd turned Dad down so often."

"I was more persuasive," Serena said simply.

Caine shot Justin a look that didn't ask questions only because he already knew the answers. There was warning in it, subtle, but perfectly clear.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here like this." She walked over to stand beside Justin as Caine folded himself into a chair and Alan moved to glance through the glass.

"We heard about the bomb threat in Vegas," Alan told her. "I gave Justin a call. He suggested you might enjoy a visit. And"—he turned with one of his rare grins—"Caine and I thought our coming might keep Dad from putting in an appearance for a while."

"Last time I talked to him," Caine said, "he was hinting he might enjoy a few weeks at the beach."

Serena made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a laugh. "I suppose you heard about his last little plot."

"It seems to have worked out well enough," Alan stated as he watched Justin's hand come up to rest on the back of her neck.

"I was tempted to break more than a few cigars," she muttered, then glanced down at the buzzer on her desk as it sounded. "Table six. No," she said, touching Justin's shoulder as he started to rise. "I'll take care of it. Why don't the three of you go upstairs and relax?

I'll be up as soon as I'm sure everything is settled down here."

"Is it unethical for me to gamble here now that you're half owner?" Caine wondered aloud.

"Not as long as you play as poorly as usual," Serena answered as she swept out of the door.

With a quick oath Caine stretched out his long legs. "Just because I used to let her beat me at poker."

"Let her win, hell," Alan said mildly. "She used to massacre you. You didn't say much on the phone, Justin," he continued as he turned away from the two-way mirror. "Can you discuss what happened in Vegas?"

With a shrug Justin drew a cigar out of his pocket "It was a homemade bomb, very compact. It was under one of the keno tables. The F.B.I.'s running down the list of former employees, regulars who've dropped large amounts of money, any known extortionists with a similar M.O. I don't have too much faith in that. There were some threatening calls, but they couldn't trace them and I didn't recognize the voice. They don't have much to go on." As he lit the cigar his gaze wandered past Alan's shoulder to where Serena stood, talking to a customer. "It's impossible to trace everyone who's lost money in one of my casinos, even if that is the motive behind the bombing."

"You don't think it was?" Caine asked, and followed Justin's gaze out to his sister.

"Just a hunch," he muttered, then rose restlessly. "There was a threat delivered a couple of days ago—nothing specific, just enough to let me know he'd try something else."

"No wheres, whens, or hows?" Caine put in.

"No." Justin gave him a grim smile. "Of course I could close down all of my hotels and wait him out." He took a quick savage drag on the cigar. "I'm damned if I will." With an effort he controlled the impotent fury. He was being stalked. He knew it just as surely as if he'd seen the shadow behind him. "I want Serena to go home until this is resolved," he said briefly. "Between the two of you you should be able to convince her."

Caine's answer was a short laugh. Alan gave Justin a quiet look. "She'd go," he said, "if you went with her."

"Damn it, Alan, I'm not going to go find a convenient hole and hide while someone plays with my life."

"And Serena would?" he countered.

"She has a half interest in one out of five of my hotels," Justin said tightly. "If anything happens to this one, the insurance covers her losses." His eyes were drawn to the glass again. "I've more than an investment at stake."

"You're a fool if you think that's all Rena has," Alan murmured.

Justin whirled on him, giving way to all the pent-up anger he'd harnessed for a week. "I tell you, I have a bad feeling about this. Someone's after me, and she's too close. I want her away, safe, where nothing can happen to her. I'd think you'd understand that. For God's sake, she's your sister!"

"And what is she to you?" Caine asked softly.

Furious, Justin turned on him, a hundred curses trembling on his lips. He met the dark, direct eyes, so much like Serena's. "Everything," he breathed before he turned back to the glass. "Damn it, she's everything."

"Well, that's settled," Serena said as she swirled back into the office. "I just…" She trailed off as the tension rose up like a wall. Slowly, she looked from one man to the other, then walked by her brothers to Justin. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Forcing himself to be calm, he tapped out his cigar and took her hand. "Have you had dinner?"

"No, but—"

Deliberately, he looked past her to Alan and Caine. "We'll have something brought upstairs, unless you'd prefer the dining room."

"Actually, I think I'll try my luck outside." Caine rose casually. "Alan can keep me from dropping a month's pay. Got any tips, Rena?"

"Stick to the quarter slots," she said, and made her lips curve.

"O ye of little faith," he muttered, and tugged on her ear. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Late tomorrow," Alan put in as he opened the door. "I'll never get him away from the tables before three."

Serena waited until the door shut behind them. "Justin, what's going on?"

"I'm tired," he said, taking her arm. "Let's go upstairs."

"Justin, I'm not a fool." He led her quickly through to his office and into the elevator. "It felt like something was about to explode when I walked in there. Are you angry with Alan and Caine?"

"No. It's nothing that concerns you."

The cold, flat answer had her stiffening in defence. "Justin, I'm not trying to pry into your personal business, but as it appeared to involve my brothers, I feel entitled to an explanation."

He recognized the hurt, and the anger. He wanted to drive them both away, drag her into his arms and stop her questions in a way that would erase his own temper and tension. But as the elevator doors slid open, Justin forced himself to think coolly. He could use the anger and hurt for his own ends.

"It's nothing that concerns you," he repeated carelessly. "Why don't you order something from roomservice. I want a shower." Without waiting for her answer he strode off.

Too stunned by his tone to react, Serena only stared after him. What had changed since that desperate, tempestuous greeting they had shared? Why was he treating her like a stranger? Or worse, she realized, like a comfortable mistress a man could take or brush aside at his whim. Standing in the centre of the room, Serena tried to summon up fury but found only anguish. She'd known the risk she was taking. It seemed she'd lost the gamble.

No. Bunching her hands into fists, she shook her head. No, she wasn't so easily dismissed. Let him have his shower and his meal, she decided. Then she
would… explain
to him exactly what she expected. Calmly, she added to herself as she walked to the phone. She'd be very calm. With a vicious stab of her finger she punched the button for room service.

"This is Ms. MacGregor. I'd like a steak and salad."

"Of course, Ms. MacGregor. How would you like your steak?"

"Burnt," she muttered.

"Pardon?"

With an effort she got herself under control. "It's for I Mr. Blade," she explained. "I'm sure you know what he likes."

"Of course, Ms. MacGregor. I'll have his dinner sent up right away."

"Thank you." Everyone jumps for Justin Blade, she thought grimly as she replaced the receiver. Walking to the bar, she fixed herself a tall, stiff drink.

When Justin came out of the bedroom Serena was sitting on the sofa while the room service waiter arranged Justin's meal on the table across the room. Justin wore only a robe, which parted at the throat when he dipped his hands into his pockets. "Aren't you eating?" he asked with a nod toward the single place setting.

"No." She sipped her drink. "You go right ahead." Opening her purse, she drew out a bill, then held it out to the waiter. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Ms. MacGregor. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Blade."

When the door shut behind him, Justin took his seat. "I thought you hadn't had dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she said simply.

With a shrug Justin applied himself to the salad and tasted nothing. "Apparently there were no major problems while I was gone."

"Nothing I couldn't handle. Though I do have a few personal suggestions, I feel the hotel and the casino run very smoothly."

"You made a good investment." He sliced through the meat.

"You could look at it that way." Serena draped an arm over the back of the couch. Her beaded jacket shimmered in the quiet light. Looking at her, Justin wanted nothing more than to drag it off her, and the thin black silk she wore beneath, to lose himself in her again, the soft white skin, the masses of gold hair. He stabbed a piece of steak with his fork.

"The hotel seems to have gotten over the hump in this last year," he said easily. "It seems unnecessary for both of us to give it twenty-four hours a day." Unable to swallow any more, he poured coffee. "You might want to think about going back home."

She held the glass halfway to her lips. "Home?" she repeated dully.

"You're not needed here at the moment," he went on. "It occurred to me that it would be more practical for you to go home, or wherever you like, then come back and take over when I have to be away."

"I see." Blindly, she set the glass on the table in front of her and rose. "I've no intention of falling into the category of silent partner, Justin." Her voice was strong and clear, but from across the room he could see her eyes swim. "Nor do I have the intention of falling into the category of excess baggage. It's a very simple matter to go back to our original agreement and forget a one-night mistake." Because she could feel her hand begin to tremble, she reached for her drink again and drained it. "I'll pack my things and move back into my own suite."

"Damn it, Serena, I want you to go home." Watching her fight back tears, he felt something twist inside his stomach. In defence Justin pushed away from the table and strode down to her. "I don't want you here."

He heard her quick indrawn breath, but the mist in her eyes cleared with it. He found the dry-eyed, wounded look a hundred times worse. "There's no need to be cruel, Justin," she murmured. "You've made yourself clear. I'll get out of your rooms, but I own half this hotel, and I'm staying."

"I haven't signed the agreement yet," he reminded her.

She stared at him for a long silent moment. "You're that desperate to get rid of me," she murmured. "My mistake." Serena stared down at the empty glass in her hands. "If I'd been smarter, I wouldn't have slept with you until it was finalized."

Enraged, he grabbed the glass from her hand and hurled it across the room, where it shattered against the wall. "No!" Dragging her against him, he buried his face in her hair and swore again. "I can't do it this way. I won't let you think that."

Rigid with hurt, Serena didn't struggle. "Please let me go."

"Serena, listen to me. Listen to me," he repeated as he drew her away with his hands tight on her shoulders. "There was a letter delivered before I left Vegas. It was addressed to me, personally. Whoever planted that bomb wanted me to know he wasn't finished. He's going to hit me again—sometime, somewhere. There's more than money involved, I can feel it. It's personal, do you understand? You're not safe with me."

She stared at him as the words cut through the pain. "You said those things to me because you think I might be in some kind of danger if I stay?"

"I want you to be away from this."

Reaching up, Serena pushed his hands from her shoulders. "You're no better than my father," she said furiously. "Arranging my life with your little plots and schemes. Do you know what you did to me?" Tears threatened again and she forced them back. "Do you know how you hurt me? Did you ever consider just telling me the truth?"