It was dark as he drove down Texas Street toward the river. Up ahead, the Pot-of-Gold sat to the left on the water’s edge, the casino shaped like an old-fashioned riverboat docked near the bank. The hotel tower next to it was twenty stories high. The entire property glowed with neon lights—crimson, emerald green, electric blue, all reflected on the surface of the river, creating a stunning rainbow of temptation for hopeful gamblers.
Reese parked the truck, locked the glove box, and helped Kenzie down. As he pushed through the front door of the club, the sound of bells ringing and the whirl of slots greeted them.
“You play blackjack?” Reese asked.
“I like to play, but I haven’t gambled much. I can’t afford to lose.”
Reese took his wallet out of his back pocket. “You can tonight.” Taking her hand, he pressed a wad of bills into her palm.
Kenzie shook her head, moving the heavy blond curls that hung past her shoulders. “I can’t take your money.” She tried to give it back. “If I play, I’ll just lose. I’ve never been a lucky gambler.”
Reese inwardly smiled. He’d never known a woman who refused to take his money. “Consider it the cost of information. With two of us gambling, we can cover more ground.”
She hesitated a moment more.
“Think of Griff,” he said, and her fingers closed around the bills.
“Let’s head for the blackjack tables. We’ll play together for a while, then split up and you can wander the floor, see if you can spot either of the men who took Griff.”
The plan was simple: gather information but don’t be obvious about it. He was trusting Kenzie to handle her part of the job. Considering the possible danger and being the controlling bastard he was, it wasn’t that easy to do.
Especially not as he sat at the blackjack table next to her and watched the other three men at the table ogling her pretty breasts. The bare midriff and tight jeans showed off her curves, and every time she moved, he caught a glimpse of cleavage. So did the men.
Reese managed to play a few decent hands. Kenzie seemed to get the hang of it fairly quickly and he smiled at her growing stack of chips. The female dealer fanned the cards faceup on the table and left on a break, and a new dealer arrived, a man this time.
“I want to try my luck somewhere else,” Kenzie said, casting Reese a meaningful glance. Time to wander the floor, keep an eye out for the kidnappers while digging for information.
The fat man on the end stool eyed her lewdly. “Don’t go, sweet thing. You’re my lucky charm. I’ve been winning ever since you sat down.”
Reese’s jaw tightened as Kenzie slid off the stool.
“Sorry, big guy.” She flashed him a phony smile. “Gotta use the ladies’ room.” She batted her lashes at the men at the table. “Maybe I’ll see y’all later.”
Reese pulled her close. “Stay out of trouble, darlin’.” The words came out with the soft Texas drawl he’d been born with but long ago discarded.
Kenzie flashed him a smile. “See ya later, honey lamb.”
Reese couldn’t stop a grin. When Kenzie leaned down and kissed him full on the mouth, he felt a rush of heat that slid all the way into his groin. The woman was his Achilles’ heel. He still wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He watched the sexy sway of her hips as she walked away, then played a couple more hands, collected his chips, and left the game. He told himself to let her do her job while he did his, but she hadn’t been gone ten minutes before he began to worry. What if she spotted one of the kidnappers and the wig wouldn’t be enough to keep the guy from recognizing her?
Reese began a calculated wander of the casino floor in search of her.
TWENTY-NINE
Kenzie circled the main casino floor, pausing to play blackjack or put money into a slot machine. So far she hadn’t seen anyone familiar. She had purposely chosen a seat at a blackjack table with no other players, giving her a chance to chat with the dealer, a heavyset woman in her thirties with bleached blond hair curled under around her shoulders.
Her name was Shirley, divorced and raising two kids.
“I’m a single mother, too,” Kenzie said. “I’m raising a son on my own, so I know how tough it can be.”
“My ex-husband was a real loser.” Shirley slid cards out of a six-deck shoe and pushed them across the green felt table. “Cleaned out the checking account and just disappeared. Me and the kids have been fending for ourselves ever since.”
Kenzie picked up the hand she’d been dealt. “I divorced my ex-husband two years ago. Unfortunately, he came back a couple of days ago, beat the crap out of me, and stole our son.” Her eyes teared, the story too close to the truth.
Sympathy reflected in Shirley’s round face. “You call the police?”
“I did.” Sort of. Law enforcement in the form of Chase Garrett and the guys at The Max. She wiped a tear from her cheek. “So far they haven’t come up with anything.”
“So I guess that’s how you got the shiner.”
Kenzie touched the bruise next to her eye. Every time she moved, her body ached from the fight with Griff’s abductor. “I was hoping I’d covered it up.”
Shirley grunted. “I’ve had enough beatings to know a black eye when I see one.”
A memory of the short man with the curly black hair flashed in her head, but she pushed it away. “I don’t think Ray would hurt our son,” she said, making up a name. “But there’s no way to know for sure. I’m worried sick about him.”
Shirley dealt herself a twenty-one and Kenzie tossed in her cards.
“Men,” the dealer growled, raking in Kenzie’s chips. “They’re all bastards. Some just worse than others.”
Kenzie made no reply. A new hand of cards arrived. She tapped for a hit, then turned over her hand when she busted.
“That’s the real reason I’m here,” she said as the dealer swept in the bet. “My ex is a gambler. He used to come to the Pot-of-Gold all the time. He always lost way more than he ever won, but that didn’t stop him. I think he might be here with my son.”
Shirley began to shuffle all six decks in the shoe, breaking them into small stacks, shuffling until all of the cards were rearranged, then stacking them back in the box.
She slid Kenzie’s cards across the green felt table. “I’m about to take a break. I’ve got a couple of friends who work in housekeeping. Not many kids in a club like this one. How old is he?”
“Griff’s nine.”
Shirley nodded. “I’ll ask them to put the word out, see if any of the maids have seen a nine-year-old boy upstairs in one of the rooms.”