Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

to why her boss had gone to his former lover’s Halloween party. Not that she would have admitted her curiosity aloud.
    Especially to him.
    “I turned it off,” Shane said. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s past working hours, even mine. What’s wrong?”
    “I’ve been checking the provenance on that elegant gold torc you bid on.”
    In disbelief Shane looked at his watch. Quarter past three in the morning on Halloween, and she was checking provenance.
    “It must be bad news,” he said. “You never hurry with any other kind.”
    Impatiently Risa ran a hand through her short, tousled hair. She knew she must look as rumpled and shopworn as she felt. Unlike the maddening Mr. Tannahill, she needed more than five or six hours of sleep a night. Seven was her minimum.
    “Look,” she said, pitching her voice over the irritating howl of the crowd, “you hired me to check on—”
    “I know why I hired you,” he cut in. “Spit it out.”
    “The torc might have been part of the museum goods that the Germans confiscated while they occupied Paris during World War Two.”
    “Might have? That’s the worst you can do?”
    “Give me more time,” she said through her teeth.
    “With enough time the provenance of damn near everything in any public or private collection in the world is suspect.” Yet even as he was arguing, Shane was thinking. “All right, all right. You did your job. Now do the rest of it and get me that torc.”
    “But—”
    As Shane had expected, several people were leaning closer to hear what the infamous Prince Midas and his often-photographed curator were arguing about.
    “Provenance is only as good as the paper it’s printed on,” he said distinctly. “Show me the paper that says the torc was looted by Nazis from a French museum.”
    “I don’t have any paper.”
    “Then don’t waste my time. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, remember?”
    “What if I find proof after you buy the torc?” she demanded.
    “First find the proof. If you can.”
    From the corner of his eye Shane registered the knowing looks passing among the eavesdroppers. Along with the other headlines he had made, the Strip’s premier poster boy had picked up some well-chosen blots on his reputation. He was rumored to buy gold goods of doubtful provenance. Hot enough to burn his hands, if you believed gossip.
    Most people did.
    Including, Shane suspected, his curator.
    The thought both amused and irritated him. The amusement he understood. The irritation he didn’t. With the exception of two or three people, he didn’t give a damn what the world thought of him. He didn’t like the idea that somehow, against every intention and shred of common sense he possessed, Risa had become one of the people whose opinion mattered to him.
    His hand slid around her elbow in what looked like the polite gesture of an escort helping his date through heavy traffic. Risa felt the steely strength of his fingers and knew better.
    He bent close and said in her ear, “Let’s finish this in private. Or was it your plan to stand around and sling mud at my reputation in the most public place in Las Vegas?”
    Red flared along her cheekbones—anger, not embarrassment. “Listen, Golden Boy, it’s my reputation, too. I work for you.”
    “That could be remedied.”
    With an angry Risa in tow, Shane headed for the sliding walkways that connected the Wildest Dream and three other megacasinos. One of those was the Golden Fleece.

Chapter 6
    Las Vegas
    Halloween night
    W hen Gail Silverado opened the door of her private office, she was reminded that Las Vegas and Hollywood had two things in common. The first was that, one way or another, people gambled a lot of money. The second was that women had a place, and it was on their back beneath men. A few women managed to claw their way into the top position, but not many.
    That was why Gail was the only woman at the meeting of the most powerful people in the Las Vegas casino industry—minus Shane Tannahill, of course. He was the reason for the meeting in the first place.
    Prince Midas just wasn’t a team player.
    That made life unnecessarily difficult for the rest of the megacasinos in town. Instead of dividing the gambling industry among themselves for the greater profit of all, Shane had introduced a costly element of honesty and balls-out competition for customers. He was winning, too. As a result, the new kid on the Strip was by far the biggest earner in Vegas.
    For the first