Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

minimize her female appeal.
    And yet . . .
    When they laughed together, he could see the children they once had been and the bond that had survived the years. At least on Risa’s part. There was none of the calculation in her eyes, none of the bitterness in the line of her mouth that the woman called Cherelle showed whenever Risa wasn’t looking.
    Abruptly Shane slipped the pen back into his pocket and went to work. First he excerpted five of the clearest shots of Cherelle and sent them, along with possible variations on the spelling of her name, to his head of security. Cherelle would be entered into the security computer and picked up whenever she was within range of one of the cameras. It was just one of the many ways the casino protected itself against cheaters, card counters, and known criminals.
    Then he called Rarities Unlimited, using one of Niall’s private numbers.
    “What’s up, boyo?” Niall asked immediately.
    “I want a full search on two people. I’ve already loaded the pertinent digital sequences onto your security computer.”
    “Bloody hell! You hacked your way in again.”
    Shane made an impatient noise. “If I had, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I? I only accessed the file you have on me and dumped the stuff in.”
    “You accessed the . . . Shit. You’re a menace. Good thing you’re on the side of the angels.”
    “Yeah, but don’t tell anybody. I hear much more when people think I’m dirty.”
    Niall gave an evil chuckle and called up Shane’s file. A picture of a woman popped onto the screen. “My, she’s a real bit o’ work, isn’t she? Name?”
    “Cherelle. No last name. No definite spelling on the first.”
    “Lovely. What did she— Bloody hell, that’s Risa with her!”
    Shane grunted.
    “You’re asking for a full search on Risa Sheridan,” Niall said neutrally.
    “Wouldn’t you?”
    “I— Hell, we’re both paranoid.”
    “My daddy is Bastard Merit. What’s your excuse?”
    “Experience. Even—”
    “—paranoids have real enemies,” Shane finished in a disgusted tone. “That joke is older than you are, which makes it older than the combined ages of—”
    The sound on the line told Shane he was talking to himself. He punched out and went back to the sequence in the bar before Risa arrived. Something was nagging at him.
    This time he didn’t watch Cherelle. He watched the other woman at the bar. This time he caught the bartender’s signal. Immediately the well-dressed woman got off the barstool and headed for a nearby slot machine. About ten seconds later one of the casino’s plainclothes security personnel went through the bar. As soon as he left, the woman returned. This time she sat down right next to the guy with the belly and the gold chain. She ordered a drink and paid for it with a twenty.
    The bartender gave her fizzy water and no change.
    She didn’t ask for any.
    Shane hit the button on his phone that called the head of security for this eight-hour stretch. It was answered instantly.
    “This is Ned, what can I do for you, sir?”
    “Check out the eye in Gabriel’s Horn for the last hour. If you see what I think you’ll see, show the bartender to the door and make sure the hooker goes with him.”
    “I’m on it, sir.”
    Shane’s other phone rang as he hung up. The ID number was the daytime casino manager.
    “Now what?” he muttered. “Can’t anyone decide to sneeze without calling me?” He picked up the receiver and said curtly, “Tannahill.”
    “I’m glad you’re in, sir. Bob Fairweather is pushing against his maximum. Will you want to extend his credit line?”
    “No.” Fairweather was Gail Silverado’s executive casino manager. Unlike most managers, he liked to gamble. Like most gamblers, he didn’t admit he was riding a losing streak until the money ran out. “Comp him to a nice meal in the VIP lounge. And make sure he’s sober when he leaves.”
    “He isn’t drinking.”
    Shane grunted. Fairweather usually drank. But then he usually gambled after he finished his shift with the Wildest Dream, not before. He must have felt lucky.
    He wasn’t.
    “Anything else?” Shane asked.
    “No, sir.”
    Shane punched off, sat back in his chair, and pulled out his pen. He looked at the freeze-frame picture of Risa and Cherelle hugging on one TV screen. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic, relentless click of gold meeting gold.
    Something didn’t fit, which meant that something was wrong. Very wrong. It