him. Get us a name.”
Just as Kate slid into the vacant seat at mini-bac, Ross entered the pit, stopping to confer with a couple of supervisors. Two minutes later, he sidled up to the table, smiled that wicked GQ smile of his. Kate was immediately entranced. The man knew exactly how to disarm people. Quick flashing grin, a pat on the back, a light touch on the arm. Male or female, he knew all the buttons to push.
Something she’d be wise to remember.
Their target sat in the last seat at the table and Ross edged in next to him, engaging him in light conversation.
If this man were a cheat and a casino executive had sidled up to him, he’d be showing signs of distress. Some sort of discomfort. But…nothing.
If he’s a cheat, he’s a master.
Kate placed her chips on the table, opting to bet for the player’s hand. The suspected cheat did the same. The dealer—the banker in mini-bac—dealt two sets of cards, one set for the banker, one for the players and flipped them.
Natural nine for the player. Good news considering she’d bet on the player’s hand and the object of the game was to get closer to nine than the dealer.
Player’s win.
All payouts were made and Kate met Ross’s eye. Yep, she’d won. So did their suspected cheat.
And nothing about his body language suggested anything criminal.
“Congratulations,” Ross extended his hand. “It kills me to say that since I’m a vice president here at Fortuna. Ross Cooper.”
Their target stacked his chips, a smug smirk on his face all the while.
Come on, come on. They needed a name.
The man looked at Ross’s outstretched hand and met his gaze. Come on, come on .
For five solid seconds, the man stared at Ross’s hand, obviously hoping he would give up.
Oh, something was way off with this guy.
Unfortunately for him, Ross Cooper never gave in. Realizing the slick-suited executive wasn’t leaving, the man shook his hand. “Earl Wicker.”
“First time here, Mr. Wicker?”
“This week. Yeah.”
Mr. Wicker placed his bet and Kate did the same.
“Well,” Ross said gesturing to the fat stack of chips, “you should get a player card. Let us buy you dinner.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Ross nodded. “Suit yourself. And good luck to you.” He looked up, took in the table. “To all of you. Thanks for coming in today.”
Then he met Kate’s eye, gave the dealer a quick nod and moved off.
No player card for Mr. Wicker, but they had a name.
And sometimes, that’s all that was needed.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, after stopping at her temporary office to put out some feelers on Earl Wicker, Kate entered the surveillance room and found Don still manning the wall monitors.
“Whatcha got?” he asked.
“I made some calls. Waiting to hear back. Did you run his name?”
“Yeah. He lives out east. I reached out to a few Atlantic City casinos. We’ll see.”
“I’ll work my contacts there also. See if I can find anything. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with some of the dealers for a refresher on hand mucking. I didn’t see him doing anything suspicious, but it wouldn’t hurt to put the dealers on a higher alert.”
“Good. That’s good.” Don ran his hand over his bald head.
At his age, with his extra weight and blood pressure issues, the man was a prime candidate for a heart attack. Kate stood and gestured him to the doorway. He followed her and, assuming she wanted a private chat, huddled close. “What’s up?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way and it’s none of my business, but you started it yesterday by talking about your health issues. Are you—”
“Ah, Christ.”
“This is a lot of stress. Frankly, you worry me.”
His lips quirked. “I told you I was irresistible. Keep this up and you’ll be wife number four.”
Behind her, the door flew open and Ross stepped in. “I’m gone ten minutes and you’re proposing?”
“I’m old, but I’m virile.”
Kate rolled her eyes.
“For the record,” Ross said, “when she
Just as Kate slid into the vacant seat at mini-bac, Ross entered the pit, stopping to confer with a couple of supervisors. Two minutes later, he sidled up to the table, smiled that wicked GQ smile of his. Kate was immediately entranced. The man knew exactly how to disarm people. Quick flashing grin, a pat on the back, a light touch on the arm. Male or female, he knew all the buttons to push.
Something she’d be wise to remember.
Their target sat in the last seat at the table and Ross edged in next to him, engaging him in light conversation.
If this man were a cheat and a casino executive had sidled up to him, he’d be showing signs of distress. Some sort of discomfort. But…nothing.
If he’s a cheat, he’s a master.
Kate placed her chips on the table, opting to bet for the player’s hand. The suspected cheat did the same. The dealer—the banker in mini-bac—dealt two sets of cards, one set for the banker, one for the players and flipped them.
Natural nine for the player. Good news considering she’d bet on the player’s hand and the object of the game was to get closer to nine than the dealer.
Player’s win.
All payouts were made and Kate met Ross’s eye. Yep, she’d won. So did their suspected cheat.
And nothing about his body language suggested anything criminal.
“Congratulations,” Ross extended his hand. “It kills me to say that since I’m a vice president here at Fortuna. Ross Cooper.”
Their target stacked his chips, a smug smirk on his face all the while.
Come on, come on. They needed a name.
The man looked at Ross’s outstretched hand and met his gaze. Come on, come on .
For five solid seconds, the man stared at Ross’s hand, obviously hoping he would give up.
Oh, something was way off with this guy.
Unfortunately for him, Ross Cooper never gave in. Realizing the slick-suited executive wasn’t leaving, the man shook his hand. “Earl Wicker.”
“First time here, Mr. Wicker?”
“This week. Yeah.”
Mr. Wicker placed his bet and Kate did the same.
“Well,” Ross said gesturing to the fat stack of chips, “you should get a player card. Let us buy you dinner.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
Ross nodded. “Suit yourself. And good luck to you.” He looked up, took in the table. “To all of you. Thanks for coming in today.”
Then he met Kate’s eye, gave the dealer a quick nod and moved off.
No player card for Mr. Wicker, but they had a name.
And sometimes, that’s all that was needed.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, after stopping at her temporary office to put out some feelers on Earl Wicker, Kate entered the surveillance room and found Don still manning the wall monitors.
“Whatcha got?” he asked.
“I made some calls. Waiting to hear back. Did you run his name?”
“Yeah. He lives out east. I reached out to a few Atlantic City casinos. We’ll see.”
“I’ll work my contacts there also. See if I can find anything. Tomorrow, I’ll meet with some of the dealers for a refresher on hand mucking. I didn’t see him doing anything suspicious, but it wouldn’t hurt to put the dealers on a higher alert.”
“Good. That’s good.” Don ran his hand over his bald head.
At his age, with his extra weight and blood pressure issues, the man was a prime candidate for a heart attack. Kate stood and gestured him to the doorway. He followed her and, assuming she wanted a private chat, huddled close. “What’s up?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way and it’s none of my business, but you started it yesterday by talking about your health issues. Are you—”
“Ah, Christ.”
“This is a lot of stress. Frankly, you worry me.”
His lips quirked. “I told you I was irresistible. Keep this up and you’ll be wife number four.”
Behind her, the door flew open and Ross stepped in. “I’m gone ten minutes and you’re proposing?”
“I’m old, but I’m virile.”
Kate rolled her eyes.
“For the record,” Ross said, “when she
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