Chapter 11
Eleven
brENDAN
B rendan navigated his used granite-crystal Dodge Challenger Hellcat through the streets of Reno, less than a mile from The Outlaw Hotel and Casino. The less expensive car blended in but still accelerated like a bullet should he need to get away.
Quill’s name popped up as an incoming call.
“Whatcha got, Quill?”
“Manning Cole.”
“Who’s Manning Cole?”
“A man who despises Jed Marshall. I’ve been poking around, calling random casinos in Reno, saying we need a conference set up. Got as chatty as I could with the event planners. Anyhoo, Manning Cole owns over half the casinos in Reno, and he does his business legit—at least if you can consider the casino business legit. Those I could get to talk weren’t too reserved about saying how they would never set foot in The Outlaw. Well-versed townies know Jed Marshall’s shady. His network’s getting more transparent and cutthroat. Tourists and average townies don’t know, of course, so there’s plenty of everyday traffic in the place. ”
“So you think Manning Cole is interested in taking Jed Marshall down? Why? What would be in it for him?”
“Word is, Jed Marshall wants to acquire more casino real estate. He’s made enough of a nest egg off his drug network that he wants to expand, and his casino dealings draw in more clients. Marshall, apparently known as Marshal with one “l” on the end because he considers himself the law, like a US Marshal around Reno or something?—”
Brendan scoffed.
“I know, right? Definitely a douche. Anyway, the fact that Marshal is looking to gobble up casinos has Cole on edge. The man doesn’t want to slowly lose out to where he can’t compete with Marshal. One source told me Cole turned him down years ago when Marshal asked to join his real-estate network, and Marshal takes out those who don’t follow him even if it takes years to do it.”
“Shit, what have I gotten myself into?”
“What have you gotten us into, bro… us ! Gigi better be worth it.”
“She is. There’s something about her. She stirs feelings inside me that have been dormant. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to fall for anyone ever , and fortunately, she seems to fancy me, too.”
“She fancies you. Like the British say, huh?” A snort blew through the receiver. “So she says anyway. What exactly does she fancy ?”
“Stop giving me hell. I don’t deserve it right now.”
“Sure you don’t.” Quill chuckled. “So? Spill.”
“If you must know, Genevieve likes my bolder side. She thinks I’m sexy when I’m cocky.”
Quill’s boisterous laughter crackled through the car speakers. “She said that. Really? When have you ever been cocky?”
Brendan pinched a frown. “Way to boost my confidence, you tool. ”
His laughter trickled off. “Was it while you drag-raced the Tesla? Maybe that’s what I need to do. I’d sure like to have a woman as hot as Gigi tell me something like?—”
“Careful,” he ground out.
“Oh, come on. I’ll never get near Gigi?—”
“Genevieve.”
“Whatever. My type is lower maintenance. That woman you fancy walks around the office like she’s capable of breaking hearts.” Quill hesitated. “Honestly, bro, I’m a bit worried about that with you. I mean, what are the chances she’s going to want a forever-type thing? You’re not…”
“I’m not what?” Brendan ground his teeth together so fiercely he almost broke a tooth. He did not want to be told that he had no chance. “Finish the sentence.”
Quill sighed. “You’re not the lighthearted type. The people in your circle are like family to you—you’ll do anything for them. I’m yet to be convinced Genevieve’s not using you. I’d guess, at this point, she’d be willing to throw anyone into the hornet’s nest. I still think this is a problem for the police. There are other women out there. You just need to go on more dates.”
Brendan’s stomach dropped, his body tensing at the thought of giving up on her. “I’ve got to see this through. You don’t understand how she makes me feel, Quill. There’s a spark inside me when I’m around her. You yourself said, ‘When have you ever been cocky?’ Genevieve’s the reason. She lights me up when no one else can.”
“If she can, someone else can. You’re a numbers guy—think through the math. What are the odds Genevieve’s the only woman on this planet that revs your engine? It’s finite math, my man.”
Brendan shook his head. “Finite math doesn’t apply with emotions. Falling in love can’t be quantified. Maybe she’s the only one for me. Watch any romance movie?— ”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. You’re not going to convince me with that BS argument, but you’ve somehow convinced yourself.” Quill eased out a breath. “You want to let the chips fall where they may—I’ve got your back.”
“That’s more like it. I was beginning to think you didn’t have the balls.”
Quill belted out another laugh. “I can outdrive you any day.” After a pause, he added, “Maybe this woman is a good fit for you—if you want a busted jaw.”
Brendan let loose a laugh of his own. Ribbing with Quill was the perfect way to ease him back to reality. “Where do I find this Manning Cole guy?”
“The Golden Star. It’s a couple of blocks down the street from The Outlaw. That’s where Cole’s personal penthouse is, so if I were you, I’d book a room there. We’ll be close to The Outlaw; it’s good protection—Cole won’t let Marshal take a step in his place—and you can hopefully set up a meeting with him.”
Brendan tightened his grip on the wheel as he passed by The Outlaw before spotting the copper-yellow sign for The Golden Star. “Don’t know where I’d be without you, Quill.” He meant that statement in more ways than their current debacle—he meant it over the ten-plus years of their friendship.
“Thanks, Brendan, that means a lot to me. Ditto, by the way. I’ll be on my way soon.“
“Bring the cavalry.”
“Will do. Later, man.”
Brendan tipped the valet to park his car, not wanting to waste a minute. He powered up to The Golden Star’s VIP front desk with courage. He could do this. He would do this—for Genevieve, and he wouldn’t allow himself to lose his new-found cocky confidence.
“A two-bedroom suite, please,” Brendan decided on the spot. Quill might as well stay with him so they could brainstorm. “I need to add Quill Webber to the reservation.”
A middle-aged man in a hotel uniform—Devon, it seemed, according to his nametag—gazed at him long and hard with narrow-eyed scrutiny. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”
“No.”
“I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the night.”
“What about a penthouse suite?”
Devon pursed his lips, tapping away at his keyboard. “We do have a villa available, but the asking price for one of those rooms is just under five thousand dollars a night. It’s a VIP room with four bedrooms and a private pool.”
“Fine.” Brendan slid his platinum card and driver’s license across the counter. “That’ll work.”
The appraising clerk’s forehead crinkled. Wow, you take off a Brioni suit, and suddenly, the world views you as a nobody. How sad was that? It made him want to dress down more often rather than less.
“How many nights?” Devon clipped out.
“Let’s start with seven.”
Devon cocked his head, a disbelieving frown etched across his face. “Sir, we’re going to have to take down a deposit for that many?—”
Brendan huffed out a frustrated breath. “Take it then. Charge me now if you want.”
“Very well,”—Devon brought the card up to his face—“Mr. King.” He lifted a bushy brow. “Quite the name—if this ID is even real.”
“How do you comb your VIP customers?” Brendan tossed up a hand. “Do a background or credit check on me, heck, do both—whatever it takes. I want the villa, a high-limit gambling card, and an appointment to speak in person with Manning Cole.”
Devon’s jaw twitched. “Sir, guests don’t request private audiences with Mr. Cole, no matter who they think they are. Now, I’m happy to check your credit, and we can settle this once and for all.”
“Go for it.” Brendan plucked a butter mint out of the bowl on the counter and popped it into his mouth, followed by another just to toy with the snooty clerk. He’d never attempted a VIP check-in blind before—usually, he had status when he walked in the door due to whatever conference or event he’d been brought in for—and he didn’t like how they treated the average Joe. By the fifth mint, the clerk’s nostrils flared, and Brendan smirked while the man turned and stalked off.
Brendan strummed his fingers on the copper marble countertop while the precious minutes ticked by. Finally, a different man wearing a tailored suit—perhaps a Tom Ford?—appeared. The man oozed suave from his firm stance to his distinguished mustache and slicked-back brown hair.
“Mr. King, I apologize for my front desk clerk’s less-than-welcoming behavior. It’s not often we have multi-millionaires walk in off the street in worn-out T-shirts and shorts without a reservation.”
The man handed Brendan’s credit card and license back to him before continuing, “The villa is on the house for the first three nights. You’ve been added to our High Rollers Club, as has Quill Webber. Here are your room keys and high-limit gambling cards. Mr. Webber can get another set made here at the VIP desk if you aren’t available when he arrives.” He handed Brendan two sets of shimmering gold cards. “Please reference the back of the gambling cards for all our casino locations. You’ve both been granted VIP access to any of our properties.”
“Mr. Cole, I presume?”
The man held a steady gaze. “You’ve piqued my curiosity, Mr. King. Most people who request a private audience with me do so with more of an effort to impress me.” He leaned forward, one corner of his mouth inching up. “I fucking hate it. Fake doesn’t suit me. I’ve never liked that part of my job. Something tells me you’re not here to sell me portfolio plans, though I must say your company’s website is quite impressive. I might need to look into your services.”
Brendan chuckled, propping his glasses higher up on his nose. “Not why I’m here, but I can probably double your investments in less than six years.”
His eyebrows flashed up, a full smirk swinging free. “Perhaps we’ll revisit that another time then. How can I help you at present, Mr. King?”
“Brendan.”
“Brendan.” He nodded in acknowledgment. “Manning, please.”
“Manning, I want to take out Jed Marshall. Preferably put him behind bars.”
Manning tried to hold his face even, but Brendan saw surprise followed by acute interest cross his features. “Why would an Aspen-born finance millionaire startup genius with a clean record—not so much as a parking ticket, mind you—be interested in dabbing in a Reno criminal mastermind’s business?”
Brendan tightened his eyes. “Mastermind?”
“If he wasn’t, I’d already have taken him out.” He crossed his arms, raising a brow. “So?”
“Let’s just say something happened that made his dealings my business.”
Manning studied his features, perhaps gauging his seriousness, before motioning a hand toward the heart of his hotel. “Do you enjoy a good steak?”
“Without hesitation.” Brendan glanced down, grinning. “Probably should change, though. I was trying to fly under the radar—too much, it seems. ”
Manning laughed. “Whatever you want to do. No one will question it anymore. Took care of that.”
Brendan nodded, returning a soft chuckle. “Rumor around town is that you’re mostly a decent guy.”
Manning boomed out another laugh. “Mostly is the key word. Don’t worry about changing.” He waved out a hand. “Let’s get something to eat. I’ll have them seat us in a private room.”
Four hours later, Brendan was feeling a lot more confident about his chances of taking down Jed Marshall. He and Manning had a plan, but these things took time. He tossed his suitcase onto a burgundy sofa chair in one of the villa’s upstairs bedrooms and laid out a suit. He couldn’t sit around and do nothing. Every minute Genevieve spent under Jed Marshall’s control was dangerous. The things Manning told him Marshal had done chilled him to the bone.
Genevieve . Brendan closed his eyes and imagined her safe in his arms. He should probably wait for Quill to arrive. He should probably use his head. But that’s what he’d done his whole life. Did using your head win women’s hearts? Would it win Genevieve’s? He had a feeling it took a lot more than brains to be with Genevieve. She liked a man willing to take a risk, so that’s what he’d do, but he had no intention of being stupid in the process. He sent Quill a text outlining his plan in case something happened to him. Quill would see it through.
Should he wear a disguise? He shook his head and began to slide on a white dress shirt. No, he’d go as himself. Confident men didn’t hide behind fake mustaches. If he was going to take on Jed Marshall, he needed to do so boldly. Tonight, he’d own being Brendan Carter King and walk without hesitation through The Outlaw’s most central and visible front door.