Chapter 8
Sam hopped out of the cab, pulling his small leather duffel with him, and paid the driver. He glanced up at the elaborate fa?ade of the Paris Hotel. Lights on the Eiffel Tower danced in time to the fountains going off across the road at the Bellagio. He ignored it all and hurried inside, knowing Audra was waiting for him.
When he got her call, he hadn’t asked questions. He’d simply called his bar manager, Martina, and left her a message, asking her to run things for the foreseeable future, then coerced a local pilot to fly him to San José. There, he’d booked himself on the earliest flight to Vegas he could get, which, luckily, began boarding only twenty minutes after he made it through security. He’d landed in Vegas just over seven hours later to voice messages from Dean, but he’d yet to call him back. He wanted more details first.
Smoke filled the air, giving the casino floor a hazy look. It stung his eyes. Trying to breathe as little as possible, Sam strode across the wild, geometric-patterned carpet, past Gordon Ramsay’s steakhouse and the glam Vanderpump restaurant. He entered the corridor connecting the Paris to its sister resort, the Horseshoe. Stopping outside of a coffeeshop and creperie, where Audra said she’d be, he peered inside. At the back of the dining area, he saw a woman in a dark ball cap, sitting alone. With her head tipped down, he couldn’t see her face, but he’d know the graceful line of Audra’s neck and shoulders anywhere.
His heart stuttered in his chest. She was really here.
Readjusting his grip on his bag, he crossed the tile floor.
She looked up. Again, Sam’s heart stuttered. She was so damn beautiful. Even worn out and looking like she could use some sun and twelve hours of sleep, she was gorgeous.
“Hey.” He stopped beside her table.
A soft smile crossed her face. “Hey. Have a seat.” She motioned to the chair across from her.
Sam sat.
“You hungry? They’ve got good food here.”
“No. Tell me what’s going on.” He reached over and brushed his fingers over her knuckles. “Are you okay?” He didn’t want to waste time on pleasantries. He wanted answers. If she was calling him for help, something went terribly wrong with her mission.
She sighed and nodded. “I’m fine. I took a knock to the head and have a bad bruise on my hip, but?—”
“A knock to the head? What? Start at the beginning. All you said on the phone was basically that the shit hit the fan. How did you get hurt?”
“I got hit by a car.”
“What?” Sam’s voice rose in volume. His eyes roved over what he could see of her body. She was pale, but otherwise looked all right.
Audra shushed him. “I’m fine. A concussion and some bruises. Nothing that won’t heal on its own with time. I got lucky.”
“Was this on purpose?” He leaned in, fists clenched, lowering his voice.
“I think so, yes.” She pulled the corner of her bottom lip in and chewed on it.
Sam narrowed his eyes. Something about her expression told him she knew more than she was saying. “You know who did it, don’t you?”
“No. I mean, I have my suspicions, but—” She broke off and shook her head. “I don’t want them to be true.”
Sam propped his elbows on the table and rubbed at his eyes. He still felt like he knew nothing. “Okay. Back up. Does this have to do with what you were playing at when I saw you in February?” He assumed it did, but wanted confirmation.
“Yes.” She chewed on her lip again, then sighed. “What I’m going to tell you has to stay between us. You can’t tell anyone. Not even your friends in Costa Rica.”
“How did—” He stopped, frowning. “Wait. How deep did you dig into my life?”
She picked at the napkin beside her plate. “After I walked away that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to know that you were doing all right, so I did some digging. Besides, you told me to contact you if I ever needed help. I figured it couldn’t hurt to look into you, so I did, and I memorized your number. I never intended to use it, but…” She shrugged. “I discovered you lived down there with several other former military members. That’s as deep as I went.”
“Okay.” His head bobbed in understanding. “Continue.”
“So, SIS sent me undercover as the fiancée of Liam Brogan, the head of the Las Vegas branch of the Irish mafia.”
“Fiancée?” Sam’s gut churned. What all did that entail? He hated the thought of her having to let some crime lord touch her in the most intimate of ways. “That’s why you were involved with the Irish mafia?”
“Yes. I bear a striking resemblance to Alexandra Burton, oldest daughter of Sean Burton, a right arsehole of a real estate developer in Chicago. He got into some financial trouble a few years ago and turned to the Irish mob to bail him out. Except he fell behind on his payment schedule. The U.S. authorities had been keeping tabs on him for some time. They had a boatload of evidence on him, but wanted bigger fish. When they realized he was between a rock and a hard place, they played their hand and offered him a deal. He’d maintain his independence for now, plead on lesser charges when it was time, and give them an in with the mafia. The original plan was to get someone on Brogan’s payroll through Burton’s recommendation.”
She reached for her water and took a drink. “We keep tabs on all the various Irish mafia sects. It was just happenstance that we got involved in this. My boss, Deirdre Thompson, was in the U.S. for a security conference and talked to one of the agents who’s part of the Burton op. He mentioned the case and asked her if she had any insights. When Dee looked over the files, she saw a picture of Burton’s daughter and realized we had an amazing opportunity. There was chatter that Brogan’s family wanted him married off to secure the line of succession. He was thirty-seven at the time and didn’t have any children.”
“Whoa.” That was unusual. Most of those guys married young.
“Yeah. Burton’s daughter did not like being in the public light. She shied away from it like she’d get burnt, so there aren’t many pictures of her out there. It was perfect. We proposed Burton offer his daughter—played by me—as a suitable wife for Brogan in exchange for debt forgiveness.”
Sam’s eyebrows slammed down. “And he agreed?”
“Only because he knew Alexandra wouldn’t be the one actually offered up. The real Alexandra Burton entered your witness protection program. Quite happily, I might add.”
“So, you’ve been Liam Brogan’s fiancée for how long?”
“Almost two years. Only one of that has been here in Vegas, though. We laid groundwork the first year. I stayed in Chicago under the pretext of needing to wrap up my life there. I’ve been able to play the part of spoiled heiress and somehow keep our relationship fairly platonic.”
“So, you haven’t—” Sam rolled a hand.
“No. He’s tried, but thankfully, I’m smarter. I’ve been able to manipulate him into being content with some kisses and some mild groping.” Her face pulled in disgust.
Sam’s face turned red as he thought about the slime ball putting his hands on her when she didn’t want him to. He hoped he got the chance to smash his fist into the bastard’s nose. “That’s bad enough. How did things go south?”
“I’m not sure. Friday night, he hosted a party. I snuck into his office while he was distracted and downloaded the contents of his laptop. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. But this time, I found a file full of pictures of myself. They were surveillance photos. I don’t know who took them or why he had them. He never hinted that he knew I wasn’t who I said I was.”
Sam straightened. “Do you still have the pictures?”
“A copy of them, yes. I turned the drive over to my handler later that night. I have copies of the rest of the files I downloaded too. And I took pictures of a ledger I found in the desk. I wasn’t supposed to copy any of it and keep it, but this op was too big of a risk for me to follow the rules. I needed to be able to look through the intelligence myself in case there was something there I needed to know and everyone else neglected to share it with me.” She paused and shook her head. “Anyway, I’m not sure if what happened last night is related to those files, but it’s awful coincidental.”
“What did happen?”
“I was home, doing some digging into some of Liam’s new associates, when I heard noises outside. Theo—my handler—called shortly after that and said he’d chased someone out of the garden, but now he was being chased and needed help. I ran after him. Once I got down near the park, I had to jog on the road to get to our normal meeting spot. That’s where I got hit. Thankfully, I saw the car coming and tried to jump out of the way. It clipped my hip. I hit my head on the pavement when I fell.” She shifted in her seat, her brows turning down as a worried look settled over her face. “What’s bugging me are the shoes.”
“The shoes? Whose shoes?”
“Before I lost consciousness, I saw a man come up to me and he had on black trainers. A car coming spooked him and he ran off. I passed out after that. What’s bothering me is—and I still can’t believe it—but Theo had on the same ones Friday.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re sure?”
“Mostly?” She groaned and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I don’t know. I can’t tell you for certain if they were the same brand. My memories are too fuzzy. But something is linking the two in my head. I can’t discount the feeling. Not with my life and my investigation on the line.”
“No.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’re right to question it. It wouldn’t be the first time a handler has turned on their operative.”
She offered him a tremulous smile and squeezed his fingers before folding her hands in her lap. “Definitely not. It’s rare, though. Exceedingly. But I… I can’t get the thought out of my head. And I don’t want to be wrong and trust the wrong person. Hence why I called you.”
“Have you said anything to your unit head? Thompson, you said, right?”
“Yeah.” She snorted softly and picked up her fork, jabbing at her crepe. “She ordered me back to London. Said my cover was blown. She’s right. Someone somewhere knows who I am—or at least that I’m not entirely who I say I am. But it doesn’t make sense for her to order me back to London. Just because I can’t be in the field doesn’t mean I’m not useful to the operation here. I have a lot of insider knowledge. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be thousands of miles away on an eight-hour time difference.”
Sam agreed. Things could move quickly now, and if he were in charge, he would want immediate access to one of his most valuable resources. “What does the person running the op here think?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him. Dee sent a car to pick me up. They were supposed to take me to the airport, but I argued that I needed clothes and a shower first and had them drop me off down the Strip at the Venetian. I bought clothes in their mall—thanking my lucky stars I linked my debit card to my Apple Pay so I could not only pay but get some cash back—booked a room in the hotel, then walked across the road to the Mirage where I booked another room with cash. I showered and slept for a few hours before I texted you to tell you where I’d be. Then I left my phone in a trash can without its battery and walked here. I’m sure if Dee tries hard enough, she can track me down from all the video footage in this city, but it’ll take some time.”
“You walked here from the Mirage? After getting hit by a car?”
“It’s just a concussion and some bruises.”
“Still, Aud. Damn.” He shook his head, admiring her toughness. “Why come here, though, instead of a smaller hotel off the Strip? Aren’t you worried one of Brogan’s guys will see you?”
“Not really. I look very different right now than I typically do around them. And they stick to the restaurant they normally operate out of and some of the high-roller casinos and clubs. Down here in the bowels of the Paris? And with a hat?” She touched the brim of her weathered dark gray cap. “I’m good. Plus, it’s easier to blend in when there’s a crowd. I’d stand out too much at a small hotel. Someone might remember me there when I check in.”
Her logic made sense, but he still didn’t like her being out in public. They needed to get somewhere private. “So, what’s your plan?”
“Get out of Vegas to one of the smaller cities nearby. Regroup. Figure out who tried to kill me. I called you because I need someone I can trust. Someone outside of the op. I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you help me?” She wrapped her hand over the back of his and speared him with her dark brown eyes.
Sam’s gaze roved over her tired face, taking in the deep purple circles under her eyes and the paleness to her cheeks, even as he spoke. “Of course I will.” He didn’t need to think about it. Their relationship—and he used the word lightly—might have ended ten years ago, but it wasn’t on bad terms. Their lives just went in different directions. Memories of their time together had gotten him through some of the worst moments of his life. He was happy to repay her in any way he could.
“Finish that.” He turned his hand over, giving hers a quick squeeze, then untangled their fingers and pointed to her plate. “We should get out of the public eye. I think I have a plan.”