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Authors: Jackie Ivie
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his alternate reality, he got to win. Every time.
He’d also picked up a trio of blond women, one on his right, two on the other side. All lightly-tanned, wearing sleeveless sheaths that barely covered their assets, thin stilettos that made them look like whooping cranes, and teeth so white they blinded one. They were only the nearest in this crowd. There was more than one brunette trying to catch his attention behind him, too. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a redhead or two, as well. Women. Stuart Findlay was surrounded by gorgeous women. None of his associates would believe it. He was having the same issue. He also had two large-muscled casino employees watching him from behind the dealer. They’d been there since he’d changed to ten thousand dollar chips.
He wished them luck of watching. He wasn’t cheating. Not exactly. Because it couldn’t be his fault they used see-through cards.
“Ten of hearts. Six of spades.”
He had sixteen while the dealer had twenty. One face card up. Stuart pondered it while toying with his ninety-thousand dollar bet, stacking and re-stacking the chips, and listening to the clacking sound of them while the whispering behind him grew. It was all for show. The next card was the five of diamonds. He was making a fortune. Not that he needed another one, but the vampire assassin chick had asked him to be a diversion toward midnight, and he was certainly doing his part.
Stuart scraped the felt with his card showing he wanted another one.
“Are you certain, Monsieur Ebonovski?”
She said it with such a cute French accent, while fluttering her eyelashes at him, it was almost enough to divert him. It’s obvious that was their plan. That’s why he had the prettiest dealer, was alone at the table, and constantly plied with the worst-tasting Scotch he’d ever tasted. It was even worse than the piss-water Brown Lemon’s pub served. That was being generous. It was so bad, Stuart had taken one sip and spat it right back into the cut crystal tumbler.
Odd…that a casino of this quality, possessing five-star hotel suites, would serve sewer water and call it Scotch.
“
Oui. S’il vous plait?”
His continental charm seemed to be increasing with his newfound ability to speak French without much of an accent. His sex appeal was increasing, as well. Or it was the amount of chips he’d won, and the denomination of them. He wouldn’t think that way. The women hovered about him because he was a sexy man. It wasn’t the money.
Yeah right, Stuart.
The croupier turned over the five, the sounds of a group gasp went up, and then all hell broke loose. Sirens went off throughout the room, ripping through the air with sonic thrust. Stuart clapped his hands to his ears as the screaming all about him started making sense.
“Fire!”
Stuart shoved the stack of chips at the blondes, flicked a few toward the dealer and was on his feet, vaulting the table and past the crowd before anyone took another breath. He’d worry over that display of athleticism later. Right now, having the speed of a ninja, along with the agility of one, seemed a very good thing. It would help him find that vampire chick. Damn her insistence that she didn’t need him with her.
If she disappeared, what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know her name, he only knew her chauffeur by a first name. Aside from which, Vaughn used Stuart mainly as a form of entertainment. The man would be no help for a Chicagoan stranded in Monte Carlo under a fictitious name, possessing no other ID, and only the chips in his pockets to sustain him. Of course, they were all ten grand chips. Or more. He remembered stuffing higher denomination ones in there, too.
His shrink had been right. He was too self-absorbed. And he couldn’t see Mary Sue anywhere. It was getting smokier. Darker, too. And too many in the crowd decided screaming was an appropriate reaction to a disaster. Stuart stood atop a roulette table, his eyes narrowed and his
He’d also picked up a trio of blond women, one on his right, two on the other side. All lightly-tanned, wearing sleeveless sheaths that barely covered their assets, thin stilettos that made them look like whooping cranes, and teeth so white they blinded one. They were only the nearest in this crowd. There was more than one brunette trying to catch his attention behind him, too. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a redhead or two, as well. Women. Stuart Findlay was surrounded by gorgeous women. None of his associates would believe it. He was having the same issue. He also had two large-muscled casino employees watching him from behind the dealer. They’d been there since he’d changed to ten thousand dollar chips.
He wished them luck of watching. He wasn’t cheating. Not exactly. Because it couldn’t be his fault they used see-through cards.
“Ten of hearts. Six of spades.”
He had sixteen while the dealer had twenty. One face card up. Stuart pondered it while toying with his ninety-thousand dollar bet, stacking and re-stacking the chips, and listening to the clacking sound of them while the whispering behind him grew. It was all for show. The next card was the five of diamonds. He was making a fortune. Not that he needed another one, but the vampire assassin chick had asked him to be a diversion toward midnight, and he was certainly doing his part.
Stuart scraped the felt with his card showing he wanted another one.
“Are you certain, Monsieur Ebonovski?”
She said it with such a cute French accent, while fluttering her eyelashes at him, it was almost enough to divert him. It’s obvious that was their plan. That’s why he had the prettiest dealer, was alone at the table, and constantly plied with the worst-tasting Scotch he’d ever tasted. It was even worse than the piss-water Brown Lemon’s pub served. That was being generous. It was so bad, Stuart had taken one sip and spat it right back into the cut crystal tumbler.
Odd…that a casino of this quality, possessing five-star hotel suites, would serve sewer water and call it Scotch.
“
Oui. S’il vous plait?”
His continental charm seemed to be increasing with his newfound ability to speak French without much of an accent. His sex appeal was increasing, as well. Or it was the amount of chips he’d won, and the denomination of them. He wouldn’t think that way. The women hovered about him because he was a sexy man. It wasn’t the money.
Yeah right, Stuart.
The croupier turned over the five, the sounds of a group gasp went up, and then all hell broke loose. Sirens went off throughout the room, ripping through the air with sonic thrust. Stuart clapped his hands to his ears as the screaming all about him started making sense.
“Fire!”
Stuart shoved the stack of chips at the blondes, flicked a few toward the dealer and was on his feet, vaulting the table and past the crowd before anyone took another breath. He’d worry over that display of athleticism later. Right now, having the speed of a ninja, along with the agility of one, seemed a very good thing. It would help him find that vampire chick. Damn her insistence that she didn’t need him with her.
If she disappeared, what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know her name, he only knew her chauffeur by a first name. Aside from which, Vaughn used Stuart mainly as a form of entertainment. The man would be no help for a Chicagoan stranded in Monte Carlo under a fictitious name, possessing no other ID, and only the chips in his pockets to sustain him. Of course, they were all ten grand chips. Or more. He remembered stuffing higher denomination ones in there, too.
His shrink had been right. He was too self-absorbed. And he couldn’t see Mary Sue anywhere. It was getting smokier. Darker, too. And too many in the crowd decided screaming was an appropriate reaction to a disaster. Stuart stood atop a roulette table, his eyes narrowed and his
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