Read Online Lucky Bastard by Deborah Coonts - Free Book Online Page A

fire me. He said I was being insubordinate.” Rachael’s eyes welled up. “Ms. O’Toole, I was just trying to do my job.”
    “I know you were.” I gave her a pat.
    “And now she’s turned up dead and all.” A tear leaked out despite her best efforts to fight it back. “I feel terrible.”
    “Dead?” I asked, feigning innocence.
    “That’s what I heard.”
    “From whom?”
    “Mr. Johnstone.”
    “When?”
    “I don’t know. The lady in the silver dress had just left and her game was winding up. It was after that that Mr. Johnstone asked for twenty minutes of personal time—I had to get the high-stakes games underway myself.”
    “I see,” I said, which was a bald-faced lie. “Was it normal for Mr. Johnstone to leave like that?”
    “No, but we all have emergencies.” Rachael wiped her hands down her pants as she regained her composure a bit. “We all cover for each other.”
    “You’re sure Mr. Johnstone didn’t notice the lady…in question…was cheating?”
    “Apparently not, and he refused to question the woman about it.” Rachael worried with the end of a strand of hair, twisting it around her finger. “I would’ve been fired if you hadn’t fired Mr. Johnstone first.”
    Her weak smile torpedoed mine, and my mood sank with it. I had a real bad feeling about this. “Did you call Security?”
    “Mr. Johnstone was livid, but yes, I called them.” Rachael nodded. “He was here in a jiffy.”
    “He?” It had been my experience that security usually came in twos.
    “Yeah, it was sorta weird, but since I’d seen the guy around, I didn’t think too much of it at the time.”
    “Much of what?”
    “Well,” the girl again tugged at a strand of blond hair. I resisted the urge to take her hand and make her stop. “Like I said, after I called, this guy shows up real fast.”
    “Can you describe him?” If she couldn’t, I’d bet all my worldly possessions that I could.
    “Yes, a tall, handsome man, green eyes, brown hair, jeans—the guy with the whole cowboy thing going on. Give me a minute, I’ll remember his name.” A slightly goofy, dreamy look flashed across her features. I’d seen that look on a woman’s face before. And I knew who put it there.
    “Dane?” I offered, knowing the answer.
    “That’s it! How’d you know?”
    “Lucky guess.” Sometimes it sucked to be right. My voice took on a murderous tone. “You said all this was weird. What exactly did you mean?”
    “I don’t need to tell you, Ms. O’Toole, that security usually comes in pairs, so it was odd he showed up alone. Then, when a security team showed up a bit later, I knew something wasn’t cricket.”
    “You turned them away?”
    “I told them what happened, but they didn’t seem alarmed so I let it go.” The girl worried with the medallion she wore around her neck, sliding it first one way then the other on the long gold chain. “Looking back, maybe I should have done something else.”
    “I don’t know what.” I resisted reaching out and grabbing her hand to stop the worried motion. The girl was as twitchy as a dog with fleas. “So, Dane shows up. What happened then?” I asked even though I knew the answer.
    “Mr. Dane and the woman left together. He said he could handle it from there.
     
    ***
     
    Dane had handled it all right. And now he was trying to handle me. Not a good idea if longevity was part of his future plans. Running on high-octane adrenaline, I covered ground through the casino in long, angry strides. I hated to be played. I hated to be lied to. Guess that made me pretty normal. Normal —what a mediocre word—and not something I especially aspired to, which somehow made me even angrier.
    But, Dane could wait.
    Right now, I needed to track down Frank DeLuca before the cops rode up on my tail.
    Grabbing my phone from its hip cradle, I pushed talk. “Jerry, you got a bead on Frank DeLuca?”
    “Gimme a sec. I caught a glimpse of him on one of the feeds not too long ago.”