Page 19 of Guarding her Gangster Girl

She’s not going to back down. And I’d be wasting my breath to argue any further. “Alright, alright. Don’t get hysterical.”

I stifle a grin as she huffs in irritation, and fall in behind her as she heads for the door.

CHAPTER 10

Nik

I shadowBrie through the casino as she walks the floor, constantly scanning for threats, and listen carefully as Brie explains the place. The no-natural-light policy, combined with the labyrinthine setup designed to pull people in and keep them there, really does mess with the head.

“This is the main floor,” Brie says to me, her voice carrying over the din. “We have the high roller rooms through there, invitation-only—where dreams can be made and broken in a few hours.”

She points, and I take in the layout and try to figure out a mental floorplan. We weave through the sea of people, Brie nodding to regulars and greeting staff. I gauge each interaction, cataloging potential risks and allies.

I might be Consortium, as Holden Brooks so sneeringly pointed out, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do my job right.

“Phil,” Brie calls out to a tall man in a well-cut suit. “A moment of your time?”

The man approaches, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he takes me in. “Mrs. Colombo! I thought you’d be…”

“Mourning?” she asks, and there’s that twang of irony again, the one that makes me wonder just what is going on behind that mask she likes to wear. “I’m not a brooder, Phil. The funeral went off very well, I thought. Thank you for your help.”

He gives a cautious smile of acknowledgment. “Will you be dining in the restaurant later?”

“I’ll see how I feel. Phil, this is Nik Kusek, my new bodyguard. Nik, Phil Reynolds manages operations at the Golden Sands. The place wouldn’t run without him.”

He’s gaping at me, even as I shake his hand. “Pleasure,” I say.

“Bodyguard?” is his response.

“Frank thought it would be wise,” Brie says vaguely.

“But I thought—” He breaks off, giving a silly little laugh. “I’m sorry, I thought that—Ms. Kusek, was it?—I thought that Ms. Kusek worked for…” Brie doesn’t fill him in, and neither do I, both of us letting the moment stretch until Reynolds’ instincts as a host take over. “I hope you’ll enjoy your time at the Golden Sands, Ms. Kusek,” he says desperately.

I just nod.

We move away and Brie continues the tour, introducing me to various staff members. We reach a locked door, and Brie swipes her keycard again. “This is where the eyes gather,” she says, ushering me through a long corridor and into a high-tech security room. Screens line the walls, displaying feeds from hundreds of cameras to a team of security officers watching over the casino.

As we make our way back to the main floor, my curiosity overcomes me. “Have you seen the security footage from…well, from the night your husband was killed?”

“No. Because therewasno security footage. Terry allowed no cameras inside any of his offices. Said privacy was crucial for business.”

“But the outside?” I ask. “Footage from the corridors leading up to his rooms? Someone hanging around?—”

“No,” she says abruptly, then changes the subject. “Hungry?”

Time seems to have lost all meaning here, and when I check my phone, it’s much later than I realized. All that Italian funeral food was a while ago. “I could eat.”

“Perfect,” Brie says, leading me toward a secluded corner of the casino, through another door markedStaff Only. “But first, I need to change. Can’t have dinner without a show, right?”

“Hold up,” I say sharply, as she keycards open a door marked PRIVATE. “What’s in there?”

“All my secrets,” she says sarcastically, but she allows me to go in before her and scan the room for threats.

No threats. Just a dressing room: two rolling rails of clothes covered in plastic from the cleaners, and a brightly-lit makeup station to the side. I stand guard outside, and when Brie emerges again, my mouth drops open. Literally. That luscious body is draped in a form-fitting gold dress that hugs her tight in all the right places, with a long slit up the left leg, and neckline low enough to draw my eyes despite my best efforts to remain professional.

“That’s not exactly widow’s weeds,” I manage to say, voice rougher than I meant it to be.

Brie’s laugh is sharp, tinged with something that might be bitterness. “The staff and our guests all need to see that nothing has changed. I’m a mascot for the Golden Sands, and I’m willing to play my part. Now heel, puppy.”

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