Page 15 of Broken Saint

Fuck.

Due to the complex gaming laws in Nevada and the security leeway casinos were given in their personal policing efforts, any and all local law enforcement officers were expected to check in with casino security upon entering the premises. Off or on duty, didn't matter if they were carrying.

Of course, I had not because I didn't want every move I made in his hotel to be watched. Especially tonight.

Since he didn’t, technically, ask me a question, I felt no compulsion to give him a response. I did, however, take offense to being summoned in here like one of his flunkies.

"Do you have anything important to say or is this some sort of circle-jerk bullshit? You do realize I have more important things to do, right?"

Gabe Michaels’ demeanor changed instantly and I found it rather enjoyable to watch. I'd experienced his temper before, and as it had been then, I found it rather telling. He would go to any lengths to protect the people he cared for despite their obvious connections to criminal activity. Which made me suspicious. What kind of man gathered this many connected people without being involved himself?

The last time he'd turned his anger on me, it had been about Vincent, his close friend and occasional sparring partner in the hotel gymnasium, who I'd suspected as the original smuggler of the blood diamonds I was searching for. His private plane, trips out of the country, and his connection to the Rossi family had made him an obvious choice.

I’d been right about the plane, but Vincent’s involvement had not been proven.

That suspicion had eventually taken a different direction, when mobsters Romeo Rossi and Anthony Cullotta got in bed together and involved in my case. That investigation continued, and whether Michaels realized it or not—and I wasn't yet convinced either way—his hotel seemed to be a hotbed for all the players involved. My thief may not be on-site, but they were connected.

I don't know what he expected from me, but I supposed my attitude wasn't it. I was on more of a hair trigger than I wanted to admit.

The situation with Nova had taken a decidedly chilly turn tonight, which was a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from our session. I'd slept longer than I'd intended, and when I woke to find her sketching in a notebook with an angry look on her face, I didn't know why.

I'd considered asking, but a text from my boss had left me no choice but to leave. Now, this fucker was wasting my time, and I could feel my threads of civility unraveling as the seconds ticked by.

"I'm thinking that your visits to The Sinclair should be curtailed to business only, and since there is no FBI related business going on here, then there should be no reason for you to be exiting one of my employee's suites in the middle of the night,”—he glanced at his watch—“or in the early hours of the morning, if you prefer to get technical."

The smiles and smirks were gone. He'd taken my not-so-subtle hint and gotten down to business.

Good.

"Considering The Sinclair has recently turned into a hotbed for known and suspected criminals, I would expect you to be grateful for our presence."

While Michaels did a decent enough job of keeping a stoic facade stamped across his face, I saw beyond it. A man could hide a lot, but not many could disguise the storm brewing in their eyes, and he was no exception.

I'd hit a nerve.

"Nova is—"

Mine.

"A grown woman, capable of making her own decisions." And someone he had no intention of talking about with anyone. "If she and I develop a friendship, it will be no one's business but our own. And, considering the company you keep these days, I would think you would have more important things to do than stalk an employee and her guests during her off hours."

I stood, no longer interested in playing this game.

Gabe wasn't her father, and I didn't need to be warned off.

"I get that you want to be protective, and under different circumstances, I could appreciate that. However, you and I are not friends, colleagues, or anything else. Never suggest I come here like this again for something so trivial."

"You fucking her is not trivial."

The quiet, dark edge of Gabe's voice drew me up in surprise. He'd definitely crossed a line.

"You should watch what you say to me." I kept my voice even and low. The anger, however, bled through my facade.

Gabe stood, placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "Are you threatening me, Agent Reed?"

If he thought I was going to take that question seriously and give him a verbal answer he was mistaken. He could take my words however the hell he wanted as long as he got the message I needed him to.

"Nova is none of your business."

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