Page 113 of High Roller

“I’m supposed to ask for your ID,” I say, as he’s already passing it to me.

I scrutinize it, as if I would be able to spot some sort of fake. Memphis is in his forties, and lives in an area of Las Vegas that only the richest people can afford. Owen and Matteo both have places in nearby neighborhoods.

“My wife Rylee is in the car. We were heading to a poker tournament when Victor called.”

“How… How do you know Victor?”

“Long story. We’ve done some business together.”

It’s a vague answer, but I know better than to pry into Victor’s world, so I stand and give him back his license.

“Do you have time to take me home?”

He laughs. “Victor asked me to take you with us.”

I frown. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“You can call him if you want.”

I look at my phone and realize I’ve got a text.

Victor: You’ll have to go with Memphis and his wife to the Elysium. I’ll meet you there in a few hours.

“Looks like I don’t need to. Well, let’s go, so you’re not late. How long have you been playing in tournaments?” I ask.

Memphis laughs again. “Not me. My wife is a pro on the circuit. But I’ve got business with the owner of the resort, so I’m joining her today.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Very interesting.”

When we step outside, I notice that my security guard is gone and so is the SUV. Victor must be losing his mind.

Memphis is driving an expensive BMW, and his wife is sitting up front in designer jeans and a black t-shirt. Her leg is bouncing up and down and she twirls the leg of a pair of sunglasses in her hand.

“I’m sorry to be slowing you down, I say as I slide into the car.”

She turns and smiles at me. “It’s no problem. Ignore my fidgeting. I sometimes get nervous before a tournament. I’m Rylee Colton.”

“Foster,” Memphis says with a wink.

Rylee rolls her eyes. “Foster. On the circuit I’m still Rylee Colton and as you can see, it makes my husband turn into a caveman.”

I can’t help but laugh at their energy. “I think it’s good to keep your last name. Even if it’s only in some parts of your life.”

I wonder how Victor would feel about me keeping my last name. The thought comes from out of nowhere. Victor and I aren’t even talking about marriage, and here I am having thoughts like this. He would be horrified.

I text him to say I’m in the car with Memphis and his wife, but there’s no response. Probably because he’s busy murdering an entire security team for letting me go anywhere alone. In hindsight, it was a stupid thing for me to ask of the guard. He hesitated, but not so much that it seemed like a big deal. The odds of a bad guy lying in wait at the registrar seemed slim. But that was before we knew the call was a fake.

The drive from UNLV to the Strip is quiet, and I sit in the back seat with my eyes closed while Memphis and his wife talk in hushed tones up front. As we near the chaos of the tourist infested strip, I lean forward. “Are you sure it’s OK for me to be here? I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.”

Memphis waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Grace. Victor is a good friend and I’m happy to do him a favor. He rarely asks for anything.”

I’ve never thought of Victor as having good friends outside of our High Card family. But I’m glad he does. I like Memphis, at least what little I know of him.

“You’ll have the option of hanging out at the tournament with a guard, or Victor says there’s a suite you can rest in if you like.”

The thought of being in a noisy poker tournament environment makes me tense, so I nod. “I’ll take a nap in the suite.”

“You should know there will be a bodyguard outside your door at all times.”

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