Page 40 of Secrets in the Dark

Roman didn't flinch, his aim remaining steady. The transformation was startling—the charming poker dealer had vanished, replaced by someone accustomed to life-or-death confrontations. Someone trained. Someone dangerous.

"Last chance," Roman said, his voice cold and certain. "Release her, or the next thing you feel will be a bullet."

Tommy's laugh was brittle. "You won't risk hitting her. Not at this distance, not with this knife at her throat."

"True," Roman acknowledged, stepping forward. "But I don't need to shoot you to stop you."

He moved with lightning speed, closing the gap between us before Tommy could react. What happened next was a blur of violence—Roman's hand knocking Tommy's knife arm away from my throat, his body twisting to break Tommy's grip on me, the gun pressing against Tommy's temple.

"On your knees," Roman ordered. "Hands behind your head."

Tommy hesitated, calculation flickering across his features. For a terrible moment, I thought he might launch himself at Roman, forcing a deadly response.

Instead, a slow smile spread across his face.

"Detective Kane," he said, recognition dawning. "So that's why you've been watching our table games so carefully. The famous undercover man finally reveals himself."

Roman's expression betrayed nothing, but the gun never wavered. "Knees. Now."

With exaggerated care, Tommy sank to the catwalk, hands rising behind his head. "You're too late, you know. The transfer is already happening. By the time your team mobilizes, the merchandise will be gone."

"What merchandise?" I asked, hand pressed to the shallow cut on my neck, feeling the warm stickiness of blood between my fingers.

Tommy's gaze shifted to me, amusement replacing rage. "You really don't know, do you? Your boyfriend isn't just any cop. He's been hunting my family for years. Tell her, Detective. Tell her how you used her as bait while the real action happened upstairs."

Roman's jaw tightened. "On your stomach, hands behind your back."

Tommy complied, still smiling. "The famous Roman Kane. Your reputation precedes you. Vincent said you'd be trouble if you ever showed up in Vegas. Seems he was right."

Detective? Roman was a detective? The revelation hit me like a physical blow. The charming poker dealer with the too-observant eyes, the man who'd helped me plan our trap—he'd been law enforcement all along. While I'd been hiding as Nova, he'd been hiding something far more significant.

I opened my mouth to demand answers, but movement behind Tommy caught my attention. A shadow detached itself from the darkness of the service corridor.

"Roman!" I shouted. "Behind you!"

He spun, weapon raised, as Enzo Grimaldi emerged onto the catwalk, his own gun trained on Roman's back.

"Lower your weapon, Detective," Enzo ordered, his Italian accent thickening with tension. "Or I drop you where you stand."

Roman didn't move, gun still aimed at Tommy. We stood frozen in a lethal tableau—Roman covering Tommy, Enzo aiming at Roman, me caught in the middle with no weapon and no good options.

I stood paralyzed, blood sticky on my neck, watching the man who'd promised protection now threaten to kill the only person standing between me and a blade.

"You're too late," Enzo continued, advancing slowly. "The exchange is complete. Evidence secured and transported offsite. You've lost."

"Have I?" Roman's mouth curved in a cryptic smile. "Queen of Hearts folds."

The strange phrase hung in the air for a heartbeat, seemingly meaningless.

Then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Ten

Roman

Time compressed to a single, critical moment—Enzo's gun trained on my back, my weapon aimed at Tommy, and Celia caught between us with fear and confusion warring in her eyes.

The code phrase I'd just uttered—"Queen of Hearts folds"—would trigger our tactical team, but it would take at least ninety seconds for them to reach this position. Ninety seconds with Enzo's finger on the trigger.

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