Page 10 of Devil of Vegas

“I got little sleep last night,” I admit as justification for the dark circles under my eyes.

“Do you ever?” she teases.

She’s not wrong—I rarely sleep. But last night was an even more extreme exception than usual. My memories disturbed me too much for me to close my eyes and rest.

“So, why did you call me here?” she asks as she hands me coffee in a disposable cup.

I wave it away and head to the fancy espresso machine on the kitchen counter. “You shouldn’t drink that crap. Roach droppings likely fill those coffee hoppers at the local cafes. I’ll make you an espresso or a latte, your choice.”

Zara laughs and sticks out her chin. “Alatte? Since when did you turn into fancy pants drinking fluffy, designer coffees? A little extra protein in my coffee won’t kill me.”

I roll my eyes and take the cup from her hand to pour it out anyway. Zara acts tough, but underneath that bravado, she’s got a soft heart.

“I called you here because I would like you to monitor myguestfor the afternoon,” I say as I make her a latte that even she can’t resist.

“Oh, I heard about her, the ballerina?”

“Yes. She’s proving to be a bit more difficult than I had intended. I thought that she’d respond to you better than she seems to get along with men.”

“Difficult in terms of being hostile or in terms of you not knowing what to do with her?” she asks, keenly observant, as always.

“Both.”

Zara takes the coffee that I hand to her and smiles after enjoying the first sip. “Sure thing. And while I’m here, I can also work on updating the camera surveillance system. It was glitching out a bit the other night. It needs a new software download.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” I nod as I reach for my jacket. “Junior is standing by the door outside. I’ll be taking care of a few things downstairs at the club. And if she tries to con you into leaving the penthouse, the answer is a very firmno.”

“So, she’s not exactly aguest,then, I’m guessing?”

“More of a mandatory stay,” I say as I walk out into the hallway.

“Morning, boss,” Junior says dutifully.

“No one goes in or out until I return,” I instruct him.

He nods in compliance as I step into the elevator. My schedule overflows with business, yet I’m headed to the casino this morning for personal reasons.

Despite the bar’s emptiness, I take a seat.

“Vincent, what brings you down so early? Bit early for a drink, isn’t it?” Gabriel says as he reaches for a glass to pour me whatever I want, regardless of the time of day.

He excels as a bartender but truly shines as a listener. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to him than my consigliere aboutsensitive things. Perhaps it’s his charm and charisma that make the words flow more freely.

“I’ll pass on the drink for now,” I say. “I’m actually looking for a verbal fix this morning.”

“You got it, boss,” he says with a chuckle. “But remember, I’m not an actual therapist. I only play one behind the bar. What’s on your mind?”

“Thepast,” I say with a heavy feeling. “I thought that maybe since you have such a pulse on the plight of the people in thiscity, you might offer some insight into how a man goes about keeping memories at bay.”

“Ah, that’s a tough one,” Gabriel says as he leans his elbow against the bar. “It’s been my experience that if certain things from the past keep popping up in your head, that means there’s a reason for it. Something unresolved usually, although I’ve never known you to leave any loose ends untied.”

“You’re right about that, I don’t.”

“Speaking of loose ends, there was someone in here asking around last night—acop,” he says in a low voice, even though we’re alone. “He was trying to go incognito, yet I easily recognized him.”

Gabriel’s explanation about a potential undercover officer in my casino is unnecessary. I’m well aware that it has something to do with Isla’s disappearance.

“After I made him, he left his card,” Gabriel says as he reaches under the bar and pulls out a small square of paper with an emblem embossed on the front of it.

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