She slipped her feet out of the heels and almost whimpered in relief when the thick rug cushioned her toes. She wasn’t sure she believed Dex’s threat. He’d always been something of a bully—a fact she’d put down to him being the youngest brother. Sibling rivalry rolled downhill. Alexander—Lex, her oldest brother—had always been aloof. He’d been thirteen when she was born, and they had nothing in common. By the time she’d turned five, he was already traveling with Max. Ajax, two years younger than Lex, was the next oldest. Tall, handsome and gregarious, Jax was a charmer. He’d always attracted the opposite sex. He and Braxton were what were sometimes referred to as Catholic twins—barely nine months apart. Brax was the scholar, always reading and studying. Wickedly intelligent, he had an innate ability to plan. Then there was Dex. He’d been five when Roxie came along, and he’d pretty much hated her from the beginning.
Roxie jerked her thoughts away from her family and concentrated on how she could get out of this mess. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Dex would carry through with his threat and not only set her up but make sure she took the fall. She knew that from experience. At the moment, she had no choice but to follow orders until she could figure out their endgame and how to avoid involvement.
“Get your shoes on, girl.”
Startled, she retreated deeper into the corner and squinted at Lex. At 35, he was debonair and aloof, and he scared her just a little. Okay, if she was honest, a lot. He might have been absent—like Max—for most of her childhood, but when he was around, he was as much a father figure as Max had been.
“I don’t want to do this, Lex. Whatever this is.” She made air quotes for emphasis.
“Don’t care what you want, Roxanne. You’re doing it. Get your shoes on and get out there. You make that smart mouth of yours pouty, bat your lashes and get the mark up to his room.”
“Or else? Dex already threatened me with that. I’m not impressed.”
He slid his big hand around her throat, and she gulped but raised her chin. “Not telling you again. Get to work.” Squeezing his fingers for good measure, he didn’t let her go until she had both shoes on her feet and was wobbling into the throng of vacationers.
She was terrified of falling flat on her face, arms and legs akimbo, her tush displayed in the air and her thong hiding nothing from the crowd of onlookers. “Slow down,” she hissed over her shoulder at Lex. He didn’t, the hand at the small of her back pushing her harder. “If I fall off these darn shoes and break my ankle, the great con will be a bust.”
* * *
Cash rubbed his eyes, a dull headache caused by staring at the bank of security monitors throbbing at the base of his skull. Tucker handed him a cup of coffee and a bottle of painkillers. He tossed back a couple of the pills and chased them with the hot black liquid.
“When did you tumble onto their presence?” Cash didn’t take his eyes from the live footage.
“Yesterday when they checked in. That new facial recognition software you had installed works like a charm. I have footage if you want to see.” Tucker watched the monitors, too.
“Just give me the rundown.”
“Max arrived first. Had reservations for a mini-suite under the name Grant Franklin.”
Cash scrubbed at his forehead with the heel of one hand. “And his sons?”
“Alexander and Ajax checked in together. Another mini-suite. Hamilton and Jackson Grant.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” Tuck’s voice hardened.
“Great. Go on.”
“Braxton checked in about an hour later. Lincoln Washington. And then Dexter checked in this afternoon. Reservations were for Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Cleveland.”
Cash sat up straight, whipping around to stare at the other man. “Hamilton, Jackson, Grant, Lincoln, Washington, Franklin and Cleveland. Now they’re just rubbing our noses in it.” His cousin looked confused so he laid it out. “Those are presidential last names. All of them. Except Franklin. But ol’ Ben’s still on the hundred-dollar bill.”
“It’s all about the money.”
“Yeah. Wait. Dexter brought a woman?” Cash pushed out of the chair. “Do you have a picture of her?”
“No. He checked in alone, was up in his room for about forty-five minutes and then left in a cab he caught at the front entrance. He hasn’t been back since.”
“You sure of that?” Cash walked to a monitor and tapped it. “That’s Dexter at the roulette table.”
“How the hell—”
Bridger walked up to them and cut his brother off. “We have a gap in the security surveillance somewhere. We’ll find it, Tuck. Sorry I’m late for the party, Cash. I was double-checking footage.”
“I want eyes on all of the Rowlands. Max is at the high-stakes blackjack table. Alex walked out about five minutes ago, after Dexter tossed him a high sign. Ajax and Braxton are roaming around on the slot machine floor.” Cash returned to his chair and swiveled it around. “I want our guys on them, Bridger.” He held up a hand to stop Tucker’s rebuttal. “Your security is good. Heck, we hired and trained them, but they look like casino security. My guys won’t.”
Bridger offered a feral grin to Tucker. “Little brother, you pick my guys out, I’ll buy you the biggest steak they have at the Barron House.”
The radio at Cash’s elbow hissed. “I have target two in sight. He’s with a woman. Redhead. Black dress. Lobby entrance.”
Cash’s eyes swept the bank of monitors until he picked out Alex Rowland. His eyes locked on the woman preceding the thief. She was tall but not slender. No, she definitely had curves in all the places a woman should, but she still looked sleek in the short cocktail dress. Her auburn hair was a mass of wavy curls, but he couldn’t tell the color of her eyes through the grainy camera lens. He stared at her, a memory swimming in the back of his mind. He knew her from somewhere.
Alex peeled away and Braxton took his place, herding the woman toward the table where Max sat, relaxed and cheerful. She stumbled and Cash found himself reaching forward as if to catch her. Braxton made no move to assist, and it was a stranger who offered a steadying hand. He managed to read her lips, the words and expression easy to translate. “Pardon me. I’m so sorry,” she mouthed before Braxton swept her along in front of him.
“Bridge, pull in some markers. Find out when the Rowlands added a woman to their crew. I want to know who she is.”
“On it.”
Cash continued to study the woman. She looked...uncomfortable. Unsure. If it was an act, it was a good one. She ended up squeezed between Max and the man next to him at the table, all but sprawled in the man’s lap. Something hot and angry lanced through him. Keying the camera on her face, he could see that she looked young and scared despite the getup. That didn’t fit the Rowlands’ MO at all. That odd sense of recognition continued to niggle at him and he sorted through memories of all the women he knew. He’d figure it out sooner or later.
He’d been so intent on the woman—girl—he’d lost track of the other Rowlands. “Where’s Alex? And where did Ajax and Dexter disappear to?”
Various scenes flickered on the monitors mounted to the wall in front of him and a lot of cuss words filtered into muttered conversations as Chase’s security staff combed the screens for a sighting. Something popped, and then there was a hum like a generator winding down. Moments later, lights dimmed, monitors died and the room was plunged into darkness.
Cash was out of his chair and headed toward the door as backup lighting kicked in. He tapped the emergency code into the keypad and had