“Hit me again,” I murmur calmly, looking the blackjack dealer right in the eyes.

He looks at me with an expression of mild confusion and recognition, like he knows me from somewhere but can’t quite place me. That makes perfect sense. He does know me. Or at least he knows of me. I’ve sat at his table before here in the casino, my body glowing under the glimmering lights, distracting my dealer and competition alike with the way my slinky black dresses show off my figure.

But tonight, I’m not dressed like that. All my designer gowns and cocktail frocks are neatly packed away into my suitcase. My stilettos, too. Even my makeup is toned down tonight, just a little mascara and a smudge of coral-pink tinted lip balm. I have pulled my hair back into a tight knot at the base of my skull, most of it covered with a slouchy beanie instead of wet-set into glamorous Hollywood waves. Instead of a fancy gown, I’m just wearing a pair of comfy jeans, accompanied by a plain, fitted white t-shirt and a pair of sneakers.

Tonight, I’m not playing my usual role. I’m not shooting for glamor and allure. I’m just a lowly, regular tourist off the street, playing the five-dollar games for kicks.

The dealer says, “Yes, ma’am,” and hits me. The game starts over. I won the last round. I intend to keep winning, even though the victories are small. Inconsequential, even, compared to the millions I usually deal in. These fiver games are usually reserved for the amateurs, the first-timers, the bachelor parties who show up here with a couple hundred dollars to lose, who will inevitably be kicked out for being too rowdy before they get a chance to win back any of their losses. This is the table for people too poor or too scared to take big risks.

Usually, this is not my kind of table. I deal in the big bucks, and I never shy away from a big risk, either. It takes a lot to shake me, and a table full of senile retirees and sweaty college kids sure as hell doesn’t even make a blip on my radar. I could wipe the floor with these players if I really wanted to. But in order to keep up my charade as just a regular tourist dropping in for a casual evening of Lincoln games, I have to lose every now and again. Besides, it might be good for my karmic scoreboard to let one of these goons win once in a while.

And I’m not here to make money, anyway. I’m not here to scam a bunch of losers or flirt with wealthy men or intimidate the competition. I’m here on a mission. I’m here to watch.

After rescuing Vanessa from that hellhole of a gas station bathroom and sending her on her way to freedom, I realized that I don’t want to try and outrun my demons like that. Vanessa is different. She’s a sweetheart, and she’s brilliant at card-counting, but she’s not like me. She’s not as resilient. She aims to please. She just wants to live a soft, quiet, simple life in the safety of another city. Vanessa will have to change her name, take on a totally new identity. That’s difficult to do, but I have no doubt that she’ll be able to handle it. Especially with the massive financial boost I gave her to get started in her new life. All evening, as I sit here at the blackjack table, I have to remind and reassure myself that I did the right thing by sending Vanessa packing. What else could I have done for her? Clearly it isn’t safe here in Vegas anymore. Carl won’t protect us. He can’t. And he’s the one trying to use us as a human shield in the first place: our bodies, our spirits in exchange for his freedom. His debts, mine to repay.

But I’m not going down without a fight. That’s why I’ve come back here. I may be in a sort of disguise, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve essentially just walked right back into the viper’s den. I used to be a predator in this environment, stalking through the casino looking for an easy win, a weak competitor to bring to his knees. Tonight, though, I come here as prey. I know this casino is crawling with mafia guys, enforcers who will do anything to stay on their boss’s good side. And by now, I’m certain they must have discovered that Vanessa is missing. That’s bound to piss off the mafia boss, losing one half of his debt repayment.

I’m the other half, hiding in plain sight. I’m doing my very own reconnaissance mission, even though it means I have to sneak around right under the mafia’s collective nose. But if there’s one thing my years in this industry has taught me, it’s the value of knowing thy enemy. And my enemy just happens to be here in this casino somewhere, skulking through the shadows, brimming on the edge of a crowd, eyes peeled for the likes of Vanessa or me.

Even as I sit here playing the game as though I haven’t got a care in the world, I’m actually on edge. I don’t normally wear shades when I play poker or blackjack, as I consider my eyes part of the alluring package. They’re just another asset with which to entrance and confuse my competitors. But this time, I’ve got my gigantic shades on to hide where I’m looking. Behind the oversized tinted lenses, my eyes dart around, gathering information, watching out for anyone suspicious.

It’s nearly midnight now. I’ve had one hell of a long damn day, but I’m not even tired. All I feel is this electrical current radiating through my body, keeping me on edge, keeping my eye on the enemy, wherever he might be hiding. I know they’re waiting for me. I’m sure Carl has told them all about me. Hell, that bastard probably gave them my damn measurements or something like I’m a prized farm animal at a county fair. I was smart to wear a disguise tonight. Carl will have told the guys how I normally dress. They’re looking for a movie star, but tonight I’m just any other tourist from out of town.

Some people might say I’m crazy for ever coming back here in the first place. This casino is the most dangerous location on the planet for me right now, and yet, here the hell I am. I know how much is at risk if I stay here. I know what’s on the line. What these assholes put Vanessa through was a crime. That poor girl will probably spend the rest of her life trying to recover from it. I can only hope that one day she’ll land herself one truly phenomenal and non-judgmental therapist to help her work it all out.

As for me?

I would rather saunter right up to the beast and fight it with my own fists than run away. It’s totally against my character. I considered taking off for a brief moment. Who in my position wouldn’t at least give it some thought? But I realized that I would rather die fighting than spend the rest of my life looking back in fear.

Besides, there’s another reason I couldn’t get myself to leave town: Dominick.

I want to see him again. Are my priorities a little askew? Maybe. But then, I’ve never lived a normal life. I’ve never obeyed the rules before. So why now? I like Dominick. My body loves Dominick. And even if he’s involved with the mafia, I know there’s more to him than that. I could see it in his eyes when we were together. I could feel it in the way he touched me.

He could’ve turned me in to his bosses when he had the chance. I was literally right within his grasp at Carl’s hideout house. And yet, he let me go free. That tells me something: that he’s not as loyal to the mafia as they probably think he is. In turn, that means he might just prove useful to me. Instrumental in taking down the assholes who hurt my friend and who are scheming to hurt me, too. I am not a prized cow. I’m a damn woman, and I’m taking fate into my own perfectly manicured hands.

I win the game in front of me and the other players all groan with annoyance. I give them a little smile and decide to take pity on them. I excuse myself from the table, collecting my meager winnings as I leave. I’m on my way to a low-level poker game when my eyes lock onto something that jolts me from my head to my toes.

A familiar pair of intense, brooding eyes meeting my gaze from across the room. It’s Dominick, dressed to the nines, but clearly working security. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out. When I first met him, I assumed he was some wealthy, bored playboy by the way he was dressed. I see now that’s part of his ruse. Well played, I think to myself as I give him a wry, meaningful smirk. We found each other. Perfect.

I casually head toward the bar, walking slowly and pretending to text on my phone as an excuse to keep my head down. But before I can reach the bar counter, a large hand lands on my arm. I follow up the swell of his forearm, his biceps, his shoulder, up to look him in the face. Again, I am struck by how startlingly good-looking he is. Cheekbones hewn from pure marble, a jawline so powerful I could imagine sitting on it like a throne fit for a princess. There’s an urgency in his eyes. A burning fire.

I wonder if it’s burning for me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses, leaning in close so that his hot breath tickles my ear. A delicious shiver runs down my spine, and I can feel his heat radiating off of his chiseled body so close to mine.

“Observing the enemy,” I answer plainly in a whisper.

“Are you out of your mind? They’re looking for you, Hadley. You can’t be here right now. It’s too dangerous,” Dom insists.

“Well, you’re one of them,” I remind him with an air of defiance. “Are you going to turn me over to your bosses? Are you here to take me, Dom?”

He stares at me hard, a conflict waging in his eyes. I see that muscle twitching in his jaw. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t answer me. I roll my eyes and scoff, turning to walk away. But he catches me again with his hand on my arm, only this time his fingers close around my delicate wrist and I look back at him with a flash of indignant fury.

“Let me go,” I growl between gritted teeth. But at the very same second, I notice what looks like several drops of bright red blood staining the starchy white cuff of his sleeve. I look up at him with worry, my fierce mask slipping away for a moment as genuine concern for him seeps through. I can’t help it. I don’t want him hurt.

But he’s still on the enemy side. For all I know, he got that stain from carrying out mafia business. And when I happen to see two thick, beady-eyed enforcer types look our way from across the crowded casino, my heart sinks down to my stomach. I know I have to get out of here.

Now.

“Shit,” I whisper, my eyes going wide. “They’ve seen us. Thanks a lot, Dom. Now, let me go so I can make a run for it.”

I try to jerk my arm away, but when Dominick looks back to see the same enforcers I saw, he turns back to me with a conspiratorial look on his face. “Yes. You’re right. You need to get the hell out of here. But without my help, you won’t even make it out of the building. Follow me,” he insists, starting to pull at my arm.

I hold back for a moment, narrowing my eyes and sizing him up.

“Come on, Hadley,” he growls, those gorgeous eyes full of worry.

I bite my lip, feeling like either option is a trap.

Can I trust him, even though he’s behind enemy lines?