A certainty rushed through Matteo, and he knew the answer before his friend replied.

“Paresh.” Omar smiled, unaware just how bad this was for his son.

But for Matteo’s investigation, it was a blessing. The venue just became very clear, and halted their search. His gaze shifted to the convention flyer on the community board on the wall where his father happily allowed businesses to post upcoming events.

Then his insides stilled again. Is that what had happened that morning his father had been attacked? Had Paresh and his friends been hanging up the flyer and said something his father had overheard?

Made too much sense to Matteo for it not to be true.

Anger resurfaced, shaking through his hands. Hopefully his father would soon regain his speech ability. According to Knight, the doctors were close, and running tests on their concoction to work out possible side effects. It’d been a long month since his father’s stroke/attack, but he was relieved to have him as far away from Atlantic City as possible at the moment.

Now, if only he could convince Bella to leave until after the New Year. A small smile tugged his lips. Like that would ever happen.

After Matteo shoved the pie in the oven, he headed to the office in back to make a few calls. First one was to Commander Lambert. Shutting the office door with his foot, he pulled out his phone, and dialed the man.

“Reaper,” Lambert answered on the first ring. “Tell me you have something.”

“I do, sir,” he replied, and damn, it fucking rocked to have a solid lead. “The target is a convention being held at the Capris this coming Saturday.”

“Scale of one to ten, how positive are you?”

“Ten, sir.” No way was it a coincidence that Paresh just happened to land a job at one of the venues on their watch list. And with the help of his new friends.

“I understand you already have eyes on that place.”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded as if the man could see. Rolling his eyes at himself, he reached into the candy dish on the desk and grabbed a piece of taffy. “A…friend of mine works there. I’ll see if I can get a tour of the rooms involved.”

Matteo wasn’t certain Bella had that kind of access, but this was Bella. Tugging the wrapper off the taffy he grinned. She didn’t exactly always ask permission anyway.

The woman was impetuous and spontaneous, two traits that could be trouble, but she wore them well.

“Roger that,” Lambert replied. “Since the event is only a few days away, Rasheed must be on his way, if not already there.”

Twirling the candy in his fingers, he grimaced. The heat from his body warmed up the confection, making it sticky. But was that the reason for his sour expression? No. That was directed at himself and his inability to track down one damn man. “Agreed.”

“Find him before Saturday.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied—to a dead call.

The commander had already hung up.

That went well.

Fuck. He popped the softened taffy in his mouth, needing the sweet treat to fight the sour taste the phone call left in his mouth. Spouting several silent curses—aimed at himself—he wiped his fingers on a leftover napkin from his lunch yesterday, tossed it, and his self-disparagement away, and got back to business.

He cleared his throat and dialed Knight.

“I heard. It’s the Grinch Convention,” the commander stated in greeting.

How the hell…?

Matteo shook his head and a small laugh rumbled in his throat. It was Jameson Knight. The man had connections even God didn’t know about.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Omar just told me Paresh is working it. He could be our in if we need it.”

“Agreed. We’re switching our sole focus on the Capris as the venue now. And of course, we’ll keep eyes on Simpson and the two sympathizers across the street here.”

“Any word about those Russians?”

“Working on it.”

Was it his imagination, or had there been a slight pause?

Again, he shook his head. Probably the former. “I’m heading over to the Capris now.”

“Good,” Knight said, a measure of relief in his tone that did the exact opposite to Matteo’s nerves.

“Why? What’s wrong? Is Bella okay?” She still had another half hour on her shift at the Capris.

“Nothing.” Knight’s chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Calm down, Romeo. She’s fine. I was just referring to the fact we need to dig deeper now that we know the venue, and your going there now is good. You and Bella can snoop around.”

Matteo let out a breath. “Roger that. Out.”

***

The instant Bella walked into the Capris that morning, she knew today was going to be the day. An unease, like a thick, soaking wet, wool blanket, settled over her shoulders and chest. No sooner had Knight sent her a text about Paresh working the Grinch Convention, then he walked in.

Robert Johnson. A.K.A…Rasheed Al-Zahawi. Her mark.

Also fucking known as—her father’s killer.

Bastard wore a smug grin as he walked right through the center of the casino and sat down at the next table. Bella wasn’t sure if he knew who she was and he was being cocky, or if he was just that unlucky to pick her casino and the table next to hers.

Because he was definitely going to draw his last card today.

And his last breath.

With her backpack shoved in an employee locker, she was only armed with the Sig in her ankle holster, and the knife strapped to the other ankle. But, unlike Rasheed, she would never pick such a busy, public location to engage the asshole.

Her mind whirled with scenarios, and played them in her head, most coming to the same deadly outcome. Too many dead civilians.

Dammit.

She was not going to allow that man to leave her sight.

It wasn’t his style to surround himself with a ton of bodyguards. Just a mystery partner. He usually eliminated the need for bodyguards by wrapping an explosive vest around his middle and covering it up under an expensive suit.

Like the one he was currently wearing.

Shit.

There was a holiday promotion going on, so the place was unusually packed for that time of the day. She glanced around the immediate area, and took in a quick head count. Damn. Easily in the triple digits, and that was just near the tables. The slot floor was much more crowded.

She delivered payouts, then dealt out another hand, grateful she didn’t have any new players, or any cashing out. This gave her time to continue to observe him.

The suit was just bulky enough to set her hackles up. It was his M.O. to open it if confronted. She’d read the police report. That was exactly what had happened when her father and his partner had cornered the bastard in an alley two blocks from Times Square on that fateful New Year’s Eve. They’d caught up with him after the police and Homeland had stopped the main plot that was supposed to involve massive explosives detonating when the ball dropped.

Rasheed had taken flight, but her father and his partner had chased him, unaware of the vest, until the bastard had opened his suit, threatening to press the switch on the detonator in his hand if they didn’t lower their weapons.

They hadn’t.

But Rasheed had a silent partner no one knew about—and a gun in his pocket—which he used to shoot her dad, who had been under fire from the mystery partner. The police shot and killed the partner, so Rasheed had held up his detonator, threatening to take everyone out, but the idiot had made the mistake of thinking her father dead. Not yet. He’d still had enough life in him to shoot Rasheed’s hand clean off.

The police had subdued him after that, removed the vest and tossed his ass in jail. But the sneaky bastard had faithful followers, and eventually during the long trial, they made their move and busted him free—killing several law enforcement officers and nearby civilians in the process.

Bella dropped her gaze to the arm he had in a sling, no doubt for show. Alarm trickled down her spine at the thought of what he was hiding inside. She was pulling triple duty, watching the terrorist while dealing cards at her table, and surveying the area for signs of his latest silent partner.

It was against the rules to use her phone while dealing, so texting anyone was out of the question, but she didn’t give a shit. And would’ve gladly texted Knight or Brooke or Matteo for backup, truly not caring who killed the bastard, but it was because of that very bastard she didn’t pull out her phone. He had an equally good line of sight on her, and it would no doubt raise his suspicion to catch a Blackjack dealer using a phone. He’d clue in straight off that she was more than a dealer.

And the end of her shift didn’t exactly help her predicament either. She’d be expected to leave the area, but there was no way she would. Apprehension gripped her chest with cruel fingers. No matter how she ran things in her head, nothing worked out with ease.

Throughout all this, she continued to deal. It was one of the more silent games, relying mostly on hand gestures than talking. This helped her as she tried to figure out how to get Rasheed away from the innocent and into her clutches so she could deliver his long awaited, sanctioned fate.

Four more minutes until her shift ended. Bella’s heartbeat increased along with her concern. His stack of chips was dwindling. If he continued to lose at this rate, he’d be done before her shift ended.

Again, she tried to ascertain if he was that stupid, or just killing time to keep up appearances. As he lost his last few chips, she cursed her luck, because she still had a little over a minute left before she could leave without causing a commotion. Mentally crossing her fingers, she watched to see if he was going to put more money on the table.

He didn’t.

Dammit.

He got up off his chair, and because she had no backup, Bella was faced with the possibility of losing him. Her stomach clenched tight. Not going to happen. She couldn’t allow that—wouldn’t allow that. No way was she permitting him to leave. She’d much prefer to tail him unobserved, but that didn’t appear to be an option.

Until help arrived in the form of the very man who recently promised to always have her back.

Matteo.

The instant his gaze met hers, Bella knew the man got it. He knew something was up. His posture had switched from relaxed to SEAL in the blink of an eye. If she hadn’t been on a mission—the most important one of her life—she would’ve found it hot as hell.

Okay, she did, but now wasn’t the time. Rasheed was a few feet away, turning to leave.

But Bella didn’t panic. Using her gaze, she pointed toward the bastard, and Matteo’s gaze immediately followed. His chin lifted a fraction, and again, she knew he’d caught on. Spotted Rasheed.

He met her gaze briefly again, gave her a slight nod, then pulled out his phone and followed Rasheed through the casino. With less than a minute left of her shift, she finished dealing the hand to her table, acutely aware of her surroundings and everyone in them as she watched to see if anyone followed Matteo.

She didn’t sense that Rasheed planned to target the casino today. Not with the convention a few days away. He wouldn’t jeopardize that mission with another, especially in the same building a few days earlier, which would no doubt cancel the convention.

Unless he was cornered.

Her heart lurched. God, she hoped Matteo was careful. He’d read the police report and knew the circumstances of her father’s death. He was a SEAL. He would be fine.

That was what Bella kept telling herself as she watched the man she loved disappear into the crowd while following the man she loathed.

The hand ended. Bella delivered the payouts and smiled when she received the tap she’d waited for on her shoulder.

Dealer change.

She made the universal sign of clearing her hands. “Thank you, gentlemen,” she told the four men at her table with a smile. “Good luck.” Then she stepped back and nodded to the new dealer, before switching into hunt mode.

Leaving the pit, she pulled the phone from her pocket and called Brooke. “Talk to me. Where is he?”

“Matteo’s trunk.”

Bella’s steps faltered as shock rippled through her. “Already?”

Brooke’s chuckle filled her ear. “He’s a SEAL. Extensively trained.”

Which meant quick, efficient. Deadly.

“Where’s he taking him?”

Her heart thudded hard in her chest. She wanted in.

“I’ll text you the address. Knight’s at a meeting about the Russians. He’ll catch up with you two when he’s finished.”

She stopped near the employee door. “Roger. Got eyes on me?”

“Affirmative.”

“Did you notice anyone watching Rasheed or Matteo leave?” she asked, holding her breath.

“Negative. No one appeared to be interested. I’m going to go back and re-watch in a few.”

She exhaled. “Roger. Out.”

Her phone dinged with an incoming text. With Rasheed in Matteo’s custody, she had the extra minute to grab her bag. Walking to the employee lockers, she glanced at Brooke’s text and smiled.

Smart SEAL. The address where he’d taken Rasheed was in an unpopulated section abandoned after Hurricane Sandy’s devastation, just a few miles up the road. 

She nodded to a few coworkers as she grabbed her backpack. Adrenaline carried a heated rush she welcomed with smile.

Time for a face-to-bullet with Rasheed.