Another purple chip hit the table. I pushed it forward with two fingers and was about to announce my intention to the dealer when a hand clamped down on my shoulder. It didn’t come as a surprise. I’d been waiting for security to show up and do their job. If anything, it was disappointing that they’d taken this long.

“Sir,” the security guard said softly into my ear. “I’m afraid you’re too good for the game.”

The classic line. I lifted a brow and leaned back in my chair until only the back feet remained on the ground. The guard pushed me back down, the chair landing with a sharp clack!

“What made you think that?” I asked with a grin, sliding my poker chip back across the table and lifting it between two fingers. I let it cascade down between my fingers, moving space to space, guided by my fingers, then brought it back up. It was something else to toy with five hundred dollars like it was nothing. Even now, years after having taken every casino in Nevada for everything they were worth, it boggled my mind how much money one little plastic disk could represent.

“I’ll have to ask you to come with me,” the guard said. It didn’t look like he was going to answer my question. Even Troy’s lax casino security knew better than to engage a troublemaker. At least he had that going for him.

With a sigh, I stood. My chips were still laid on the table, cashed into each of its boxes. Knowing I wouldn’t be allowed much movement, I flipped the dealer the chip between my fingers.

“Thank you for an excellent game,” I told her. She didn’t touch the chip, nor did she move. Frozen in place, she kept her hands at her sides and fixed me with an easy, fabricated smile that told me she’d rather be anywhere but here. “The Barney is yours. I know they’re going to confiscate the rest, but don’t let them take that one from you. You earned it.”

“Come along, sir,” the security guard said. He set his hand on my shoulder again and pushed, forcing me to turn. “You’ve been asked to make an appearance elsewhere.”

Oh, had I?

A hint of a grin lifted the corners of my lips, and I let myself be led away. Step one was complete, and, just like I’d planned, step two was well underway.

Troy, Troy, Troy.

Predictable as always.

I was taken from the floor back to the lobby. The bouncers I’d passed on the way in were gone, likely being chewed out somewhere else for having let someone like me into the casino. Wherever they’d gone, I wished them well. It wasn’t my intention to get anyone in trouble tonight.

At least, not anyone working the floor.

The security guard led me across the lobby to an elevator with a keypad. He input a string of numbers, then pressed the call button. The light behind the button blinked on and the elevator doors opened smoothly, revealing a large cabin with chrome walls.

“Step inside, please,” the security guard said. I did as asked, and he followed behind me. Unlike in public use elevators, there were no floor number buttons. Another keypad had been wired into the cabin in their place. I watched the guard input a different string of numbers, then lost interest and looked at our reflections in the chrome doors as they closed. I didn’t look anything other than average—a light blue button-down shirt, the top button undone, and black pants. My dark hair was a little messy from a long day of travel, but I was pleased to see that there were no bags under my eyes or other signs of fatigue evident on my face. My guard-escort was dressed in a suit, and would have been indistinguishable from any other of the well-dressed guests of the casino had it not been for the ID badge clipped to the right breast of his suit jacket.

According to his ID card, his name was S. Killinger. With a last name like that, it didn’t surprise me the guy was working security.

“So.” I folded my hands upon the small of my back and continued to watch our reflections in the door. “Killinger is a pretty cool name. Is it like, a pseudonym?”

No reply.

“What does the ‘S’ stand for? Steven? Skylar? Simon? You don’t feel like a Simon to me. Steven really feels like it’d be a good fit.”

Killinger’s lips thinned. He didn’t reply.

“I’m Robin,” I said with a shrug, my grin starting to turn mischievous. “But, since you have me detained, you probably already know that.”

Nothing.

“Come on.” I let my head fall back and took a chance to get a look at the overhead paneling. Like in standard elevators, there was a service hatch. Unlike in most elevators, the ceiling was chrome-plated, too, and shined until it reflected. I took note of the security devices—or lack thereof—in the elevator before I sighed heavily and let my head drop forward again. “You were nice to me down in the pit. What changed? Did I offend you by following instructions instead of acting out? I bet you were expecting to have to cart me off, weren’t you?”

No answer.

What a chatterbox Killinger was.

“Well… I’m sorry. I know you were—” The elevator came to a stop, and the doors parted. “Oh, we’re here.”

“Please follow me,” Killinger said.

I did.

It had been three years since I’d last been in The Palisade’s executive offices, and at the time, I’d been too outraged that I was being dragged up to corporate rather than discreetly shown the door and told to get lost to pay much attention to its layout. The elevator emptied into a long hallway stretching both left and right with doors on either side. The crystal glitz of the hotel and casino was gone—the place looked very much like any other boring corporate office. If I’d woken up here with no recollection of where I’d come from, I never would have guessed I was in a Vegas hotel.

Killinger brought me to the left and opened a door on the same side as the elevator. Inside was a room large enough to hold a ten-chair conference table with just enough room left over to walk around the perimeter. There were no windows and only one door. I remembered this place from my last time here—the dreaded holding room. They were going to try to bore me to death before bringing me out to slap my wrists.

Great.

I sank down into one of the office chairs and started to roll back and forth, chasing away the seconds. Killinger took up post in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest, looking pissed as hell. I wasn’t sure if it was my annoying line of questioning that had gotten beneath his skin, or if he really didn’t want to be here.

Maybe it was a little of both. With a name like Killinger, and working security, he’d probably expected work to be a little more interesting. Babysitting a twenty-two-year-old card counter who wasn’t looking to stir trouble wasn’t exactly something to write home about.

Poor Killinger.

I wondered if I should cause some trouble just to make his life a little more entertaining. Soon enough, there’d be more than enough change around The Palisade to keep him on his toes, but until then, I felt like I owed him engagement. While Troy didn’t handle his staff directly, he wasn’t going out of his way to make their work more rewarding, either.

“What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done while working here?” I asked, coming to a stop to look Killinger’s way. “If you’ve worked here for any length of time, I imagine you’ve seen some pretty weird stuff, and had to personally deal with most of it. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I’m not the kind of person you’d typically be dealing with during your shift.”

Killinger’s lips twitched with disdain. If he didn’t stop, he was going to talk my ear off.

“Well,” I sighed. “I guess that’s fine. We can just sit here in this conference room and not talk. That’s an option, too.”

I waited a few seconds for a reply. When I received none, I wheeled back to the table and crossed my arms on it, then rested my head on top of them. If Killinger wasn’t going to be chatty, then I’d go over what was about to happen and figure out how best to use it to my advantage. Steps one and two were underway, but with the third and final step yet to be achieved, my plan hadn’t come to full fruition. There was always a chance something could go wrong.

And more than that, there was always a chance I was making a mistake.

It was a bold idea, and I was taking huge risks in order to see it through. There was every chance in the world that Troy wouldn’t behave in a predictable manner, or that something would go wrong along the way, or that, when he found out who I was, he’d be more enraged than aroused, and have me arrested regardless. I was banking on my understanding of a man I’d only met once and maxing out a bet I couldn’t afford to lose. If I was arrested, Monty would have to jump through hoops to make sure I got out again, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause him trouble.

But if my bet paid off?

Fuck, would it be worth it.

I set my worry aside and focused on the future. Out of three steps, two of them had already gone according to play. What did I have to worry about? I knew Troy—I’d looked into his head and gotten him all figured out. I had this.

By the end of the night, what was his would be mine.

I lifted my head from the table and opened my mouth, intending to ask Killinger another round of time-passing questions, when I heard a tinny voice speak quietly near the door. Someone was talking into Killinger’s earpiece. Either there was trouble in the casino that the rest of the security team couldn’t handle, or a certain Sullivan had arrived and was demanding to see me.

“We’ll be there shortly,” Killinger replied, one finger on his earpiece.

That answered that. It sounded like Troy had arrived and was ready to see me. There was no time for doubts—I’d made a decision, and I was going to stick to it. Troy’s punishment for fucking up in such an astronomical way was simple: I was here now, and I’d make sure in the best way I could that he’d never fuck up again.

Master had come to play.