Jane stared at him with wide eyes. And then her mouth hardened and her chest swelled as she sucked in air. “I need that back, asshole. Don’t make me take it away from you.”

Cody nearly laughed. “Take it away from me? Sure, you can try.”

“Are you purposely trying to get me killed, or do you just not understand plain English?” Her voice was strained, but not from the effort of trying to be heard in the noisy casino.

“I’m a SEAL, Jane. I can help. Tell me what you need.”

She looked like she might kick him in the balls, but then her chin lifted. “I need a car. I need to get the fuck out of Vegas as quickly as possible.”

“You’re in luck. I have a car.”

“Why should I care? Give me back my purse and I’ll find my own car, thanks.”

He snorted. “You’d seriously steal a car when you could just let me drive you?”

“I don’t know you. I don’t trust you.”

He started toward the elevators, certain she would follow. He wasn’t wrong. She kept pace with him in those killer stilettos, but only because he wasn’t trying to get away from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room. I need to get my stuff.”

“Look, asshole, just give me back my purse and forget you ever met me. It’s safer for you.”

“Apparently you didn’t hear me. I’m a SEAL, honey. I don’t walk away from a challenge.”

He stepped into the elevator as it opened and then turned to see what she would do. Her mouth was tight as she passed inside the shiny interior. She went to the wall opposite and then turned to face him, leaning back against the railing in such a way that her chest was exaggerated. He couldn’t figure out if she was trying to distract him or not. Still, he kept his eyes firmly fixed to her face as the doors slid closed and the noise of the casino faded.

“What are you doing in Vegas, sailor? Shore leave?”

“Something like that.”

She snorted. “Who’s hiding something now?”

Hiding something? Yeah, he was, though it surprised him she’d deduced that much from the few words he’d said.

But he always hid his feelings when it came to his mother. He thought of the call he’d gotten from his grandfather a few days ago, telling him that his mother was drinking again. And when Maggie was drinking, she was hitting the casinos. Doing recreational drugs, sleeping with random guys, searching for her newest sugar daddy. Whatever it took to get high and ease the pain of her many demons.

Cody’s jaw tightened. Fucking demons. He’d never really known what they were, but he was pretty sure he was the result of one of them. She’d had him far too young, left him with her parents, and only came home on occasion to see him. When she was home and clean, she was his mother to the best of her ability in spite of the fact he often felt more mature than she was. When she fell off the wagon, she was self-destructive.

He hadn’t found her yet, but that’s because she didn’t want to be found. And, frankly, he was tired of dragging her out of messes of her own making. She was on a bender, but she’d return in a week or two, repentant and promising this was the last time.

It never was the last time. If not for his aging grandparents, he’d probably leave her to her own devices because he was fucking sick of the emotional manipulation. It worked on her parents and she knew it. Thrived on it.

It did not work on him.

If he hadn’t already been planning a trip back, he wouldn’t have made a special one. But one of his teammates was getting married in Vegas next week, and Cody had tacked on some vacation time to see his grandparents first since they lived a few hours away.

“Not hiding anything that could get me killed, darlin’. Promise you that.”

The elevator doors opened then and he exited, heading for his room. He deliberately turned his back on Jane, though he was certain she knew a thing or two about self-defense. He wasn’t worried she’d get the jump on him here. For one thing, she was too far behind, scuttling along on those heels and trying to catch up now that he’d lengthened his stride.

When he reached his door, he turned to watch her. Her face was a thundercloud and he chuckled to himself. Yeah, she’d been planning to try to disarm him, but she’d been unable to catch him.

He unlocked the door and went into the room. It was a big room by your typical hotel standards, with a king-sized bed, a couch, two chairs, a desk, and an armoire with a TV. Either his cousin had hooked him up or all the rooms were this big. It definitely wasn’t a high-class hotel, but it wasn’t dilapidated either.

Jane tottered in and sank onto the couch, pulling off her shoes and rubbing her feet. “Jesus these things are torture.”

“So why the fuck are you wearing them?” he asked as he grabbed his things and stuffed them into his duffel.

“Because it was necessary.”

“Don’t suppose you have a change of clothes in this thing?” he asked, holding up the purse he’d kept tucked under his arm.

“Unfortunately, no. My clothes are at the Venetian.”

“Anything identifying? Any clues to where you might go from there?”

She shook her head. “Definitely not.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “So which is it? FBI? DEA?”

He didn’t miss the tightening of her features. Bingo. He’d hit on the fact she was employed by the US government, and she didn’t like it.

“Neither.”

“Where’s your phone? Shouldn’t you have a way to be in contact?”

She looked a little pained. “No phones allowed around Victor Conti. His men would confiscate it if I dared. So no, I don’t have one.”

“You use burners, am I right? Probably have the numbers you need memorized.”

She inclined her head, giving him that much. Her whiskey eyes sparked with heat and intelligence.

“What I don’t understand is this—where’s your backup? And how did you think you were getting a gun through that guy’s security when you wouldn’t take a phone with you?”

She tugged at the skirt of her dress. A gesture of discomfort. “First of all, this isn’t the movies, cowboy. We don’t all work with secretive teams backing us up, hunkering over computer screens in hotel rooms and listening to everything we say. Some ops are more basic.”

“So this is an op.”

She looked frustrated. “That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you shoved a pistol in my ribs—and you still haven’t explained how you expected to get by with carrying a gun.”

“I didn’t expect to get by with it. I expected them to confiscate it—but I wanted them to know that I carry a weapon and know how to use it. Assholes like that don’t respect anything less. Besides, there’s no incriminating information they can get off a gun—at least not off that gun. If I took a phone and they forced me to unlock it? No way.” She raked a hand through her hair and swore. “Why the hell didn’t I choose the nerd?”

He blinked. “What?”

“The tall, skinny guy with glasses and suspenders standing four feet to your left.”

Cody remembered the guy. He’d been standing next to the sculpture in the atrium, gazing up at it in rapt attention. Then he’d seen good old Jane here striding over, and his jaw had hit the floor. He’d ceased staring at the sculpture and started staring at her. If she’d walked up to him, he’d have pissed himself.

“You didn’t choose him because he would have gotten you caught. Probably faint at the hint you had a weapon, or scream, and then what?”

“Yes, then what?” She sighed, and he finished tossing his stuff in the bag. Then he took his phone out of his pocket and hit a button.

“Yo, Cowboy, whassup?” It was Remy Marchand’s voice on the other end of the line. His SEAL team’s second-in-command—and the guy getting married in a few days.

Cody eyed the gorgeous Jane sitting on his couch. She looked wary but resigned. “Got a situation, Cage. Might need some backup.”