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“I want to go to rehearsal,” Jada said over breakfast the next morning.
“Are you sure?” Cleo asked. Alec had informed her while they’d dressed that she’d agreed to this in the haze of arousal the night before.
“I have to rehearse. I have to audition again soon. Please, Cleo.” Jada’s voice carried the intensity of a small child begging for cake. “I don’t want to lose my job.”
Cleo spread butter on a piece of toast to buy herself a moment. With Annaliese in jail for Sebastian’s murder, it might not matter one way or another how well prepared Jada was. She couldn’t stay in Vegas by herself. Cleo didn’t know yet where she’d land, but it wasn’t Vegas. Mentioning that, however, might send Jada into another tailspin. “What about Liz?”
Jada’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “Liz can only bug me if I let her.”
Cleo heard Annaliese in Jada’s words. Whether Jada could actually hold that line was another unknown. “Okay. How about if I talk to Liz and see if I can make her stop picking on you?” She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
“Annaliese tried that. It didn’t work. She says Liz is a bully.”
Something rose up inside Cleo. Something dangerous. The world might be going up in flames around her, but she was damned if she was going to let Liz piss on the ashes. “Well, it’ll work when I talk to her.”
Jada and Alec stared at her like they’d never seen her before.
“What?” Cleo said, her voice harsh.
“Nothing,” he said, lifting his hands as though she’d pointed a gun at him. “I just hope you never look at me like that.”
Cleo took a deep breath and leashed the anger. If she could call that up when she faced Liz, maybe she could make the woman back down.
Jada was still staring at her.
“Do you want to go to rehearsal today or not?” Cleo asked, impatient that Jada wasn’t gathering her things.
“Yes,” Jada said in a tiny voice.
“All right then. Get your stuff.” She needed to be more careful. Jada could spook with no notice, and Cleo didn’t need to do Liz’s job for her. “And if Liz is there, I’ll talk to her.”
“I think I’d pay money to be there for that,” Alec said, “but it’s probably not a good idea for her to see us together.”
“You’re right. As much as I’d love the moral support, she knows who you work for.”
“I could wait in the casino if you want. At least, for a while. I have an appointment with Bales at ten-thirty.”
His offer surprised her, but not as much as discovering she wanted him there even if moral support was all he could offer. “Yeah, you could do that.”
“Cool.”
Cleo’s hands were clammy from nerves as the three of them walked into the casino just before ten o’clock. She could handle confrontation just fine when she was caught up in the throes of righteous indignation, but having too much time to think about it, imagining all the ways it could go wrong, put knots in her stomach.
When they reached the gaming tables, Alec said, “I think I’ll play a little blackjack while I wait for you.”
She nodded. “I should be back before you have to meet Bales.”
She and Jada headed toward the back of the room for a door marked Employees Only. Ahead of them, an Elvis clone—the younger version Alec had dubbed Elvis one-point-oh—was surrounded by a group of middle-aged women. As they walked past, his voice, thick with that modest aw-shucks quality Elvis was known for, said, “Well, ma’am, I wouldn’t know about that. I’m just a country boy from Memphis, but when the show opens . . .”
When they were past the cluster, Cleo saw Liz talking to another woman. Both of them carried black bags that undoubtedly contained their rehearsal clothes.
Cleo dragged Jada to a halt. She’d worried that confronting Liz in the rehearsal room in front of all the showgirls would make Liz feel the need to show everyone she could do what she damned well pleased. Catching her here, where there wouldn’t be any witness—well, at least none Liz had authority over—might be the break Cleo needed. Maybe they could come to an amicable understanding about Jada.
So why was her stomach clenching? It wasn’t as though this was life or death the way it had sometimes been when she’d researched her border story. Then again, the bodyguard Alec had mentioned had propped his butt on a stool about six feet beyond Liz while he waited. He looked like he could snap Cleo in half with no more effort than a sneeze.
She put a hand on Jada’s arm. “Why don’t you go ahead. I’m going to talk to Liz.”
Jada nodded, but her eyes held reservations about how effective Cleo would be.
Not that Cleo blamed her. Annaliese had tried and failed; Jada had no reason to think Cleo would do better.
She hung back until the woman talking to Liz walked away. As Liz turned toward the Employees Only door, Cleo called her name.
Liz looked over her shoulder before turning to face Cleo. “What do you want?”
The butterflies in Cleo’s stomach turned into hummingbirds with wings fluttering at ninety miles per hour. “I’d like to talk to you about Jada.”
Liz hoisted the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and struck a bored pose. “So talk. But make it quick. I’ve got rehearsal.”
Cleo took a deep breath. “Look, I know you’re upset with Annaliese. I understand that, but Jada didn’t have anything to do with Sebastian’s death.” She crossed her fingers in case that turned out to be a lie. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take your feelings about Annaliese out on her.”
“If she can’t take the heat, maybe you should take her home.”
“She needs to be here. Her audition is coming up, and―”
“That’s not my problem.”
“I know it’s not your problem.” Her annoyance leaked into her voice. She clenched her teeth for a second, searching for control. “I’m asking you not to upset her.”
Liz started shaking her head before Cleo finished speaking. “I should have expected this. Everyone in Annaliese’s little circle, you’re all the same. You all think you’re some special kind of snowflake and everyone is supposed to accommodate you. Like you’ve got a dispensation from the pope or something. Well, not today. You need to learn that if you lay down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”
Cleo’s jaw dropped. “So Annaliese is the dog in your little scenario?”
“Dog?” Liz laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “More like bitch.”
Cleo gritted her teeth and fought to keep from lashing back. She wasn’t asking Liz to be her BFF. All she wanted was for her to be civil to Jada. That’s what counted. “Okay. You’re entitled to how you feel. I just want―”
“Why should I care what you want?”
“All I’m asking is for you to keep your feelings for Annaliese from spilling over onto people who haven’t done anything to you.”
“Are you really asking? Because it sounds to me like you’re trying to tell me what to do.”
“Which way will get you to play nice?” Oops. There was that nasty tone in her voice again.
“Hm.” Liz struck a thoughtful pose with her index finger against her chin. “I’m going to say . . . neither.”
Okay. So persuasion wasn’t going to work. It was time to change tactics. “You’ve been picking on Jada. I want it to stop.”
“Yeah, well, people in hell want ice water. Deal with it.”
Cleo’s stomach fluttered. She’d known this wouldn’t be easy. Crossing her arms, she gave Liz a disgusted look. “You really think you can act however you want, don’t you?”
Liz smirked. “Yup.”
“Well, guess again. If you screw with Jada, you screw with me. I―”
Liz put her curled fingers to her mouth as she pretended to bite her nails in fear. “Oh, I’m so scared.”
“Go right ahead, Liz. Be a bitch. I’m not having the best week. I’d love to take it out on someone. In fact, I’d love”—Cleo rolled her eyes as though she tasted something exquisite—“love if that someone was you.”
Liz’s eyes narrowed.
“But as much as I’d enjoy it, I’m here for Jada. If you’ll leave her alone, I’ll leave you alone.”
Liz smirked. “You think I’m scared of you? I’ll have you banned from the property. And Jada can come to all the rehearsals she wants, but it won’t change anything. She’s not going to make the cut at the next audition. And your mother is going to spend the rest of her life in jail if she doesn’t fry.”
Cleo’s palm itched to slap her, but that would defeat her purpose. Oh, who was she kidding? This had already degenerated past the point of salvaging anything. There was only one path left that might get her what she wanted. She glanced up and, as she expected, spotted a camera pointed right at them. Perfect. Let the trash talk begin. “Big talk from someone who murdered her husband and then managed to pin it on someone else.”
Liz’s eyes went wide with fury.
“Did you figure out you were running out of time?” Cleo continued. “You only had a week before you became just another of Sebastian’s exes and the money spigot shut off. Did you figure this way you could keep the money”—Cleo shot a look at the bodyguard in the corner. He was so damn big. She hoped he didn’t hurt her too badly—“and still have your boy toys on the side?”
“Why you―” Liz’s hand rose.
Every muscle in Cleo’s body tensed as she fought the instinct to flinch.
The crack of Liz’s hand on her face seemed to echo.
Even though she’d goaded Liz—had even hoped for this—the blow was a shock. Cleo had to blink several times to bring the room back into focus.
The bodyguard had stood, but he hadn’t left the corner. His gaze was riveted on them, ready to pounce if Cleo made one wrong move. Slowly, she turned her head back to face Liz.
“Thanks. I needed that.”
The belligerence on Liz’s face turned to confusion. “What?”
Cleo fought to keep her hand from her face. Damn, her jaw hurt. One of Liz’s rings must have connected there. If she was lucky, it might leave a bruise. She’d have to get Alec to take a picture.
“So here’s the deal, Liz. You play nice with Jada, or I file charges for assault and battery. How does that sound to you?”
“You bitch.”
Cleo smiled. “Do we understand each other?”
Liz’s chest lifted in short, fast bursts. “You’re Annaliese’s mini-me. That’s all you’ve ever been; it’s all you’ll ever be.”
Cleo’s vision went dark around the edges. For a brief second, Liz seemed to shrink in size, as though Cleo was viewing her through a camera lens that suddenly zoomed back.
Then it seemed as though the next few moments were cut out of the fabric of time, and things happened too quickly to register except as physical sensations with brief visual flashes imprinting on her brain. She was on the floor, one hand dug deep into Liz’s hair, the other drawn back in a fist without any awareness of how it happened.
Whether she actually pumped her fist into Liz’s face was lost in a strobe-like effect. An impact against Cleo’s cheek . . . tender flesh driven into her teeth . . . a flash of raw light . . . the metallic taste of blood . . . a tearing pain in her scalp . . . Liz’s head in fuzzy focus, a nimbus of lights behind her, throwing her features into shadow . . . The reverberation up Cleo’s arm as the heel of her hand caught Liz on the jaw . . . A breathtaking pain in her back as she came up hard against a bank of slot machines . . . Hands grabbing her, lifting her . . .
~***~
Alec reached Cleo no more than a second after the bodyguard pulled Liz out of the fray. He lifted Cleo off the floor, set her on her feet, and brushed her hair roughly back from her face to see the damage.
Both women were breathing hard. That didn’t stop Liz from lunging at Cleo, but her bodyguard caught her, a beefy arm around her waist holding her back. Liz howled in frustration.
“You okay?” Alec asked Cleo as he ran his hands down her arms, checking for anything that felt wrong. “Anything broken?”
“Nothing of mine,” Cleo said between heavy breaths, glaring at Liz. She flinched when he touched her back.
“You take a kidney punch?”
“The slot machine got me.”
More than the slot machine, he thought, glancing at Liz who, teeth bared, was flicking one hand, trying to lose the long, dark hairs clinging to her splayed fingers.
How long had it been since he’d seen two women cat fighting? In the first few seconds, it had been hot. Then it had sunk in that Cleo could get really hurt. He’d wanted nothing more than to drag her away from the woman who’d seemed intent on doing her serious damage.
He turned Cleo’s face toward him. A spot on her jaw roughly the size of a nickel was dark red. “You’re going to have a bruise or two,” he said, touching her face.
Cleo jerked her head away from his fingers. Her body was strung tight, like an overstretched guitar string, and even with her face turned toward him, her eyes never left Liz. She didn’t look as though she was going to thank him for interfering any time soon.
Dave Marsh had followed Alec from the blackjack table. He put himself between Cleo and Liz, who was still being restrained by the bodyguard, and began speaking softly, obviously trying to talk her down. Liz’s body lost some of its tension and the bodyguard relaxed his grip slightly.
It felt weird to Alec. Three testosterone-laden men trying to keep a pair of women from beating the hell out of each other. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
Dave brushed the hair back from Liz’s face, then ran his hands down her arms. Alec heard him ask, “You sure you’re not hurt?” Then he laid his hand over her stomach and murmured something Alec didn’t catch, but he couldn’t mistake the intimacy of the gesture.
By everything that was holy, was there anyone in the casino Liz hadn’t slept with?
Beside him, Cleo hissed in a breath.
Then Liz’s eyes narrowed. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Mr. Tabloid Reporter coming to Little Miss hoity-toity journalist’s rescue. That’s just too convenient for words.” Her mouth stretched into a nasty smile. “Or is it?”
“Mierda,” Alec muttered under his breath. His instinct to take care of Cleo had just screwed him because, in spite of the contract she’d signed, Liz was never going to talk to him again.
~***~
“Did you see that?” Cleo asked as Alec unceremoniously dragged her through the parking garage. He was moving at such a fast clip she nearly stumbled, but his grip on her bicep didn’t let her go down.
“I saw a lot of things just now. Which thing in particular are you referring to?” he said grimly as they headed for the car.
“The way that guy touched her?” She still couldn’t believe what she’d seen.
“You mean Dave? Yeah, I saw that. They’ve slept together.”
They’d clearly done more than sleep together. “You know him?”
“He gambles at Robbie’s table. He introduced us.”
“What did Robbie say about him? Who is he?” She was still grappling with what that touch revealed.
They were still a row away from their car, but her questions seemed to pull Alec to a stop. “Robbie didn’t say much. The guy works at the casino. Why? Because if we’re going to have to investigate everyone Liz has slept with, we’ll be here for the next ten years.”
Cleo’s eyes bored into his. “You missed it. You saw it but you missed it anyway.”
“What did I miss?”
“The way he touched her belly. That wasn’t just intimacy. Liz is pregnant.”
Alec’s eyebrows rose. “What are you talking about?”
Good grief. Men could be so dense. Then again, she wasn’t sure she’d have recognized that touch if she hadn’t seen the same protective reverence from Loretta’s husband the day she’d interviewed her. So what if it wasn’t scientific proof? She’d still bet every dime she could beg, borrow, or steal on what it meant.
Alec grabbed her arms, centered her in front of him, and hunched forward to put their eyes at the same level. “Cleo. What are you talking about?”
“She’s pregnant,” Cleo said as though it were an indisputable fact.
“How do you know that? Did you feel a baby bump when you were grappling with her?”
Oh hell. She’d just been in a fist fight with a pregnant woman. If anything went wrong with Liz’s pregnancy, she was going to have a lifetime of guilt to deal with.
“Cleo?”
Alec’s voice brought her back to the parking garage. “No, I didn’t feel it. It was the way he touched her.”
“How did he touch her?”
“Like he had a vested interest in her body.”
Alec’s face clouded over with skepticism.
“I don’t mean sexually. It was more . . . like an assumption of ownership. No, that sounds wrong. It was . . . the way a man touches a woman whose body is carrying something precious to him.”
“You’re not just saying she’s pregnant. You’re saying he thinks it’s his.”
That was a slightly different take on what she’d thought, but Alec was right. She didn’t know who the father was, and just because this Dave Marsh guy thought he was the father didn’t make it true.
Then Alec’s face changed and Cleo swore she could actually see the penny drop. “She wasn’t drinking.”
It was her turn to be confused. “What?”
He leaned back against the fender of their car. “The day I interviewed her. She offered me some high-class wine, but she wasn’t drinking. She said alcohol makes her weepy since Sebastian’s death, but―”
“That’s a convenient excuse.”
“Yeah,” he said grimly as he gazed over her shoulder at the casino. “I wonder what Bales would say about this.”
“Maybe you should ask her.”
“Maybe I will.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Shit. I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.”
She watched him walk away, knowing she had to go back inside to retrieve Jada.
She dreaded it. Jada was slow but she wasn’t an idiot. She would know not being able to rehearse was the death knell of her showgirl career. With a heavy sigh, Cleo headed back for the casino. Before she reached the doors, Jada walked out, pale and obviously shaken, but at least not crying or hysterical. That lasted until Cleo put her arms around her.
Jada clung to her and sobbed.