Las Vegas Nights: At Odds with the Heiress. Cat Schield

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Las Vegas Nights: At Odds with the Heiress - Cat Schield

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for him to smell her perfume and see the gold shards sparking in her green eyes. “I came to return this.” He handed her an envelope containing the storage key.

      “You’re done with it, then?” She slid the envelope into the black leather folder that contained her daily notes. “Did you find what you needed?”

      “I looked through our client’s files and removed anything of interest.” He paused before saying more. Lucas would be angry with him for spilling even that much. “I also found a number of secrets that should never see the light of day.”

      “Then they won’t.”

      “You can’t guarantee that.”

      “Some of those files have been hidden for over fifty years,” she reminded him. “What makes you think they can’t stay that way for another fifty?”

      “Because Tiberius was killed for something he knew.”

      “That hasn’t yet been determined. Besides, no one but you and I know I have the files.”

      “You forget about John Malcolm.”

      “Attorney-client privilege. He’s not going to say anything.”

      “I’d feel better if the files were destroyed.”

      “I can’t do that. Grady can’t wait to get started on them.”

      Logan could hear the determination in her tone and knew he was wasting his breath. He could only hope he and Lucas were wrong about the connection between the files and Tiberius’s death. Yet Logan couldn’t shake the sense that something bad was going to happen.

      “Do you have time for a cup of tea?” Her offer came at him out of the blue. “I got some of that green stuff you and Violet drink.”

      He opened his mouth to refuse, thinking she was flirting with him as always, but then saw her expression was serious. “Sure.”

      “Can I invite you up to my suite without you getting the wrong impression?”

      “Unlikely.”

      “What a naughty mind you have.” Amusement flared in her eyes and was gone just as fast. “I really could use your advice.” She looped her arm through his and turned him in the direction of the elevators.

      A week ago he might have assumed she had a nefarious purpose for luring him upstairs. That was before Tiberius’s files had come to light. And Scarlett was radiating an apprehensive vibe, not a seductive one.

      “My advice on what?”

      “I discovered something in the files I took from the storage unit, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

      Logan felt his anxiety kick in. Had she possessed the answer to Tiberius’s murder all along?

      “Which ones?”

      She frowned. “The ones on my family.”

      So her concern was for Violet or Harper. His agitation diminished slightly.

      “I took my father’s file because I was curious about a man my mother rarely talked about,” she continued. “It was a pretty thick file and took me three days to get through it all. He had affairs with a lot of women. I don’t know how Harper’s mother stood it.”

      “The way I understand it, she split all her time between New York City, the Hamptons and their winter place in Boca Raton. I don’t know how often she came to Las Vegas.”

      “That’s what I gathered from her file.” Scarlett paused as they neared the elevator. Other people were waiting within earshot and she obviously didn’t want them to overhear her, so she changed the subject. “How was your week? Successful?”

      He knew she was referring to his search of the storage unit and shook his head. “Not at all. Your friend is going to have his work cut out for him. There’s a lot of history.”

      “He’ll be delighted.”

      “I’m sorry I didn’t call this week.” The apology came out before he knew what he was saying. “It was a hectic few days.”

      Surprise fogged her expression for a moment. “It’s okay. I had a lot on my plate, as well.”

      “Lucas and I are developing a security system for a sheikh in Dubai. He has an extensive art collection that he wants to display and the logistics are proving quite complex.”

      She watched him with lively interest as he spoke. “Sounds fascinating,” she murmured.

      When the couple riding in the elevator with them got off on the twelfth floor, the snug space seemed to shrink.

      “I don’t know about that, but it is challenging.” It wasn’t like him to fill the silence with chitchat, but her open and sincere manner made him long to draw her into his arms and capture her lips with his. This frequent and increasing urge to kiss her was becoming troublesome. To his relief, the elevator door slid open on fifteen before he could act.

      “I’d love to learn more about what it is Wolfe Security does besides casino security.” And to her credit, she seemed to mean it.

      “Perhaps another time.” And there would be another time, he realized. She’d found a way beneath his skin and he feared it was only a matter of time before she took up permanent residence there and started redecorating. “Right now, I’d like to hear about what you found in Ross’s file.”

      She waved her leather portfolio near her door’s lock. All the rooms in Fontaine Richesse used proximity cards to open rather than ones with magnetic strips. The radio frequency in the cards was a harder technology to copy. Logan had been suggesting it for use in Fontaine hotels for three years as a more effective security measure, but none of the executives wanted to upgrade. Until Scarlett came along and decided it was the system she wanted in Fontaine Richesse. Now, all of the new Fontaine hotels had this system and as the older hotels were being remodeled, proximity card systems were being added.

      Before she entered her suite, she gripped his arm. “Logan, I’m really afraid of what this is going to do to my family.”

      He stared at her, a bad feeling churning in his gut. This wasn’t Scarlett being dramatic or overreacting. Genuine fear clouded her expression and thickened her voice. What could possibly have upset her to this extent?

      “Tell me.”

      She entered her suite and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll get the water started. The files are on the table.” Scarlett indicated a stack of neatly arranged folders on the coffee table. “I noticed something odd about my father’s business travel.”

      Logan sat on the pale green couch, noting its decadent softness, and leaned forward to view the contents of the open file. Tiberius had jotted some notes about Fontaine Hotels and Resorts’s trouble with their Macao casinos. Ross had gone to investigate.

      “What am I looking at?”

      “See when he left? July 1980. He was gone for four months.”

      Logan

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