Hell on Heels (Hotel Rodeo #1)(26)

“Sure do, Ms. Brandt. Gus takes care of that kind of thing.”

“Gus?”

“Yeah. He’s the bouncer down here.”

“Is he here now?”

“As a matter of fact, he just clocked in.”

“Great. I need him to meet me up on the third floor.”

“Ty isn’t going to like hearing about this. He usually just turns a blind eye as long as they don’t bust up the place.”

“Well, Ty isn’t here, is he?”

“No, ma’ am.”

“Then send me Gus.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Monica was waiting by the third-floor elevator when the giant stepped out. Her gaze raked him over, from biker boots to shiny bald head, and lingered on the LOVE and HATE tattoos on his knuckles. “If you’re Gus, you’ll do very well.”

“Yup.” He nodded. “That would be me.”

She smiled in satisfaction. “Then it’s your lucky day. You’ve just been promoted to head of hotel security. C’mon.” She beckoned. “Our first stop is housekeeping for some ice buckets.”

Twenty minutes later Monica watched with bated breath as Gus herded four very wet and cursing cowboys through the bar entrance. Two hookers followed them out; the second, a redhead, flashed Monica a smile accompanied by a cheeky wink.

“Are they regulars around here?” Monica asked Gabby. If she was truly running things for the next few days, she needed to get the true lay of the land, starting with her first allies, Gabby and Gus.

“Yeah, you might say that,” Gabby replied. “The redhead goes by Tamara.”

“I’m guessing she knows Ty, too?”

Gabby directed her gaze to the bar top. “They might be loosely acquainted.”

“I thought prostitution was prohibited in the city limits.”

“It is, but escorts and private entertainers are perfectly legal.”

Monica frowned. “Then what’s to prevent . . .”

“That’s kind of hazy territory, Ms. Brandt. Most folks more or less follow the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy.”

Monica shook her head with a sigh.

“Having a rough day, Ms. Brandt?”

“You might call it the day from hell, actually.” Monica replied with a dry laugh. “Is it always like this? Or am I being hazed?”

Gabby glanced away with a guilty look.

“You know something, don’t you, Gabby?”

“This didn’t come from me, Ms. Brandt, but I think you may have experienced a bit of hazing.”

Monica’s temper flared. “So you’re saying Ty’s really behind all this—the unruly cowboys, the hookers, the gaming inspector? It was all staged?”

Gabby held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Now I didn’t say that . . . exactly.”

“Then what are you saying . . . exactly.”

“Only that Ty gave very specific instructions that everything was to go through you in his absence.”

“Did he now?” Monica frowned. “That’s very enlightening.”

“By the way,” Gabby said, “the gaming inspector will be back on Monday.”

“Oh shit! I forgot all about him!”

“Don’t worry. He said he wanted to see Ty anyway. They’re poker buddies.”

“The gaming inspector gambles?” Monica asked with surprise.

Gabby chuckled. “Everyone in Vegas gambles, Ms. Brandt.”

Monica didn’t gamble, but her next mission would be to educate herself on the Las Vegas gaming laws. She didn’t know if the gaming inspector was a part of Ty’s prank or not, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She refused to let Ty get the upper hand.

Whipping out her phone, she texted: Hotel shut down for prostitution. Need bail money. Urgent.

She stashed the phone with a chuckle. That should make him piss himself.



Ty was halfway through New Mexico when he got Monica’s text.

Holy shit!

Had the whole thing backfired on him? His first reaction was a surge of panic, but it took him only seconds to realize she was playing him, just as he’d played her. He would have heard from someone at the hotel if the cops had really dragged Monica off in handcuffs. Her effort at retaliation had failed but still made him chuckle. Maybe she had a sense of humor, after all? He thought about how he should respond.

A few minutes later when he pulled over for gas, he typed his reply: Sorry ’bout all that, Sugar. Got a lawyer? Try 1-800-UR-scrwd.

His phone vibrated almost instantly. I’m on to you now, asshat.

He chuckled, wishing he could have seen her face when she figured out he’d played her.

He typed. Took you long enough. How R things?

Fine. She answered. Now that I’m not running a brothel anymore. When R U back?

Probably tomorrow night.

K. CU then.

Ty pocketed his phone with a grin and paid for the gas.

“What’s so funny, Se?or Ty?” Rosa asked as he climbed back into the cab.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Why?”

“You were smirking like something amuses you.”

“Was I? I wasn’t aware.” He started the engine and pulled back onto the highway.