The Player (The Game Maker #3)(11)

No sins, still in?

“Vice!”

“I want to contribute, and even at fence value, the watch is a legit two-fifty.” I’d stowed it in the false bottom of my purse. “Gotta be insured, right? They’re so hammered, she’ll think she lost it.” The beauty of Vegas. Fresh marks flooded in every day, wearing their chum-pants as they dove into the shark tank. And they always left the city, which meant we never had to.

“You’re drinking too,” Pete pointed out. “Someone might’ve seen you lift it.”

“The bodyguards don’t even look at me anymore.” And Vasili had disappeared. Good riddance. I could’ve strolled right into any of the bedrooms, and no one would’ve stopped me. “Besides, you try telling Jess you don’t want a sixth tequila shooter.”

“So now she’s Jess? And Natalie is Nat? And you’re regular old Vice, the plucky cocktail waitress with a heart of gold?” He swore under his breath. “Do I have to remind you? We’re not like them. We’re a different breed. . . .”

In a monotone, I repeated lines I’d heard all my life: “We’re the last of the long-conners, the aristocrats of grifters. Living by our wits, smiled upon by Lady Luck. The only thing we can’t cheat is fate. . . .”

“Yet you’re melding with them? We do not meld with gulls.” Feigning a look of realization, he said, “Oh wait, you already did once.”

My ex-fiancé. The one who’d betrayed me. The one who was still attempting to win me back. “Low blow, Pete.”

“I’m trying to get your head in the game. I caught you looking at Dmitri with something like infatuation. You have to be cold to maneuver a guy like that.”

“You’re right. What am I doing?” I wobbled in my heels, the alcohol starting to hit hard.

“It’s not too late to get it together. Vice, we might have a live one on the line. The Moby Dick of whales.”

But nobody ever landed Moby Dick! “Pull the plug on this, man! We’ll figure out a way to get Karin in here as primary. She’s a lock. It’s too big a score to blow, and I’m jinxed!” Pete was right; stock cons were way easier than this. Give me a greedy money-launderer or hard-up tax-evader any day!

Pete shook his head. “I’ve seen the way this guy looks at you. I can’t describe it, but he seems addicted to you already. He won’t accept anyone else. Trust me.” We shared another laugh over that.

In reality, I did halfway trust my extended family of scoundrels. “So you’re backing my play here?” I asked. “Backing me?”

“All in. Damn, you’ve already had the meet.” He rubbed his chin. “I would’ve liked you to be in better lighting and not so tired from the week—”

“Come on!”

“I should’ve made sure you had the phone cloner.” Which would’ve enabled us to see Dmitri’s every text, e-mail, and online visit. “He handed you his telephone and turned his back.” Pete looked disgusted. “That’s on me.” My cousin could give us all grief, but never more than he gave himself.

“The window was too short,” I assured him. “Even with misdirection, I wouldn’t have had enough time.”

“Speaking of time . . . Where’d you tell Dmitri you were going?”

“I used my emergency-phone-ring app and said I needed to take the call. I should get back.” And I really needed to pee.

“My host duties are done for the night.” The party was winding down. “If I’m still here, it’ll be weird not to join you guys. Can you handle this on your own?”

I raised my chin. “I’ve got it. All good.” Please, Lady Luck, don’t let me botch this!

“I’m a text away. Just watch yourself in there, Vice. And remember—we’re a world apart from them.”

So why had I felt so at home with that crew?

As I made my way back inside, Jess, Nat, and Lucía were talking to Dmitri. He looked antsy, his leg jogging.

Jess slurred, “Ever since you decided to mend fences with the big bro, I’ve been trying to set you up. Even though you were my last chance to go to Cirque du Cock.”

Mend fences? Cirque du Cock? I ducked back into the foyer, listening in.

“Kuh-learly, I have now succeeded in setting you up, because I brilliantly invited every vegan here to our little party.”

Nat hiccupped again. “The tribe has spoken, Dmitri. You are keeping Vice.”

Lucía added, “We like her so much.”

Jess said, “She’s got these knowing eyes—you can tell she’s seen things that leave a mark—but she blushes. Driving me fugging crazy! If you don’t keep her, I will.”

“Perhaps that is not at issue,” Dmitri said. “Perhaps the crux is whether she will keep me.”

My chest squeezed with panic. They weren’t f*cking with me. They thought I was a great gal who got their humor and matched their drinking. I fit in seamlessly and was hitting it off with one of their own.

How could they be so trusting? They had no idea what I was, yet they were letting me into their lives? I’d stolen a watch our fence would convert for a quarter of a million dollars, and I’d do it again. And dear God, the identity theft opportunities in those bedrooms . . .