Lucky Haunts

Chapter 1Even on quiet nights, all Shane Norton needed to relax was the background din of the slots and the tourists buzzing at the back of his brain. He put on his suit, stepped out onto the floor, and the very first assault against his eardrums smoothed any rough edges he might’ve had prior to arriving for work. Lucky and Stella discounted his theories, but Shane didn’t care. He firmly believed each casino in Las Vegas had its own tenor. The Bellagio was more melodious, the MGM kinetic. In the Rio, noise was as exotic as its décor, a vibrant cacophony of sound to match the explosion of color in the walls and lights. Shane needed it. He’d sooner switch careers than be forced to work at any other casino in Vegas. The casino was typical for a Tuesday night off-season. Gamblers scattered themselves amongst the blackjack tables, most of them sipping their drinks and concentrating on their cards. Half the floormen weren’t even on shift. When the tables were full, Shane would get assigned three to manage, but nights like this meant spreading the wealth, so to speak. He’d come in to find he had seven to watch, and two of those now didn’t even have players. He stepped up to the nearest abandoned table and smiled at Alona, the dealer. “If you want to punch out, I’m sure I can get Maury to sign off on it. We’re dead here.” Her dark eyes darted to the overhead camera, more of a reflex than anything else since Maury was one of the few pit bosses who actually liked to get his hands dirty on the floor. “Nah, I don’t mind. It’s boring, but I could use the hours.” “Brandon’s still taking those karate classes, huh?” She sighed and tugged at her vest. “Not for lack of trying to get him out, that’s for sure. But as long as Josh is taking it, Brandon won’t give up.” “It sounds like you should be working on getting Josh to quit then,” Shane joked, but his heart wasn’t in it. Alona bent over backward trying to make up for her deadbeat ex-husband to their nine-year-old son. Even if it meant working unnecessary shifts to help pay for lessons Brandon was terrible at anyway. “You could talk to him.” Shane blinked. “Who? Josh?” “No, Brandon. He likes you.” “That doesn’t mean he’d listen to me.” “Sure it does.” He grinned. “Because that works so well here at work?” “Hey, I listen to you.” “You? Sure. Erin?” He nodded toward a buxom blonde three tables over who was taking far too much pleasure leaning forward to smile at one of the five men at her table. Shane’s smile vanished. “Not so much.” Alona cast Erin a cursory glance before rolling her eyes. “That’s because you’re too nice.” “Gee, thanks.” “It’s true.” “You might as well call me dependable.” She regarded him for several seconds, clearly waiting for the punch line. “You are dependable.” Shane caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror against the wall. Straight. Slim. Not a red hair out of place. His suit looked like it had just been pressed. For a moment, he was tempted to stick his tongue out at the stuffy man in the mirror, but all he did was turn away. “Brandon will probably outgrow it soon enough anyway,” he said, changing the subject back. “When you’re a nine-year-old boy, all it takes to distract you is something shiny.” “Funny, that seems to work on twenty-nine-year old boys, too.” A pair of twentysomething women stopped at the end of her table, momentarily diverting Alona from the conversation. Shane took the break to walk the length of his section, deliberately taking a path behind Erin that would force her to at least straighten and remove her ample bust out of her players’ immediate view. He shouldn’t complain. He loved his job. He was good at it. Probably because he was dependable. He just wished it didn’t sound like a death sentence when Alona admitted it out loud. He spent the next half hour lingering several feet away from Erin’s table, watching a new arrival who seemed to be having a good spin of luck. Shane had first spotted him standing behind the other players. When he had played an unexpected hand and immediately won, Shane edged a little farther away to make himself less conspicuous. He didn’t want to alert the lucky player that Shane suspected him of back-counting, so he watched from a short distance, counting the cards himself. He was the best floorman in the Rio when it came to counting. If he’d been a little less responsible, he could’ve made a killing on the other side of the card tables. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was pointless to have the ringer on in the casino; it would never get heard. He steeled himself when he saw Maury’s name on the display. “I’m on my way over to take your place,” Maury said before Shane could open his mouth. “What’s wrong?” “You’re needed in the Poker Room. Lucky and Stella crashed a game.” Somehow, he kept from sighing out loud. He supposed it was asking too much to think his best friends would give him a reprieve of more than a few days from saving their asses. “I’ll be right there.” “Double-time it.” Even if Shane could fly, he wouldn’t be able to get to the poker rooms soon enough. Lucky and Stella only went to the trouble of crashing private games when they were bored and looking for the sort of entertainment that would get anybody else permanently banned from the Rio. Which meant that Shane would be handing out vouchers and apologies for all sorts of bad behavior. One of these days, Lucky was going to push Maury too far, and then it wouldn’t matter how much money he had, and how much money he spent in the casino every month, he would be thrown out on his ass. Stella, too. Shane had already asked Lucky to consider moving himself into a different penthouse, or even a nice, quiet mansion somewhere off the strip. But Lucky didn’t go for nice and quiet, and neither did his wife. They wanted to be at the center of any and every party. They wanted to be singing and dancing and drinking every night and every day. They had finished college four years earlier, but they still lived every day like they were freshmen at their first frat party. When Shane expressed any hint of disapproval, they merely scoffed at him, teased him for being an old man before thirty, and offered him a stiff drink. Shane just hoped he wouldn’t need a stiff drink before the end of the night. Shane hesitated when he reached the corridor of private poker rooms. Maury had told him which one. His hesitation was short-lived, however, as it became very, very clear where Lucky and Stella had sought their entertainment. “What are you doing in a private room if you’re not willing to bet a little money?” Lucky’s voice boomed. He was already more than a little drunk. His question seemed to be equal parts amused and annoyed. “I’m just looking for an honest game of poker, here.” Taking a deep breath, Shane grasped the door knob and pushed. Cigarette smoke immediately assaulted his nose and made his eyes water. Damn, but he did not miss the smoking on the floor. Every time he hit a private party that circumvented the restrictions of the clean indoor air act, he thanked God he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. At least, most of the time. This party consisted of nine men, eight of which were seated around the table. The one standing loomed over a lounging Lucky, his bony hands balled into fists at his sides. Lucky looked like he always did—completely unperturbed. A lock of wavy dark hair fell across his forehead, and his brown eyes danced where they tilted up to his opponent. He wore an expensive dark suit, and though Shane had little doubt he’d probably had it on most of the day, it was immaculate, fitting perfectly across his broad shoulders. “Oh, look, the cavalry’s arrived.” The female voice at his elbow could only belong to one person. Stella Marshall. Shane only risked a glance sideways at her, but it was long enough to drink in the gauzy blue dress clinging to her curves, the blonde hair falling in long curls over her shoulders, and the bemused cant of her scarlet lips as she lifted a tumbler to her mouth. Before he had the chance to look away, she winked. God help him. Lucky shifted his attention to the doorway. “Shane, will you tell this brute to have a seat? He’s ruining the card game.” “This is a private party,” the so-called brute said tightly. “That means, it’s invitation only.” “Yes, yes, invitation only.” Lucky waved his hand, like the words were nothing more than fluff. “As I’ve tried to explain to these ladies, we don’t need invitations here. Will you please let them know of our general come-and-go-as-we-please policy?” Shane gave the group a small smile and shifted his gaze directly to Lucky. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’d like a word with Mr. Marshall.” He gestured toward the hallway. “If you please.” “Just one?” Stella hooked her arm through Shane’s and dragged him to the table. “Why do we need to break up the party? Let’s deal Shane in.” “Should we?” Lucky nodded. “I think we should. Gentlemen, prepare to be dazzled. Shane might not look like much, but he’s a hell of a card player.” The tips of Shane’s ears burned, but he managed to remain composed. “Only when I’m not on the clock, Mr. Marshall. Now, please—” “You’re so cute when you’re all official.” Stella pressed against his side, her breasts soft and full. “Shane here’s an old friend, aren’t you, Shane?” “He’s quite old,” Lucky added. “I mean, on the inside. Even when he was fifteen, he could pass for a man twice or three times his age.” He shuffled the cards between his fingers, flipping them so fast they were almost invisible. He did it again, and again, making sure that everybody was paying attention. “Come on, who’s up for a hand?” “Will you get the f**k out of here?” Brute demanded, his face turned aubergine. Lucky shook his head with a disapproving look. “That’s not very polite language to use in front of a lady.” Stella gave the table a waggle of her fingers. “He means me.” “I think they know that, Stella,” Shane murmured. “Yes, but do you?” She leaned so close, her mouth hovered just in front of his. “You’re always polite, Shane. I’ll bet you even say please when you’re in bed.” “You’re making Shane blush.” Lucky shot her a reproving look. “How can he be all official and professional when you make him blush?” “I thought we wanted him to play. He can’t be all official and professional if he’s going to play.” “Well, I don’t like when he’s all official and professional, anyway.” Lucky shuffled the cards again and arched his brow. “So, what’s it going to be? I’m itching to play.” There was going to be no reasoning with Lucky in this state. Shane wasn’t entirely sure he was going to be able to even get him out of the room. Which meant he had only one other option. “If Mr. Marshall’s game isn’t to your liking, gentlemen, it would be my pleasure to move you to another room.” Brute snorted, snapping an irritated hand at Lucky. “He’s the interloper here.” “Yes, but he’s not the one who’s going to have the rest of his night comped by taking me up on my offer.” “You’re comping these clowns? They don’t even belong in a casino. The whole establishment would be better off if you kicked them out.” Lucky glanced around the table. “No offense.” Shane refused to back down from the dare in Lucky’s eyes. He knew Lucky wasn’t trying to be belligerent. He was just bored. And drunk. A deadly combination. “There would be some who might say the same for you, Mr. Marshall.” Stella laughed. “He’s got you pegged, Lucky.” Lucky closed his fingers around Stella’s wrist and pulled her against him. She happily settled in his lap, her arm going around his shoulders. “Sure, plenty of people say the same for me. But that’s just because they’re jealous.” He jostled Stella a little, shifting her on his lap. “With good reason.” She held her glass up to his mouth, tipping the last few drops of golden whiskey onto his tongue. Before he could swallow, she sealed her lips over his in a kiss every man in the room felt all the way to his c**k. “Gentlemen,” Shane prompted in a low voice while Lucky and Stella were otherwise distracted. “If you’ll please follow me.” Shane’s escape didn’t go unnoticed. He heard Lucky’s low, amused voice behind him. “Dear, I think Shane is trying to ruin all our fun.” Stella’s, “Maybe you should invite him earlier next time then,” floated after him as he fled to the quieter hallway. It only took a few minutes to get the displaced gamblers settled into a new room, and then a few more after that to make sure they got all the comps they had coming to them. It wasted his reserves for the rest of the week, but in this case, it was probably worth it. Stella was still on Lucky’s lap when Shane returned. He shut the door behind him and stared at them until Lucky finally looked in his direction. “Are you trying to get kicked out of this hotel?” Shane asked. “Well, I’d have to try quite hard if that were my goal,” Lucky returned. “Nobody here wants my money to leave.” “I’m not so sure you’re going to find very many people here who want your money to stay, either.” “What is wrong with you tonight?” Stella toyed with Lucky’s hair, though her gaze assessed Shane with a sharp intuitiveness that always put him on edge. “It was just a game. You of all people should know that.” “I guess Shane doesn’t feel like playing.” Lucky gently pushed Stella from his lap and stood. “What about you? Are you one of those people who doesn’t want us to stay?” “That’s not what I said. Stop twisting my words around.” “Then you want us to stay.” Lucky approached, until he was almost invading Shane’s private space. “So what’s the problem?” He hated when Lucky did this. He hated that Lucky could c**k that brow and step within inches of him without ever touching, and his senses overloaded. That awareness had been there almost from the start, when a freshman Lucky had taken his rather uptight new roomie under his wing and attempted to teach him what life was really about. When Stella had entered the picture their sophomore year, Shane had prayed that the distraction she provided for Lucky would be enough. Except then he had two people determined to torment him at every turn. If he didn’t love both of them so much, he would do exactly as Lucky asked and advise the manager to evict them. He wouldn’t, of course. Because a world without Lucky and Stella Marshall just didn’t make any sense at all. That didn’t mean he was going to bow to Lucky’s blatant attempts to sway him now, though. “The problem is you’re acting like children,” Shane snapped. “You’re twenty-six years old, damn it! When are you going to start behaving like a f*****g grown-up?” Stella’s brows shot up. “You made Shane swear.” Lucky chuckled. “He’s kind of cute when he swears, isn’t he?” “Adorable,” Stella agreed. “We’re not acting like children,” Lucky continued. “We’re just having a bit of fun. You do remember what that is, right? Besides, there was no harm done.” “No harm…?” He gaped. He literally gaped. The best he could do was jab a finger back at the door once, then twice, as he fought to find breath to form words. “Do you realize how much money I just threw away for the casino, all because you wanted to have fun?” he finally managed. “Jesus, Lucky, you might be made out of money, but some of us have to actually work for it once in a while. And your little fun just cost me all my vouchers for the rest of the week. Oh, but that doesn’t matter, right? As long as you get your way, the rest of us can just go to hell.” Lucky pulled himself straighter while Shane ranted. For a moment, his face seemed to crinkle, and his eyes darkened. But it was only for a moment. Then his mask—his poker face—fell back into face. “You know what it sounds like to me? It sounds like you do want us to leave. Well, don’t worry. You can tell your boss we’re gone. In fact…” He pulled his wallet from his jacket. “How much do we owe you for the vouchers?” Lucky had the wallet open before Shane had the wherewithal to take a step back. “That’s not what this is about.” “Really? Because you just shouted at me about all the money you lost. Here. Give this to Maury.” Lucky pressed a wad of bills into Shane’s palm. “And here’s an extra tip for your troubles.” He folded a hundred and stuck it in Shane’s shirt pocket. He might as well have patted Shane on the head. Ice chased away the fire in his veins, and Shane pulled himself straighter, retreating for the doorway. “You would be well advised to make yourself scarce this evening, Mr. Marshall.” The words were clipped and cold. “I don’t think you’ll find the other Rio employees as…accommodating as I’ve been.” He whirled on his heel and marched out the door. He didn’t usually get the last word with Lucky and Stella. This was an opportunity he would take while he could.