It had taken less than a minute.
Off in the casino, he heard movement, the methodical pace of what was sure to be security coming around the corner. He could wait for them or . . .
A scream met his ears. Julia. He was all instinct now, grabbing the handle, turning the lock and barging into the room. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and his fists were clenched. There she was in a chair, yanking her right hand out of handcuffs, and the sight of that made his blood not just boil, but reach volcanic temperature. A slick, sharp-dressed man was pawing at her, trying to cover her mouth with his grimy hand.
No way in all of f**king creation was that hand touching his Julia again. Ever.
“Get your hands off my fiancée,” he seethed, and everything happened both in slow motion and with blinding speed. In a heartbeat, he grabbed the man’s wrist, jerked him away from Julia, and jammed him up against the wall. Clay’s hands were gripping the man’s collar, twisting it tightly into his neck. He was vaguely aware of Julia rising behind him, moving carefully toward the door.
“Tell her to stay out of my games,” he spit back, and Clay answered that impudence by slamming a fist into the man’s ribs.
The man doubled over, grabbing his stomach, and moaning loudly. But Clay didn’t buy his bullshit, so he served up another fist, then one more for good measure, hoping it would crack a few ribs. A loud crunch echoed through the room. Just then, the first of a fleet of hotel security arrived, led by a pipsqueak woman with blond hair. Clay’s breath came fast and he was panting hard.
His eyes surveyed the scene—the crumpled-up man, his own clenched fists, a door broken into courtesy of a necklace in his hands.
This didn’t look good for him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saturday, 2:22 p.m., Las Vegas
Mindy heaved a sigh, then drummed her short, unpolished nails against her desk.
“I understand everything you’ve said, but I’m still going to have to report the details of incident to the Las Vegas police department when they arrive in a few minutes, and that includes those two additional punches thrown by Mr. Nichols. The Allegro ownership is trying to run a very tight ship.”
Julia steeled herself and gripped Clay’s hand tighter, a silent reminder that she was doing the talking right now. She’d told him as much when they came in this room. She knew from the look on Mindy’s face when she saw Clay’s final two blows that the woman was going to need some convincing, and that she’d need it from her—the victim, though she hated thinking of herself in such terms. Besides, she was running on adrenaline now, with perhaps a healthy dose of anger fueling her, too. There was no room in her for fear or worry. She had business to take care of, so she dug in.
“And that tight ship extends to an employee of yours—to the casino’s floor manager—working for the mob and accosting a casino guest?” Julia asked, her eyebrow arched.
“And believe you me, that’s being addressed,” Mindy said, her sweet features now turned intensely serious. “We fully expect Dominic to be arrested, likely on many accounts. He’s already been let go since management does not tolerate what he did to you.”
“Then why on earth are we even here? He handcuffed me to a chair, locked me in a room, and threatened me because he thought I was playing in games he’s rigging for the mob,” Julia said, the incredulity thick in her voice. How could they even begin to try to implicate Clay for the two additional punches thrown at the ass**le who’d handcuffed her? But anger and annoyance would not win her Mindy’s sympathy, so she softened her tone. “He was protecting me.”
“I know, and from what I saw you needed it. But even in instances of protection of another person, that protection can’t escalate to an inappropriate level of retaliation. Hence my concern over the two additional punches thrown. Look, I have no issues with him breaking into the room. That falls under Good Samaritan law; he heard a cry for help and he heeded the call. But we have to let the police decide if there are any issues of aggravated force.”
Julia held up her right wrist, showing the angry red line where she’d tried at first to slide out of the cuffs. “That man handcuffed me in your hotel. And I had to get myself out of handcuffs with lip balm in my pocket. Mindy, please. Help a woman out. Clay was looking out for me,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the woman across from her. Mindy’s lips quirked up in a small smile.
“You freed yourself with lip balm?”
“Lubrication is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?” Julia said, and she flashed a quick smile too, reminding herself that you won more flies with honey than vinegar. Julia seized the chance to reel her in. “I just think it would be a lot better for all involved, given what happened here and the way in which I was accosted at your casino, if Clay were not brought into this with the police. Do you think you could do me a solid?”
Mindy’s smile disappeared. “I wish. I really wish I could do that but we have to let the authorities handle this. It’s not a matter of what I think or what I want. I have been contracted by the owners of the Allegro, and their goal is to run things smoothly and deal appropriately with all situations. I am sure, Mr. Nichols, that once you talk to the police and explain what happened when you walked into that room that all will be fine. But I’m going to need to report this. God knows, we have enough trouble we’re dealing with at this place right now,” she mumbled.
Julia clasped her hands together. She was not above begging. “Please. I just don’t understand why that is necessary at all. We’d really like to go and continue on with our weekend,” she said. Her heart was still beating at a rabbit’s pace. It hadn’t come down yet from those moments locked up with Dominic. From the little bit Mindy had told her, and what she’d cobbled together from Dominic’s comments, he was running the rigged games for Michael Lawson, and had been assigned to keep tabs on known hustlers. It was a crazy notion that she was known for this. But c’est la vie. The mob operated underground and this was pure underbelly stuff they were dealing with. “You’re Brent’s friend. Can’t you please just keep Clay out of this?”
Mindy winced, as if this were painful. “I wish I could, but we are really trying hard to root out the pickpocketing that this entire Strip has been facing,” she said, and that’s when the bell went off.
Ding, ding, motherfucking ding. Her brain raced back to what she’d witnessed at one-fifteen. To the chip she planned to offer Mindy.