Chapter 3
The storm hit on a Thursday night.
Rain hammered the casino windows. Thunder rolled over the Mississippi River. Tourists on the main floor laughed too loudly and ordered more bourbon while the slot machines kept singing.
In the kitchen, Mara felt the change before anyone told her.
Two extra guards stood near the service hallway.
The security screens flickered into gray blur.
The head bartender’s hands shook when he came down for ice.
And Nico never appeared for his midnight espresso.
At 12:07 a.m., one of Dante’s guards pushed through the swinging kitchen doors.
“Boss wants food upstairs,” he said. “Private lounge. Move fast.”
Mara looked up from the cutting board.
“Coffee too?”
The guard smirked.
“Yeah. Try not to breathe too hard carrying it.”
A cook laughed from the stove.
Mara lowered her eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
She prepared roasted chicken, warm bread, olives, charred peppers, and a silver pot of black coffee. Her hands moved slow enough to look harmless. Her mind moved fast enough to count the trap forming around Dante.
Private lounge.
Storm cover.
Extra guards.
Security interference.
Nico missing.
Wrong.
Very wrong.
Mara pushed the cart into the service elevator and watched her reflection in the steel doors.
Stained chef coat.
Messy pinned hair.
Plus-size body.
May you like
Forgettable face.
Exactly the kind of woman dangerous men ignored until it was too late.
