“The same way I knew about the money. J.R. was keeping an eye on you and he’s good at his job. You’re not just my meal ticket, Amber. I care about you and I promised your father I’d look after you. Didn’t I, Sam?”

Amber didn’t look at him. Whenever she’d thought of getting married, she’d always imagined her father walking her down the aisle of a beautiful church, packed with family and friends. Not a quickie Las Vegas ceremony. Ironically, it wasn’t the lack of frills that bothered her, it was the seedy way Marshall made her actions sound in front of her only parent. That and the fact that Sam couldn’t have been there, but she’d come to terms with his illness. She just resented Marshall’s using him as a pawn in his game.

“I’m not hungry, so let’s get on with it. I brought what you want. Now I’d like to take my father back to the home.” She placed the white bag on the table and rose.

“Not so fast,” Marshall said, ice in his voice. “Your father is still eating. Is it good?” he asked Sam in a softer tone.

Amber wasn’t fooled. Marshall obviously had more on his mind than her father’s meal.

“Besides, I’m not finished with you yet,” he added coldly, proving her hunch correct.

Her stomach rolled, but she refused to let her panic show. She lowered herself back into her seat. “You got your money. What else could you possibly want?”

“You. Me. One more game.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I already told you I’m out.” Her voice rose to an unsettling pitch.

“You made my favorite meat loaf tonight?” Sam interrupted, from beside her. But he wasn’t talking to Amber.

He was talking to Amber’s mother, the woman he loved, and the days he returned to when he spoke at all. At times like this, he was having what the nurses called a bad day. Something-or in this case someone-had rattled him.

“It’s pasta,” Amber said in a soothing voice.

She shot a frosty glare at Marshall.

“It was your tone that got to him. Don’t blame me.” He held up both hands as if he had done nothing wrong.

Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth to keep the vile words inside her from spilling forward.

“One more job,” Marshall said pleasantly. “That hundred and fifty grand is my stake. I owe some nasty men two-fifty. Once I pay that back and I know my legs and other body parts will remain intact, you can go and never see me again.”

She should only be so lucky. “And if I refuse?”

He patted Sam’s hand. “Your dad and I go for a ride.” He leaned in closer to Amber and whispered in her ear, “And you never see him again.”

Amber knew she was cornered. But she wasn’t giving up without going for whatever she could, first.

She snatched the money bag back. “Half now and half before we buy in tonight. I want to get my father situated and safe first.” She’d have to find another nursing home, she thought. One where Marshall had no access to him. She couldn’t risk something like this ever happening again.

“Not a problem. When your father finishes eating, we’ll go together. We’ll take your father back, then you can go home and get cleaned up for tonight. I’ll watch TV and wait, then we can head out, get a few drinks first to loosen up, and do our thing.” He smiled at her.

She forced a smile back.

In other words, she was screwed. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight and she’d have no chance to contact Mike until this mess with Marshall was over. By that time, she doubted he’d ever want to hear from her again.

MIKE HAD BEEN CONNED. Hours later, after combing the coffee shops, restaurants and the casino of his hotel, after he’d spoken to the few remaining hotel staff who’d been on duty last night, and after he’d spent the better part of the day scouring all the places he and Amber had visited together in the hopes of running into her again, Mike had to face the truth.

She was gone.

He still shook his head in disbelief. He’d acted like a gullible kid, not a trained cop who knew better than to pick up a strange woman, drink enough to dull all his senses except his hormones, marry her, share the combination to his safe with her and sleep with her. In that order.

He’d had a good buzz going, but he hadn’t been completely intoxicated. He’d thought, really believed, he’d seen something honest in her eyes and felt something real between them.

If he was superstitious, he’d say that was the problem. He’d felt something for her, something he’d wanted to explore more deeply. And because he had, his father would say the damn curse had kicked in. He’d lost his fortune and his future love.

If he were superstitious.

At the moment, though, he just felt damn stupid.

Once he got home, he’d have the resources to track Amber down. Until then, he settled for asking Jillian, back at the station in Boston, to run a check on the name Amber Rose from Vegas. A few hours later, Jillian reported back. All he knew was that there was no Amber Rose in the criminal system. Either she’d been clean until she wiped out his hotel safe or she was that good.

Any further information would have to wait. Mike wasn’t about to explain about Amber to anyone else, a necessity if he wanted any cops in Vegas to do him the professional courtesy of digging into her past. That would mean sharing his stupidity. And he damn sure wasn’t ready to do that. Not with strangers and not with the friends he’d come to Vegas with.

But he wasn’t finished with his wife. Not by a long shot, he thought, fingering the marriage certificate on the table. The next time he had a few days off, he’d return to Vegas and do some digging on his own. He’d find Amber, if that was her real name, and get himself a quick explanation and an even quicker divorce. But both of those things depended on his finding her.

Unfortunately, he had to be in court first thing Monday. Amber Rose would have to wait.

WITH AMBER BY HIS SIDE, Marshall used Mike’s money to buy into the game, located in a penthouse suite at an upscale hotel. As Marshall exchanged Mike’s money for chips, Amber tried to console herself with the thought that Mike had promised her that if he won at slots, half would be hers. So in reality she’d only stolen half his money. Borrowed would be a better term. But changing her words didn’t ease her guilty conscience.

It was all Mike’s money and she hadn’t intended to take any of it. But she and her partner had an agreement. And if tonight went the way it was supposed to, she’d be able to pay Mike back every last cent and hopefully buy herself a second chance with him.

Marshall had his slick image going tonight. He’d greased back his hair and donned a white jacket so he’d look like Andy Garcia in Ocean’s Eleven, at least in whatever mirror he viewed himself in. When Amber looked at him, she only saw a lying bastard.

“Since everyone’s here, let’s get started,” Marshall said.

Bobby Boyd, a used-car dealer from Texas with a ten-gallon hat and enough bluster for one hundred men, nodded. “Texas hold ’em, boys. No one beats King Bobby at his favorite game.”

He’d called himself King Bobby at least a dozen times since their initial introduction. Bobby Boyd owned a number of used-car dealerships throughout Texas or so he claimed along with the title of millionaire. Google would tell all…if she cared to find out. She didn’t.

“Remember, little lady, if your boyfriend here wins, King Bobby will hook you up with your choice of one of the finest vehicles in all of Texas,” he said to Amber.

He let out a huge guffaw of laughter, presumably because nobody beat King Bobby at Texas hold ’em. Ergo, she’d never see one of his cars.

“Ain’t my man sweet?” Emmy Lou, a Dolly Parton look-alike, only older, asked.

“He’s a…king,” Amber managed to say with a smile.

Emmy Lou preened and hugged King Bobby tight. “Give me room, woman. The King needs to breathe if he’s gonna win.”

What happened next passed in a blur of shuffling, dealing and big and little blinds. Amber needed to pay attention so she could signal Marshall, but she was having trouble focusing on anything but Emmy Lou. The woman had probably been beautiful once, even if it had been in an overdone way, but age and lifestyle had obviously taken their toll. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face lined and dry, makeup caked in the cracks, while her breasts drooped so low, her cleavage had long ago stopped being an asset. She appeared oblivious to all these facts as she clung to her man, one who obviously took her for granted.

Whether she was his permanent squeeze or his bimbo of the night, Amber didn’t want to know. Either way, the woman’s life was sad and pathetic. And as Amber looked from her own cleavage across to Emmy Lou’s and met the other woman’s red-rimmed eyes, she saw a glimpse of what her future would have been-would be-if she didn’t stick to her plan to get away from Marshall as soon as this one last game ended.

“Whoo-wee! King Bobby caught himself a nine on the river!” Bobby swooped forward and gathered the pot of winnings from the middle of the table.

Amber cringed. When she glanced around the table, she realized she’d spaced out on more than just one hand.

During a break, Marshall stormed over and grabbed her arm. “Get your shit together or this is over. And if I go down, you don’t get your hundred and fifty grand to pay your husband back, either,” he ground out under his breath.

“I’ll be fine.” She jerked her arm away, her stomach cramping.

“You’d better be or your father won’t.” He tossed out that little reminder before rejoining the table.

The game restarted and Amber kept her attention where it was supposed to be. Soon, Marshall was raking in chips. He didn’t take every hand or else King Bobby and the rest of the table would know something was up. She didn’t overdo her signals to Marshall until the men grew drunker and louder and the stakes rose higher.

Grateful they’d passed the halfway mark and knowing she was due for a performance, she strode to Marshall. “Baby, you’re winning!” she cooed. “Don’t forget that gorgeous diamond necklace I saw in Aladdin’s. Just think how that piece will look around my little neck.” She wrapped her arms around him, letting her cleavage nearly spill from her slinky dress to display exactly where the necklace belonged. And to distract the other men from their hands.

“It ain’t over yet, little lady. King Bobby’s just warming up.” The heavy man rubbed his hands together and tipped his hat backward off his ruddy face.

“Come on, King Bobby, give a lady a break.” Amber deliberately pouted at him.

Marshall cleared his throat. “Move over, baby. Let the men play.”

Sulking, she stepped back.

“Hey, you look familiar.” Howard, one of the men at the table, said, staring at Amber. “I recognize you from Beverly Hills.”

For a split second Amber froze. She and Marshall had one hard-and-fast rule. If something seemed off, they cut their losses and ran. The money wasn’t worth their lives if they crossed the wrong people. Nothing that extreme had happened. Yet.

Catching herself, Amber gave her best bimbo giggle and said, “Isn’t that funny? He thinks I’m from Beverly Hills. I must look like a star!” Amber said in her ditziest voice.

Marshall rolled his eyes. “I’m laughing, baby.”

“Because I don’t look like a movie star?” she asked, insulted.

He shook his head. “Because you’ve never been outside Vegas.” Marshall turned to the dealer. “Are we going to play?”

Howard didn’t appear satisfied, but the antes began and he refocused on his cards.

She let out a huge sigh of relief. When she saw a chance for Howard to win, Amber let Marshall’s opportunity pass in order to keep Howard’s mind on his cards and not where he’d met her once before. She didn’t need her real world colliding with her fake one. Not tonight, when the stakes determined both hers and Marshall’s future.

Over the next half hour, Marshall’s pot grew larger, King Bobby grew nastier, and Howard kept passing her covert glances that made her uneasy.

A quick tally in her head told her Marshall had won what he needed and she was halfway to paying back Mike. They were almost there.

“Bobby, honey, were you able to get us into the Country Club for dinner?” Emmy Lou asked. The exclusive restaurant in the Wynn hotel was world famous.

“Damn, woman, can’t you see I’m busy? Call the concierge and find out if she made us a reservation if you want to. But let King Bobby be.” He tossed her his cell phone.

“That’s it!” Howard rose from his seat.

“Don’t tell me this yahoo won again,” King Bobby muttered. “It’s enough that guy’s messing with the King’s mojo tonight.” He gestured to Marshall.