Quinn - Iris Johansen [107]
Cadalon Casino
2:35 A.M.
“I’M READY.” CATHERINE CAME OUT of the bedroom into the sitting room and gazed at him critically. “You look very polished.”
“I was aiming at being very James Bond.” He tilted his head. “I have to keep up with the competition. But 007 never had a Bond girl like you.”
She was totally breathtaking, he thought as his gaze moved from the top of her shining dark hair to the silver heels peeping out of the slit in the dark burgundy strapless gown she wore. The golden skin of her shoulders and upper breasts gleamed under the lights, and he wanted to reach out and touch her, stroke her. Exotic, sexy, and so vibrantly alive she lit up the room.
“I’ve always thought the Bond girls lacked a certain strength of will.” She smiled. “But they usually managed to get things done. Did you locate Jacobs?”
“He’s playing blackjack and doing very well. He’s excited about it. His cheeks are so flushed, you’d think he had a fever.” He opened the door to the hall. Don’t touch her. Not the time or the place. “I can stay out of Jacobs’s way until after you’ve taken care of him. But both he and Queen must have read the dossier on you that they gave to me. The photo didn’t do you justice, but he’ll probably recognize you.”
“Then I won’t give him time for it to register. I can’t let him see me until the last minute.”
“He’d have to be distracted not to notice you.” The hall was decorated in the same elegant nineteenth-century décor as the rest of the hotel casino. Catherine looked like a splendid peacock strolling past the soft pastels of the wall hangings and faded Aubusson rugs, he thought. “But I’m sure that you’ll find a way to do it.”
“I’m sure I will, too,” she said absently. “Eve just phoned me. I tried to call her earlier, but I got her voice mail. They’ve canceled all the flights out of the Midwest to New Orleans, so they were on a plane to Atlanta. But they ran across the same problem there. They’re waiting for a break in the weather. Damn this fog.”
“I thought she might be here by now.” He gazed out the window at the thick mist that obscured everything beyond two feet. “It’s as thick as any London fog.”
“Yes, I hoped it might lift before this.” She got into the brass-and-beveled-glass-paneled elevator. “I’m glad that they’re not here yet. I told them what we planned, but I don’t want Joe and her coming into this mess until we have Jacobs secure. If everything blows up in our faces, I don’t want them involved.”
“But they are involved, Catherine. One might say more than you.” He held up his hand to stop her from speaking. “Since we’re almost sure that they won’t make it before we’re done here, I’m not going to worry about it. Though I have plenty of time to devote to worrying since you haven’t left me much else to do until after the finale. Where’s your hypodermic? You’d have trouble hiding it in that gown.”
“It’s under the nail of my right index finger.” She glanced down at her gleaming scarlet nails. “It was the most practical place.” The elevator doors opened, and they were assaulted by voices, music, glittering mirrors, and sparkling chandeliers.
“The blackjack room is beyond the gold arches to the left. Table three,” Gallo said.
“Right.” She moved out of the elevator. “Give me a few minutes, then follow me.”
He nodded. “I’ll let you make your entrance. But don’t expect me to miss the performance. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“I don’t know why. I told you it’s going to be short and simple.”
“Whatever you say.” He watched her move across the brilliant foyer toward the blackjack room. He was far from the only person staring at Catherine. Who could help it? She was graceful, stunning, completely confident. She was as different as night and day from the fierce huntress who had stalked him in the woods. He wasn’t sure which Catherine fascinated him more, and it was too soon to make a choice. He was certain that he’d be seeing other facets of her that would prove equally interesting.
But