Page 52 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

a shrugger

Reagan

Raul, my boss, is checking his cell phone while I’m trying to talk to him.

“Raul.” I wave my hand in front of him. “This is important.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, still not looking up.

“Sodorov still won’t leave me alone. I still don’t feel safe, especially since they broke into my apartment.

” Not that Raul was particularly concerned when I told him about this two weeks ago.

He knows that they roughed me up in the alley.

He saw my neck the next day. And yet…The man’s a brick wall, and I’m so sick of it.

“They try to follow me to and from my building. Can’t you do something? ”

He looks up and tilts his head. “Have you called the police? Made a report?”

“No.”

He lifts his shoulders. “Well, then, I don’t see how I can help you if you’re not willing to make a report.”

“You know who these guys are,” I say harshly under my breath. “Calling the police will only make things worse. These guys are above the law, and you know it. If I call the police, they’ll come back with something twice as bad for me.”

He opens his mouth, and I know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it. “Well, it does look like you in the video, Reagan, you have to admit. I mean, isn’t that why they’re so focused on you?”

“I admit she does look like me, but you know it wasn’t me.

I don’t have access to those offices, my fingerprints weren’t found there.

And besides, if I’d stolen millions from someone’s house account, do you really think I’d be hanging around, still working the same job, still living in the same apartment? ”

“I mean, I guess,” he says while smoothing his dark, slicked-back hair. “I’ve seen stupider criminals come through here.”

“Well, I’m not one of them. Do you have any other leads? Maybe if they knew the casino had leads, they’d back off.”

“I can’t really comment on that, Reagan.”

“Isn’t there anything Tangiers can do to protect me? I shouldn’t have to live this way. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Look, I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t guarantee anything. Don’t you have some other issues with any of those guys? Isn’t that what I heard?”

My cheeks feel like they’ve been set on fire. Damn, how does he know this?

“It has absolutely nothing to do with Henri Sodorov, though. I’ve barely met the guy.”

He gives me a look. “Drama breeds drama, girl. You should keep your head down. Stay away from the drama. Blend into the background for a while.”

“Wow, thanks for the sage advice, Raul. Perhaps I could avoid the drama of being beaten, having my apartment broken into, and having strange men following me if the casino I work for would tell its high-roller underworld client to back the hell off and leave its employees alone.”

My hands shake as I turn and head out for my floor shift. Raul is a terrible manager, to begin with, and this only solidifies that he is among the worst people I have ever worked with in my entire life.

Maybe I should just quit. Go hide out somewhere; try to start over in a new city somewhere far from here.

The casino is busy tonight, and I’m grateful for the distraction from my thoughts about Raul and my job and this Sodorov drama.

There’s a loud guy in a huge cowboy hat playing tonight.

Introduced himself as Wild Bill, no joke.

He jabbers on and on, two women in sparkly, beaded dresses hanging on his elbows, laughing at everything he says like he’s just the funniest guy since forever.

It’s entertaining, at least, and makes my shift go by more quickly.

At one point, I look up and scan the room when someone familiar catches my eye.

A tall, dark, and handsome guy all alone in the casino would be enough to catch anyone’s eye, but he’s striking in other ways, too.

His carved, muscled body, his arm sleeve tats, his great hair.

Even more so because I know this hot guy sitting alone in the casino.

Mikhail Zelenka is sitting at the bar in my section, nursing a beer.

And he’s watching me.

When he realizes I see him, he nods. That single acknowledgement sends a flutter through my belly, and at the same time, it fills me with an overwhelming sense of relief.

Is he here for me? Why is he here? To make me feel safe?

I don’t know the reason he’s here, especially after how we left things when I fled his apartment in the depths of horrified embarrassment.

I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks, obviously, with his team on a multi-city road trip in Canada and the East Coast.

How did I know this?

Because I started watching Vegas Crush hockey games.

More specifically, a certain player with the number nineteen on his back.

While off work, I’d tune into a game, and if I was working, I soon discovered that all Crush games conveniently play on TV screens throughout the casino whether they’re at home or on the road, so it was easy to keep up with his whereabouts.

He played a game in Columbus last night.

So, I really have no idea if Mikhail’s here to make me feel safe or not, but he makes me feel it anyway. Knowing him the little I do, I also know he’d step in to protect me if someone was trying to hurt me. He’s done it before, and I’m certain he’d do it again.

The comfort of knowing he’s here helps me relax in a way I haven’t for weeks.

I laugh and joke and do a much better job than I’ve been doing of late, encouraging bets and keeping the clientele happy.

Raul even comes over and tells me what a nice job I’m doing tonight.

I glare at him in response because, well, he deserves it, but secretly, I’m pleased at the compliment.

When my shift ends, I close things out and walk over to where Mikhail is waiting. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He picks at the label on his beer, his leg shaking maybe a tad…nervously? “It’s been a while. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, yeah, all right,” I say, nodding and trying my best to cover.

My words drop like a lead weight between us, which pretty much matches the way my stomach drops along with it.

Because suddenly, I’m not as thrilled as I was before, knowing he just came by to make sure I was okay.

I didn’t realize until just this moment how much I wanted him to come by because he wanted to actually see me.

“But also,” he tacks on, “I thought maybe I could buy you a drink?” He arches a brow at me hopefully.

I bite my bottom lip and consider his invitation.

A surprise, yes, but a good surprise. I have a dress in my locker I keep here in case I pick up shifts as a hostess in the casino’s posh restaurant.

Mikhail is in dark jeans and a gray button-down.

I’ll probably look way overdressed, but I can’t sit out here with him in my casino uniform.

“Give me a minute to change?” I ask, making the decision to do this with him.

The hint of a smile that appears on his face boosts my confidence, but it’s his reply that really does the trick.

“I’ll be here waiting. What will you have?

So, it’ll be here when you come back.” Such a serious guy, but I do like it.

On him. Yes, indeed, Mikhail Zelenka has the brooding male vibe down to per-fec-tion.

“A vodka cranberry sounds lovely,” I tell him before heading back to the employee lounge to attempt a transformation.

Ten minutes later, I’m in a short black dress and strappy black heels as I dig through my bag for makeup.

I cobble together some red lip pencil, a kohl eye pencil, and a mascara that miraculously still works.

I haven’t worn makeup in forever, but for tonight at least, I want Mikhail to see me as someone other than a damaged girl who needs saving.

I want to look good. And for him to think I’m sexy—someone desirable he won’t want to turn away for a second time if we ever get to that point again.

When I walk back out, I watch his dark blue eyes widen as he shifts in his seat.

He stands as I approach him, towering over me as he pulls out a bar stool for me to sit.

“You clean up well.” He gives me a wink and it’s freaking adorable.

“A little black dress and everything. I’m feeling underdressed now with you glamming it up. ”

“It’s just an outfit I keep here. I work as a hostess in the steakhouse sometimes for extra money, so I come prepared.”

“You wear it well.”

I smile at him, relishing his compliments as I pick up my vodka cranberry. He offers his beer bottle to clink with my glass. “Cheers, Reagan, we made it through another day.”

“Did you have a bad day?” I’m intrigued by his presence here, seeking me out in my place of work, and hoping like hell that he’ll tell me why at some point tonight.

“Not bad, necessarily,” he says with a shrug. His leg bounces nervously again. I long to reach out and put my hand on his thigh to calm him but I don’t dare. “I’ve been on the road for games the last two weeks. We finished in Columbus, your hometown.”

I know. “Is that why you thought to come check on me?”

“Not completely,” he answers with no elaboration whatsoever. “My parents came to Columbus to see me. We had breakfast together this morning. Well, more like they had breakfast while I sat in front of my food listening to my dad bitch for an hour.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can think to say to him. Sharing his personal thoughts has me suddenly feeling shy, when he’s never made me feel that way before. Mikhail’s been pretty easy to open up to. Except for that one time I tried to get him to fuck me and he turned me down.

“It’s fine,” he says with another shrug. “It’s no different than any other day. How are you? Any sign of those guys lately?”