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“No,” Charles said grumpily. “That envelope is too thick. I couldn’t see anything through it. Why doesn’t the motherfucker just email or text? Who writes letters anymore?”

“That would leave a digital trail. Remember, Mickey had to skip the country to escape the authorities.”

“Oh, right. He is a criminal. There is that.”

“Besides, he doesn’t have my email address or phone number.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. And you still have that post office box.”

Nico nodded.

“Wait a minute,” Charles said. “Doesn’t physical mail leave a trail too? I mean, there’s the handwriting and DNA. There’re experts who can figure out all sorts of stuff. Look at Gil Grissom and Abby Sciuto.”

“Watching reruns of CSI and NCIS again? You do know they’re fictional characters.

And there are things like gloves. Not to mention he probably typed the letter.

Although he’s developed so many different writing styles, even if he did write it, I don’t know if there’s anyone who could track it back to him. ”

Charles opened his mouth, and Nico added, “Including Gil and Abby.”

Charles waved his hand. “Okay, forget about the letter.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I mean, forget about it for now.” Charles gazed up at the ceiling, looking deep in thought. “I just realized something. We’ve gone completely off the rails here.” He poked her in the chest. “You still haven’t given me any details about your adventure at Drink and Dive . ”

Nico was hoping he’d forgotten.

Charles examined the wad of cash. “I wonder how much is here. Although I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it? You didn’t need the money, so why go there , once you were there ?”

Nico drew a deep breath. “It was him.”

Charles rubbed his hands together, a greedy expression in his blue eyes. “Details. Details. Him-who? What did he look like?”

“Like an annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick,” Nico said emphatically.

“An asshole and a prick; so, he’s got both ends covered.” Charles leaned back, a devilish grin on his face. “That handsome?”

“How do you get handsome from annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick?”

“Because annoying, arrogant, asshole, pricks are always handsome.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh yes, it is. There’s a direct link between being annoying, arrogant, assholey, and prickish and being handsome. It must be coded or encoded in the DNA. In fact, I think I read that somewhere. I can’t remember where.”

“He wasn’t handsome,” Nico insisted as she turned away from Charles’s penetrating stare.

She touched her lips, thinking of his.

She’d expected them to be cold and hard. But they weren’t.

No, they weren’t.

When he’d stood behind her and she could smell him, she felt an overwhelming urge to taste him up and down. Every inch of him. The way he smelled left her thinking even his sweat would taste sweet.

No, both sweet and savory .

And when he’d placed his hands on her hips, holding her firm, she wanted those hands to roam. She wanted them to go down.

Down.

Down.

All the way.

Down.

Like hers had when she’d searched his pockets and felt him .

Damn he was hard. Just how big is the man?

Charles went from playful to serious. “Did he get to you?”

Nico blinked. “Get to me? No! What a thing to say!”

“I say it because your face says it.”

“Don’t be absurd. You know that’s not possible. I can’t. I don’t even know how. At least not in the normal way—the way normal people do … normally. I haven’t been with anyone other than …”

“Him.” Charles sighed. “Mickey.”

“Yes, him . And that was nowhere near normal.”

Shaking his head, Charles crossed his arms. “It wouldn’t matter anyway.

Neither one of you would ever know. You’re a steel vault.

You can’t even break the code. He wouldn’t know.

You wouldn’t know. I might not even know.

Not if you did. Not if he did. He wouldn’t know if you were interested because you wouldn’t know if you were.

Because of that, you wouldn’t, couldn’t make it known, making it impossible for him to know.

You wouldn’t know if he was because you wouldn’t know if you were, and because you wouldn’t know if you were and wouldn’t make it known that you were, he couldn’t know if you were, so he wouldn’t, couldn’t make it known if he were and thus, wouldn’t know if he were. And I wouldn’t know—”

Exasperated, Nico threw her hands in the air. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not sure.” Charles paused. “But whatever it is, I think I have to stop. I’m getting dizzy.”

Even Templeton seemed disturbed. He ducked his head back down and burrowed himself deep into Charles’s pocket.

Nico stood up. Unfortunately, so did Charles.

“I think I feel better now. I’m going to jump in the shower.”

She tried to get past him, but he blocked her.

“Hold on, we’re not done here,” he said, opening the wad and tossing some bills on the bed. “Nico, there are hundred-dollar bills here! In fact, all I see are hundred-dollar bills!” Charles clutched his chest, his eyes wide in a look of horror. “You don’t suppose he’s a drug dealer or connected?”

“I thought all drug dealers were connected.”

Charles grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. “Stop making light of this. I’m serious.”

Nico picked up the pillow and threw it back. “You’re also a drama queen. Trust me, he was no drug dealer, and he was no mafioso.”

“He was Italian?”

“Did I say that?”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so. But okay, yes, he happens to be Italian.

But not all Italians belong to the mob. And we’re not talking about hundreds of thousands of dollars.

If I found a sack with that much money in it and kept it, then you could be concerned.

He was just a rich, annoying, arrogant asshole who decided to go slumming. ”

“Prick.”

“What?”

“You forgot prick. A rich, annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick who decided to go slumming.”

“Right.”

Charles narrowed his eyes, a look of suspicion on his face. “What makes you so certain? You sound certain.”

Nico made a second move to get past him. “I just am. That’s all. Now let me go. I’ve got to get ready.”

Charles held out his hand like a traffic cop. “Stop right there.”

Nico saw the wheels turning in Charles’s brain.

Damn it .

It was only a matter of time.

He narrowed his eyes. “When you said it was him , you made it sound as though you know him—as though I know him. Do you? Do I?”

Just get it over with already.

Nico sighed. “Yes … well, by sight and reputation. You’ve never met him. I’d never met him until last night.”

To say she’d been shocked when she’d walked into Drink and Dive to see Rocco Vittori was an understatement. What was he doing in Vegas? He couldn’t be here to sign with the same team, could he? The team she was set to sign with? In a matter of hours?

Nico looked up at Charles. “Can I borrow those huge sunglasses of yours? You know, the ones that swallow up half your face.”

Charles’s brow wrinkled. “Why?”

“Because I have a hangover, and the sun will only make it worse.”

“But you have your own sunglasses. The only reason why you’d want to borrow mine is to hide.” Charles’s eyes flew open wide. “From someone who might recognize you. Like maybe the guy you shagged last night at Drink and Dive.”

“Shagged? I didn’t shag him.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No! I think you mean fleece.”

Charles waved his hands. “Whatever. The point is, you would only feel the need to hide from this fleece-ee if there was the possibility that he might see you and recognize you. But for him to see you and recognize you, he’d have to run into you.

And you’re not doing anything today other than going to Maverick Racing headquarters to sign the contract, which means you’re thinking he might be there. ”

“I’m not thinking he might be there! He better not be there. Oh, please don’t let him be there.”

“So, there is a possibility that he might—”

Nico groaned. “Be there.”

Charles fell back on the bed. It was as though what Nico said pushed him off his feet. Then the realization of what she’d said tossed him from the bed, and he sprung back up like a jack-in-the-box after you’d cranked the handle.

He grabbed Nico’s shoulders, looking fiercely into her eyes. “He’s a driver?!”

Nico nodded.

“An F1 driver?”

Again, she nodded.

Charles stared wide-eyed at all the money on the bed.

“No wonder all those hundreds. Damn, how much did you take him for?”

She had no idea. It wasn’t about the money. She’d just wanted to beat him. Take the annoying, arrogant, asshole, prick down a notch.

“So, you’re thinking he might be there? Is he going to be on your team?”

Nico shrugged. “I don’t know who the second driver is.”

She must have had a pitiful look on her face because Charles’s tone suddenly changed to a more sympathetic one.

“He won’t recognize you, if that’s what you’re worried about. No one ever does. You’ve had too much experience doing that sort of thing. I mean, in the past. You become a whole different person. You’re good at it. And you did wear the wig.”

Nico hoped Charles was right.

Rocco Vittori was without a contract. No one as of yet had picked him up. That was the last she’d heard. With any luck, things would stay that way, he wouldn’t be racing, and he’d retire. For good , she thought, gritting her teeth.

And yet he was here. In Vegas. Why?

He couldn’t be signing onto the same team. Just couldn’t.

“Wait a minute,” Charles said. “I don’t get it. If you knew he was a driver, why would you—” Charles stared at Nico, a look of horror on his face.

He’s got it now.

“Not Rocco Vittori?!”

Nodding, Nico drew in and released a deep breath.

Charles placed his hands on his hips. “See, what did I tell you? Annoying, arrogant, asshole, handsome, prick.” He sighed. “Oh my, that is a handsome prick.”

“He’s not handsome!”

“Perhaps handsome doesn’t quite capture it. He’s not pretty like that manager of his, Dario.”

“Definitely not.”

“You’re right. He’s not pretty at all.”

“Damn straight, he’s not.”