Luck of the Dragon (Entangled Covet) Read online

  Luck of the Dragon

  Susannah Scott

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Susannah Scott. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Edited by Candace Havens and Kate Fall

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-187-9

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2013

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Marilyn Monroe, Manolo Blahnik, Betty Boop, Miss Manners, Macallen, Glenmorangie, Glenrothes, Freemont Street Experience, Luxor Casino, New York, New York Casino, Flight of the Valkyries, Lode Berken, Notre Dame, Condé Nast, Refined Traveler, Pachelbel, Canon in D, La Perla, Diane von Furstenberg, St. George and the Dragon, Jenga, Treasure Island, Beatles, Beatle lyrics: “Her name was MacGill, she called herself Lil, but everyone knew her as Nancy…” “Mother Superior is jumping the gun.” “Happiness is a warm gun.” “kaleidoscope eyes.” Song Title: The Long and Winding Road..., Bruce Lee, Queen lyrics: “Aaaare you gonna take me home tonight… “Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin’ world go ‘round.”, Bruce Springsteen, Bruce Springsteen lyrics “Tell me now baby is he good to you, can he do to you the things that I do—ah ha—I can take you higher. Ohh, Ohhh, Ohhh, I’m on Fire.”

  I dedicate this story to my grandmother, Ouie, who passed away last year at 93, after a lifetime of kicking verbal butt. She was a quintessential steel magnolia from the south. Which means, she never failed to inform me of the proper etiquette of a situation, but then did whatever the heck she wanted. She knew I was writing, and would be so thrilled to read Alec and Lucy’s story—every single scene—no way would she have skipped the sexy stuff!

  Miss you so much, Ouie. ~ Your blue-eyed rat.

  “Listen kid, marriage is all about compatibility. The man provides the in-come and the woman provides the pat-a-bility… Unless it is the other way around. That works too.” Ouie to me, on the occasion of my marriage.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  When had thigh-highs become required jewel-heist garb?

  Lucy shifted in discomfort and silently cursed her pinchy-banded polyester stockings. The hot Las Vegas sun had set hours ago over the casino’s grand opening gala, but the desert air still heated her skin like a blast from her jewelry kiln. Perspiration channeled down her bare back and pooled at the base of her spine. If she was going steal from Alec Gerald, she didn’t need the distraction of slipping hose and sweat. Or a loaner dress that was so short, the hem didn’t touch her fingertips. Talk about distractions.

  But distraction was the whole point.

  The slinky red halter dress tied around her neck, a la Marilyn Monroe, with a low-cut back that plunged below the dimples on her rear, giving the patio full of tourists a great view of her daisy-chain infinity tattoo. Her twin brother, Joey, liked to call her tattoo a tramp stamp. Whatever. Mr. Center of the Universe had officially lost his right to condemn her, on any score, after dragging her into his latest mess. Her gut twisted in an antacid-needing blend of anxiety and guilt.

  “Dr. De Luca?” an hourglass-shaped brunette asked. With her statuesque build, the woman could have made a living dancing, except for her buttoned-up white shirt and to-the-knee modest black suit.

  “Yes?” Lucy pulled her heavy auburn hair off her neck to cool her sweaty back. Her kingdom—besieged as it was—for a ponytail holder.

  “I’m Jane Knox, Mr. Gerald’s personal assistant.”

  Lucy nodded and kept her smile polite. Despite her ridiculous getup, her pride insisted that she at least act like the professional she was.

  “I apologize, but Mr. Gerald has been delayed.” Jane scrunched her brow, clearly peeved about the change. “He’ll show you the gem exhibit after his speech.”

  “You can’t keep him on schedule?” Lucy meant her words to be light and teasing, woman-to-woman commiserating about schedule-busting men.

  Jane frowned and looked toward the sky. “It’s useless to try to control the actions of others.”

  “Oh.” Lucy was startled by her reply. It was true, of course. No one could control the actions of others, and, unfortunately, Lucy knew that better than most. “It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting.”

  Jane’s face settled into a smooth, solicitous expression. “Mr. Gerald asked me to make sure you were comfortable.” She said the word “comfortable” with a tonal raise, making the sentence a question.

  Comfortable? Lucy clenched her jaw and wobbled in her too-high shoes. Her comfort was unlikely as long as she was being blackmailed into grand larceny.

  “Thank you, I’m fine here,” she said.

  “Would you care for something to drink?”

  Normally, Lucy would not drink while doing her appraisal work. Normally, her hair would be in an elegant twist, her legs comfortably ensconced in understated pants, and her feet in shoes she could stand in for hours—not fabulosa three-inch gold Manolo Blahniks. But there was nothing normal about the whole setup.

  “Scotch. Single malt, two cubes, no water.”

  Jane didn’t blink. “Of course.” She turned to weave her way through the thick crowd to the grass-hut styled bar at the far end of the courtyard.

  Lucy’s head pounded right between her eyebrows. She pulled in a deliberate breath, held it, and blew it out. The action made her cleavage look downright Betty Boopish.

  Good Lord. What was she doing here?

  She was Luciana De Luca, Ph.D—the world-renowned gemologist—casing a hundred-million-dollar joint like it was an unprotected street vendor…

  She surveyed the crowd outside the Crown Jewel Casino, waiting for the promised grand opening welcome from Alec Gerald. The crowd was typical Vegas eclectic. Show girls with nipple pasties stood next to grannies in jogging pants and comfy bingo shoes. Families held hands with their kids next to decked-out call girls and high-rollers.

  Lucy moved her trained eye over the wrists, necks, and ears of the well-plumed assemblage and picked out the authentic jewels from the fakes. There were a few nice stones. A reasonable haul could be made from the crowd alone, but then Gino, the mob’s enforcer and number one creep, wasn’t interested in ordinary jewelry.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” A barrel-chested emcee wielded a microphone from the elevated stage about fifty feet to her left. “Welcome to the grand opening of the Crown Jewel Casino, where your greatest fears can become your greatest pleasures.” The call g
irls giggled, and the moms and dads glanced at each other and pulled their kids closer.

  “It is my pleasure to introduce you to the legend, the casino maker, the King of Las Vegas…Mr. Aleeee-eeec Gerrr-aaaald!”

  The crowd members swiveled their heads, scanning for the first sign of the Casino King. A low drum roll began, picking up speed until it seemed the drummer’s arms would give out. But the stage remained empty. The King of Las Vegas was late to his own party.

  Miss Manners would have a conniption.

  Suddenly, the scent of burning embers swirled over the courtyard and the wind settled, blowing Lucy’s loose hair around her face. A ground-vibrating roar followed, making every human eye search the sky for the source.

  What was it?

  Lucy’s well-honed survival instincts went on high alert just as a large SUV-sized black object careened through the air and landed on the raised stage with a thud.

  Grannies, kids, and call girls hit the ground screaming.

  Heart pounding, Lucy crouched with the crowd. The acrid scent of smoldering intensified. A little girl huddled near her, shrieking for help and covering her ears.

  Lucy reached for her hand. “It’s okay,” she soothed. The little girl trembled and scooted closer to her. “Where’s your Mom?”

  “Amanda!” A young woman ran over and pulled the girl from the ground before racing to the courtyard exit.

  Pounding from the stage rattled Lucy’s eardrums. Whatever had landed there was moving and alive. On the platform, clawed feet stomped, and the creature’s matte black skin stretched over powerful muscles and bones. Black wings unfurled across the stage, and the animal roared again at the crowd, baring razor-sharp white fangs.

  A dragon.

  Holy Mary, Joseph, and Peter. A freakin’ dragon.

  Suddenly, a burst of smoke covered the dragon, and the creature disappeared.

  A dark-haired man in an elegant tuxedo stepped through the gray fog and approached the microphone. “I am Alec Gerald.” His voice was deep, and his accent was hard to place but suggested the upper class. “I’d like to welcome you to my newest casino, the Crown Jewel.” Gerald spread an open palm to the frightened crowd. “I hope you enjoyed our first show of the evening.” He gave a devious, knowing smile. “It was all just a costume. Don’t be frightened.”

  After a few seconds, the stunned audience stood and broke into applause and catcalls.

  Gerald obviously liked games.

  Lucy stood, glaring at the casino owner. She had researched him, of course, studying his athletic image in hundreds of Internet pictures. The man was good-looking, apparently brilliant, and ruthless in his business deals. Watching the mesmerized crowd lean toward the stage, she had to admit he had that something else too—the showmanship of a champion con man—a magnetism she knew could draw people like lemmings off a cliff.

  The man was flat-out people-genic.

  Lifting his hands, Gerald quieted the crowd. “Thank you for coming.” On his left hand, a black stone glittered in a gold signet ring.

  Lucy fixated on the ring to avoid his hypnotic lure. What stone could be so refractive and still appear so dark? A black diamond, maybe? Her professional self wanted to peer at the ring under her jeweler’s loupe.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  “As many of you know, this project has been years in the making.” Alec Gerald surveyed the courtyard, working the crowd with his voice and easy mannerisms. “Our gem exhibit opens in a few weeks and will be the largest private collection of gems in the world. Carat for carat, we will outweigh England’s crown jewels.”

  Lucy’s eyes never left him. Though his voice was cultured and smooth, Gerald’s posture was wide-legged and slightly aggressive. Formidable. Her eyes traveled from his polished shoes up his body. The curve of quad muscle showed through his pants when he shifted to the side. His torso was taut and gave way to wide, burly shoulders. A bump on the bridge of his nose indicated he’d been in a fight or two.

  Gerald was a brawler, then.

  With that piece of information, Lucy was able to place his stance. He stood like a martial arts fighter, slightly forward, able to move right or left as the situation required.

  Ready to react to a threat, even in showman mode.

  That was not good for her. Not good at all.

  Lucy pondered the man on the stage, not happy with the picture she was forming of her opponent. Gerald’s playful words, five o’clock shadow, and slightly long hair all seemed to suggest a man of desultory casualness. Indeed, the articles she had read on him went on, and on, about his genial public presence. A veritable man of the world, who’d been-there-done-it all, twice. A man who could offer the all-elusive it to anyone with a plane ticket to Vegas. A man so charming, he didn’t need to shave twice a day.

  But her instincts told her this was wrong. Gerald was a serious man who only pretended to be lighthearted and casual.

  She would have to watch her step.

  “Miss.” A waitress in a medieval wench body corset and fishnets handed her a glass. “Your drink.”

  “Thank you.” Lucy held the glass of amber liquid up to the light. Two ice cubes, a good sign. She took a deep drink, rolling the earthy flavor across her tongue. It was a smooth single malt with a hint of peat smoke and berries, a Macallan or Glenmorangie, maybe even a Glenrothes? Her heart rate settled, and she turned her attention back to the Alec Gerald show.

  “Tonight was a taste of our magnificent theater production.” Gerald smiled. “The concierge will be giving away tickets to thirty lucky people for tomorrow night’s show.” The crowd cheered, and Gerald tucked one wide palm into his pants pocket.

  When they quieted, he continued. “And be sure to check out the dragon cadre flying protection patterns over the crown at the top of the casino,” he said. “The elevator in the south hall can take you to an observation deck for a better view.” He gestured to his right and then looked over his shoulder, directly at her, holding her gaze uncomfortably long.

  Lucy looked away. When she peeked back, he still watched her, his lids slightly lowered over assessing eyes. He had seen her, then. The dress had worked. She controlled her panic. There was no way he could know what she really planned. She saluted him with her drink and smiled, just another half-dressed chick in the crowd.

  “Or perhaps you’d like to walk on the wild side?” Alec Gerald said as if he spoke directly to her.

  Lucy lost her smirk at his suggestive tone. Goose bumps traveled up her arm, and she tossed back the rest of her drink. The ice banged hard against her front teeth.

  Gerald’s gaze returned to the crowd. “When you’ve worked up your appetite, one of our five-star restaurants will be happy to satiate you.” He drawled the word satiate, and it echoed elusively through her mind.

  Sat-i-ate.

  Lucy took a deep breath and focused on the job at hand, the one that would get her brother Joey out of hock. Gino had told Joey that Gerald kept his keycard on him at all times. She studied his black tuxedo. Even from her distance, she could see the suit was custom made, meaning the jacket pockets were probably sewn tightly into the lining.

  She would have to be quick to outmaneuver him.

  Her hand tightened on her empty glass. There hadn’t been time to dust off her rusty pickpocketing skills after Joey’s hysterical visit. She needed to get her confidence up before taking on the King of Las Vegas. Con man rule number one: swagger was the most important ingredient in a tasty soup of plunder.

  Lucy perused the crowd for a good mark. The high-roller with a call girl on his arm would work. The woman was dressed as a naughty nurse. He was guaranteed to have a wallet on him somewhere—medical care was expensive.

  Showtime.

  Lucy set her glass on a tray and pulled her shoulders back, trying to shrug off the respectable woman she had become. The dress strap dug into the back of her neck like her overburdened conscience. She ignored the dress and her conscience and strutted toward the high-roller, se
tting each foot directly in front of the other to give her hips the maximum sway.

  Con man rule number two: always keep ‘em looking away from your hands.

  The nurse saw her moving in on her client and turned her back to Lucy, blocking the high-roller’s view.

  Lucy kept strolling.

  She brushed arms with the nurse and stumbled against the high-roller. “Oohhh.” She teetered on her heels and her hands snaked up the man’s pudgy middle to his breast pocket. “Excuse me.” Voilá. She moved the man’s fat wallet to his pants pocket and stepped back.

  The nurse gave her a knowing look. “Check your wallet,” she said to the man.

  Lucy kept her expression confused.

  The high-roller frowned and patted his breast pocket. “It is gone. My wallet is gone!”

  Security guards rushed forward and surrounded her before she could respond. “Gentlemen, pleeeassse.” Lucy let her words slur and held her arms out to her side. “I just tripped.” She raised her palms. “Sometimes a trip is just a trip.”

  “Here it is.” The high-roller pulled his wallet from his pants.

  “See.” Lucy pasted an overly bright smile on her face. “Have fun.” She winked at the nurse and wound her way to the edge of the stage.

  The lift had gone well.

  Did that mean she hadn’t changed after all, or was it simple muscle memory at work? It didn’t matter. It was a conversation for another day. Bottom line, she was ready for bigger fish.

  She was ready for Gerald.

  Behind her, the crowd still listened to Gerald’s every word. As he talked, the angles of his face shifted compellingly. “The entrances to the fetish rooms are on the perimeter of the casino, leading to a dungeon playground which will tempt the curious and challenge the connoisseur.” Gerald talked about sex with an ease that made her wonder which end of the spectrum he would fall on.

  Gerald would be a connoisseur.

  “Lastly, the Crown Jewel offers Vegas’s only all-inclusive experience. Meaning, you can have your fun, and even some danger in our dungeons, and pay for it, too.” The crowd laughed at Gerald’s forthrightness. “Thank you for coming. Savor your experience.”