Athens Affair, page 6
Ace followed Jasmine to the store, moving slowly and looking around at the people on the sidewalks or passing by in cars.
He’d been shocked when Swede had informed him that Jasmine’s Eli was her son.
What had he expected? He hadn’t seen the woman in four years. She wouldn’t have waited around for him.
He rubbed a hand against the ache in his chest. Inside, he laughed. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d gone from jealousy of the stranger named Eli, who Jasmine was so obviously in love with, to being jealous of Eli’s father.
Ace had always imagined a future with a wife and children in it. After meeting Jasmine, his imagination had filled in the blank faces with hers, a little girl with black hair and green eyes like her mother’s and a little boy with brown hair and brown eyes like his.
Even after he’d given up hope of ever finding Jasmine, his dreams of a family had included them.
Jasmine disappeared into the store.
Ace stepped inside moments later to find her with a sales associate, quickly selecting garments.
She seemed to know what she needed, collecting several pairs of slacks, a blouse, a blazer and a couple of dresses. The saleswoman carried her selections to a fitting room.
Ace stood in the middle of the store, not exactly sure what to do with himself, while Jasmine tried on the clothing.
Before entering the dressing room, Jasmine looked over the saleswoman’s shoulder toward Ace. When his gaze met hers, she motioned him over.
He hurried across the floor.
As he neared Jasmine, the clerk turned and smiled. She motioned toward a cushioned chair positioned outside the fitting room and said something in Greek.
Jasmine’s lips twisted. “She wants you to have a seat so I can model the outfits for you. You don’t have to. I won’t be long. I just need something befitting the heiress to an Italian fortune, not the vacation ensemble of a suburban housewife.” She winked and ducked into the dressing room.
Ace would have gone on to find his “something more intimidating,” but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Jasmine alone. If the people who held Eli hostage were keeping an eye on her, they might make a move on her to collect the scroll. When they found that she didn’t have it, who knew what they’d do?
No. He’d stick with Jasmine until they got Eli back. If that meant hanging out in a ladies clothing store, he’d make the sacrifice. Although sacrifice, it wasn’t.
One by one, she slipped into the outfits, starting with the pants, blouse and blazer combination.
She’d gone into the fitting room in her ill-fitting, brightly colored slacks and shirt and came out in a sophisticated trouser and blazer combination that fit her curves to perfection. The high-quality material and sleek lines accentuated her figure. The white silk blouse and camel color of the pants and jacket provided a stunning contrast to her dark hair, making her look like the heiress she was to portray.
“Wow,” he said, amazed at the transformation.
“Thanks.” She blushed as she stood in front of a full-length mirror, turning right then left to examine the way the cut of the blazer fell across her waist and hips.
Jasmine ducked back into the dressing room and came out moments later in an all-black pantsuit. She’d secured her hair in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck. The stark color and lines of the clothing gave her a mysterious, badass appearance.
“That one,” he said. “You look...dangerous.”
Her eyebrows winged into a V over her nose. “Dangerous like an heiress about to beat a man in a game of poker? Or a like an international jewel thief?” She faced herself in the mirror. “I don’t want to make him turn and run.”
The blouse she’d chosen to go with the blazer and slacks was black silk with a V-neckline that dipped low between her breasts.
Ace’s gaze found it difficult to look away from the tempting display of cleavage. “Trust me,” he said. “He won’t turn and run. He’ll want to get to know this beautiful, mysterious woman.”
She frowned at herself in the mirror. “I don’t know.” After one last look, she stepped back into the dressing room. “Two dresses, and I’m done.”
Ace glanced at this watch. They were good on time. It wouldn’t take them long to find him something more intimidating to wear once Jasmine made a decision regarding her “heiress” attire.
She emerged seconds later in a black dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a deep V neckline that hugged her body from breast to mid-thigh. Jasmine turned her back to him, clutching the open back of the dress together. “Could you zip it, please?”
Ace was out of his chair in a heartbeat.
His pulse quickened as he reached for the zipper tab low on her back and slowly drew it up to just below her shoulder blades.
Holy shit. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His groin tightened as his knuckles brushed against her naked skin. He remembered how smooth and warm it had felt to his touch when she’d lain in his bed during that week so long ago. Ace swallowed hard on a groan rising up his throat, stepped back and forced his hands to fall to his sides.
“You look amazing,” he said, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror’s reflection.
Jasmine ran her hands over her hips. “The dress is amazing, and it might be the ticket to get me inside.” She sighed. “But not conducive to a quick getaway, especially if any running, climbing or jumping is involved.”
“Good point,” he said. “But what a shame to pass on something that looks like it was made for you.”
“It is an amazing dress.” Jasmine studied her reflection a moment longer, then shook her head. “But no to the dress.” She performed an abrupt about-face before Ace had a chance to move.
He’d been standing close.
When she faced him, her breasts brushed against his chest, shooting fire through his veins.
Her breath caught on a gasp, and she backed away so quickly she stumbled.
Ace grabbed her arms and pulled her against him to steady her.
She rested her hands against his chest but didn’t push him away. For a long moment, he stared down into her green eyes, the years apart fading away.
They were the two young people who’d met on vacation at a café in Athens and kissed for the first time in the moonlight on the steps of the Parthenon.
His gaze moved from her eyes to her full, rosy lips, the kiss as fresh on his mind as that first evening in Athens. As natural now as it had been then, his head lowered until his lips were but a breath away from hers. Just like then.
He wanted to kiss her. If she wanted the same, she’d rise to meet him. She had...back then.
A second passed.
Jasmine drew in a breath, let it out and rose on her bare feet until her lips brushed against his.
A sound behind Ace broke through the trance.
He spun and braced for attack.
The sales assistant stood with her hands pressed over her heart, her face creased in a happy smile. She said something in Greek and backed away, waving her hand.
Jasmine chuckled. “She apologized for interrupting and wishes us to carry on.”
When he turned back to do just that, Jasmine had ducked back into the dressing room and closed the door between them.
Ace wanted to follow her into the dressing room, take her into his arms and finish the kiss. He took one step in that direction and stopped.
What if the brief brush of her lips was all she’d wanted? What if it was enough to tell her there wasn’t anything left in her heart for him? The fact she’d gone into the dressing room made it obvious she didn’t want to pick up where they’d left off before the clerk’s interruption.
Thoughts, doubts and regrets whirled through Ace’s thoughts as he stood staring at the closed door.
The door opened, and Jasmine stepped out, wearing the black trousers and blazer and carrying the tourist’s clothes, her face devoid of emotion. “All I need is shoes, and we can work on your disguise.” She stepped past him and found the flustered clerk. The woman appeared to be apologizing all over again.
After stowing the clothes she carried in the suitcase, Jasmine affixed the luggage tags she’d saved to the handle. Speaking in Greek, she pointed to the suitcase. The clerk nodded and rolled it behind the counter, then led Jasmine to the shoe display.
The helpful woman selected a shiny black, high-heeled pump. Jasmine nodded, and the clerk disappeared through a door, returning a minute later with a pair in her size and fitted them on Jasmine’s feet.
Her outfit complete, the former Sayeret Matkal soldier paid the clerk with a wad of cash she’d magicked from somewhere and headed for the exit.
At the door, she paused and waited for Ace to catch up and open the door for her like a good bodyguard would.
Once again, he was amazed at how she’d transformed from the quiet interpreter on the movie set to the happy tourist from the States to Francesca Giordano, the Italian heiress.
He grinned and pushed open the door.
When she started to walk through, he held out his hand, stopping her. “Me first.” He walked out into the late afternoon Athens sunshine and scanned the street, sidewalks and shadows. When he was certain no threats awaited his “client,” he held the door for her to emerge from the store.
“Did you give the suitcase to the clerk?” he asked as she turned to the right.
Jasmine nodded. “I asked her to have it sent to the airport lost luggage and have it shipped to the address on the tag.”
Ace shook his head. The woman’s son was being held hostage, and she’d made the effort to get the suitcase back to its rightful owner. He’d bet she’d tucked some of the wad of cash into the case to help make up for the trouble she’d caused the unsuspecting tourist.
“Where are we going?” he asked as they walked along the sidewalk.
“Dmytro said there was a men’s clothing store two blocks from here,” she said, walking surprisingly fast in the high heels. “We’ll need to hurry. He arranged for a limousine to pick us up at the men’s store in thirty minutes. It will carry us to the casino.”
“Is there anything Dmytro can’t do or arrange?” Ace asked.
“He can’t get us into the Demopoulos compound.” She stopped at the door to the men’s clothing store and waited for Ace to hold it open. As she passed through to the interior, she continued with, “That’s up to us.”
Once inside the store, Ace glanced around. “What did you have in mind that would appear more intimidating?”
Her eyes narrowed as she swept her gaze from his head to his feet and then turned to study the store’s offerings. “Your trousers will work, but we’ll need a different shirt and a jacket.”
He glanced down at the black polo shirt with the Brotherhood Protectors winged logo embroidered on the left breast and the black trousers Hank had asked his team to wear as part of the security detail for the movie set.
Jasmine motioned for a salesclerk and spoke to him in Greek. The clerk led them to a rack of button-down shirts. He pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and measured Ace’s neck, shoulders and arms. Then he selected a black shirt and tie and carried them to a fitting room.
Ace and Jasmine followed.
The clerk hung the shirt and tie in the small room.
As Ace stepped into the room, Jasmine and the clerk headed toward a rack of suit jackets.
Not wanting to let Jasmine out of his sight, Ace came back out of the room and stood where he could see Jasmine. He pulled the polo shirt from the waistband of his trousers and over his head, tossing it back into the fitting room. He grabbed the shirt off the hanger and stepped back out of the room, his gaze going to Jasmine and the clerk.
Jasmine glanced toward him at that moment, her eyes flaring as she took in his naked chest.
Ace fought the urge to grin at her interest. He took his time fitting his arms into the black shirt and shrugging it over his shoulders. He was just beginning to fasten the buttons when Jasmine returned, clerk in tow, with a solid black suit jacket.
He chuckled. “When you said we were going for something more intimidating, I imagined a black leather biker jacket, not a suit jacket.”
Her lips twitched. “You would look very intimidating in black leather, but trust me, you’ll look even more intimidating when we’re done.” She took the jacket from the clerk and waited while Ace finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers.
Then he reached into the room for the black tie and looped it around his neck.
“Here,” she said and handed him the jacket before he could knot the tie.
He slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged into the jacket.
Jasmine fit the necktie under his collar and expertly tied it.
“You’re good at that,” he said, liking how close she was.
“My father taught me.” When she finished, she stood back and nodded. “Better. Just one more thing.” She handed him a pair of dark sunglasses.
He put on the sunglasses and turned toward the full-length mirror. “Okay. I see what you mean.”
Jasmine stood beside him, all in black like him. They made a striking and, yes, intimidating pair.
“I think we’re ready,” she said and glanced at her cell phone. “The limousine has arrived.”
Ace pulled out his credit card to pay the clerk, but Jasmine held up her hand. “I already paid him. Let’s go.”
Ace didn’t like that she’d paid for his shirt, tie and jacket. They’d been expensive. With a limousine waiting outside, he didn’t have time to argue. They hurried toward the exit. Ace went first, checked for threats, glanced into the rear of the limo, then the front of the vehicle at the chauffeur, looking for any indication he wasn’t what he was supposed to be.
When he returned to Jasmine, he frowned. “How do we know your guy sent this limousine?”
“He did,” Jasmine said and strode past Ace to the waiting car.
Ace hurried to get ahead of her and open the rear door.
She slid onto the back seat and scooted over, making room for Ace.
He bent to slide in beside her and closed the door before he realized they weren’t alone in the back of the limousine.
Chapter 6
Jasmine nodded toward the man sitting across from them. “Ace, this is Dmytro. Dmytro, this is Ace.”
Twenty-five years her senior, Dmytro personified the word intimidating. The man had a wicked scar across his left cheek that he’d earned during his time in the army. Another scar slashed across his eyebrow, giving it a disjointed, wicked slant. He’d said he’d earned that one as a mercenary.
Dmytro had given up his wild, marauding life when he’d returned to his hometown and fallen in love with a pretty Ukrainian girl. For her, he’d settled into a tame existence as a lineman for the state-owned national electric company.
He'd assimilated into the quiet provincial life. They’d had a baby girl and were happy—until the leader of Russia destroyed his home, his town and many of his friends and family.
He’d taken his wife and daughter and left the war-torn nation, knowing they wouldn’t be safe as long as the war raged on.
As Jasmine stared across at her old friend, she could feel Ace tense beside her. Knowing Dmytro wouldn’t hurt her, she laid a hand on Ace’s knee as she addressed the Ukrainian in his language. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
Dmytro nodded and responded in heavily accented English. “You look well, Senorita Giordano.”
Jasmine’s lips curled in a smile. Dmytro’s daughter had chosen that name for her Italian passport. “How is Ana?”
He snorted, his heavy eyebrows forming a V over his nose. “She is in Los Angeles.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “When did that happen?”
His frown deepened. “When she decided she wanted to become a movie star and bought a one-way plane ticket to California.” He shook his head. “Her mother is not happy. I am not happy.” The older man shrugged. “But what can we do? She is a grown woman with a mind of her own.”
“Like her father?” Jasmine teased.
“Too much like her father,” Dmytro admitted. “Beautiful like her mother, stubborn like me.” He sighed and focused on Jasmine. “We are not here to discuss my daughter. What is important is to get your son back.”
Her joy at seeing her old friend dampened at the mention of Eli. “Is Francesca on track to play poker with Christos?”
Dmytro nodded. “When the casino informed him of a special guest in their exclusive game room, he demanded a seat at the table. He’ll be there along with four other regulars.”
“Good,” Jasmine said. “Should I be concerned about the others?”
“I’ve played with some of them before,” Dmytro said. “Nikolai Thanos is a retired real estate broker. No connection to the Greek crime families, just likes to play poker with people who know how. Angelo Remes made his fortune as an action-adventure movie star. Now in his seventies, he plays poker for the challenge. Klaus Müller, a German game developer, sold a game for enough money to retire comfortably but enjoys poker twice a week. He’s Christos’s friend. The last man, Jon Anders, I’m not as familiar with him. My source says he’s a U.S. ex-pat who inherited his money and likes spending it on fast cars, women and taking risks.”
“Charming group,” Jasmine commented.
“The casino likes to keep it friendly. They’ve had games between underground crime leaders where they check their weapons at the doors. Since you’re a special guest, the casino manager chose the least dangerous players.”
“Nice to know,” Ace said.
“The source says Christos has been known to overextend his bets, relying on markers from the cashiers. Lately, he’s been slow paying back the markers. The cashier and the dealer have been instructed not to extend a marker past the initial one to buy into the game.”
Jasmine nodded. “Which means I have to win enough to exceed his limit by a significant amount.”
Dmytro nodded. “The dealer will allow you to extend your own marker to Christos,” he said. “When he loses, he will ask to pay you back the next day as he has done in the past with other special guests.”
He’d been shocked when Swede had informed him that Jasmine’s Eli was her son.
What had he expected? He hadn’t seen the woman in four years. She wouldn’t have waited around for him.
He rubbed a hand against the ache in his chest. Inside, he laughed. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d gone from jealousy of the stranger named Eli, who Jasmine was so obviously in love with, to being jealous of Eli’s father.
Ace had always imagined a future with a wife and children in it. After meeting Jasmine, his imagination had filled in the blank faces with hers, a little girl with black hair and green eyes like her mother’s and a little boy with brown hair and brown eyes like his.
Even after he’d given up hope of ever finding Jasmine, his dreams of a family had included them.
Jasmine disappeared into the store.
Ace stepped inside moments later to find her with a sales associate, quickly selecting garments.
She seemed to know what she needed, collecting several pairs of slacks, a blouse, a blazer and a couple of dresses. The saleswoman carried her selections to a fitting room.
Ace stood in the middle of the store, not exactly sure what to do with himself, while Jasmine tried on the clothing.
Before entering the dressing room, Jasmine looked over the saleswoman’s shoulder toward Ace. When his gaze met hers, she motioned him over.
He hurried across the floor.
As he neared Jasmine, the clerk turned and smiled. She motioned toward a cushioned chair positioned outside the fitting room and said something in Greek.
Jasmine’s lips twisted. “She wants you to have a seat so I can model the outfits for you. You don’t have to. I won’t be long. I just need something befitting the heiress to an Italian fortune, not the vacation ensemble of a suburban housewife.” She winked and ducked into the dressing room.
Ace would have gone on to find his “something more intimidating,” but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving Jasmine alone. If the people who held Eli hostage were keeping an eye on her, they might make a move on her to collect the scroll. When they found that she didn’t have it, who knew what they’d do?
No. He’d stick with Jasmine until they got Eli back. If that meant hanging out in a ladies clothing store, he’d make the sacrifice. Although sacrifice, it wasn’t.
One by one, she slipped into the outfits, starting with the pants, blouse and blazer combination.
She’d gone into the fitting room in her ill-fitting, brightly colored slacks and shirt and came out in a sophisticated trouser and blazer combination that fit her curves to perfection. The high-quality material and sleek lines accentuated her figure. The white silk blouse and camel color of the pants and jacket provided a stunning contrast to her dark hair, making her look like the heiress she was to portray.
“Wow,” he said, amazed at the transformation.
“Thanks.” She blushed as she stood in front of a full-length mirror, turning right then left to examine the way the cut of the blazer fell across her waist and hips.
Jasmine ducked back into the dressing room and came out moments later in an all-black pantsuit. She’d secured her hair in a loose ponytail at the back of her neck. The stark color and lines of the clothing gave her a mysterious, badass appearance.
“That one,” he said. “You look...dangerous.”
Her eyebrows winged into a V over her nose. “Dangerous like an heiress about to beat a man in a game of poker? Or a like an international jewel thief?” She faced herself in the mirror. “I don’t want to make him turn and run.”
The blouse she’d chosen to go with the blazer and slacks was black silk with a V-neckline that dipped low between her breasts.
Ace’s gaze found it difficult to look away from the tempting display of cleavage. “Trust me,” he said. “He won’t turn and run. He’ll want to get to know this beautiful, mysterious woman.”
She frowned at herself in the mirror. “I don’t know.” After one last look, she stepped back into the dressing room. “Two dresses, and I’m done.”
Ace glanced at this watch. They were good on time. It wouldn’t take them long to find him something more intimidating to wear once Jasmine made a decision regarding her “heiress” attire.
She emerged seconds later in a black dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and a deep V neckline that hugged her body from breast to mid-thigh. Jasmine turned her back to him, clutching the open back of the dress together. “Could you zip it, please?”
Ace was out of his chair in a heartbeat.
His pulse quickened as he reached for the zipper tab low on her back and slowly drew it up to just below her shoulder blades.
Holy shit. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His groin tightened as his knuckles brushed against her naked skin. He remembered how smooth and warm it had felt to his touch when she’d lain in his bed during that week so long ago. Ace swallowed hard on a groan rising up his throat, stepped back and forced his hands to fall to his sides.
“You look amazing,” he said, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror’s reflection.
Jasmine ran her hands over her hips. “The dress is amazing, and it might be the ticket to get me inside.” She sighed. “But not conducive to a quick getaway, especially if any running, climbing or jumping is involved.”
“Good point,” he said. “But what a shame to pass on something that looks like it was made for you.”
“It is an amazing dress.” Jasmine studied her reflection a moment longer, then shook her head. “But no to the dress.” She performed an abrupt about-face before Ace had a chance to move.
He’d been standing close.
When she faced him, her breasts brushed against his chest, shooting fire through his veins.
Her breath caught on a gasp, and she backed away so quickly she stumbled.
Ace grabbed her arms and pulled her against him to steady her.
She rested her hands against his chest but didn’t push him away. For a long moment, he stared down into her green eyes, the years apart fading away.
They were the two young people who’d met on vacation at a café in Athens and kissed for the first time in the moonlight on the steps of the Parthenon.
His gaze moved from her eyes to her full, rosy lips, the kiss as fresh on his mind as that first evening in Athens. As natural now as it had been then, his head lowered until his lips were but a breath away from hers. Just like then.
He wanted to kiss her. If she wanted the same, she’d rise to meet him. She had...back then.
A second passed.
Jasmine drew in a breath, let it out and rose on her bare feet until her lips brushed against his.
A sound behind Ace broke through the trance.
He spun and braced for attack.
The sales assistant stood with her hands pressed over her heart, her face creased in a happy smile. She said something in Greek and backed away, waving her hand.
Jasmine chuckled. “She apologized for interrupting and wishes us to carry on.”
When he turned back to do just that, Jasmine had ducked back into the dressing room and closed the door between them.
Ace wanted to follow her into the dressing room, take her into his arms and finish the kiss. He took one step in that direction and stopped.
What if the brief brush of her lips was all she’d wanted? What if it was enough to tell her there wasn’t anything left in her heart for him? The fact she’d gone into the dressing room made it obvious she didn’t want to pick up where they’d left off before the clerk’s interruption.
Thoughts, doubts and regrets whirled through Ace’s thoughts as he stood staring at the closed door.
The door opened, and Jasmine stepped out, wearing the black trousers and blazer and carrying the tourist’s clothes, her face devoid of emotion. “All I need is shoes, and we can work on your disguise.” She stepped past him and found the flustered clerk. The woman appeared to be apologizing all over again.
After stowing the clothes she carried in the suitcase, Jasmine affixed the luggage tags she’d saved to the handle. Speaking in Greek, she pointed to the suitcase. The clerk nodded and rolled it behind the counter, then led Jasmine to the shoe display.
The helpful woman selected a shiny black, high-heeled pump. Jasmine nodded, and the clerk disappeared through a door, returning a minute later with a pair in her size and fitted them on Jasmine’s feet.
Her outfit complete, the former Sayeret Matkal soldier paid the clerk with a wad of cash she’d magicked from somewhere and headed for the exit.
At the door, she paused and waited for Ace to catch up and open the door for her like a good bodyguard would.
Once again, he was amazed at how she’d transformed from the quiet interpreter on the movie set to the happy tourist from the States to Francesca Giordano, the Italian heiress.
He grinned and pushed open the door.
When she started to walk through, he held out his hand, stopping her. “Me first.” He walked out into the late afternoon Athens sunshine and scanned the street, sidewalks and shadows. When he was certain no threats awaited his “client,” he held the door for her to emerge from the store.
“Did you give the suitcase to the clerk?” he asked as she turned to the right.
Jasmine nodded. “I asked her to have it sent to the airport lost luggage and have it shipped to the address on the tag.”
Ace shook his head. The woman’s son was being held hostage, and she’d made the effort to get the suitcase back to its rightful owner. He’d bet she’d tucked some of the wad of cash into the case to help make up for the trouble she’d caused the unsuspecting tourist.
“Where are we going?” he asked as they walked along the sidewalk.
“Dmytro said there was a men’s clothing store two blocks from here,” she said, walking surprisingly fast in the high heels. “We’ll need to hurry. He arranged for a limousine to pick us up at the men’s store in thirty minutes. It will carry us to the casino.”
“Is there anything Dmytro can’t do or arrange?” Ace asked.
“He can’t get us into the Demopoulos compound.” She stopped at the door to the men’s clothing store and waited for Ace to hold it open. As she passed through to the interior, she continued with, “That’s up to us.”
Once inside the store, Ace glanced around. “What did you have in mind that would appear more intimidating?”
Her eyes narrowed as she swept her gaze from his head to his feet and then turned to study the store’s offerings. “Your trousers will work, but we’ll need a different shirt and a jacket.”
He glanced down at the black polo shirt with the Brotherhood Protectors winged logo embroidered on the left breast and the black trousers Hank had asked his team to wear as part of the security detail for the movie set.
Jasmine motioned for a salesclerk and spoke to him in Greek. The clerk led them to a rack of button-down shirts. He pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and measured Ace’s neck, shoulders and arms. Then he selected a black shirt and tie and carried them to a fitting room.
Ace and Jasmine followed.
The clerk hung the shirt and tie in the small room.
As Ace stepped into the room, Jasmine and the clerk headed toward a rack of suit jackets.
Not wanting to let Jasmine out of his sight, Ace came back out of the room and stood where he could see Jasmine. He pulled the polo shirt from the waistband of his trousers and over his head, tossing it back into the fitting room. He grabbed the shirt off the hanger and stepped back out of the room, his gaze going to Jasmine and the clerk.
Jasmine glanced toward him at that moment, her eyes flaring as she took in his naked chest.
Ace fought the urge to grin at her interest. He took his time fitting his arms into the black shirt and shrugging it over his shoulders. He was just beginning to fasten the buttons when Jasmine returned, clerk in tow, with a solid black suit jacket.
He chuckled. “When you said we were going for something more intimidating, I imagined a black leather biker jacket, not a suit jacket.”
Her lips twitched. “You would look very intimidating in black leather, but trust me, you’ll look even more intimidating when we’re done.” She took the jacket from the clerk and waited while Ace finished buttoning his shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his trousers.
Then he reached into the room for the black tie and looped it around his neck.
“Here,” she said and handed him the jacket before he could knot the tie.
He slipped his arms into the sleeves and shrugged into the jacket.
Jasmine fit the necktie under his collar and expertly tied it.
“You’re good at that,” he said, liking how close she was.
“My father taught me.” When she finished, she stood back and nodded. “Better. Just one more thing.” She handed him a pair of dark sunglasses.
He put on the sunglasses and turned toward the full-length mirror. “Okay. I see what you mean.”
Jasmine stood beside him, all in black like him. They made a striking and, yes, intimidating pair.
“I think we’re ready,” she said and glanced at her cell phone. “The limousine has arrived.”
Ace pulled out his credit card to pay the clerk, but Jasmine held up her hand. “I already paid him. Let’s go.”
Ace didn’t like that she’d paid for his shirt, tie and jacket. They’d been expensive. With a limousine waiting outside, he didn’t have time to argue. They hurried toward the exit. Ace went first, checked for threats, glanced into the rear of the limo, then the front of the vehicle at the chauffeur, looking for any indication he wasn’t what he was supposed to be.
When he returned to Jasmine, he frowned. “How do we know your guy sent this limousine?”
“He did,” Jasmine said and strode past Ace to the waiting car.
Ace hurried to get ahead of her and open the rear door.
She slid onto the back seat and scooted over, making room for Ace.
He bent to slide in beside her and closed the door before he realized they weren’t alone in the back of the limousine.
Chapter 6
Jasmine nodded toward the man sitting across from them. “Ace, this is Dmytro. Dmytro, this is Ace.”
Twenty-five years her senior, Dmytro personified the word intimidating. The man had a wicked scar across his left cheek that he’d earned during his time in the army. Another scar slashed across his eyebrow, giving it a disjointed, wicked slant. He’d said he’d earned that one as a mercenary.
Dmytro had given up his wild, marauding life when he’d returned to his hometown and fallen in love with a pretty Ukrainian girl. For her, he’d settled into a tame existence as a lineman for the state-owned national electric company.
He'd assimilated into the quiet provincial life. They’d had a baby girl and were happy—until the leader of Russia destroyed his home, his town and many of his friends and family.
He’d taken his wife and daughter and left the war-torn nation, knowing they wouldn’t be safe as long as the war raged on.
As Jasmine stared across at her old friend, she could feel Ace tense beside her. Knowing Dmytro wouldn’t hurt her, she laid a hand on Ace’s knee as she addressed the Ukrainian in his language. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
Dmytro nodded and responded in heavily accented English. “You look well, Senorita Giordano.”
Jasmine’s lips curled in a smile. Dmytro’s daughter had chosen that name for her Italian passport. “How is Ana?”
He snorted, his heavy eyebrows forming a V over his nose. “She is in Los Angeles.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “When did that happen?”
His frown deepened. “When she decided she wanted to become a movie star and bought a one-way plane ticket to California.” He shook his head. “Her mother is not happy. I am not happy.” The older man shrugged. “But what can we do? She is a grown woman with a mind of her own.”
“Like her father?” Jasmine teased.
“Too much like her father,” Dmytro admitted. “Beautiful like her mother, stubborn like me.” He sighed and focused on Jasmine. “We are not here to discuss my daughter. What is important is to get your son back.”
Her joy at seeing her old friend dampened at the mention of Eli. “Is Francesca on track to play poker with Christos?”
Dmytro nodded. “When the casino informed him of a special guest in their exclusive game room, he demanded a seat at the table. He’ll be there along with four other regulars.”
“Good,” Jasmine said. “Should I be concerned about the others?”
“I’ve played with some of them before,” Dmytro said. “Nikolai Thanos is a retired real estate broker. No connection to the Greek crime families, just likes to play poker with people who know how. Angelo Remes made his fortune as an action-adventure movie star. Now in his seventies, he plays poker for the challenge. Klaus Müller, a German game developer, sold a game for enough money to retire comfortably but enjoys poker twice a week. He’s Christos’s friend. The last man, Jon Anders, I’m not as familiar with him. My source says he’s a U.S. ex-pat who inherited his money and likes spending it on fast cars, women and taking risks.”
“Charming group,” Jasmine commented.
“The casino likes to keep it friendly. They’ve had games between underground crime leaders where they check their weapons at the doors. Since you’re a special guest, the casino manager chose the least dangerous players.”
“Nice to know,” Ace said.
“The source says Christos has been known to overextend his bets, relying on markers from the cashiers. Lately, he’s been slow paying back the markers. The cashier and the dealer have been instructed not to extend a marker past the initial one to buy into the game.”
Jasmine nodded. “Which means I have to win enough to exceed his limit by a significant amount.”
Dmytro nodded. “The dealer will allow you to extend your own marker to Christos,” he said. “When he loses, he will ask to pay you back the next day as he has done in the past with other special guests.”
