Fever

            His job was to watch her hands, but he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her legs. Isaac Bancroft leaned casually against the counter in the casino cocktail lounge studying the beautiful, African-American woman at the poker table. She was cheating, no doubt about it.

He’d peeked her game within fifteen minutes of watching her work. It was no big deal, twenty percent of their patrons were professional hustlers. As the head of security in one of the most profitable—if not famous—casinos in Las Vegas, Ike was certain he had seen it all. She was cheating all right, but how was the real question.

Ike had already had two of his best men circle her twice, looking for evidence or  hidden devices with no luck. After watching her for over an hour, he was certain that she was working alone. The way she studied the game he would’ve believed she was counting cards, but that was almost impossible. 

What a beauty, he thought, taking in the gold, after-five dress that almost glowed against her copper skin. It hugged her slender body from bust to thigh, and seemed to shimmer with every slight movement. The thin straps that fell artfully off each shoulder had his fingers itching to touch.

He watched with suspended breath as she uncrossed her satiny, bronze colored legs, and then crossed them back in the opposite direction. The gold stiletto sling backs she wore settled neatly on the bottom rung of the high stool. The thin, gold chain on her right ankle twinkled in the bright, casino lights.

Ike released a deep sigh of satisfaction. Yes, he thought, she was as crooked as they came. But legs like those . . . a man just didn’t see that everyday.

The two-way radio hooked to his belt buckle erupted in static chaos, and then just as quickly it quieted.

“Ike?” The slow, emotionless voice of his second-in-command, Stamp, came over the speaker.

Ike never took his eyes off the woman as he answered through the headset he wore seemingly always. “Yeah?”

“The boss was wondering if you planned to do anything about the pretty, little, thief at table seven.”

Ike smiled to himself. He should’ve known Bobby was watching from the tower. “Yes, I plan to do something about her.”

The radio went silent for several seconds. “Umm, Ike, the boss was wondering what exactly you planned to do about her.”

Ike shook his head. He’d often wondered why Bobby Kincaid even bothered with a security staff when no one did a better job of watching his money, or was better at spotting a thief than Bobby himself.

“Tell Bobby that sometimes you have to look before you leap.”

The radio went dead again.

Finally Stamp returned. “Ike, the boss said what does that mean—”

Suddenly the voice that came on the radio was not the slow, and steady monotone of Stamp, but the loud and extremely irate voice of Bobby.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean? Dammit Ike! What are you going to do?! Sit there sipping soda pop while that woman robs me blind?!”

Ike glanced at the glass of clear liquid sitting at his elbow. Yeah, Big Brother was definitely watching. “Bobby, this is why you pay me the big bucks. Trust me, I’ve got it handled.”

“Handled?! That swindler is about to walk out of here with a large piece of my pie and all you can say is you’ve got it handled!!”

“Bobby, you hired me to do a job, but I have to do it my own way. If that is not acceptable to you, then you are perfectly welcome to come down here and take care of the problem yourself.”

“Think I won’t?!!”
“Okay.” Ike sat up. “Then I’ll pack up for the night. See you tomorrow.” He

took his wallet out of his back pocket, and pulled a few bills from the inside. He started to toss them on the table when his radio suddenly came back on.

“Fine!! Handle it your way. But dammit Ike, you better handle it. Don’t let that

thieving woman walk out of here with my money.”

“Technically, she’s not a thief until she attempts to leave the table. I promise you, Bobby, that won’t happen.”

“It better not!!” With that the radio went dead once more.

~~~~~

Roxanne Sanchez stacked another neat pile of plastic chips on the table, and waited for the other gamblers to place their bets. She casually scratched her neck allowing her to surreptitiously turn her head in the direction of the bar.

Yes, she sighed in frustration, he was still there. The stranger, she’d dubbed Wolfie, for the predatory stare he’d been giving her all night was still on his post. He’d been milking that water or soda pop for the past hour. Roxie was certain that he was casino security, as well as the two little wolves that kept circling her every few minutes. She was sure they were on to her. She glanced at the twenty-seven thousand in chips piled on the table before her. Only twenty-three thousand to go.

Lost in thought, Roxie was startled when the dealer called to her. She glanced at the cards on the table, the ones in her hand, and then quickly scanned her memory for previous cards. There was still the ace of diamond out there somewhere. She glanced around at the four other players and decided to take her chances on the deck. She pulled another card, and breathed a sigh of relief to see the large red diamond in the center. She tossed it down on the table, and watched every face at the table fall as the other players accepted she was about to win another hand. Two of them folded and the game continued.

Roxie was certain the security guards knew she was cheating, but was equally convinced they did not know how she was cheating and that was her trump card. The one thing that would allow her to walk when this little game played out. They couldn’t prove anything.

Roxie had discovered early in life that her brain worked differently. She was able to record mental images as vividly as a camera recorded photographs. Other than allowing her to breeze through her studies with little effort, she’d found no real use for her special skill, and therefore thought little of it.

It wasn’t until after her grandmother died, and she found herself alone in the world did she come to value and appreciate her photographic memory. A ten-year-old orphan had few options and none of them were appealing. Her exceptional brain gave her an option that did not exist for most in her position. It gave her the ability to provide for herself. Unfortunately, this had to be done through card sharking and hustling, but still she’d survived. Until the day Theo and Tessa Sanchez rescued her from the clutches of a monster. And now, through her uniqueness, she would return the favor. 

She watched the man at the bar in her peripheral vision as he quickly downed the last of his drink and began walking in her direction. His presence came as no surprise. She’d known all along that her method of winning would draw attention.

Roxie tossed down a ten of spades, and sat up in her seat preparing to meet the wolf head on. He may not know how she was cheating, but apparently he wasn’t going to let that stop him from doing his job, which was more than she could say for Las Vegas’ finest.

It had been almost a full week since she’d gone to the police to report a robbery. She ended up being laughed right out of the precinct. They’d listened intently for the first few minutes until she dared to accuse the powerful Bobby Kincaid of swindling her elderly parents out of fifty thousand dollars to fund his condominium development. After that, not one officer had taken her complaint seriously.

Unfortunately, the police had asked questions Roxie could not answer. Questions, she’d mulled over in her own head for days. Why would a man worth millions, jeopardize his professional reputation over fifty thousand dollars? Why would he target her parents when there were others who’d invested two, and three times as much? 

What hurt the worst was that even if they’d believed her, Roxie knew the police could never give back to Theo and Tessa what mattered most: their professional dignity. For two retired con artists, nothing was worse than being duped, the sense of having been bested at what they were once best at.

When the pair inadvertently found themselves the parents of an abandoned ten-year-old girl, they vowed to give up their shady occupation in the interest of setting an example. After a lifetime of easy scores, they’d both found legitimate occupations and had walked the straight and narrow for the past twenty years. The only remnant of those adventurous years gone by was the nest egg they’d stocked away.