Concealment (The Cassano Series Book 1) Read online

  Concealment

  Scarlet Wolfe

  Copyright © 2015 Scarlet Wolfe Books

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Contents

  Notes

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  End Notes

  Acknowledgements

  Notes

  Concealment is the first novel in The Cassano Series. It is told from the points of view of Victoria, Adrian and Theo.

  It ends in a cliffhanger and is for a mature audience due to harsh language and descriptive sexual scenes.

  Cover Photography by Ron Reagan Photography

  Cover Design by Kim Black at TOJ Publishing Services

  Cover Model Ivan Gabriel

  Dedication

  Belinda Dabney, I never would’ve believed when you were a young girl that one day you would be helping me publish a book. It’s surreal. You’re a good friend and invaluable. Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Victoria

  Reaching down, I zip up my black thigh high boot. I’d never tell my detective partner, Reggie, but I feel badass and sexy as the zipper tightens the shiny, black patent leather against my toned leg.

  “It appears his mother, Denise, has been in and out of mental facilities his entire life,” I say. “His father, Alvin Cassano, died in the Twin Towers during 9/11.

  “Adrian, his three brothers, and one sister were left with a hefty insurance policy, and he enlisted in the Marines after.”

  “I wouldn’t have guessed Adrian Cassano to be ex-military,” Reggie says.

  “Once discharged, he and his brothers moved to Vegas and built the hotel and casino.”

  “Be careful, Victoria.” Reggie is leaning back against my bedroom door, conveying a stern look.

  “Seriously? What is your deal over this job?” I ask as I zip up my second boot.

  “Have you forgotten we’re partners? I can’t be in there with you, and it’s making me crazy.”

  “I’m a cop. I earned this detective job because of my ability since they sure as hell don’t give it to women otherwise. I can take care of myself.”

  He slides his hand through his curly, dark hair. “That’s what worries me. You think you’re invincible.”

  Why did we have to share one drunken night together last year? We solved a five-year-old case and went out to celebrate. We had been partners for three months, so our friendship wasn’t solid yet.

  A few too many shots later, and we were fucking, breaking a critical rule. He’s been more protective since, and it sucks ass.

  After rising from the bed in my cramped, one bedroom apartment downtown, I smooth out my red, leather miniskirt.

  Next, I place a platinum blonde wig, cut as a bob, on my head and situate it until none of my long, dark hair is showing beneath it.

  Peering at myself in the mirror above my dresser, I hardly recognize the person staring back. My cleavage is spilling out of the tight, black top that dips into a deep V.

  Shifting my eyes to Reg through the glass, I watch as his possessive gaze scans my overly exposed body.

  “Stop checking out my ass. I’m putting in for a new partner if you don’t cut that shit out.” I expect a smirk, but instead his forehead creases tightly.

  “You look hot. Adrian Cassano is blind if he doesn’t notice you, but you heard the informant; she said women fall at his feet. Don’t let it happen.”

  He’s pointing at me in the mirror, and I’m not going to acknowledge his comment.

  Like I’m going to get all giddy over some Vegas tycoon. I see attractive men every day, so he’s just another swimming in the sea of arrogance.

  “I’ll text you at break and when my shift is over.” Turning away from the mirror to face him, I hold my hand out toward the door.

  “Now, out of my apartment. I need to pee, and I can’t be late for my first day on the job.”

  ***

  Taking the bus sucks. I have a car, but most of the time it stays parked in my mother’s garage. My pride and joy is a black 1957 Ford Thunderbird.

  I have a slight addiction to classic cars, having worked on them with my dad since a young age. He always said I was to have that vehicle, so I claimed it two years ago when he died.

  My older sister, Nicole, is girly like my mother, so getting her nails dirty with grease is appalling to her. My youngest sister, Sadie, is a bookworm and uninterested in cars, too, so she didn’t mind when I inherited it.

  Making my way to Hotel Submission and Casino, my diaphragm takes in air and hugs it.

  Breathe. You’ve got this.

  I walk to Human Resources. It’s on the opposite side from the casino in this enormous building.

  A young woman sitting behind a receptionist desk smiles warmly at me after I enter. I’ve been here before, when I was brought in to interview and once again to pick up my slutty uniforms.

  “Hi, I’m Vicky Stuart. It’s my first day as a server.”

  “Yes, let me call someone to take you onto the floor,” the brunette says.

  I wait in a chair and attempt to cross my legs, sitting as ladylike as possible. After ten minutes, a middle aged woman strolls in and gives me a faint smile.

  “Hi, I guess you’re Vicky,” she says, her statement sounding more like a question.

  Standing, I reach my hand out to her, but instead of shaking it, she surveys me from head to toe.

  It’s uncomfortable and not the respectful introduction I’m used to receiving at my day job.

  “The men are going to love you. You’re older but definitely one of the prettiest on the floor. Come with me. I’m Janice, by the way.”

  Seriously? Thirty-two is not old. Maybe for a server in a slutty outfit, but I’m not old.

  Nodding to the receptionist, Janice strides toward the door, so I follow her. I’m shown the locker room first and where to clock in and out before we’re soon entering the expansive lobby.

  Men’s eyes fall on me after they wander astray from the women strolling next to them.

  Feeling even more uncomfortable in this trampy get-up, I return my gaze to the back of Janice’s blonde hair … then brown hair … then the left over red on her split ends.

  Thankfully, she’s not insulting the same risqué outfit by squeezing her generous frame into
it. She’s wearing black slacks and a white button up blouse, tucked in with a belt in place.

  The obtrusive dings from gambling machines signal me to survey my surroundings. A few more sets of male eyes catch sight of mine, but most patrons are too engrossed, feeding dollars into what they hope is their next meal ticket.

  “Hazel, this is Vicky,” Janice states after we approach a young woman in one of the aisles between two rows of slot machines.

  Hazel hands me a round, black tray and examines my frame, fortunately much quicker than Janice.

  “Hi, Vicky. Do you know your cocktails?”

  “Uh, yeah.” That is somewhat of a lie. I can only recognize the drinks I see served up at Stopper’s, a bar near our precinct, but that’s quite a few.

  “Great, you can follow me around for a while, and then you’re on your own.”

  “Hazel should be able to take care of you from here,” Janice says before she strolls away.

  I follow the young server along the thin, red carpet that matches the color of our miniskirts. Her legs are long, and so is her blonde hair that is in a high ponytail with a bump at the crown.

  I guess her to be in her mid-twenties. We approach the bar, and after Hazel speaks to the cute guy behind it, beer bottles slide across the wet surface.

  “Hi, beautiful, first day?” the bartender asks.

  “Yes, I’m Vicky.”

  “Caine, and good luck, Vicky.” He gives a flirty smile with the assistance of his twinkling, blue eyes.

  His light brown hair is a little long around the ears and a touch sweaty. Appearing hot, he pulls on a red tie that sits under a matching vest.

  The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up his forearm, and from the look of his black dress pants and the shimmer on his vest, I imagine his sleeves don’t belong there.

  In a flash, he’s moving on to another waitress standing several feet down from us.

  “All the waiters are flirts, but Caine’s one of the good guys, especially for only being twenty-five,” Hazel says as she places mixed drinks on her tray and the beers on mine.

  “I find most men his age are cocky assholes only looking for a piece of ass,” she adds.

  Oh, yeah, we’re going to get along great. Her foul mouth and no-nonsense attitude tell me so.

  Chapter Two

  Adrian

  “I’m surprised you don’t have someone else handling this part of the job,” Mr. Glover says as he nervously smooths out his tie. My fingers are tented in front of me as I swivel lightly back and forth in my executive chair.

  “It’s a critical aspect. I have to be sure I don’t let someone in who will fuck up my business.” There is something rubbing me wrong about this man.

  He owns a successful tech company, but he hardly seems powerful. He’s either harmless, or he’s nervous because he’s scum. I’ll give him a chance but keep him close.

  “Theo will go over the details with you. Remember that we can revoke your membership at any time, and there is normally another price to pay if it comes to that, so don’t let it happen.”

  He taps his foot and glances away. “Of course, Mr. Cassano.”

  I pick up the phone. “Theo, you can go over the terms with Mr. Glover now.”

  Within seconds of ending the call, he’s entering the room and buttoning his suit jacket. He’s my younger brother, by two years, and I couldn’t manage this operation without him.

  “Sir, right this way please.” Theo motions for Mr. Glover to follow him. After they leave, my desk phone rings.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Ms. Stuart has arrived and is on the floor.”

  “Thank you, Kruse, for informing me. Remember, this stays between us. I don’t care how close you are to Simon; I don’t want him knowing yet.”

  “I understand.”

  I end the call with the Head of Security, who is also the best friend of my youngest brother, Simon. I probably shouldn’t put him in a position to keep something from his friend, but it’s business.

  Turning my attention to the camera screens, I click and click, changing to different views from my computer.

  Having trouble picking her out, I zoom in on a few of the girls working the area. Pulling up the photograph I was emailed of Ms. Hart, who’s using “Stuart” as a last name alias, I take a long look at it.

  I turn back to the screen, and there she is. The enemy. She’s obviously wearing a wig. Now, I need to find out how smart and persistent she is.

  Theo

  “Take a seat.” I point to the chair in front of my desk. “Two grand a month must be spent in the hotel and at least another three grand to play poker. In addition, you will receive the customary VIP perks.”

  A hard swallow has Mr. Glover reaching up to loosen his tie. “Five grand a month? That seems steep.”

  “You declined the eight grand per month package. This is the lowest we go. Along with playing high stakes tournaments tax free, we have gorgeous servers.

  “The ones exclusive to the Elite and Royal lounges are intelligent and receive a generous salary, so they’re eager to serve you. There is also complete anonymity here. Take it or leave it.”

  He stares at me before smirking.

  “They better have been valedictorian and a beauty queen for that price.”

  I exhale a deep breath. We have a wait list, so I don’t have to deal with bullshit.

  “Let me make something clear, Mr. Glover. You don’t make demands in this hotel. You give respect, or you will never step foot in this building again. Understood?”

  A hint of fear casts from his eyes.

  “Understood.”

  I slide the manilla packet across the desk.

  “Here is the paperwork you must fill out. It does ask that you disclose a great deal of financial information, but no one will view the file besides Mr. Cassano and me.”

  Standing, he follows suit before we shake hands. I show him out, wondering if we’ve made a mistake trusting him.

  Victoria

  This is my fourth day, and I’m surprised over how generous my tips have been. It’s not a huge deal since it’s a second income.

  I’m also surprised over how tired I am. After my day job, spending another six to eight hours on my feet is kicking my ass.

  As soon as I nail this guy, who believes he’s above the law, I can get the hell out of this hooker outfit.

  I take a glimpse of myself in a floor to ceiling mirror lining one of the walls.

  “There’s no need to look in that mirror, sweetheart; you’re smokin’ hot.”

  Glancing into the glass again, I fight an eye roll when I see a guy grinning.

  He’s sitting on a tall chair at a blackjack table with two other men who are snickering and likely his buddies. They’re probably here on vacation, expecting easy lays.

  You’re a server right now, sweetheart, so play the part.

  Planting a grin on my face, I turn around.

  “Thank you. Can I get you fellas another drink?”

  “You can tell me when your shift ends, so I can show you a good time,” the same man says.

  “Hmm, as tempting as that sounds, the boss frowns on smokin’ hot servers spending time with customers off site.”

  I’m to the right of him as his hand slides across my ass and rests on it. His fingers are where I normally carry my weapon, so I fight the instinct to take him down this very second.

  This job is critical, but he is not getting away with this shit. “Sir, remove your hand from my ass, or I will be handing you yours.”

  If I hadn’t dealt with assholes for years as a cop, I’d maybe be flattered since he appears much younger than my thirty-two years.

  He’s a pretty boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. The kind of guy who probably screwed all the girls in his hometown, but this is Vegas; attractive men are a dime a dozen.

  His demeanor changes to serious.

  “I think you’re here to serve me, so I wouldn’t be giving out orders unle
ss you want to find another job.” Turning to his friends, he smirks.

  “No more bets,” the dealer announces.

  “OK, I think you made it clear what you’re looking for, so I’ll serve you,” I say with a smile.

  “That’s more like it.” His other hand sweeps across my stomach while he squeezes my ass. As he attempts to pull me in close, I smell the alcohol on his breath, which better explains his poor decision making skills.

  Reaching my right arm back, I cover his hand that’s on my ass and slip my middle and index finger under his palm. Burying my thumb into the pressure point in the web of his hand, I grab hold of it.

  Turning my body clockwise, I twist his arm while cranking down on his wrist. This happens fast, and when I’m finished, I’m standing behind his chair with his arm twisted into a standard wristlock, palm up and fingers facing the ceiling.

  As he whines like a child, I put my mouth to his ear. “I’m going to tell you this once. Don’t ever touch me again.”

  Letting him go, I pick my tray up from the floor and start to leave, but I run right into someone’s chest. Looking up, I see a man with golden blonde hair in a suit.

  “Excuse me, sorry,” I say before I attempt to walk around him. He steps to the left and blocks me.

  “Whoa, hold on please. Holton, escort this man and his friends out of the hotel,” he adds, never taking his eyes off of mine.

  I break our gaze and turn around. A young security guard is standing next to Grabby Hands.

  “Hey, she assaulted me. You need to be firing her ass,” he says, pointing to me before he rolls his shoulder in obvious discomfort.

  “I’m certain our cameras would tell a different story. I’m Head of Security, and I’m telling you to leave, not asking.”

  Grabby Hands and his buddies get up from the table. “Fine, this place sucks, anyway. We’ll take our money elsewhere.” He glares at me before he and his friends are escorted out.

  I slowly turn around to face Mr. Head of Security. He scrunches his forehead and holds his fingers to his ear. I see the cord from his earpiece and realize he’s listening to someone.