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“If you know my father, you’d know hiding out is the smart thing to do,” she remarked, sitting down, “at least for the moment.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Nick said with a smile. “There’s a small, romantic French restaurant on the other side of this canyon. How would you like to go out for dinner?”
“Really? I’d love to, but is it safe?”
“Roland and Matteus are dead, and Roland’s soldiers are on their way to Vegas. The only loose cannon is Big Mike. I’ll ask Brad and John to ride shotgun as a precaution.”
“What does that mean?”
“They’ll be in a car traveling behind us, and they’ll stand watch outside the restaurant.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic, and dinner out sounds wonderful.”
“Great, it’s a date. Now I need to call Cindy and deal with some things I’ve let slide. You should unpack, and while you’re at it, pick out something slinky to wear,” he added, lowering his voice.
“I will,” she replied happily, then pushing back from the table, she stepped over to him and circled her arms around his neck. “Nick,” she began softly, “I don’t know how you were able to get in touch with my parents, but thanks, you’re the best.”
“Bianca, don’t ever doubt how much you mean to them.”
“Why would you say something like that?”
“I sense your relationship is strained. Bear in mind, all parents have flaws, it comes with the territory. When this is over, make an effort to see things from their point of view, and don’t expect perfection. It doesn’t exist.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“It’s just some friendly advice. Take it or leave it. Now go and unpack, I have work to do.”
* * *
As Nick watched Bianca leave the kitchen, he picked up another muffin, took a bite, and washed it down with his coffee. She was under his skin, and his feelings for her were growing with every minute that passed. All he could do was hope and pray things would develop as he believed they would, and at the end of it all, she’d forgive him.
CHAPTER19
Sammy Parker had been born prematurely to a woman he never knew, and raised in a series of foster homes. As a small, frail child, he learned to use his wits to survive and his imagination to escape, but on his tenth birthday his life suddenly changed. He was given a deck of cards, and quickly discovered he’d been born with a gift.
Not only could he effortlessly perform sleight-of-hand, when he played card games with the other kids he could read their expressions, and almost always knew if they held good hands. As he grew into his teens, he became obsessed with poker. While other boys chased girls, he watched endless hours of television tournaments, read every book he could find, and saved every penny he won.
Arriving in Las Vegas straight out of high school, he found a job as a bus boy in a small deli, rented a tiny apartment, and spent every minute in the casinos honing his skill. He hated spending money, and when he won the cash, it went into his small battered suitcase hidden behind the garbage can under the kitchen sink. His savings became the only security he’d ever known. As time passed, his nest egg grew, but his habits did not. He remained a loner, scrimping and saving every dime. His sexual appetite, when it surfaced, was directed toward handsome young waiters, often resulting in anonymous moments in dark alleys. It was following such an interlude late one night that fate stepped back into his life, and for a second time, offered him another precious gift.
He was leaving an alley after a fleeting encounter, when he heard what sounded like an animal in distress. Quickening his pace as he walked down the dark back street, he found a young woman doubled over on the ground, whimpering and moaning. Managing to get her back to his tiny apartment, he put her to bed, and slept on the small, lumpy loveseat. The following morning, hungover and miserable, she told him she’d been followed from a bar, dragged into the street, then punched in the gut and her purse stolen. While she was taking a shower, he lifted his suitcase from its hiding place and removed fifty precious dollars.
“Take this,” he said awkwardly, handing her the money when she was about to leave. “I don’t have much in the way of food here and I have to go to work, but that should buy you a decent breakfast and pay for a cab.”
He had no idea she was Bianca Albertini, the daughter of a powerful mob boss and one of the richest men in the state. The two quickly became close friends.
Now sitting in a pancake house near his apartment, almost crying with relief that she was okay, he took the last bite of his waffle, finished his coffee, and placed a ten-dollar bill under the mug. But as he rose to his feet, his heart sank. Two beefy men were standing in the doorway glaring at him. He knew who they were immediately. To run would be futile, and would only end in pain. Trying to swallow back his fear, and maintaining his well-practiced poker face, he walked over to them.
“I assume Mr. Albertini wants to see me,” he said politely.
“He certainly does,” one of them replied. “Come with us.”
Though quaking with fear, he marched confidently between them into the parking lot, climbed into the back seat of a gleaming black limousine, and found himself face to face with the man himself.
“Sammy Parker,” Lorenzo declared. “I’m glad you could join me.”
“Hello, Mr. Albertini,” Sammy replied, thinking the remark was ludicrous.
“You’ll be happy to hear Bianca has escaped her kidnappers and is alive and well.”
