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Chapter 1
Loren
Loren
When I was seven, my father told me that his favorite smell in the whole world was the smell of a Las Vegas casino. At the time, I thought they probably smelled like cigars, body odor, and liquor, so I informed him that he needed to get his nose checked.
But as I take a deep breath now, I can see what he meant. Unlike other gambling halls across America where I've honed my unique skillset, Vegas casinos all have distinctive clean, sweet, floral smells. They do it on purpose—making it smell nice and luxurious so people stay and play longer. They're like ritzy flowers, luring in bees to empty their pockets as long as possible.
And among all those flowers, the Golden Flame Casino is the most alluring.
God, I can't wait to scam this place and get out of here.
I toss my hair over one shoulder. Normally, it's blonde, but I use temporary sprays or rinse dyes to change it between the casinos my team targets. Right now, it's a rosy hue, and I've carefully contoured my makeup to make me look different—tanner and more mature than my twenty-one years. I also have colored contact lenses to make my eyes brown instead of blue.
Between those changes and the blue backless dress that dips daringly low in the front, I know my own mother wouldn't recognize me right now. Which is a good thing because if she knew what I'm mixed up in, she'd probably feel like a failure.
Sorry, Mom.But a gal's gotta do what she's gotta do.
I eye the slot machines as I walk past, trying to decide on the right one. Any would do, of course—hacking into these things feels like it gets easier by the day, despite all the security measures the best casinos take.
And the Golden Flame Casino takes alotof security measures.
No less than three slot attendants are wandering around, smiling at people, and cameras are capturing nearly every inch of the busy casino floor. People are chattering and laughing and cheering, enjoying the weekend in Vegas.
I beam innocently at one of the slot attendants checking me out as I slide into the seat of a machine—one angled in just the right way so any cameras won't quite catch smaller, lower movements of my hands as I work. For a minute, I just pretend to get comfortable, setting down my bag and fluffing my curls.
An older gentleman pulls one machine over, and I grin at him when he glances over. "Any luck?"
He grunts. "Not with this one. Gonna try the next one. You know, you can't stick with one machine too long—messes up the odds."
I just nod like that makes sense, even though he's wrong. Slot machines have a computer inside that is constantly generating a random number. The exact moment someone pushes the button is when the next number generates, determining the spin and the wholly randomized payout. Pulling the machine even half a second earlier or later results in a totally different outcome.
Even the "loosest" slot machines in the world have literally no pattern. There's no rhyme or reason. So it's a legitimate gamble.
That is until I get my hands on them.
I never gamble. I hack, I scam enough to satisfy my team without raising the eyebrows of casino owners, and then I cash out and vanish.
Simple.
"There's no skill to these damn things," the old man adds with a huff, moving to the machine directly beside me as he loads in more coins. He's balding, and his suit is rumpled, but otherwise, he looks pretty well put together, despite the fact he's clearly frustrated.
I push away the thought of how something about this older gentleman reminds me of my own father, who also used to frequent this same place. I laugh lightly.
"So I've been told! It's all Luck—so it's a good thing I've brought my lucky coin," I gush, pulling it out of my wallet and twisting it in my fingers with a grin.
"Well, I hope it does you some good," he huffs when he loses another pull.
The truth? It's not lucky at all. I don't really even believe in Luck.
No, the coins I make are just veryspecial,though they look like any other.
But tonight, I won't be using my little creations, so I slip them back into my purse and play the slot machine as any other casino-goer would for a few minutes.
It will be challenging to use my particular skill and hack this machine with him standing right there, but it won't be the first time I've done that. I happen to be stellar at the art of misdirection. In fact, his being right beside me will make my winnings tonight look that much more honest, so bring it on.
While the older man beside me is distracted, watching the spinning gamble on his screen, I glance around. The nearest slot attendant is chatting with a casino guest several machines down the line, and no one here is looking at me. Swiftly, I slip my handy dandy little hacking device from my purse while I pretend to grab more money for another pull, and with nimble fingers, I slip it into place in the machine.
