Red on the River

He paused to take a drink. His drink of choice was scotch, and she noted he had a generous amount in the glass. He liked it neat, no ice, and when he drank it, he took a healthy swallow.

“I had the better cards. It happens.”

“You’re unknown. It was round one. He’s a vindictive little shit. I’m not saying this to be a gossip. Everyone knows what he’s like other than you and Park because you haven’t been around him. He’ll retaliate in some way, and it won’t be nice. I’m just saying, watch your back.”

Before she could say anything, Theodore slid off the stool and wandered away, as if he had just been talking about the weather. Vienna was exhausted, and she just wanted to go upstairs to her suite and get away from everyone. She didn’t want to hear any more negativity. At the end of the day, she was there to play cards and win the money. The others and their personalities and motives didn’t matter.

She left, keeping her head down to avoid any interaction with well-wishers or fans, and found her elevator as quickly as possible. Fortunately, their reception room was located very close to the private lift leading to her suite. The ride up was fast, the soft music soothing as she leaned against the back wall for support. She needed the peace and solitude of her room after the grueling hours of playing poker surrounded by so many people. She was used to the Eastern Sierras, where the beauty and majesty always reset and grounded her. Having so many people crowding close made her feel as if she couldn’t breathe.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped onto the plush carpet of the hallway, key out, ready to hurry to her suite. To her dismay, Charles Von Garden stood in the hallway just a few feet from her door. He clearly was waiting to see which suite was hers. She hesitated, but he’d heard the elevator and turned, his expression darkening.

“You bitch.”

Vienna looked up at the security camera and indicated she was in trouble. “Why do men always open every nasty conversation with ‘You bitch’? It isn’t very inventive. Any of the other nasty words you use for females aren’t much better. What is it you want, Charles?”

She realized Charles must have one of the suites on the other side of the floor. He’d come up his private elevator and walked around the entire floor to get to her side. He took several very aggressive steps toward her.

Vienna stepped away from the elevator, moving toward the only other suite on that side of the floor. She was afraid if she tried to get back on the elevator, he would manage to get in with her and she’d be locked in with him.

Rainier and Zale were still in their undercover roles of Zale playing personal protector to the wealthy Wayne Forsyne. She could only hope Rainier was in his full mask and makeup. As a rule, he didn’t go without it. The mask was extremely thin, contoured to his face and so authentic-looking it was nearly impossible to tell it wasn’t actual skin.

Vienna held her hand up in a “stop” gesture, mainly for dramatic effect for the security camera. She raised her voice. “Stop right there, Charles. You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared. I should beat the crap out of you.”

“You knew better than to make that bet, but you did it anyway,” she pointed out.

He took another step closer, and she hit her fist on Rainier’s door. “Help.” She had no idea if they were home, but any self-respecting woman would ask for help when confronted by a drunk out for revenge.

“You cost me the chance to win ten million dollars.”

“I didn’t cost you that chance. You knew better than to make the bet, but you couldn’t resist because you were betting against me, not one of the others. You stopped playing the cards and you made it personal. That’s on you.”

She should have been placating him, but damn it all, she was exhausted, and why the hell should she have to cater to his ego? He never would have placed that bet if he’d been up against Art with those same cards.

Charles rushed her, shocking her with his speed, dipping his shoulder at the last minute like a linebacker. He was definitely drunk, but he was on her much faster than she had anticipated, knocking her to the floor with a shoulder into her midsection and driving her backward and down. She struck the side of her head on the wall and it hurt like hell, but thankfully the carpet was thick and cushioned her fall. Charles roared something ugly into her neck, his breath reeking of alcohol.

The door to Wayne Forsyne’s suite burst open, and the old man came out looking left and right, his cane swinging. His gaze fell on Charles as her drunken assailant started to sit on top of her, his fist pulled back. She was already rolling, doing her best to get out from under the big man.

“Stop, you scoundrel. Get off that woman.”

Wayne limped forward, swinging his cane at Charles’s head. He managed a solid hit that rocked Charles enough that Vienna was allowed sufficient room to get out from under him. She staggered to her feet.

“Stay back, Vienna,” Wayne ordered. He touched the tip of the cane to Charles’s side and pressed a trigger.

The cane became a Taser, delivering a charge into Charles, and the man immediately went to the carpet, rolling into a ball, whimpering. Wayne stepped forward as if he might deliver another charge into him.

Vienna gently put a hand on him. “I think he’s had enough.”

Two security guards emerged from the service elevator at the same time Zale did. Zale’s dark gaze swept over her first, assessing her quickly. He took in everything, making her aware of her clothing in disarray, her untidy hair and the knot coming up on the left side of her forehead. His gaze moved over Rainier next, assessing him, and then dropped to Charles. That look went expressionless, but not his eyes. Zale’s eyes turned even darker, flat and ice-cold. Instinctively, she felt the need to step between Zale and Charles.

The two security guards moved to either side of Charles. “You need to stand up, sir.”

“They assaulted me,” he complained. “He hit me in the head from behind with his cane and then Tased me.”

“Stand up, sir,” the security guard repeated patiently. “Ma’am, you need to press formal charges against him. We have everything on tape.”

“He’s drunk,” Vienna said.

“That doesn’t excuse his behavior,” Zale said. “How often do you think he does this to other women when no one is around?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Vienna agreed. “And I’ll press charges, but I just need to sit down for a few minutes and rest, if that’s okay with everyone.” If she didn’t get to her suite, she would be sitting right there on the floor. She put her palm on the wall to steady herself. On top of everything else, using her “gift” in cards always drained her.

“Whatever you need, ma’am,” the taller of the two security guards, who seemed to be in charge, agreed hastily. “No worries.”

Vienna turned her attention to Rainier. “Thank you, Mr. Forsyne, for saving me. I was very afraid. You came charging to the rescue, and I really appreciate it.”

Rainier took her hand and bent over her fingers as if he were kissing them in an old-school, gentlemanly manner. “Call me Wayne, Vienna. I was happy to help.” He walked her to her door and watched as she inserted her key and went inside.

Vienna rushed across the huge expanse of a living room to the master bedroom and flung herself facedown on the bed. If she was the type of woman who could cry, she would be weeping. Her arms felt like lead. So did her legs. Her head pounded from where she’d struck it on the wall. The pain spread until it felt like it roared through her entire body. She was completely drained. She didn’t want to think anymore.