Читать книгу Las Vegas: Scandals: Prince Charming for 1 Night - Лорет Энн Уайт, Nina Bruhns - Страница 10

“You can’t do that!” Vera exclaimed as an honest-to-goodness FBI agent spun her around, grabbed her wrists and snapped handcuffs onto them. “Hey! Watch the dress!” she cried. “What the heck—”

“Ms. St. Giles, you have the right to remain silent—”

“What? Are you kidding? I am not—”

“Vera,” Conner, her would-be john, cut her off over the drone of the FBI agent—what was his name? Lexicon?—reciting her rights, “don’t say anything. I’ll take care of this.”

Not only was the man annoying but he was a real buttinsky, too. “You don’t understand. I’m not—”

“I know you’re not,” Conner cut her off again. “But obviously they think you are.”

“Move away from the suspect, sir,” her second would-be arrestor admonished her would-be lawyer briskly, with just a touch of disdain in his voice, as Agent Lexicon continued his recitation. Great. Already with the attitude.

All at once his words registered. “Suspect?” she echoed, horrified. “Me? I’m not a suspect!” she insisted, growing more frustrated by the second. And more worried. She could see a crowd gathering outside the door. If Lecherous Lou got wind of this, her butt would be fired for sure.

One thing a club in this city did not need was bad publicity of any kind. Kept the tourists away. And her boss had just been waiting for a good excuse to fire her. Mainly because she refused his disgusting advances, but also because she wouldn’t get involved in that shady business he was running on the side with a few other club managers, providing high-class dancers for private parties.

“That’s right. You’re no mere suspect,” Agent Attitude agreed. “You’ve been caught red-handed, sweetheart, guilty as hell. Do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.” He snickered at his own lame joke.

“What do you mean, guilty? I haven’t done anything!”

“Vera,” Conner headed off her impending tirade, “do not say another word.” She snapped her mouth shut in irritation as he turned to Lex Luthor. “I’m Conner Rothchild, the lady’s legal counsel. She is invoking her right to silence and to an attorney.”

Wait. Oh, no. Conner what? Did he just say his name was—

“And by the way,” Conner continued, “this woman is not Darla St. Giles. So if you would kindly take off the handcuffs and let her go?”

Rothchild! As in—

Agent Lucifer whipped around and peered closer at her. “Then who is she?” he demanded.

Rothchild! Oh, no. No way, Jose. She knew the reputation that went along with the name Conner Rothchild. She’d heard plenty of horror stories from his own cousins, tabloid-diva Candace and pop star Silver, who used to be two of Darla’s best friends. Not only was Conner a sleaze-bag shark of a defense attorney according to Candace, but according to Silver he was also possibly the biggest skirt-chaser in the state.

“She’s—”

Hell, no. “I’m terribly sorry, but this man is not my attorney,” she jumped in indignantly. “And I can answer for myself, thank you very much. My name is Vera Mancuso, and Darla St. Giles is my—”

“Stop!” Conner-freaking-playboy-of-the-year-Rothchild cut her off again with an exasperated glare. “I said not another word! I am her attorney, but since she is not the person you are looking for—”

“Oh, she’s the right person, all right,” the Devil’s agent said resolutely. He pointed an accusing finger at her left hand. “Whoever she is, she’s in possession of material evidence stolen from police custody. Therefore, Vera Mancuso, is it? I am placing you under arrest—”

“What?” The rest of his words faded out as Agent Attitude pried the ring from her finger and dropped it into a small Ziploc bag. “Oh. My. God. I cannot believe this.” Her incredulity continued to pour out of her mouth all on its own as desperate thoughts bombarded her mind even faster.

Stolen? From the police? Oh, Darla! What have you gotten yourself into this time? Wait a second. Darla, nothing. Heck, what had her sister gotten her into this time? Now Darla’s request to hide the ring made perfect sense. Stolen! She could go to jail!

Despair swept over her as the FBI agents pushed her out into the main part of the club, where every single person stood and gaped in avid interest as she was led through the room in handcuffs, tripping over the bridal gown because with the restraints she couldn’t hold it up to walk. Even the new girl onstage stopped gyrating and stared wide-eyed. And, damn it, there was Lecherous Lou, looking murderous as he watched her being taken away.

Great. So much for that job.

What would she do for money now? How would she pay for Joe’s retirement home from prison? Too bad she hadn’t accepted gazillionaire Conner’s proposition earlier…and gotten paid up front. That thousand bucks would at least have bought her a week or two respite. Then, oh, darn, got arrested, can’t do the lap dance. Sorry, no refunds.

Yeah. Like her conscience would have let her do that, even if a thousand bucks to this man was merely a night’s meaningless amusement. Honesty was such a bitch.

“You have a change of clothes in your dressing room?” Mr. Persistent Attorney asked as she was herded through the club’s front door. She glanced back at him. And wondered what his real agenda was. He couldn’t possibly care what happened to her.

Yeah, like she couldn’t guess.

Conner Rothchild was a blue-blooded playboy who made the gossip columns nearly as often as Darla and Silver and their jet-setting, hard-clubbing cronies. Always with a different woman on his arm. He probably thought slumming it with Darla St. Giles’s exotic-dancer sister would be a hoot. For about five minutes. Meanwhile, she’d be outed to the world at large, and good ol’ Maximillian would be furious.

“I’ll grab your purse and follow you,” Conner said when she deliberately didn’t answer. “Don’t say anything until I get there. Nothing. I mean it.”

“Look,” she made one last stab at reasoning with him as she was being stuffed into the back of an unmarked SUV. The white frothy wedding dress filled the entire seat, and she had to punch it down. “Please don’t bother following me. You can’t be my attorney. I have no money to pay your fee, and even if I did, I—”

“Don’t worry about the fee,” he responded with a dismissive gesture.

Uh-huh. A girl didn’t need a telescope to see exactly where this was going. “And I don’t pay in kind!” she yelled just before the door slammed.

He grinned at her through the window. And had the audacity to wink.

She groaned, closed her eyes and sank down in the seat. Swell. Just freaking swell. Broke. Fired. Arrested by the FBI. And pimped out to the city’s most charming keg of sexual dynamite.

What the hell else could go wrong today?

Special Agent Lex Duncan was being a real pismire.

Conner folded his hands in front of himself to keep from decking the jerk. They were standing in the observation room attached to interrogation out at the FBI’s main Las Vegas field station. Vera was sitting at a table on the other side of the one-way mirror, looking tired, vulnerable and all but defeated. She hadn’t started crying yet, but Conner felt instinctively she was close. Very close. Duncan had been interrogating her hard for over two hours, asking the same questions again and again. He hadn’t even let her change out of that sexy breakaway bridal gown into the jeans and T-shirt Conner’d brought for her along with her purse from the dressing room. Pure intimidation. The bastard.

“Listen to me. She’s not involved,” he told Duncan for the dozenth time. He wasn’t sure when he’d started being a true believer, but he was now firmly in the Vera-isn’t-involved-in-the-ring-heist-or-Candace’s-murder camp. In fact, he was pretty convinced she wasn’t guilty of a damn thing, other than a crapload of bad luck.

“And you know this how?” Duncan asked, brow raised.

“It’s my family’s damn ring, and my own murdered cousin we’re talking about. Not to mention possibly the same person nearly bringing down a theater scaffold on my other cousin Silver. Don’t you think I want the guilty party or parties caught and fried?” he asked heatedly.

He and Candace might not have gotten along all that well, but she was still family. He’d see the killer hanged by his balls, no doubt about it. “But I want the right person caught and punished. Vera Mancuso is a victim of her half sister’s bad judgment. Nothing more.”

Duncan pushed out a breath. “Okay. Just for sake of argument, say I agree with you. My problem is, the stolen evidence was right on her finger.”

“And she explained how it got there. About fifty times. I, for one, believe her story.”

“So, what, I’m supposed to release her just because you have a damn hunch? Or more likely, have the hots for her and want to impress her with your prowess…as her attorney?”

Conner clamped his teeth. Okay, he might have the hots for Vera, but that would have ended abruptly if he’d still had the least doubt she was part of either the ring’s theft or his cousin’s murder. And, yeah, maybe he didn’t have any real solid reason to believe that, but there you go. A man had to trust his gut instincts. Especially if he was a lawyer.

“Yeah,” he said evenly. “Just release her.”

Duncan started to shake his head. “No can do.”

“I have an idea,” Conner said, thinking fast. “We can use her. To get her sister. That’s who you really want to question about the ring.”

Duncan exhaled. “I’m listening.”

“Darla trusts her. She gave Vera the Tears of the Quetzal for safekeeping. Believe me, she’ll be back for it.”

“And?”

“And when she shows up, I’ll call you and you can come arrest her. You can get to the real truth. The real perps.”

Duncan briefly considered. “Even if I went along with this, what makes you think Ms. Mancuso will let you stick around that long?”

Conner shrugged modestly. “I’m not without my charms.”

The FBI agent’s eyes rolled. “And yet, she keeps telling me you’re not her lawyer. Besides, wouldn’t your representing her be a conflict of interest?”

“Not if she’s innocent.”

And, damn, she really did look innocent sitting there in that bleak, gray interrogation room, holding back her tears by a thread. Innocent, and incredibly brave. While Duncan questioned her, Conner’d had his legal assistant do a quick workup on Vera Mancuso. Her background had been far from easy. He’d been all wrong about her relationship with her biological father, Maximillian St. Giles. The man didn’t want to know her, was openly hostile to his illegitimate daughter and kept her existence deep in the closet. The scumbag.

Duncan raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the FBI is not in charge of your cousin’s murder case. That’s strictly Metro at this point.”

Conner glanced at him in surprise. “Then why didn’t they arrest Vera?”

“Because of that ring. My current investigation is a series of high-end interstate jewelry robberies for which Darla St. Giles is a prime suspect, along with a couple of her friends. Possibly even a family member,” he added pointedly. “I got a tip from an informant that Darla was seen entering the Diamond Lounge, so we closed in. I thought she might be fencing some of her stolen goods. The manager there’s had some illegal dealings in the past.”

“So when you saw Vera wearing the Quetzal…”

“I recognized it right away. And she looks enough like Ms. St. Giles to have fooled me for a minute. I have good reason to believe Darla’s gang had targeted the Rothchild diamond on the night your cousin was killed. You seeing her with that phony cop at the police station, and the ring showing up in her half sister’s possession are both pretty strong evidence to connect her to the theft.”

“But what about the phony cop I saw her with?” Conner said. “And didn’t you say Luke Montgomery’s new wife was there at the casino the night of Candace’s murder, and was later stalked by someone wanting the ring?”

Duncan crossed his arms. “All true. But even if I agree with you in theory, my hands are tied. Until Darla is in custody and corroborates Ms. Mancuso’s story, and Vera’s alibi is checked out, I’d be insane to let the only suspect I have go free.”

Conner stuck his hands in his pockets. “Okay, I see your point. Still, keeping Vera in custody is probably the best way to drive Darla so far into hiding you’ll never find her. She certainly has the means to disappear for a good long time if she feels threatened.”

“So what do you propose I do?”

“Let Vera out on bail. I’ll pay it. Then we use her as bait, like I suggested.”

Both of them turned to contemplate Vera through the mirrored window. She’d put her head down on the Formica table and buried her face in her arms. Had she finally broken down? Conner’s heart squeezed in sympathy.

“If I agree to this crazy scheme,” Duncan finally said, “I’d want something in return.”

“Like what?” Conner asked.

“I’d want your help figuring out exactly who is part of the jewel theft ring I’m investigating. You move in the same social circles as Darla St. Giles. You go to the same parties and charity events, know the same people. I’d want you to nose around, ask questions. Narrow down my list of suspects.” He turned to look Conner in the eye. “Help LVMPD figure out if your cousin’s death was a jewel robbery gone bad, or something else entirely.”

Conner raised his brows. “Kind of a tall order, isn’t it?”

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” Obviously, Vera wasn’t going to get a better offer. Nor was he. “I’ll take it.”