Lucky Charm in Las Vegas Read online

  My name is Tiffany Black, and I work as a private investigator. That is, when I'm not working as a dealer for the Treasury Casino.

  Ian noticed me standing there, and bounded to his feet. His face split in a wide grin, and he strode over to me.

  “Tiffany! I'm glad I ran into you.”

  “Not too hard to do,” I said, “given how you knew that my shift was ending around this time.”

  As Ian and I headed out of the casino, I noticed a tall, slim blonde watching us. She would've blended into the mass of people who were in the casino, but she caught my eye because of her unusual outfit of sparkly purple leggings, purple tank top and long blond hair dyed with dark purple streaks. Our eyes met, and then she walked away toward the casino pit, merging back into the sea of people.

  Ian glanced around. “The Treasury seems super busy for three AM on a Tuesday night.”

  “It is,” I said, and for a few minutes, as we walked home, we chatted about the casino, and one of the previous cases we'd worked on.

  I live a twenty-minute walk away from the Strip, and I almost always walk to and from work, given how traffic tends to grind to a halt at busy times.

  As we headed back toward our apartment complex, Ian said, “Actually, part of the reason I wanted to meet up after your shift is because someone wants to hire us.”

  “You didn’t have to come out to the casino to tell me that—you could’ve just told me tomorrow,” I said. “What is it, another surveillance case?”

  “No, it's another murder.”

  I groaned. “I’ve had enough of those cases. Especially that last one—I didn't like having to work on the same thing as my boyfriend.”

  My boyfriend, Ryan Dmitriou, was a detective with the LVMPD. That had been the first time we'd worked together on the same case, and while it had ended up being all right, I'd been worried there for a bit.

  “I feel really bad for the man who wants to hire us,” Ian said quickly. “I met him a few days back at the bar in the Treasury, and he seems like a super nice dude. He thought he'd have a fun time in Vegas, but instead, he fell in love with someone who got herself killed.”

  I raised one eyebrow cynically. “He fell in love with someone he met in Vegas?”

  “A cocktail waitress at the Treasury.”

  I pressed my lips together. I'm not a believer in love at first sight—that kind of thing has never worked for me. And I'm even less of a believer when it comes to people who meet each other in Vegas. Most of the newly acquainted couples in this town seemed to believe in the old adage, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

  Stories of finding true love in this city are rare; here, it’s more common to hear stories of getting hurt, getting a disease, or getting swindled.

  “I tried to discourage him,” Ian said, looking serious. “But you know how it is when you suddenly fall madly in love.”

  Unlike me, Ian is a true romantic. He believes in falling in love quickly—and has the scars on his heart to prove it.

  Ian’s romantic issues are made worse by the fact that he’s got a bit of money. When he was in college, Ian invested in a start-up that went on to do very well: Ian divested of his shares at just the right time and dropped out of college. His millions are held safely in a trust fund managed by his strict parents and a lawyer, which in my opinion is a good thing and has prevented Ian from blowing through all his money at once. Left to his own devices, Ian could burn through a couple million dollars in a month—not on himself, but on the kind of people who make a living by swindling others out of their hard-earned money.

  Every time Ian meets a girl in Vegas, she quickly finds out about his money, and tries to get her hands on it. When she learns how strict Ian's parents are with the conditions of his trust fund and access to it, the girl quickly flees and finds a better target.

  “Let me get this clear,” I said. “You met a guy a few days ago at a bar. This guy met a cocktail waitress, and thinks he fell in love with her. The cocktail waitress then got killed. Am I getting the story straight so far?”

  “Sort of.”

  I was about to ask Ian to tell me more, when I froze.

  We were in a well-lit side street, almost halfway home. But I thought I’d heard something unusual for this time of night. My heart thudded loudly, and my senses sharpened.

  “Do you hear footsteps?” I said under my breath.

  Beside me, Ian stood very still. We looked around ourselves warily, but I couldn’t see anyone.

  “I wasn’t paying attention,” Ian said sheepishly. “Are you sure you heard something?”

  I shook my head. “It might’ve just been nerves. Ever since Stone told me that Tariq’s about to show up…”

  I let the words trail off. I didn't feel comfortable talking about Stone, Tariq and Eli in public, especially when I was worried that one of Eli’s men might be nearby.

  “I'm sure it's nothing,” Ian said. “Have you seen anyone following you around?”

  I started walking again, trying to calm my nerves, and shook my head. “No, but Stone told me to be careful. He thinks we’re being watched—and I just can't shake the feeling there might be someone out there, lurking behind one of these parked cars.”

  I thought back briefly to my clandestine chat with Stone, just a few days ago when he’d warned me to be careful.

  Stone and I had first met when we worked together on a case. He'd helped me learn a few tricks of the trade, and afterward, we’d stayed in touch and worked together a few more times. We'd been good friends until one night when we shared a passionate kiss.

  That kiss had made me think things had changed between us—that perhaps our relationship would grow to be something serious.

  But before I could act on my emotions, two dark-suited men from the CIA showed up at my front door, demanding to talk to him.

  They claimed that Stone had betrayed his team while working in the CIA, and that they were there to track him down.

  The CIA operatives’ presence meant Stone went underground for a long time. I never once believed that Stone had betrayed his team, and I never stopped searching for answers—answers that I finally got from a man who called himself Johnson, who had been Stone's handler in the CIA.

  Johnson told me that while Stone had been working undercover in Afghanistan, someone in his team had betrayed him—that man turned out to be Eli Cohen, a CIA operative who retired soon after the war in Afghanistan broke out, but still had powerful contacts within the agency.

  Johnson and I spent a long time surveilling Eli and his men, and just when we’d been about to give up, we discovered that the third member of Stone’s team in Afghanistan, an Afghan man named Tariq, was still alive and had escaped to a small village during the war. In fact, Tariq had recently made his way to the US.

  After a while, we managed to get a message through to Tariq, letting him know that Stone needed his help—and now, Tariq was due to arrive in Vegas any day.

  Stone had given Tariq my address, and told him that he’d be safe staying with either Ian or me. Unfortunately, my closeness with Stone had brought me onto Eli’s radar—Stone had warned me that Eli and his men might be watching me.

  Now, standing in the well-lit side street just after three in the morning, I worried that the footsteps I thought I heard were real—and that they belonged to Eli or someone working for him.

  “I'm sure everything’s fine,” Ian said, trying to reassure me. But his voice sounded shakier than usual, and I knew he was nervous about a possible future run-in with Eli. “Eli or his men wouldn't come after you. They wouldn't want to draw attention to themselves that way.”

  “But it might not be drawing attention to themselves,” I said reluctantly. “The police know I’ve received death threats from suspects I’ve investigated in the past. If anything happens to me they might think it’s just someone from a case.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Ian said stoutly. “I'll meet you at the casino every night from now
on. If the two of us are together, no one’ll attack us. Strength in numbers, right?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to be a burden. “You don't have to do that.”

  “It’s nothing. Besides, I get bored staying at home by myself watching Star Trek reruns. I need to get out sometimes, and if I’m alone, Eli and his men might attack me. I'd feel better if I was hanging out with you.”

  I glanced at Ian, wondering if he'd just come up with a clever excuse to be my bodyguard. But Ian didn't possess that level of cunning—with him, what you saw was what you got. And of course, I didn't want anything to happen to Ian.

  “Maybe you're right,” I admitted reluctantly. “There is strength in numbers. I guess we should stick together from now on.”

  A few minutes later, we were inside our apartment complex, and said goodbye to each other in the hallway.

  I entered my small one-bedroom apartment, and locked the front door safely behind me. I checked through my apartment for intruders, the way Stone had shown me to do. When I was sure there was no one in there but me, I let out a large sigh of relief.

  I didn’t like stressing about Eli and his men all the time, but hopefully it would be worth it. Once Stone's issues with the CIA were sorted out, perhaps life would get back to normal.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning, I woke up around eleven, had a long, leisurely shower, and then texted Ian to see if he wanted to come over for a late brunch.

  Ian showed up a few minutes later, carrying his kitten, Snowflake, with him.

  Snowflake was a little bundle of white fur with bright blue eyes—Ian had rescued her when she was a tiny kitten, only slightly bigger than my hand. She’s grown a little bit bigger now, but she’s still adorable and heart-melting, and I’m always so glad to see her.

  Ian and I played with Snowflake for a few minutes, and then I made us each a mug of steaming hot coffee. There was a rare carton of eggs in my fridge, along with some shredded cheese and sliced mushrooms. I made Ian and myself each a massive omelet, and then we carried our food and coffees over to the sofa. We were just about to bite into our food when there was a loud knock on my door.

  Ian turned to me and raised one eyebrow. “Were you expecting someone?”

  “No, not at this hour.”

  “Maybe it’s Ryan, here to surprise you with a sudden lunch date.”

  I glanced at the omelets. If that was the case, Ian could have my food too.

  I opened the door and stared out in surprise. I think my jaw may have dropped slightly, and my eyes definitely grew wider.

  I'd never seen the man before in my life, but I instantly knew who it was.

  Tariq was tall, at least six feet two, with broad shoulders and olive skin. His hair and eyes were jet black, and his face was clean-shaven and square-jawed. He looked handsome and stylish in his chinos and checkered shirt; any red-blooded woman would have to be blind not to acknowledge that the man standing in front of me was gorgeous.

  Why had I been expecting a man reminiscent of the Taliban, wearing some kind of white linen garb with a waist-length beard?

  “You must be Tiffany Black,” the man standing in my doorway said. He spoke with a slightly foreign accent, and I nodded silently.

  I wasn’t sure I could speak without stuttering, so I just stared silently, bug-eyed.

  Tariq probably hadn’t expected me to look so… downright tongue-tied. Hesitation flickered in his eyes. “My friend—he said you would be expecting me?”

  I nodded rapidly, and glanced down the hall. There was nobody there.

  “Come in,” I said quickly.

  When Tariq stepped inside, I made sure to lock the door behind us.

  “This is my friend Ian,” I said, “And that’s Snowflake on top of the fridge.”

  Tariq sat down on a chair opposite us, and from her perch on top of the fridge, Snowflake opened one lazy eye. She glanced at the man, decided that her nap was over, and jumped off the fridge to head over to Tariq.

  He made clucking sounds at the little kitten. “I love kittens! It is so nice to meet you, Snowflake.”

  Snowflake rubbed against Tariq's ankles, and he lifted her onto his lap. He stroked her fur gently and said, “Every cat has a unique personality. You never know what to expect. Almost like humans.”

  “But nicer than humans,” Ian said.

  Tariq smiled at him. “She is your cat?”

  Ian looked surprised. “How did you know?”

  Tariq gazed at Snowflake and scratched behind her ears. “When you have a pet, your heart opens up. You act differently—I can tell when someone has an animal they care for, and when someone does not.”

  I wondered if I should be offended. But then I figured he was right—I wasn’t responsible for Snowflake, no matter how much I loved her. “Did you have a cat back in Afghanistan?”

  “Yes, I had a lovely black cat with green eyes. She was very independent.” Tariq smiled at the memories.

  “Did she… did you leave her behind?”

  Tariq’s expression grew serious again. “No, she passed away a year before I left the country. I still miss her. Losing a pet is losing a member of your family.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ian said. “She must’ve been a good cat.”

  Tariq nodded. “Yes. And I like to think that she had a happy life.”

  I said, “I'm glad you made it in one piece.”

  Tariq smiled wryly. “I almost did not.”

  I nodded, wondering what to say to that. How do you respond to someone who's escaped a war-torn country?

  Ian had no such tact. He said, “It must've been terrible in Kabul, with all that bombing and fighting going on.”

  Tariq nodded grimly. “It was horrible. Before the war, Stone, Eli and I all had covers as university professors, but when the Taliban took over, they shut down the university. Stone disappeared before the Taliban took over, and Eli told me that Stone had betrayed us. I went underground, and Eli disappeared.

  “I managed to stay hidden in my uncle’s village while the war went on. Afterward when the American troops took over, I headed back to Kabul. I met a man who understood that I helped out before the war and the US Army brought me on as an interpreter. A few months ago, my application for an American green card was approved, and I came over to California.”

  “I’m surprised Eli hasn't found you before this,” I said.

  Tariq shook his head. “I have learned that sadly you can never be too careful. The American consulate advised me to come to the USA under an assumed name. So when I entered the country, I was Riyaz Husnei Ibrahim, not Tariq Zubair.”

  “So that's why Eli didn't know you were in the country for a long time.”

  Tariq nodded. “But then I met an American who had been in Kabul during the war and I admitted I had actually worked with the US government myself. That was a mistake—or maybe not. That conversation is how Eli found out I was in the country. But if I had not talked to that man, then you would not have found me either.”

  I nodded. “What tipped you off that Eli had been the one to betray you?”

  Tariq smiled thinly. “After Stone disappeared, I knew that something was not right. I had never trusted Eli—something about him had always seemed… how do you say it? ‘Off.’ So one night, I went into his office room, and placed a key logger on his computer. Eli may be a clever man, but he never realized that his computer had been hacked. After that, I was able to see everything he did—I could see all his emails, all his correspondence with the Russian arms dealers. I am not so sure how he got away with it for such a long time, but I have made copies of all his documents. I have those copies with me now, on a flash drive.”

  I shivered involuntarily and slid my eyes toward the door. I couldn’t hear any footsteps, so I looked at Tariq again.

  I tried to ignore the sound of blood pounding in my ears, and took a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve got proof on you that Stone is completely innocent?”

&nbs
p; “And that Eli was the one who betrayed us all along.”

  “Are you sure—”

  Words failed me. I gawked at Tariq in silence.

  “You need to be safe,” Ian said, echoing my thoughts.

  Tariq shrugged. “I do what I can.”

  I glanced at him sharply. If anyone else had said that, I would have thought they weren't taking the matter seriously enough. But this was a man who’d clearly survived multiple attempts on his life and who Stone trusted with his own life. I figured I should relax, and let Tariq take care of his own safety.

  Stone… That reminded me. “You and Stone worked together for a while.”

  Tariq smiled and his face lit up. If he had looked handsome when he was being serious, he looked downright heart-stopping when he smiled.

  “Stone and I have always been friends,” he said. “I have learned to trust my instincts when it comes to people—it is what saved my life multiple times. Stone has something about him—something you can trust.”

  I nodded. I knew what he meant. “What was Stone like when you were working together?”

  “I have not seen Stone since he disappeared. But he was younger than me. And he had not been to Afghanistan before. He wanted to help people, he wanted to make things right.

  “I was old enough to know how the world worked. Politics is a dirty game, and when you have the opportunity to make lots of money, like Eli did, you do not care if other people get hurt. Even if those people getting hurt are those who live right next to you—even if your deals with an arms trader means that entire cities, young children and women and families get wiped out or hurt or tortured. Some people do not care. Some people do. Eli did not care at all about other people. All Stone cared about was other people, the people he could save.”

  The three of us sat silently for a few minutes, thinking about what Tariq must've been through. And Stone, too.

  Johnson had told me that Stone had gotten into trouble by trying to save a young Afghan girl and her mother—I couldn't help but wonder who else Stone had managed to save without being detected.