Read Grab (Letty Dobesh #3) for Free Online Page B

in an earpiece.
    "We stay in constant communication until that magic text or call comes."
    "You got it, " Mark said.
    "If a call comes in, we talk it through. Any uncertainty, it doesn't go to Richter."
    "Agreed. And what if a Vegas phone number shows up? Or worse, a private number?"
    "Then we roll the dice and I answer. I got Richter's voice down cold just in case."
    Isaiah pock eted the white iPhone and grinned at Letty.
    "You done good, girl."
    "Glad it worked out."
    "You heading back to the Palazzo?"
    "That's the plan ."
    "I'll walk you out."
    In the hallway, Isaiah stopped her.
    " My suggestion—go back to your room, get some sleep. This shit may go down in the wee hours."
    " Rest of your crew's in town?"
    "Everybody's on standby. Soon as we know the room number, we're ready to get it on. What's wrong?"
    "Nothing."
    "You want out now, that's cool. I'll peel off two-fifty for your work and you can go on your merry way. No more risk."
    Tempting.
    But the truth was, she didn't want the job to end.
    " I told you I'd see it through, Ize."
    "That's my girl."
    "What about Mark. Is he—"
    " Work for hire. He's also our driver. He knows enough to do his job, but no more. You, me, Jerrod, and Stu. That's the only way this money splits."
    She started walking toward the elevators.
    He called out after her, "Get on your game face, girl!"
    # # #
    Letty moved through the lobby of the Palazzo, under a glass dome and past a two-story fountain.
    The high from stealing Richte r's phone was fading.
    Fear rushing in to take its place.
    She hadn't really thought beyond the initial grab. Hadn't begun to come to terms with the concept of Isaiah and his buddies taking down a heavily-armed casino security team. Much less her place in that equation.
    Up ahead, a man sat on a bench, his face buried in his hands.
    It was the hair she recognized—perfectly trimmed brown on the cusp of turning silver. A part she'd recognize anywhere.
    She stopped and said, "Christian?"
    Her therapist looked up, cologned with booze, eyes red and swollen with tears. He wore a wrinkled sports jacket and khaki slacks that looked like they'd been slept in.
    "Letty?" he said.
    "What are you doing here?" she asked.
    He wiped his eyes, said, "Not having one of my better days on this planet."
    " Let me help you up to your room."
    " You ever notice you can't open a window in a hotel room? Why is that? How did they know I wanted to jump?"
    "Are serious with that ? You don't want to jump, Christian. Come on." She grabbed his arm. "Let's get you upstairs. They're gonna throw you out if you stay down here in this condition."
    She pulled him onto his feet.
    They stumbled toward the elevators.
    " You don't have to do this," Christian said. "Nobody is nice like this anymore."
    They rode up to the thirty-first floor, just the two of them in the car.
    He laughed bitterly. "My first thought was black," he said. "All the way driving out here, it was always going to be black."
    "What are you talking about?"
    "But I changed my mind at the last minute. Went with red. And then, of course, it hit on black."
    "I don't under— "
    " I lost a little money this morning."
    "On roulette?"
    "Red or black. Red or black. Red or black."
    "How much did you lose?"
    "Everything."
    "You bet your life savings?"
    "Before I came here, I sold my house. Cashed out my portfolio. Emptied my bank accounts. Two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars."
    "Why?"
    They reached his floor.
    The doors parted.
    In the hallway, he said, "Because I'd already lost everything else."
    She grabbed his arm. "Christian, look at me. What are you talking about? What's wrong?"
    "My wife. My daughter."
    "They left you?"
    "They were killed."
    " When?"
    " Three months ago."
    "Three months ago? You mean while I was seeing you, you were dealing with this shit? You never even—"
    " Not your problem, Letty. Not on my couch. Not here."
    " Was it a car wreck?"
    "Yeah."
    They went on.
    "I d on't even care about the money," he said, then