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snapped straight, staring at the latex costume still stretched out on display, albeit a little tussled now, beside her on the bed. Nothing new had arrived while she slept. No sudden appearance of a bottle of catnip or tray of kitty-litter.
    Rubbing at her face she turned to the suite’s far window. Sunlight flooded the room, painting everything with a golden glow. She squinted at it, feeling more fuzzy and jet-lagged than ever. God, how long had she been asleep for?
    A quick glance at her watch gave her the answer. Five hours. Five hours sleep in the last forty-eight. She suppressed a groan. No wonder she was having disturbing dreams. Sleep deprivation was a legitimate psychological tor—
    Blackjack tomorrow. 6am. Or has the Kat become a chicken ?
    The Mouse’s arrogant note flashed through her head and she leapt to her feet. 6am. Damn. It was already 5:45.
     
    ***
     
    The Mouse watched her move through the busy casino. Noticed how her eyes searched the crowded room like a predator hunting. She had no idea who she was looking for, but still she looked.
    A darkly arousing sensation unfurled in the pit of his gut. Considering she had no idea who he was, considering she was only going on what he’d left for her at every crime scene, at the end of every teasing trail of false clues, she knew him better than anyone alive. He allowed himself a smile, hiding it behind a glass of whisky. He never drank this early in the morning, but today was an exception. Today he needed the alcohol to linger on his breath, his lips.
    How long does the game continue ?
    He didn’t have an answer. It all depended on Abaddon, who so far had failed to make an appearance. But as soon as the transaction was made, as soon as the three million credits was in his account…
    Are you really going to end it ?
    He followed Katrina as she threaded her way through laughing tourists, her clear, direct pale green eyes focussing on each face, as if cataloguing it for later reference.
    His stomach churned and his groin tightened.
    Yes. He was. She was getting too close to catching him and he wanted to end his criminal career a free man, not in Australia’s toughest prison.
    And that’s the only reason ?
    He ground his teeth, ignoring the question, watching Katrina make her way to a Blackjack table and perch herself on a stool instead. Damn, she had great legs. Long, toned and delightful. A grin pulled at his mouth as, for the first time since spotting her enter the gaming area, he really noticed what she was wearing. Trust Australian Federal Police Officer Katrina O’Lauchlan to wear denim shorts, a fitting baby-pink Billabong t-shirt and sneakers to a casino.
    Pulling in a steadying breath, he began to cross the busy floor. He was about to gamble with his life.
    God hope Lady Luck favoured jewel thieves.
     
    ***
     
    “Is this seat taken, mademoiselle ?”
    Katrina swung her head to the left, giving the tall man standing beside her a sharp look.
    Intent black eyes gazed back at her, unreadable and enigmatic at once. Glossy dark, dark brown hair was cropped close to his scalp—a rough, choppy, sexy mess that subtly spoke of enough wealth not to care, an impression furthered more by the black silk Ralph Lauren polo shirt hugging an impressive torso. A tingle began in the base of Katrina’s spine and she stared at him. He was familiar. But why?
    The Mouse ?
    “It is a beautiful morning, no?” he continued in an accent as enigmatic as his eyes. European? South African ? He slid onto the stool beside her as if she had answered his question, the midnight gaze roaming her face. A very smooth smile stretched lips entirely too sexy. “But then, the beauty of the day is pale when compared to the beauty I see before me.”
    Katrina cocked an eyebrow, fingering her chips. The tingle in her spine grew stronger, even as she digested the lack of an Australian accent. The Mouse was definitely Australian, but then, an accent could be faked. She resisted the urge to