Page 74 of The Scarab's Game
Before I pulled the gun on her.
What would it be like to have her trust me completely? She’d seemed ready to forgive me this morning in her hotel room. I pushed the thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of my mind. There was no room for distractions or complications.
We had a job to do, and it didn’t involve Jenn’s lips on mine.
Chapter 26
Jenn
Trust my instincts?Had Emmett seriously said that to me? After last night? After this morning?
God, after believing Dante?
My instincts had only been right aboutWheatfield—the fake.
My heart was still in my throat since the phone call with Scarlett, but I couldn’t help staring at the imposing Baroque facade of Monaco’s Oceanographic Museum. It loomed over us, almost blocking out the sun. I should have been sightseeing inside instead of skulking around with Emmett.
He guided me toward an outdoor elevator near the end of the building, his hand hovering near the small of my back. “This goes to the parking garage below, and it’s also the entrance to the Casino Rocher.”
As we stepped inside, a couple tried to follow us.
Emmett blocked their path.
“Sorry, private tour,” he said with a disarming smile, so smooth the couple smiled back instead of protesting. Once the doors closed, he punched in a combination of buttons. “Code for the casino level.”
“Why so secretive?”
Emmett’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “It’s an underground facility, and not just physically. They operate outside the law, but close to it.”
My stomach twisted. Were we criminals for going inside?
“Security’s tight. We’ll surrender our phones—they’ll be stored in Faraday bags. Empty pockets, purse search for you, metal detectors for both of us.”
“Seems excessive.”
Emmett shrugged. “It’s partially required for some of the clientele but mainly a marketing ploy. Like the Monte Carlo Casino, they play up the exclusivity. Dress code in the evenings, top-shelf alcohol, the works. It’s not actually a secret, though.”
The elevator stopped, doors opening into…
The only casinos I’d visited were the big one here and a few in Vegas. This room reminded me more of a private screening room at an airport than a casino lobby. I whispered, “This isn’t what I expected. There are no flashing lights.”
“Security first.” Emmett approached a burly man in a black suit, standing behind a long metal table. “No photos allowed inside. That’s why we go through the checkpoint before seeing anything.”
The guard placed two small trays on the table and said in a thick French accent, “Place all items in here, then proceed through the metal detector.”
Emmett emptied his pockets: watch, phone, wallet, and a white poker chip with a hole drilled through it. No gun. Did he leave it behind because of where we were going? Or did he only keep it on him at night? The security guard placed Emmett’s phone in a pouch, handing him a small chip in return. That must have been to track where Emmett’s phone was stored, since the security guy placed it into a slot behind himself.
As Emmett went through the detector, I surrendered my phone and let them search my purse. Another guard waveda wand over Emmett, pausing at his belt before waving him through.
Once we’d collected our belongings, I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the poker chip?”
Emmett’s hand closed around it possessively before tucking it into his left pocket. “Good luck charm.”
“Why the hole?”
“It’s from a game earlier this year. The hole prevents me from using it again.”
Did I see it right? Five thousand written on its face?“You didn’t cash it in?”