I put everything back in the right order and went down to the next drawer.
There were folders there, but I only managed to get a picture of the top pages of two of them before I heard something that had my stomach bottoming out.
Footsteps.
And not slow ones either.
They were coming for me.
I was caught.
I closed the drawer, not wanting to be caught red-handed.
But there was nothing I could do about the flashlight. Not that quickly.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
A helpless little cry gurgled up just before the door suddenly flew open.
But it wasn’t Frank.
It wasn’t one of his suit-clad henchmen.
It wasn’t amanat all.
This woman was tall and slim and clad in black jeans and a matching lightweight sweater.
Her feminine, round-shaped face was dominated by plush lips and stunning hazel eyes.
But the thing you noticed the most about her was her hair.
She had a massive amount of curly, gold-kissed strawberry blonde hair.
This wasn’t just any average employee at the casino.
This was the infamous pit boss.
Her gaze locked on me and I swear I felt stripped bare under that gaze. Like she saw underneath my skin. Like she knew my plans and motivations. Though with a face as stoic as hers, I had no idea what she thought of them.
She glanced over at the flashlight, at the camera, then back to me.
“You need to go,” she said finally, her eye contact unblinking. “Now. You need to gonow.”
“I…”
“Monroe, you have two minutes if you’re lucky. Get the hell out of here.”
I didn’t stop to think, to analyze.
I grabbed my bags and ran.
She was right behind me after carefully closing the door.
“No. Right,” she demanded when I went to choose a direction at the mouth of the hallway. “There are cameras to the left. Walk with purpose. Don’t run. But get the fuck out of here.”
With that, she strode toward the right herself, but quickly disappeared into a door marked for utilities.
