Cobb (Lighthouse Security Investigations #9) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,83

the box, exposing a silver chain with a lighthouse pendant dangling from the center. Her gaze fell onto the necklace, and she gasped, staring at the piece of jewelry that held so much meaning.

He draped it over her neck, fastened the clip, and let the lighthouse pendant settle at the top of her breasts.

“Oh, my goodness, Jorge, it’s beautiful!”

“It’s beautiful on you, babe. But it’s more special than you realize. Inside the lighthouse is a tracer. If you are ever separated from me, I can find you wherever you are. And I promise… I will find you.”

Tears stung her eyes as she pulled him in for a deep kiss. And with the lighthouse draped about her neck, they made love again.

She fell asleep easily but woke in the middle of the night, a snake of unease slithering through her. Unsure what it meant, she burrowed tighter into his embrace and fell back into a fitful slumber.

23

Cobb sat at the edge of one of the blackjack tables, keeping an eye on the activity all around. The Grand King Casino was a hubbub of activity, lights, movement, and sounds. If he was not so adept at being able to filter out the extraneous from the necessary, it would be overwhelming. Dressed in a dark polo and clean jeans, he blended easily into the afternoon crowd. A grin slipped over his face as he thought of Josie’s angry defense when she assumed that he was volunteering for this particular duty because of his ethnicity. He had only been partially truthful when he told her it wasn't. After all, even as a SEAL and then on CIA Special Operation assignments, he used every advantage possible, including his appearance.

This casino was the same as others across the world in the attempts to relieve visitors of their money with the temptation of leaving with greater riches. He watched as people cheered when they won without having considering how much they’d spent in the effort.

Serving girls walked around with trays of drinks, offering patrons cheap libations to keep them happy enough to stay and continue gambling their money away. Coffee stations were offering strong brew in kiosks nearby, encouraging the cycle of losing money while under the influence, then sobriety to start the process over again. But the common practice could be found in any casino, and certainly, here in Mexico, it was no different.

He'd moved around to several tables, having added several hundreds of dollars to his spending card when he first arrived. Nursing the occasional drink, he finally stood and straightened his back as though working the kinks out of his spine while surreptitiously scanning the area. Tossing a tip to the dealer, he walked through the casino toward the coffee station.

Off to the left were the higher stakes tables and toward the back were the tables where the starting limits were in the thousands. Those tables were separated from the general public with roped access, but they were still visible for spectators standing at a polite distance. He knew that private rooms would hold the highest stakes games, the ones where privacy and discretion were guaranteed.

A band had set up on the low stage to the right and their rendition of rock was not only subpar but added to the cacophony of casino sounds. Cobb winced more than once at the auditory assault.

As the late afternoon moved into evening, he planted himself at one of the slot machines near the entrance, and his position paid off as he spotted Charlene enter on the arm of a man in a dark grey suit. She was in a short, tight cocktail dress, smiling for all the world as she clung to Anton’s arm.

While Anton was greeted with familiarity by the lower floor casino manager, Charlene grabbed the first drink handed to her by the server. As they weaved their way toward the back, Cobb followed at a discrete distance, not wanting to be recognized by her. The couple settled at a table in the back, and he was grateful they were still in the area where he could keep an eye on them by finding another slot machine on the periphery with a perfect view of Charlene’s preening and Anton’s determined efforts to make money. It seemed to be working. In only an hour, he had managed to win most of the time.

A boisterous group moved behind him, and he cast a glance to the side, spying Bert along with two of his entourage, Timothy Hobson