the samovar with hot water for tea before securing the staff door to provide the privacy Alexander had requested.
He returned to the table. “Thank you for indulging me with your time, Kathleen. I know how valuable it is.”
A reluctant smile skipped across Kathleen’s full lips. “Not a problem, Sasha . It was quite enlightening.”
In a good way, he hoped. He smiled back, pleased at her use of his nickname, even if she was teasing him. He still wasn’t exactly sure why he wished so badly for Kathleen to stop viewing him as an uptight, pampered aristocrat, and a possible suspect. But he did. He hoped the nickname was a good sign.
He directed his attention to his security chief before he made a fool of himself and did something really stupid. Like telling her what he was feeling. Or leaning over and kissing her.
He cleared his throat to control that urge. “What do you have for us this morning, Jim?”
…
Kathleen watched the enigmatic emotions play on the prince’s face and wondered what he was thinking. It was impossible to guess. Not that it mattered.
Jim handed her another thumb drive and folder, and provided Alexander with a similar one. “We’ve got details on some of the whales who have deposited large markers over the last few months as well as some more photos.”
Alexander opened the file and failed to control the recoil of his body at the image that greeted him. His shock was impossible to miss.
Instinctively, she laid her hand over his as it tensed beside the folder. “Alexander?”
“Russian prison tattoos. See his arms and hands.” An unnatural deadness filled his eyes and voice.
She gave an involuntary shiver as she opened the folder and studied the grainy image that had so captured Alexander’s attention. It was a man, sitting at a table in the restaurant.
“As you suggested, sir, we were able to get an image from the casino floor camera. Unfortunately, the angle was not good enough to get a face.”
“But it’s enough to know we’re dealing with someone who most probably has mob connections,” Alexander replied in that same lifeless cadence.
Kathleen spared only a quick glance at Jim, but the security chief’s eyes as he met hers communicated volumes.
Heeding his silent request not to pry, she said, “I’ll send this on to my people. Our specialists may be able to find out more.” She gave her own report at Alexander’s curt nod. “From the materials you provided, there is no doubt there is money laundering going on at Russian Nights. There have been an excessive number of exchanges by female escorts of cash for chips and vice versa. Those escorts also arranged for transfers of some of the money to several banks with private accounts in the Cayman Islands. Thanks to their secrecy laws, we can’t find out whose accounts, but there’s little doubt someone is trying to hide the money. Luckily the activity is recent. Possibly only in the past two weeks.”
Alexander closed the file with restored calm. “I’m glad we were able to catch it so early. What do we do now?” He looked, however, anything but glad.
“I’d like to bring in a couple more agents for surveillance purposes,” she suggested.
“We have enough staff here,” Alexander began, but then his voice trailed off as it dawned on him why she wanted her own people.
“You’re not sure if my employees are clean or, for that matter, if I am. Fair enough.”
He seemed more weary, or disappointed, rather than angry at her distrust. She wanted to reach out and tell him it wasn’t him she was worried about, that she was just following protocol, but his spine straightened and he cut off anything she might have said.
“Jim will arrange for your team to have access and any other accommodations you require.” He rose, and grabbed hold of the file.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have some obligations on the casino floor to which I must attend.”
The humanity, and even vulnerability, she had seen earlier during