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  THE CHARMER

  SIN CITY SENTRIES – BOOK ONE

  By Myra Scott

  The Charmer

  Copyright 2018 by Myra Scott

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, redistributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in any database, without prior permission from the author.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. All characters are 18+ and all situations are consensual.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One - Zane

  Chapter Two - Zane

  Chapter Three - Diego

  Chapter 4 - Zane

  Chapter 5 - Zane

  Chapter Six - Diego

  Chapter Seven - Zane

  Chapter Eight - Diego

  Chapter Nine - Zane

  Chapter Ten - Diego

  Chapter Eleven - Zane

  Chapter 12 - Zane

  Chapter Thirteen - Diego

  Chapter 14 - Zane

  Chapter 15 - Zane

  Chapter Sixteen - Zane

  Chapter Seventeen - Diego

  Chapter Eighteen - Zane

  Chapter Nineteen - Diego

  Epilogue - Zane

  Excerpt From The Perfectionist – Book Two

  Mick’s Story

  About The Author

  Also By Myra Scott

  The Charmer

  CHAPTER ONE - ZANE

  I wore my smile with natural ease as the camera took the final shot. I was standing in a statuesque pose, my tailored clothes perfectly hugging my tall frame, as if I were modeling the outfit instead of getting listed in 30 Under 30.

  Everything about the set was perfectly staged. The impeccable lighting, the way I was standing after what felt like an eternity of getting moved around like a mannequin, the hundreds of shots I heard the poor cameraman taking, it was all part of something so staged and artificial that most people would be put off by it.

  As for me, I was born for this.

  When the final shot snapped, I could already imagine the other guys’ comments about my poise. Everything about the way I carried myself, from my posture to my dimpled smile to the way my blond hair was coiffed, was deliberate.

  The other guys called me a charmer. If that was true, then perfection was just what came naturally to me.

  All three of them were standing behind the cameraman, like they had been all morning. They said they were coming along for moral support, but really, they just got some amusement out of watching me work the cameras the way I did.

  “Alright, that’ll do it, Mr. Anderson,” the cameraman said with a thumbs-up to me.

  “Thanks, Scott,” I said to him with a casual nod, and I noticed his face brighten a little before he started dismantling his camera setup. People liked having their names remembered. It was a little detail, but the little details were what stuck with people.

  Behind him, the other guys were in various states of being relieved that the photoshoot was over. Mick gave me a curt nod, looking stoic as ever. Gage was rolling his shoulders back and mouthing “Good job!” at me. The mountain of a man that Bart was didn’t move much, but he chuckled quietly at Gage and rolled his eyes at me.

  “Alright, boys, we’re on a tight schedule, so let’s get the interview rolling,” said the agent who was overseeing this whole article. He motioned with his arms as if he were landing a plane, walking backward while trying to guide us into the next room.

  “Swear to god, Zane,” Gage said as he trotted up beside me and nudged me in the ribs, “was the doctor holding a camera for you to pose for when you were born?”

  “Psh,” I laughed with a dismissive wave of my hand. “And be a child star who peaks at twelve? No thanks.”

  “It’s okay,” Mick spoke up, “we could have had Bart up there and have people assume the article is an ad for a gun show.”

  “As long as Zane could coach him beforehand, it would at least look like a classy gun show,” Gage retorted with a laugh. Bart just exchanged a grin with me before I rolled my eyes and followed the agent.

  Considering the four of us ran a casino, the intersection of vice and class wasn’t exactly far from the truth, but you didn’t get an interview with Forbes 30 Under 30 by pushing that angle.

  The interview room was smaller than I expected, or at least, all the sound equipment made it look small. Most of the room was taken up by a round, black table with enough seats for all of us, plus the interviewer already sitting at the far end of it with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Come on in, gentlemen,” he greeted us with a hand gesture as we filed into the room. “Make yourselves comfortable. Can we get you any coffee?”

  “Black,” Bart grumbled. Gage waved a dismissive hand, and Mick just slid into his seat.

  “I’ll take decaf single cream, thanks,” I said directly to the intern that was standing nearby before he hurried off and appeared a moment later to set our drinks in front of us.

  “So, what is this, a radio thing?” Bart grunted, looking around at all the sound equipment and arching an eyebrow and pointedly ignoring the glare I shot at him.

  “No, this will be a written article,” the interviewer said with a laugh. “We do audio recordings of this so we can review everything Zane says in editing.”

  “He doesn’t just jot down what Zane says on the back of a napkin, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Gage teased Bart with a wink. Bart rolled his eyes while Mick cracked a smile and snickered.

  “And, yes,” I said to the interviewer with a smile, “we somehow function both thanks to and despite these three.”

  The interviewer laughed goodnaturedly, nodding. “I can see how. I think this is a good note to get things started on, so unless you have any other questions, let’s get things rolling.”

  I nodded in agreement, and after a few seconds of prep, one of the audio workers gave us the go-ahead. The interviewer spoke first.

  “For this year’s 30 Under 30, I’m here with the startling new energy behind one of Las Vegas’s newest and most prominent establishments: Zane Anderson, who’s here in the studio with his associates Mick Mazur, Gage Taylor, and Bart Bennet. Zane, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself?”

  The other three cast a desperate glance at me, startled at being included in the interview, even indirectly. I was the face of the casino, and whenever we had to deal with the public or the press, it was me they looked to first, because as much as I love these three, they couldn’t fight their way through an interview alone to save their lives.

  So, when I smiled brightly and sat back to cross my legs and fold my hands over my lap, my confidence was first and foremost to help put the others at ease.

  “I’m the CEO of the Sentry Casino and Hotel, and I manage our public relations,” I explained. “I will also gladly take the blame for bringing all of us together over time,” I added, flashing a grin at the others, who chuckled. “Really, though, I wanted to make clear that while I am the owner and founder of the company, what I do would be impossible without my team.”

  “That’s very modest of you,” the interviewer remarked. “I understand you come from a rather working-class background, so I’m sure you appreciate the value of collaboration.”

  That was a subtle jab at me that I knew I couldn’t leave unanswered.

  “My family has been in
the Twin Cities for three generations through good and bad times. You get to know a place, know how to talk to people, and most importantly, learn how to respect them, and they show you the same.”

  The interviewer’s eyes didn’t waver, nor did he miss a beat.

  “Speaking of respect,” he went on, “why don’t you tell me a little about these three other men you say are behind the Sentry’s success?”

  “Gladly,” I said, looking at the three others. You could tell a lot about them just by looking at them there.

  “Mick is our head of operations. He runs numbers and handles the technical side of things, mostly behind the scenes.” Mick was brushing some of his brown hair out of his eyes, a nervous habit he had when he was in the spotlight. He was sitting still as a board, watching the interview with his chin in his thumb and forefinger, and his eyes widened when I looked at him. I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m impressed we got him out into the light of day.”

  Gage chuckled quietly, and I turned my attention to him. “Gage oversees the gaming at the company. He works closely with me to plan out what to bring to the casino, and then he gets to fight things out with the others.” Gage flashed me a smile warmer than that fiery hair of his, sitting forward in his chair and bouncing a leg while he listened, hanging onto every word I said.

  “Finally,” I said, turning to the only member of my group just old enough to be disqualified from the 30 Under 30, “Bart is our head of security, and despite what he assumed on his first day, that does not mean he stands outside the doors with his big arms crossed.” Bart chuckled at me with that exact pose, his big and rugged looks making him look like he’d just wandered in from a biker convention.

  We were an odd bunch, but together, we worked like a well-oiled machine.

  “That’s quite a cast,” the interviewer addressed me after I took a sip of my coffee. “I’m getting the impression that you were the mastermind behind bringing all of this together?”

  “I wouldn’t call myself that,” I brushed off with a laugh. “The four of us are collaborators. The Sentry simply could not happen without all of our expertise, and our clients recognize that when they choose us.”

  “That’s a remarkable philosophy for a casino operation,” the interviewer said, and while I noticed Gage tense a little at the subtle challenge, I didn’t miss a beat.

  “Las Vegas is not the place it used to be,” I pointed out, my tone as calm and confident as ever. “Times have changed, and I would like to think that collaborations like ours are the new face of the Strip. It’s an exciting time to be running entertainment here, and it’s a change we’re proud to have a hand in leading.”

  The interviewer smiled, impressed with my response, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. He tried to ease me with a few more milder questions about when we were founded, the challenges of working together, and so on, but even as I breezed through them, I stayed poised.

  Within minutes, my caution paid off.

  “So, Zane,” the interviewer said to me, a grin spreading across his face. “Rising stars like you always attract attention—there’s a rumor that you’re something of a momma’s boy, despite the charming veneer. Would you agree with that?”

  I blinked a few times, genuinely thrown off for a second—that was the kind of question I’d expect from a tabloid, but I didn’t lose focus.

  “No, I just find value in my family, and my mother happens to be the glue in my Midwestern clan,” I said smoothly. “A strong family dynamic is the background that taught me how to hold together such a wide cast as the four of us.”

  Bart cracked a smile at me, and even Mick gave a nod of approval, but Gage looked tense at the question. If I hadn’t specifically told him to let me do all the talking, I knew he’d be jumping to my defense.

  “That’s fair,” the interviewer said. “So, going forward, does this casino family of yours have any big plans for the year?”

  This interviewer had done his homework, apparently, and he was getting closer to striking a nerve.

  “We have plans underway for a nightclub addition that will rival anything else on the Strip,” I answered.

  That was a blatant lie. Gage cast me a quick, anxious, what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, but the other two managed not to react.

  “A nightclub?” the interviewer said, and I wondered if he caught on that I’d just bluffed to save face. “That’s an exciting and risky new project. Does that mean that profits are up at the Sentry, despite La Torre opening recently?”

  There it is.

  La Torre was a competing casino, and it had been my personal source of headaches ever since that eyesore opened up. Some hotshot European with something to prove was at the helm of it, and I hated to admit that he knew the play of the game better than I had expected.

  Worse, La Torre was draining our clientele, fast. Profits were most certainly not up, and they started falling the moment that nightmare down the road opened its doors.

  “Very much so,” I lied with a candor that could fool a priest. “It’s the only way we could give the nightclub the attention it deserves. Healthy competition is good for business in the long run.”

  “I’m sure the next few years will be exciting times indeed for the Sentry. Thank you very much for your time, Zane.”

  The interviewer wrapped up the meeting, and after a few formalities and handshakes, the four of us were making our way out into the parking lot about an hour later, all of us badly needing a drink.

  “Hey, uh, Zane?” Gage spoke up. “I don’t mean to be an ass, but—”

  “What the hell was that?” Bart grunted bluntly, and I stiffened.

  “What was what?” I said innocently.

  “Nightclub, Zane?” Bart said. “Did you make an ‘executive decision’ in your sleep last night, or were you planning on telling any of us about that?”

  “There is...absolutely no way that can happen,” Mick said with a face that looked more ghostly than usual. “Beyond impossible. We’re hemorrhaging money, thanks to La Torre.”

  “I know it was a little boldfaced,” I admitted, not making eye contact with them, downplaying how much I was already kicking myself for letting those words out of my mouth. “But I did say we were just planning. Plans can fall through.”

  “Yes, but not plans that get advertised in Forbes,” Mick pointed out, and Gage reluctantly nodded in agreement.

  “What we need is to do something about La Torre,” Bart growled.

  “Your idea of doing something about them is probably in a legally gray area,” I pointed out.

  “You got a better idea?” Bart snorted back. “We’ve just been sitting with our thumbs in our asses since it opened up.”

  “Objectively, we cannot compete at this rate,” Mick agreed, “their business model is—”

  “I know,” I interrupted suddenly, stopping in my tracks and turning to face the three of them. Once I had their attention, I cracked a cocky smile. “That’s why I set up a business meeting with the owner of La Torre.”

  The looks on their faces were worth the dramatic pause.

  Bart just stared blankly at me, Gage’s eyes were wide as dinner plates, and Mick was blinking so much I thought something was in his eye.

  “Are you kidding?” Bart nearly shouted. “How much of the business are you deciding to run without meeting with us?”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Zane?” Gage said, and Mick just crossed his arms and waited for me to go on.

  I wasn’t ready to show all my hand just yet, though, and I gave a halfhearted shrug.

  “I wasn’t telling a complete lie in there. Competition doesn’t necessarily have to be the end of the world, if you know how to handle it.” My smile grew into a smug smirk. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”

  CHAPTER TWO - ZANE

  Nobody who saw me confidently str
iding into the offices of La Torre three days later would have been able to tell that I was already eating myself up inside, much less feeling like I was walking deep into enemy territory.

  I had to be honest with myself. Lying in my interview had felt like a blow below the belt to the rest of the guys. I hadn’t meant for them to find out that way. But it was the only way I could have kept us looking good for the cameras, so to speak.

  Whether or not they could forgive me for that kind of bravado depended on how this meeting went.

  I held back a grimace at La Torre’s interior. It was crisp, modern, and somehow inviting. I was nowhere near the casino floor, so there was a kind of quiet serenity to the place. I could see why people liked it, and I hated that I did.

  A secretary looked up at me in the reception lobby after I entered.

  “Ah, Mr. Anderson, good to see you,” she greeted me politely.

  “I didn’t expect to be recognized on sight,” I lied with a courteous smile.

  “More than just about anyone else on the Strip right now,” she replied with a smile of her own. I had a way of getting people to open up around me without my even trying. Growing up, I always thought it was because I had an approachable face. Maybe all that changed was that I learned how to exploit that.

  She picked up her desk phone and spoke into it. “Mr. Castillo, Mr. Anderson is here for you.”

  Moments later, I was on an elevator that gave me a beautiful view of the strip as it carried me up. I cracked a smug smile. La Torre was impressive, but nothing that could compare to the Sentry.

  I hadn’t even met this guy yet, and I already knew he was going to be trying to one-up me at every turn. Good, I thought. I liked a challenge.

  The elevator reached the top floor, and I crossed a short hallway before reaching the ornate door to what could only be the CEO’s office.

  It clicked as I approached, and I heard an accented voice call, “Please, come in.”

  I pushed the door open, and I was greeted by the sight of a lavish office. A white, silver, and gray color scheme gave the spacious place a modern flair with a classical undertone, and a couple of abstract metal sculptures on pedestals along the walls added to the effect. It was so well-lit it might have been a movie set.