“We’ll be ready. Just get him talking. We’ll do the rest.” The call ended, and Edge turned to Skye. Their eyes met. Both of them were hoping it wasn’t some kind of trap.

Back in the suite, the next few hours seemed to drag. Edge thought about making use of the big bed in the other room, but the mission kept intruding. He could tell Skye felt the same.

They dressed down a little for the evening. Edge chose a gray tweed sport coat and black jeans while Skye wore a white jumpsuit with wide legs and a halter top. His eyebrows shot up when she reached into the left pocket, which apparently wasn’t stitched at the bottom, and pulled her little pistol from the holster strapped to her thigh.

Edge grinned. “Very clever, sweetheart. You never cease to amaze me.”

“We pull this off, I promise I’ll amaze you even more when we get back to the room tonight.”

His mouth went dry at the hot promise in those sea-green eyes. He didn’t dare touch her. “Work first,” he said gruffly. “Then we celebrate.”

Skye just smiled.

They left for the Four Winds in the Bellagio limo. He was wearing his shoulder holster under his sport coat, figuring Petrov would expect it. The place was packed when they arrived five minutes early, showing the Russian respect. Dutch waited in the entry, his red hair and short red beard freshly trimmed.

“Weapons,” Dutch demanded. Edge reached inside his coat, pulled out the Beretta, and handed it over. Dutch flicked a glance at Skye, but she ignored him. Being a typical male, he assumed she would defer her protection to the man she was with.

Big mistake, Edge thought.

Dutch led them up to Petrov’s private table on the third tier, the top level of the dining room. There was extra room on each side of the table so their conversation couldn’t be overheard, and the location provided a view of the dining room, bar, and dance floor below.

Petrov sat at the head of the table. He rose at their approach. “Good of you to come.” The greeting held a hint of sarcasm. He turned to the woman seated to his right. “This is Sasha. She will be joining us.”

Up close, she was in her early thirties, her skin nearly as pale as her gleaming platinum hair. A fuchsia dress, cut low in front and covered with silver spangles, displayed her voluptuous cleavage. Edge caught a glimpse of exposed thigh beneath the table, so it was a short skirt tonight.

Petrov finished the introductions. Edge seated Skye, then took a seat himself. They made light conversation until the waiter arrived with an ice bucket and champagne, Cristal, which the server opened and poured into tall crystal flutes.