Neil examined the chip in his hand. There was an excited glint in his eyes. “There’s really only one way to find out who sent this. You coming with?”

“You need someone to aim for the back of the head if it goes wrong?”

“I’ve got a smart boy,” Neil said fondly, ruffling his hair.

It was a terrible plan. It was a Raines plan.

NEIL NEEDED TO show his chip to the bellman, and they were escorted to a private floor of the casino. Inside, they both got retina scans, and Tom began to relax. There were no signs of an ambush.

There were people dressed up all around them, and some waitresses wearing so little Tom actually stopped in his tracks without realizing it when one of them leaned over.

Then Neil lightly cuffed the back of his head. “No ogling until you can afford child support.”

He’d spoken loudly enough for her to hear. She giggled.

Tom grew red. “Dad, come on.”

But Neil was chuckling like he was delighted with himself as he threaded forward through the crowd. And then the mob of people parted to reveal the tall, elegant figure of Joseph Vengerov. Tom’s footsteps ground to a halt, and he gaped at the tall man with pale hair, pale eyes, and an unyielding, angular face—a multitrillion-dollar anomaly who didn’t belong even in the fanciest parlor of the Old Indian Chief Casino. He was simply too rich and powerful for this place.

Tom stared at Vengerov, and Vengerov gazed back at him, and Tom knew the blood was draining from his face. One of the wealthiest oligarchs in the world was in the same room as his dad. His dad, who had spent every day of Tom’s life railing against those in charge of the world.

Neil would lose it when he saw him. He’d attack him. Then he’d get shot by Vengerov’s security.

Tom turned, bracing himself to stop Neil from doing anything rash. Neil spotted Vengerov, too, and stopped in his tracks . . . but he wasn’t gazing at Vengerov with malice, like he’d spotted a long-awaited enemy and he was ready to fight. . . . He looked gray, frightened, his eyes shadowed, his mouth hanging open.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tom demanded.

Neil’s gaze jolted to his. He stared at Tom blankly for a long moment, like he couldn’t see him through some nightmare, and Tom had never seen his dad like this. Never.

“Dad?”

But then Vengerov turned and glided over toward them, his security guards clearing his way through the crowd. “Ah, Mr. Raines.” Vengerov’s gaze flickered down to the chip in Neil’s limp hand. “I see you received my invite. Excellent.”

Tom looked back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

Vengerov smiled at Neil.

“No,” Neil said, his eyes locked with Vengerov’s.

Vengerov’s smile spread even wider. “No,” he echoed.