Roses Are Red: RBMC Ankeny IA, #4.5

By Kristine Allen

Roses Are Red⠀⠀

Violets Are Blue⠀⠀

I hold the aces,⠀⠀

The loser is you.⠀⠀

⠀⠀

My name is Rose, and I have a gift—call it a supreme "intuition."⠀⠀

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I'm the last one people suspect of cheating, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Cards are my game, and Vegas is my playground. What I'm doing might bend the law a little, but I dare them to prove it.⠀⠀

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Storm Montgomery thinks he's got my number. He's bound and determined to stop me. He insists I'm going to get caught. Fat chance.⠀⠀

⠀⠀

Except he might be right, because now I'm running for my life and he's the only one who can save me.⠀⠀

⠀⠀

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever after's are not always guaranteed...⠀

• Language: English
• Publisher: Demented Sons Publishing LLC
• Release date: Dec 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223909385

Kristine Allen

Kristine Allen lives in beautiful Central Texas with her adoring husband. They have four brilliant, wacky and wonderful children. She is surrounded by twenty-six acres, where her seven horses, six dogs and three cats run the place. Kristine realized her dream of becoming a contemporary romance author after years of reading books like they were going out of style and having her own stories running rampant through her head.  She works as a nurse, but in stolen moments, taps out ideas and storylines until they culminate in characters and plots that pull her readers in and keep them entranced for hours.

Book preview

ROSES ARE RED, 1st Edition Copyright 2021 by Kristine Allen, Demented Sons Publishing.

All Rights Reserved.

Published in the United States of America. First published in April, 2021.

Cover Design: Clarise Tan, CT Cover Designs

Photographer: Brenda Keller, Stillhouse Images

Cover Model: Rhiannon

Editing: Olivia Ventura, Hot Tree Editing, www.hottreepublishing.com

Proofing and Epilogue Edit: Darlene Tallman

The purchase of this e-book, or book, allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. This does not include the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. For information, contact the author at [e-mail]. Thank you for supporting this author and her rights.

Warning: This book may contain offensive language, violence, adult and sexual situations. Mature audiences only, 18+ years of age.

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Other Books in the HR

Acknowledgements

Other Books by Kristine Allen

About the Author

To Rhiannon and Brenda for the beautiful image that set this book apart from all the rest. Love you both!

Like A Rose—New Medicine

My heart was racing, but on the outside no one would’ve had a clue. My poker face was legendary. I was good. Really damn good.

Ms. Kristiansen? Helena asked almost snidely. Raising a brow to her, I was intentionally slow in raising my bet.

Shit, I heard Sirus whisper almost silently next to me.

Staring calmly with a neutral expression, I read the other players at the table. Sirus Donovan was a fish—a newbie, rich kid with more money than brains. Ricardo Montevideo was bluffing. Helena LaClerque raised again, but she didn’t have as good a hand as she thought. Storm Montgomery was the hardest. No matter how much I concentrated, I couldn’t get a good read on him or his hand. Gabriel De Luca was shrewd, and I knew he didn’t want to, but he was going to fold.

Me? I’m Rose Kristiansen, and I’m a shark. Too bad for most of my opponents, they underestimate me. They take one look at my blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and relative youth and write me off.

Well, at first.

As I expected, Sirus made a foolish move by raising when he didn’t have the cards to back it up. All because he refused to look like a pussy.

Idiot.

Ricardo continued his bluff. He wouldn’t win, but he was hoping we would think we couldn’t possibly have a better hand than he did. I wanted to laugh.

Storm stared at me as he raised as well. The green in his eyes was almost hypnotic, and I had to force myself not to give away what he did to me. He was absolutely stunning and made me want to do things I shouldn’t.

There was now a lot of money at stake. Gabriel folded, as I knew he would. He was decisive and knew when he was beat. He’d rather cut his losses than take a stupid risk. I admired him.

I’m out, boys and girls, he said with a shrug and a grin. The man was damn near devastating when he utilized his swarthy good looks. A flash of those white teeth and that dimple could make a woman swoon and her panties wet.

With a coy, ruby-lipped grin, I batted my eyes at him. Pity. The view was so entertaining, I teased in a husky tone.

I would win this hand and then I’d be out as well. Time to move on to blackjack.

Sirus dropped a pair and slouched back in his seat. Ricardo laid down a full house and smirked at us all.

Helena proudly laid out her four of a kind like she thought things were in the bag, and Ricardo huffed. He absolutely hated losing to women.

Storm fanned out a straight flush, and I noted that both Ricardo and Helena were tight-lipped. Gabriel laughed. You’re such a bastard. And that’s exactly why I folded, he said to Storm as he started to push his chair back.

Ms. Kristiansen? Storm’s voice rumbled quietly. It set my hackles up, because he intentionally said it like Helena had earlier.

My shoulders slumped slightly, and I sighed heavily.

Storm made a minute motion toward the pot but froze when I slowly placed my hand on the table.

When the cards were down, I was the winner with a royal straight flush. Helena’s four of a kind didn’t stand a chance against it, and Storm’s hand, though fantastic, didn’t cut the mustard.

Are you fucking kidding me? Ricardo exclaimed, losing his composure. No one has that good of luck. Snot-nose fucking bitch, he muttered.

Gabriel shot out of his seat and had a hand around Ricardo’s throat in a flash. Both his bodyguard and Ricardo’s jumped toward them, but Gabriel flashed them a warning glare.

Apologize, he ground out in a deceptively calm tone.

Ricardo let out a nervous laugh. You can’t be serious? he asked, but it came out hoarse at the end as Gabriel squeezed.

I do not kid about manners, Mr. Montevideo. Ever.

Ricardo’s eyes nervously darted from Gabriel to me, before he choked out, My apologies. That was rude of me.

Gabriel raised a brow, asking if that was acceptable. I nodded, and he released the other man’s neck. Ricardo quickly smoothed his Armani suit and left the room, followed by his man.

Thank you, I murmured with a soft smile. Gabriel took my fingertips in his and pressed a light kiss to my knuckles.

The pleasure was all mine. Very good game.

With a bold grin, I thanked him and gathered my winnings. I took them to the high-stakes window to cash them in. The money would be direct deposited into my bank account. Then I exited the area in search of a blackjack table that called to me.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew better than to clean house the entire game, though I could. It would look suspicious, and that was one thing I couldn’t afford. Therefore, I would intentionally lose several hands sporadically throughout a game. I also rotated which casinos I played at. Couldn’t be seen too often nor too close together at the same places.

I settled into the first table that caught my fancy.

This is the one.

Placing my bet, I waited. After several rounds, I was up about five thousand dollars. It could’ve been more, but I had to be conservative so as not to draw attention. I was laughing like a lucky newbie. The man next to me placed his hand on the back of my chair and leaned in to congratulate me.

Thank you, I said with a brilliant smile, but my gaze was pulled to the other side of the room. Storm Montgomery leaned against the wall, staring at me. His eyes never left me as he raised his glass in a toast and took a sip.

How long had he been there, and how hadn’t I noticed him earlier? I’d noticed the casino security watching me, yet not him. It was unnerving—I noticed everything.

Deciding I’d pushed my luck enough for the night, I exuberantly thanked everyone at the table and cashed out. Maybe it was time for a trip.

Every so often, Violet and I hit the road. There are a helluva lot of high-stakes casinos in the world. Yet Vegas always remained my favorite. Maybe because I was born there. Not that I had a family to visit, and not that I was raised there, because I didn’t and I wasn’t.

Nope, I was raised in foster care in Des Moines, Iowa, because my mother was on her way to New York City to make it big. At least that was the story she told me. Then again, I was only seven when she left our cheap hotel room and never came back. I might not remember things accurately.

When we hadn’t checked out on time, the manager came to tell us we needed to go. I hadn’t wanted to admit I was there alone, and I didn’t want to leave, so I’d darted to the bathroom and locked the door. He’d called the police, and long story short, I ended up in foster care when they found out my mother had been murdered.

Other than one slightly blurry photo, I had no idea who my father was.

No one wanted to adopt a kid that wouldn’t talk and wasn’t a baby. So I bounced around a lot—until the