Fast and Loose by Fern Michaels

neither Navarro nor Kelly would ever figure out what he was doing. Referring, of course, to the daily withdrawals, where he helped himself to a portion of the deposits from the casino.
    That was when he’d put two and two together, when he’d learned that TRIPLEM’s sudden road trip was here, to Vegas, and not to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, as TRIPLEM had told his informants. He recalled how he’d almost collapsed when he realized that not only was TRIPLEM a personal friend of Bert Navarro’s, but he was also on his way here, to Babylon. Along with the current director of the FBI. His gut had started to churn at the thought of what it could all possibly mean, and he didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him.
    Philonias looked down at his hands. He could see and feel the tremor in them. He grew light-headed at what he was experiencing. Then a second paralyzing thought hit him. He’d made another error in judgment by contacting TRIPLEM. Abner Tookus was no one’s fool. By now he’d probably finished working on the same math problem and realized two plus two equaled four. Two mistakes. Two! How was he going to live with that?
    Philonias felt a sourness start to build in his stomach. Maybe he needed fresh air. He needed to do something to clear his head. He made his way from the computer room, across the vast living room, to the French doors that led to a long, narrow terrace filled with colorful spring plants. He gripped the handrails and struggled to take deep breaths. He did it ten times, then another ten times, until he felt reasonably calm.
    His thoughts all over the map, Philonias wondered if his errors in judgment could be corrected. You could always rectify a mistake. At least, that was what he’d been led to believe. But since this was a first for him, he had no way of knowing for certain. He’d read somewhere, many times, in fact, chapter and verse about people who made mistakes and were not only forgiven but also given the chance to correct their mistakes.
    But how in the name of all that was holy was he to do that and not bring attention to the error in judgment? He needed to decompress. What he needed to do was think outside the box.
    Lighter fare. He needed to do something amusing. Something that had nothing to do with Navarro, Kelly, or TRIPLEM. Impossible. Right now, those three names consumed his entire being. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He could tap in to Dixson Kelly’s nine burner phones, which Kelly thought no one knew about. It was always amusing to read the various texts his women sent him.
    Genius that he was, it still boggled his mind how the security chief managed to walk a tightrope while simultaneously carrying on affairs with nine women and make it work for him, with none of the women being aware of each other. Speaking strictly for himself, Philonias had had a hard time keeping all of Kelly’s machinations straight, even when he made a chart to follow the progress of the lothario’s romantic endeavors.
    Another set of ten deep breaths convinced Philonias that he was good to go, so he headed back inside. He made his way to his inner sanctum and sat down. He looked at his hands. Steady as a rock. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he concentrated on Dixson Kelly’s nine burner phones.
    From time to time, he found himself smiling; twice, he even laughed out loud at the sexy messages. That is, until he switched gears and hacked into a phone registered to a showgirl named Kitty Passion, who appeared to be Kelly’s most recent conquest. Well, almost a conquest. He hadn’t scored as yet, but he was working hard at it. He scrolled down through the list of texts she’d sent to two of her friends. That was when the fine hairs on the back of his neck started to move. Kitty danced and tended bar at Luxor. What set the fine hairs on his neck moving was one of her outgoing texts, which read, To all Dixson Kelly alumnae! Listen up,