The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,149

of the problem. See, there was this tree floating under the surface—”

“Oh, God,” Lizzie muttered.

“—and it caught me right at the grille. My velocity slowed … and yeah, that was when Ernie died. He was stuck there until the river went down, and you want to talk about silt? The inside of that car looked like it had spent a fortnight out in the desert during a sandstorm.”

As people laughed, Lizzie had to ask, “Wait, so what happened next? What did you tell your father?”

Lane grew serious, the smile leaving his face. “Oh, you know … Edward came in and saved the day. He had a bunch of money that he’d been investing—it wasn’t family cash, it was from summer jobs and birthday presents. He bought me a used one that looked just like Ernie, same interior, same exterior. A few more miles, but like Father was going to check the speedometer? Without Edward … man, that wouldn’t have gone well.”

“To big brothers,” John said as he raised his glass.

“To big brothers,” everyone answered.

“So,” Lane murmured as everybody lowered their drinks back to the table. “You ready to do this?”

John got to his feet and picked up his plate. “Soon as we help clear. I can’t wait. I’m feeling lucky tonight, son. I’m feeling lucky!”

As Jeff and Miss Aurora got up as well, Lizzie stayed where she was, and Lane, as if sensing her mood, didn’t move either as everyone else filed out.

“You sure this is a good idea?” she whispered as she took his hands in hers. “Not that I don’t trust you. It’s just … that’s so much money.”

“If I win, Ricardo Monteverdi and that loan at Prospect Trust largely goes away—and then we’ve got half a chance because Jeff is going to turn the company around. God, you should have seen him down at headquarters. He’s … amazing. Just incredible. We’ll have some lean months, but by the end of the year? We’ll be up to date on accounts payable and Mack won’t have to worry about where the grains for his mash are coming from anymore.”

“I can’t believe you’re so calm.” She laughed. Or cursed. It was hard to know what that sound coming out of her was. “I feel like I’m a nervous wreck and I’m just on the sidelines.”

“I know what I’m doing. The only thing I’m worried about is luck—and that you can’t control. You can make up for it with skill, though. And I’ve got that in spades.”

She reached up to his face. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I haven’t won yet.”

“I don’t care about the outcome—well, I do. I just … you’re doing what you said you were going to do. You’re saving your family. You’re taking care of your business. You’re … you’re really amazing, you know that?”

As she went in to kiss him, he laughed deep in his chest. “Not a recalcitrant playboy anymore, am I. See what the love of a good woman will do for a guy?”

They kissed for a moment, and then he pulled her into his lap. Putting her arms around his neck, she smiled.

“Absolutely.” Lizzie smoothed the hair at the base of his neck. “And guess what?”

“What?”

Lizzie put her mouth to his ear. “Win or lose … you’re getting lucky tonight.”

Lane let out a growl, his hands tightening on her waist, his hips rolling underneath her. As he went to kiss her again, she stopped him. “We better head for the game room now before distraction sets in.”

“It’s already set in,” he said dryly. “Trust me.”

“Just remember,” she murmured as she got off of him. “The sooner you’re done … the sooner we can go—”

Lane burst out of his chair, nearly knocking the thing over. Grabbing her hand, he started dragging her out of the room at a dead run.

“Will you quit wasting time, woman!” he said as she laughed out loud. “Jeez, I got poker to play …!”

FIFTY

About half an hour later, Lane sat at the circular poker table in the game room about three chairs away from Lenghe. The spectators, by mutual agreement of the players, had taken a lineup of chairs on the far side of where the cards were being thrown so no one could see over anyone’s shoulders. Lizzie and Miss Aurora were together, with Jeff and Gary, the head groundskeeper, sitting next to them.

There was no way of pretending that this wasn’t one of those moments that was inevitably going to become Bradford lore, just like when one of