out of all of us, you deserve to be happy.” James smiled, a lopsided, tipsy grin. Despite wolf whistling at the waitress, James was all set to pour himself into bed and call his wife, whisper sweet nothings to her as she recounted every moment of her day with their three young daughters. James had been texting her throughout dinner, sending her pics of the appetizer and then his entree, and of his ridiculous drink.
James was a man who had certainty. He had the love of a great woman, three amazing daughters, and the satisfaction that came from knowing his place in the world.
Jealousy seared through Noah. Certainty. What a thing to be jealous of. To know yourself and what you wanted.
“Breakfast tomorrow?” James pushed off and shoved his key in the lock. It beeped, and he shouldered open the door before tossing his jacket into the darkness.
“Meet you in the restaurant.” Noah nodded, waiting for James to head inside.
His friend, despite seeming to be the inebriated fool, was still a federal agent, and he could still put the clues together. He looked Noah up and down, eyes narrowing as his smile shifted, turned almost salacious. “Tell me ‘bout it in the morning,” he said, disappearing into his room. “Have fun!”
The door shut. Noah heard the deadbolt turn.
It’s Vegas. You’re supposed to do this in Vegas. You’re supposed to let loose. He tipped his head back. Sighed. Go down there. Just for a few minutes. Just look.
Yeah, okay. He could do that. He could look. Looking wasn’t anything permanent.
First things first. He pushed into his hotel room and unholstered his gun, locking it in the safe. If he was going to head back out, he might as well freshen up a bit. Change out of the clothes he’d worn all day. In the bottom of his suitcase were a pair of black jeans, snugger than he ever wore in Iowa, and a slim-fit button-down he’d accidentally bought along with the regular ones he preferred. It was way too tight to wear to the office, and he felt ridiculous when he put it on. In the slim cut, he felt like he was playing dress-up as Hollywood’s idea of a special agent. But he had to admit the shirt showed off his flat stomach and his broad shoulders, the taper he’d built in high school and college through intramural sports and kept up thanks to turning to the gym whenever his frustrations started to boil.
Might as well run his fingers through his hair, too. And brush his teeth. Should he shave? Why not.
Half an hour later, Noah stared at himself, eyeballing the tall, dark-haired, shit-scared man in the mirror. He was just a guy. Just a guy going down for a drink. Nothing more. “It’s Vegas,” he whispered. His fingers curled around the sink’s edge. “Let yourself look.”
He never had before.
Noah grabbed his wallet and his room key and forced himself to walk out the door. He left his badge and gun behind. He wasn’t a federal agent tonight—or at least, not for the next hour. Or, hell, the next ten minutes, if he was truthful with himself about how long his courage was likely to last. He’d rather be back at Quantico than let go of the hotel room door and go down the elevator.
The hallway was empty, not a soul in sight up or down its cavernous length. It was that in-between time for Vegas. Too late for families, too early for the partygoers. All the people who weren’t going out were in for the night, and those who were still going were going to last all night.
But not him. No, he was just going to have one drink. One look.
One, two, three steps. Noah shook out his arms, rolled his shoulders. Strode down the hall. He could do this.
He couldn’t do this. What had he been thinking?
The casino, if possible, was even more packed than earlier. The floor was brighter, louder. The slots were screaming, electric jangles and digital bells roaring. Neon and strobe lights slammed into him. Men and women, couples and groups, surged. Laughter and shouts rose from the gambling pit, the cocktail tables, the crowds by the slot machines.
He was adrift in a sea of humanity. No one else was alone like he was. Everyone he saw had someone. Friends, a significant other, a partner. Someone they were with. Except him.
The bar was dead ahead, a giant circle of raised marble in the center of