in this?” He signaled for the bartender. “Club soda, please.” He looked at her glass and lifted it out of her hands. “Two.”
He was making her eat salads and give up soda.
And there she was...letting him.
When the bartender set down two glasses filled with clear liquid and bubbles, Grayson reached into a plastic bin and came back with two lime wedges. “Adds some flavor and looks cool.”
He squeezed each one and dropped them in the glasses, then licked his fingers. Not in a seductive way, but he snuck a look at her. Her eyes were glued to him.
Picking up the new drink, she said, “So ye lost yer money. Now what?”
“I need more time before I go home. Can we leave it at that?”
Every day she lost one hundred grand! How many days before her million shrank to the point it wouldn’t be enough to expand the business the way she wanted it?
She opened her mouth to drop a hint about Luke’s daily penalty, but a body roughly bumped her from behind. Grayson shot to his feet, fire in his eyes, showing a protective side fiercer than she’d imagined. A spark rushed through her.
She twisted around to face the inconsiderate eejit, but he’d pushed and shoved to get away from the bar. Probably Grayson’s death stare had scared the pants off him. When she leaned back and didn’t feel the strap of her purse hanging from the back of the barstool, she shot off the seat, too. Hoping the jerk just knocked it off.
No. “My purse. The eejit stole my purse!”
Without thinking, she dug into the carpet to chase after him hoping her cheap high heels held up.
“No. Stay here.” Grayson held her back. “Do you hear me?”
Before she could argue, he was gone.
Or was that a set up for him to get away?
“Shite,” she said and pushed her leftover singles across that invisible line at the bar between change and a tip. “Yer not getting away from me that easily, Grayson.”
Grayson
WHAT MORON LIFTS A purse in the middle of a crowded casino?
Yet, the guy combed through the labyrinth of slot machines while Gray used his height to watch the guy’s black greasy hair weave around the place like some fucking professional.
It took a lot of effort to not mow down everyone in front of him. Gray’s breath hitched seeing the guy cut left and head for the doors. Outside, Gray could pick up speed and get this motherfucker to the ground.
Past those doors, though, the hot Vegas sun baked his already charged-up and heated skin. Or was that from being close to Sabine? Those long legs in that dress.
A dress so short, it made his head spin because he was pretty sure lusting after a woman paid to drag him home meant he’d hit some new low.
“Hey,” Gray yelled again. “Stop that guy.”
Crowds parted to get out of the dude’s way.
Thanks, people.
Shit, and the guy headed down a street off the strip. Gray followed him, but then he spun around, confused. The fronts of the casinos were pure glitz, glamour, and shine. The backs, bland and depressing. The empty alley drew a curse from him. He’d lost the eejit.
Gray jogged farther down, hoping for a sign to lead him in the right direction when something shiny caught his eye on the ground.
A lip gloss and a pen. He bent down, the gloss was the shade of Sabine’s lips and the pen read: SEQ Investigators, Sabine E. Quinlan ~ Principle
His little spitfire was a principle in her own business and he couldn’t catch a break in a business where all he had to do was show up and say lines someone else wrote.
The guy had run down that alley, though, probably shaking the bag to find her wallet. Gray cringed noticing the dumpsters lining the back of the casino.
“I saw this damn movie,” he swore to himself, fearing he’d be thrown into one of them. The shadows creeped him out. That had to be the place where pit bosses tossed beaten-up and bloodied cheaters in Vegas’ early days.
Darker and darker the narrow lane grew, but off to his right, another lane opened up to a street with cars passing. Exhaling, he jogged toward the light.
He’d never been so happy to feel the burning Vegas sun when he got back on the sidewalk. Reveling in the sunshine was short-lived when that creep flew past him! What the fuck? Gray must have found a shortcut, or the purse snatcher was too afraid