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"Just enough. Might wanna avoid bending forward too much though," he told me with a wicked brow wiggle. "Where's yer weapon? In yer bra or somewhere even more wicked?"
"I'm not wearing a bra, but I ripped a seam to tuck the knife in."
"She's tryin' to kill me," he declared, talking to the ceiling again. "Wanna give me yer other shite?"
"What other shit?"
"Cell? Wallet? Then ya won't have to carry a bag."
I grabbed them from the nightstand, watching as he tucked them into his pocket. "This having a man around thing comes in handy," I murmured. "Ya want to grab a jacket? We got a good five inches on the ground. It stopped comin' down, but it's fuckin' freezin' out."
I turned back toward my bag, unrolling a slate-colored peacoat that would hardly be much protection, but something was better than nothing.
"I was thinking of starting at Harrah..."
"Borgata," he cut me off.
"What? Why The Borgata?"
"Had a few minutes. I dropped in to see an old friend."
"Who? Who's your old friend?"
"St. James."
"As in Byron St. James?" I clarified, brows raising. "Pray tell. In what world does an arms-dealing biker have an old friend who owns a casino and lives in a ridiculous mansion?"
"Don't ask questions ya don't want to know the answer to, duchess. I know 'em. He's still willin' to be in touch. Knows the locals. Knows who goes where. Thomas is a Borgata guy since Byron kicked 'em out. So, that is our best bet."
"You are a man of surprises, Adler," I told him, brushing past, just barely remembering to grab my keys before moving onto the balcony, annoyed when the air nipped at my exposed skin exactly as he told me it would.
As we drove back toward the boardwalk, I couldn't help but let my mind drift to the man beside me. To his scars, his secrets, his unexpected connections.
When he jumped out of the car when I had barely pulled it to a stop to open my door before the valet could, I vowed to myself that I would figure him out. Not to win the bet, though I was not so good a person as not to cash in on that bad boy, but because there were just far too many unanswered questions, too many things that didn't seem to align perfectly, too many shields he hid behind.
I shouldn't have been so into the idea of stripping those away from him. Not when I had so many myself. Not when I would flay someone for trying to take mine away from me, expose me, expose what was underneath.
Something, someone not so hard, not so sure of herself, not so unapproachable. Someone who simply learned how to be those things, or at least imitate those things.
I should have respected his right to pretend to be something other than what he was. But my curiosity refused to let me.
And I was trying to act as though it was just because I was inquisitive by nature, not because a part of me genuinely wanted to know more about the man.
Because that was ridiculous.
I was pretty sure I didn't even ask the last name of the last guy I had spent the night with.
Personal details were irrelevant when all you wanted with someone was casual.
As Adler's hand grabbed mine, pulling it up to place it on his arm, there was a small voice screaming from somewhere deep within, trying to be heard through all my denial, all my excuses.
Maybe this is the one guy you want to have something more with.
But something more was a foreign concept to me. Something I didn't even want, didn't know how to want. And even if I did want it, even if I knew how to want it, I wouldn't want it with someone like Adler.
I mean, I barely knew the man.
"Ya look like ya need a drink." His voice made me jolt, making me suddenly aware that he had led me through the front entrance and inside toward the coat check without me even noticing, so lost in my own thoughts that I was spacing out while on a job.
This was why I worked alone.
Without distractions.
As his fingers went to my shoulders, brushing over the bare skin near my collarbones as he slipped off my coat, I realized that was exactly what he was.
A distraction.
One I needed to get rid of if I wanted to finish this job, cash in, and get back to what was really important.
"Yeah," I agreed, watching as he handed cash to the attendant, and slipped a tag into his pocket. "But I think it would be best if we split up. We can cover more ground. And if Nicky got back in touch with Thomas, he will tell him to be on the lookout for us together."
His dark brows lowered at that, something in those eyes of his telling me he was seeing more than the words, was maybe seeing some of the motivation for them beneath.
