“Were we like that?” I asked Tyler.
“Were?” He snorted, and we piled into the lift. “Don’t you go to Chrome, like, every weekend?”
“What? No.” I scoffed. “I’m busy with law school, thank you very much.”
“I’m teasing.” Tyler winked.
Tyler was right, though. Before Rhett, I did frequent Chrome looking for someone to hook up with on the weekends if I wasn’t too busy with school work.
The doors closed with me between Rhett and Tyler in the back of the elevator. Dylan and Jase were in the middle, and Agents Shea and Vance stood in the front. Slowly, I reached my hand toward Rhett’s and linked our pinkies. It was the only subtle thing to do, and he used another finger to rub my palm.
A part of me wanted to fake stomach issues again and have Rhett tend to me in my room while giving the other guys the night off, but I knew that wouldn’t work. It would also be unfair to Tyler.
Once the elevator made it to the ground floor, we all piled out, and they followed me to the blackjack tables. All of them were full, except one had four spots open. Tyler, his brothers, and I each placed a hundred-dollar bill in front of us and waited for the dealer to exchange our cash for chips.
Agent Vance walked one way while Agent Shea went the other, and each of them circled the card area. Rhett hung back a few feet and gave me and my friends some space, but I felt his eyes on me.
It didn’t take long for a cocktail waitress to appear, and we all ordered drinks. Somehow, the dealer was dealing me shit cards, and my pile of chips was slowly dwindling while Tyler was raking them in.
“Switch spots with me,” I said to him.
“What? No.” He laughed. “It’s not my fault you’re bad at this.”
“I’m not bad. I’m just getting shit cards.”
A man appeared at my side, and I glanced at him to see him leaning on the card table. “Well, lookie who it is.”
I arched a brow. “Do I know you?”
“Ah, come on, Mr. Donnelley. I know it’s been a few years, but I’d expect you to remember an old friend.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rhett take a step forward. I shook my head slightly and responded to the guy, “And how do you think I know you?”
“Do you forget everyone who lends you money?”
“Ohhhh.” I nodded my head. “I get it. Look, dude, I’m just here to celebrate my friend getting married in a few weeks. You need to find my brother.”
The guy snorted. “Don’t play games with me. Give me the fucking money you owe me.”
Before I could utter another word, Rhett moved in and stood between me and the man. “I suggest you walk away,” he seethed.
“Or what?” the guy challenged.
Rhett moved his jacket slightly and revealed his gun. “Or we’re going to have a problem, and my friends and I”—he nudged his head toward Shea and Vance, who were quickly making their way to us—“don’t like problems.”
“You can’t bring guns in here.” The man scanned the casino as though he was looking for security or someone to help.
“The federal government says otherwise. Now, fuck off.” Rhett flashed his badge. Seeing him in action was doing all sorts of things to me. All sorts of delicious things.
“This isn’t over,” the guy bellowed. “I want my money, Donnelley.”
Agents Vance and Shea moved in and walked the guy backward and away from us. My gaze met Rhett’s as he turned toward me, and I smiled.
“You’re my hero,” I gushed.
“This is a problem, Fallon,” Rhett clipped. “It sounds like your brother is in deep with some people. You need to take this seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously, but what do you want me to do?”
