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Ethan sat next to him on one of the cushy barstools. At least the older man had come alone. Or kept his dogs at a safe distance.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Julian commented.
Ethan didn’t bother pointing out he was still five minutes early. Arguing with Julian wouldn’t solve anything. It would only create new problems. And the last thing Ethan needed was new problems.
Instead, he muttered, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Tell me you have what I want.”
Ethan ordered a scotch to satisfy the exhausted-looking waitress, and once she left he removed the envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the gleaming black bar. Julian peered inside the packet, counting the bills quickly but not missing a single one. He stopped and removed a piece of paper, handing it back to Ethan.
“Keep your receipt. Might need it for your taxes.” He chuckled to himself—a criminal laughing about fudging his income tax—and clapped Ethan on the back of his shoulder. Ethan winced to have the man touch him. “I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised you managed to pull it off. If I didn’t know better—and I do know better—I’d say you had lucky rabbits’ feet in place of your balls.”
Ethan forced a smile, nodding with Julian’s jokes while silently praying the older man would walk away.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Ethan.”
“Mmhmm,” Ethan managed to mumble.
“This makes us even. In the books.” Julian patted him on the back again. “But we’re old friends now, you and I. And I sometimes depend on the kindness of old friends. Understand?”
Ethan did understand. He got the message all too well.
He might be out of the red, but he was never going to be free of Julian.
When Julian left, Ethan glanced at the receipt he’d been given. It was a standard casino payout receipt, and he was about to crumple it up, but something made him look twice. It should have said cash from winnings, but instead it was cash from credit.
He studied it more carefully, and as the realization of what it was dawned on him, his stomach churned, threatening to bring up all the booze he’d just had. He must have read the slip ten times over, each time hoping it would change. If he could alter what was on it, he wouldn’t need to acknowledge the truth of what she’d done for him and all the repercussions that went along with it. It was a cash withdrawal slip from Sam’s personal credit card, not from table winnings.
The depth of what that meant struck him like a bucket of ice-cold water. Sam had lost his money, but instead of making him face Julian without it, she’d taken out ten thousand of her own money to pay off his debt.
He stared at the slip, still not fully comprehending it.
Why in God’s name would she do that?
Why would she go out on a limb for him, putting herself so deep into the hole to save his sorry ass?
And more importantly, how the hell was he going to repay her?
Sam rolled over, and her nose brushed against the rough stubble of Ethan’s jaw. For a moment she was surprised, forgetting how she had come to be in bed with him, then doubly surprised to find him still there with her.
“Hi.” He pulled her closer, tangling his legs with hers and placing kisses on her forehead, nose and lips. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah.” She melted into the warmth of his body, the perfect smell of his skin—musky with a lingering hint of their sex on him. “You?”
“I had to go out for a bit. Took care of something.”
She raised her face and met his eyes. “And it’s all good?”
“It’s all good.” He didn’t seem as relieved as she’d hoped, and she worried the guy might have given him some trouble.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I promise. We’re golden.” He kissed her again, the teasing graze of his tongue chasing away her doubts, making her forget the concerned look on his face.
When he pulled back, the smile he gave her wasn’t lascivious. It was so sweet and open it made her feel warm all the way down to the bottom of her belly.
Sam thought about the money she owed and the river of shit she’d be paddling her way out of once she got home. But she took one look at him, and her problems faded away. For right now, she had it good.
