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But they’d been sent off like little kids not allowed to hear what the grownups were saying, and there wasn’t much more to do at night in Laughlin than gamble.
It bugged him, a lot, that he and Jay had been sent away from talk that was obviously about the club, and probably about the new charter. Jay didn’t care; he thought the detail stuff was boring and just wanted somebody to point him in the direction they wanted him to go—so getting pointed toward playtime worked just fine for him.
But Zach wanted in on establishing the new charter, and every Bull knew it. He’d been open about it from the start and had been throwing his ideas into the mix every chance he got. He thought he’d been taken seriously, and he really expected to be on the crew that got things going in Laughlin. Getting set aside tonight had him pissed and worried.
It wasn’t Eight’s idea but Ben’s, and that bothered him even more—Eight was letting a non-member dictate who got to be part of the conversation? What the hell did that mean?
“Hey—you okay?” Lyra asked.
Zach refocused, looking down at her and finding a smile to answer her concerned look. She was so fucking pretty. All that wavy dark hair, an incredibly lush mouth, beautiful dark green eyes. Her brows arched over her eyes in a way that made her seem smart and a little sassy, and he’d seen the same in her personality, too—though Michelle’s overabundance of snark tamed Lyra’s sass to sweetness in comparison. She was just, like,perfect. If he had to get sent off to Siberia, at least the scenery was nice. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You were glaring at that lamp like it did you wrong.”
He laughed. “Sorry. Got caught up in my head. I’m good, honest.”
They were standing behind Jay and Michelle, by a blackjack table. When Lyra and her friend had returned from their little private girl chat, Michelle had yanked Jay away from the slots, insisting that she wasnot about to be chained to a slot-machine douche all nightand if they were going to gamble, then they were going to gamble. So she was teaching him blackjack, discreetly giving him tips for when to hold and when to hit. Jay had initially protested that he knew how to play blackjack, but it had quickly become clear that he didn’t really.
Zach doubted the Cadence would be thrilled that another casino’s blackjack dealer was giving tips at one of their tables, but that wasn’t his problem.
“Do you want to go to another table? There’s craps, or roulette, or ...”
“Nah. I’m not that into this scene, either.”
“So we’re here for your brother, I guess?”
“I guess.” Jay hit a natural twenty-one right then, and the table cheered. He whooped and offered his hand to Michelle for a slap; she gave it a suspicious look but ultimately didn’t leave him hanging.
He was having a good time, and Michelle was exactly the right kind of chick for him to enjoy the night with. Jay would deny it, loudly, but the truth was he liked a bossy woman. And Zach thought he needed one.
“If you don’t want to gamble, are you okay watching them?” Lyra asked. “Or we could go over to the bar or something.”
Sitting at the bar getting to know this girl sounded a lot more interesting than watching Jay eventually blow all his winnings and then some. He stepped forward and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Hey. Lyra and I are heading to the bar. Text me or come find me when you’re ready to go, okay? And behave yourself.”
“Fuck off,” Jay said with a smirk and returned to his cards. Zach didn’t take it personally; that was how they were together.
Michelle said, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Jay gave her a look for that, like he wanted to tell her to fuck off, too, but he kept his mouth shut. He liked her—or at least planned to get into her jeans before the night was over.
Having handed off his charge, Zach turned to Lyra. “Okay, let’s go to the bar.”
Lyra and Michelle exchanged a look that was obviously meaningful to them but inscrutable to Zach. Then she smiled and said, “This way.”
He wanted to take her hand or put his arm around her or something, but it was too early for that. He didn’t want to come off like a player. He thought he might honestly like this girl.
They were about halfway across the casino, apparently headed somewhere on the other side of the lobby, when she grabbed his arm and yanked him sideways. “Actually, let’s go this way,” she said and headed off at a slant from their original direction.
There was tension in her tone and emphasis in her hold. Also, she’d picked up their pace. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.” Then she darted a look over her shoulder and made herself a liar. She was worried about something. Or someone.
Stopping hard, Zach turned and looked behind them. At first, all he saw was a moderately crowded casino. Then a guy came around one of the tables from the direction they’d originally been heading. He was coming straight for them.
He was a pretty big guy, and young, probably in his twenties. Black hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. Dressed in dark jeans—with fucking creases down the leg—and a black t-shirt under a black leather jacket. Considering the nose on the guy, not to mention the widow’s peak, Zach had him pegged for either a vampire or an Italian. Considering the general aggro vibe coming off the guy in waves, maybe more than just some rando guido. Ben had said there was still Mob around, but they were supposed to be in the shadows these days.
This fucker was extremely obvious. Maybe a wannabe, then. Wannabes could be dangerous as fuck, though.
