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And really exciting.
“No funny business,” he promises. “And if you ever feel unsafe with me, you can always use that gun of yours.”
My guts are tied up in impossible knots, the butterflies in my stomach making it very hard to enjoy my breakfast. This is all things crazy and fast, but I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.
“What would we tell your family?” I ask, noticing Heath, Knox, and Darlene about to return to our table.
Zane shrugs. “I’ll think of something. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas and all that good stuff.”
I return my attention to my plate of food as the trio rejoins our party, talking loudly about some magic show they want to see before meeting with the wedding planner. I listen in silence, unused to the chaos and clamor of eating a meal with other living, breathing human beings.
The entire time, I’m more than a little aware of Zane’s protective arm slung over the back of our seat behind me.
Chapter 5
Zane
She has nothing but the clothes on her back and that ratty old backpack of hers. I don’t know why I’m tempted to max out my credit cards to buy her every article of clothing from one end of the Strip to the other. Something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate it.
The poor woman’s a stranger to kindness.
Willow is a cautious creature, stepping into my executive suite with wide-eyed wonder and a jittery constitution. Every little sound makes her jump. She picks at her fingernails and hunches over a little, curling in on herself as though she wants to take up as little space as possible.
“I need to take your picture,” I tell her.
“W-why?”
“For the passport. I know a guy. He’ll probably charge an arm and a leg for the holiday rush job, but he can get you a new passport within a week.”
“Oh, right. A picture.”
I gesture to the blank white wall just to her right. “Let’s do it here.”
Willow sets her backpack down on the living room area’s glass coffee table, hastily combing her fingers through her hair before attempting to smooth the crinkles of her shirt. I pull out my phone and snap a couple of shots. The lighting isn’t ideal, but Andy’s a genius when it comes to faking IDs. More importantly—he’s discreet.
He left the SEALs not long after my brothers and I. Took a government job at the passport office. Fun fact: government employees are criminally underpaid. For the right price, my former bunkmate can expedite the production of any passport with no questions asked.
“When are Heath and Darlene getting married?” she asks as I scroll through my phone’s photo gallery, deleting any duds.
“Christmas morning,” I tell her. “They’ve been on the waitlist for months.”
“They’re really sweet together,” she mumbles. “How’d they meet?”
“She hit him with her car.”
Willow peers up at me through her long lashes. “Are you serious?”
“He was crossing the intersection while on his phone. Wasn’t paying attention. She was turning right on a red and clipped him.”
“That’s one hell of a first impression.”
“I think we have them beat, though.”
A smile finally brightens her face, her eyes glinting with amusement. I take her picture.
Willow bashfully glances down at her shoes, trying to hide her grin. “I thought you weren’t supposed to smile in passport photos.”
“This one’s just for me,” I say, adoring how the tips of her ears burn bright pink.
