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After a long, tense moment, Finn nods. Men with bald heads and black suits emerge from the crowd and drag the man out the back door. They must have come when they heard a commotion, but they waited for Finn to decide what to do with the man.
Would they have let Finn hurt him?
That’s the power of the Hughes name. I shiver.
Finn is handsome and charming, but it would be a mistake to underestimate him.
He turns to me as the crowd returns to their games. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say, raising my chin so he believes me. The grip on my forearm will probably leave a bruise. But I have long-sleeved clothes to hide it. Having a childhood like mine made me tough enough to withstand some random asshole.
He takes my arm in his, surprisingly gentle. Two fingers brush along the skin that’s screaming in pain right now. It was crushed and twisted in that man’s fist. “I should find him and kill him for you.”
Another shiver runs through me. “Please. I have enough testosterone to deal with between my father and my brothers.”
Finn lifts my arm and lowers his head. He places a featherlight kiss on the place where a yellow-blue bruise will be tomorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”
My throat closes. A violent man couldn’t shake me, but kindness can.
So this is what it feels like to be taken care of.
Strange. Scary. Addictive.
“Time to pack up,” someone shouts, and then there’s melee.
Finn drags me against his body, shielding me from the crush. The players shove chips into pockets and purses. The dealers slam a lid on the table’s banks in what appears to be a practiced move. It’s happening so fast I can barely take it in.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
The commotion swallows my words, but Finn sees them on my lips. “The cops are coming,” he says. “Someone called in a raid. We’ve got to go.”
Chapter Four
Finn
I half-carry Eva Morelli out the back door.
If she berated me the whole way, I wouldn’t blame her. Instead she laughs. It’s a wild laugh. A sexy laugh. The kind you make when you’re diving off a high cliff.
We’re in my car and peeling away from the parking lot as siren lights come into view. Blue and red lights bounce off bricks. They aren’t after the patrons. The real goal of these raids is to catch the mysterious Miss M, the woman who owns the underground casino.
It still wouldn’t be good to get caught in their net.
Eva Morelli in city lockup? It would be a travesty, but she doesn’t look worried. Or pissed that I gave her such a close call. Instead she looks exhilarated.
This.
This is what she’d look like when she’s seconds from coming, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling, her hand tight on my arm. I don’t know if she even realizes she’s still touching me. It’s like she’s holding on for dear life, and fuck, it feels good.
Then her smile dims. “No one will get hurt, will they?”
Such a caretaker.
If I told her people might get hurt, she’d probably demand I turn the car around.
“Those are some of the wealthiest people in the world. The cops aren’t going to risk getting slapped with major lawsuits. They’ll be careful if anyone gets caught… which might not even happen. Raids aren’t common, but they happen enough that people know the drill.”
“Okay.” She sits back in the low-slung bucket seat. Her hands go to her cheeks, as if checking that she’s still intact. “Okay,” she says again.
