Page 4 of Casino King

Relief floods my tightly wound muscles now that I’m free from the clammy grip of my attacker, but when I try and say something, no words will form from my constricted throat.

My savior gives him another hard punch to the gut that crumples him to the pavement, and then he straightens and turns to me. He’s quite handsome, with tanned skin, dark hair, and eyes that look like they hold a million secrets.

“You okay?” he asks in a much gentler tone than he was using a second ago. “I’m sorry I didn’t get over to you quick enough.”

“I’m…I’m okay. Thank you,” I manage to say through my short intakes of air. Forcing a few deep breaths into my lungs, I tell him in a much stronger voice, “Thank you.”

He gives me a curt nod and turns back to the balled-up man on the ground. He’s a lot less intimidating like this, and I’m tempted to get in a couple kicks of my own, but hold back.

Lifting my hand to my cheek, I wince, and my suit-clad rescuer looks me over, his eyes surveying my face in the dim parking lot light.

“I have to make a call.” Pulling out his phone, he dials quickly, not having to wait long before someone on the other end answers. “There’s been an incident,” is all he says as an opening. “She was attacked at her car.” He looks at me and then toes the man on the ground.

I only have his one-sided conversation to listen to, but he’s speaking as if he and the person on the other end of the line know me, when I have no idea how that’s possible. I don’t know him. I would remember meeting someone like him.

“He hit her,” he says low, rubbing his forehead as he pulls the phone a few inches from his ear like the person on the other end is yelling. “What should I do? … Got it. See you then.” Slipping his phone back into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, he looks at me with guarded eyes.

“Who was that?” I whisper. “Who are you?”

“You’re coming with me to have the doctor look you over.”

“What? No. I’m not going anywhere with you. Thank you for helping me, but I’m okay to go home on my own.”

“I can’t let you do that. I have orders, and he’s going to expect you to be there when he gets back from the city.”

“That still doesn’t make me miraculously know who you are, or who he is.”

“The diamonds and flowers in your bag say otherwise.”

“What?” I breathe, the air vanishing from my lungs in a single breath.

“He’s had me watching you, but after tonight, I’ll be lucky if I see another day for letting this fucker touch you.” He toes the guy on the ground again, and he groans.

“You’ve been watching me?” I ask in a small voice, completely caught off guard by that. “For how long?”

“About a month.”

“Why?”

“You can ask him that yourself later. I have to make another call before we head up.”

Head up? Head up where? I’m so thrown by what’s happening that I just lean back against my car and tighten my grip on my gym bag, my mind trying to play catch up.

“Come to the employee lot, I have a package that needs delivered to the basement,” my rescuer says into the phone and then hangs up, turning back to me. “Grab whatever you need from your car.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re coming with me.”

“I never agreed to that. I don’t even know your name.”

“Lorenzo. But you can call me Enzo.”

“And the man you first called?” I want to know the name of my mysterious A.

He just smirks and gives me a small shake of his head. “You can ask him that later, too.”

“Wow, you’re just full of information,” I say sarcastically, my resolve starting to come back.

---