Page 93 of Stiletto's Savior

Blackjack leans against the bar, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over my space.

Dex, his son, taps his fingertips on the bar relentlessly, energy radiating off him like heat.

“Come on, Dad,” Dex presses, leaning in closer. “What’s going on in Las Vegas? I know there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

Blackjack smirks, taking a swig from his beer. “You’re not gonna give me a break until I tell you, right?”

“I don’t even know why you’re askin’ me that question. You know me, Dad,” Dex crosses his arms, a stubborn set to his jaw. “Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

I watch them, intrigued.

The tension between father and son crackles in the air.

Blackjack’s eyes twinkle with mischief, but there’s something serious lurking beneath.

He knows something and Dex can smell it.

Blackjack replies, his voice low, teasing. “You’re too nosy, boy,”

“Curiosity isn’t a crime,” Dex shoots back, his frustration bubbling just under the surface. “If something's brewing, I want to know.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” There’s pride in his tone, but also a warning hidden in the laughter.

I lean closer, pretending to clean a nonexistent spot on the bar.

My heart races with anticipation.

I want to know what the hell is going down in Vegas.

I’m not even going to lie. This is the kind of gossip I like hearing about.

I am in fact one of those women who enjoy trashy TV shows and hearing stuff that’s happening outside of our charter is like a little treat.

“Dammit, you won’t stop,” Blackjack’s expression shifts. It hardens slightly. “A lot of old ghosts are stirring up more than just memories down there.”

Dex presses, relentless as ever. “Like who?”

“That’s enough,” Blackjack says, raising a brow.

But I can see the wheels turning in his mind.

He’s weighing the risk of sharing details against keeping his son in the dark.

It has to be a hard decision.

“Please,” Dex implores, his voice dropping an octave. “I need to know if we’re in danger, if there’s anythin’ I can do to help.”

“Listen, kid…” Blackjack starts, but I can feel the weight in the room shift. “What we need you to do is keep doin’ what you’re doin’. Your degree wasn’t for nothin’. We needed you to help us get the farm operations back up and running.

Dex urges his father, his voice rising slightly. “Just tell me, please.”

Blackjack says firmly, cutting off the conversation. “Not now.”

I take a sip of my drink, the cold liquid contrasting with the heat of the moment.

The tension coils tighter.

I can’t help but lean forward, curiosity piqued.

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