Page 4 of Big Filthy Mobster

“You’ll be back, right?” Patrick’s expression stays calm, but there’s a glint in his eye I can’t quite place.

“I will.” I step back to let my coworker settle in. “Just not at this table.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know which table, would you?”

My face heats up as I realize he came to the casino just to see me. I don’t have a good answer. “I don’t, but it’ll be a blackjack table.”

“I’ll be waiting for you to get back, then.” He smiles as he’s dealt in.

As I walk away, I check the time, already counting down the minutes until I can be back on the floor. I set an alarm on my phone for half an hour and head toward the break room, hoping the time passes quickly.

Chapter Three

Patrick

I play one round with the new dealer before I realize that my daughter is the wife of the man who owns the place and I’m his oldest friend—if I want to go to the damn breakroom I can. Once that realization sets in, I cash out. My trip to the casino tonight wasn’t for work or even to play. I needed to see Holly, and I’ll be damned if I waste even a minute of time we could be spending together.

I know the way to the breakroom easily, after decades of wandering in and out of this building. But, I just have to hope that Holly is alone. That’s the thought I send up as I make my up to the metal double doors labeled “EMPLOYEES ONLY.”

When I push the door to the breakroom open, Holly looks up from her phone, confusion etched into each of her features. Along with that confusion is the unmistakable brightness of excitement. While she wasn’t expecting me, she certainly wanted to see me. I let that little tidbit of knowledge go to my head.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” The corner of my mouth quirks up as I drop into the seat next to her.

“Of course not,” she replies, gesturing at the seat across from her. “Actually, I welcome the company. We’re slow tonight, so there’s only one person on break at a time.”

“Sounds like your break was horribly boring,” I reply, taking a few steps toward her.

“It was until you got here,” she says as she tilts her head curiously. “Not to sound like I don’t appreciate your company, but why are you here?”

“You mean tonight or in the staff break room?” I ask even though the answer to both is the same.

“Both, I suppose,” Holly says after a moment of consideration. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. If I had to guess, I’d say you just really like blackjack. And also, you’ll probably get in trouble for being in here.”

“To address the first thing you said, I don’t care about the game,” I say casually, smiling at the way she crinkles her nose while she thinks.

“Then…” she trails off, clearly still trying to put together her thoughts.

“I only came tonight to talk to you,” I tell her, not wanting to leave any room for doubt. “That’s the reason I followed you in here. And I won’t lie to you, I’m glad to see that you’re the only one here.”

“The second thing I said?” she prompts with a shy smile.

“That I’ll get in trouble? I know the owner. I’ll be fine,” I respond waving away her concerns with an easy shrug.

“Well aren’t you fancy,” she teases, shouldering me gently. I chuckle, but turn my full attention toward her for what I say next.

“In truth, I’d really like to get to know you better, Holly,” I declare, leaning in to close the distance between the two of us. “I hope that isn’t too forward.”

“It’s not,” she murmurs, lifting her head to look at me through her lashes. “I want to get to know you better, too.”

“Is that so?” I ask as I knock my knee into hers. I’m enjoying toying with her, so I decide to prod her more, and get her to admit what I already know. “Just as a friend?”

“No,” she says after a few seconds, that pretty blush reaching down her neck. I bet her entire body is red with it. “I…I’d like to know you as more than that. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” I reply, ducking down to catch her eye properly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Apparently unable to find the words to respond, she nods and swallows hard. I wonder if her mouth is dry, if her heart is pounding in her chest. I can’t say I’m feeling much differently. My composure is something that I learned over my years of working in high stakes, dangerous situations. That doesn’t mean my palms don’t sweat or that my blood doesn’t rush in my ears and through my body when I’m having conversations that matter.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this way about someone,” I murmur, reaching forward and grabbing her hands. “You’re special. There’s a spark in you, Holly. I’m drawn to you in a way I haven’t been to anyone in such a long time.”

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