Page 50 of Bozo

I settle back at the poker table, but my mind isn't on the game anymore. I'm replaying every interaction, every word spoken by Étienne and Marcel. There has to be something we missed.

The dealer shuffles the cards, and I force myself to focus. I can't afford to lose too badly at the table. It would draw unwanted attention. Questions would arise as to how the hell Bozo would lose all the money he gained. That’s not something I would do. Not ever.

It’s around three a.m. when I call it a night. I've made more money than I had expected and now it’s time to go to bed and regroup. We’ve got what we wanted. Now it’s time to refocus on what’s next.

Just as I exit the casino, my phone buzzes in my pocket, letting me know I have a new text message.

Cowboy: Lost them. Slippery bastards.

Fuck. There goes the lead we had.

SIXTEEN

BOZO

My grip tightens on the bottle of beer as I watch Gráinne smile brightly at the guy offering to buy her a drink. She looks stunning, utterly fucking beautiful, and that dress, it's like it was made to drive me wild. Not to mention those heels. Christ, I want to fuck her in nothing but the heels.

I take another swig, trying to drown the jealousy burning in my gut. The sound of Gráinne laughing has my teeth clenching. I watch as she laughs at something the guy says, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. The movement draws my eyes to the curve of her neck, and I remember how it feels to trail kisses along that soft skin. My cock tightens against my pants as it does whenever I think about touching her.

Fuck, I shouldn't be here torturing myself like this. But I can't seem to tear my eyes away from her. Whenever she goes out and lets her hair down—which is rare—I’m always here, watching, waiting, making sure she’s okay. I won’t ever let anything happen to her. Grá is by far the most important person in my life and I will protect her with everything I have.

The bartender slides another beer in front of me without asking. He knows the routine by now. I nod my thanks, but myattention is drawn back to Gráinne as she accepts the drink from her admirer. Their fingers brush as she takes the glass, and I grip the edge of the bar so hard my knuckles turn white.

Gráinne glances in my direction, her eyes meeting mine for just a moment. I'm rooted to the spot as she gives me that soft as fuck smile, the one that’s solely reserved for me. That smile, it's like a punch to the gut. If things were different, if I were different, I’d give her what she deserves, be the man she deserves. I want to go to her, to pull her away from that guy and claim her as mine. But I can't. That’s not something I can do. Her life is untouched, the way it should be. After all the shit her dad put her through, I won’t be the reason she’s hurt again.

I take another long pull from my beer, trying to cool the fire in my veins. The guy leans in closer to Gráinne, whispering something in her ear. My jaw clenches so hard I think I might crack a tooth. Fuck, I know that over the past few weeks, she’s changed. She’s cooler with me. She’s not wanting to lose the friendship we have, but I won’t be able to keep my cool if she wants to start dating other people. Fuck.

Gráinne laughs again, but this time it sounds forced, uncomfortable. I straighten up, every muscle in my body tensing. I know that laugh. It's the one she uses when she's trying to be polite but wants to escape. The guy doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he doesn't care. He puts his hand on her lower back, and I see Gráinne stiffen.

That's it. I'm off my barstool before I even realize I've moved. I weave through the crowd, my eyes never leaving Gráinne. As I get closer, I see that she’s tense as a bow and there’s a slight tremble that runs through her body.

"Thank you for the drink, but I should really be going," I hear her say, her voice tight and forced.

The guy's hand tightens on her waist. "Come on, the night's still young. How about we get out of here?”

I'm at Gráinne's side in an instant, my hand coming to rest on her shoulder. She jumps slightly at the contact, but then relaxes as she realizes it's me. I see the relief shining in her eyes.

"Everything alright here, Grá?" I ask, my voice low and dangerous. I turn to the asshole who’s still got his arm around her waist. My eyes are locked on him, daring him to make a move.

"Con," she breathes, relief evident in her voice. "I was just leaving."

The guy looks between us, confusion and annoyance warring on his face. "Hey, man, we were in the middle of something here."

I feel Gráinne press closer to me, her warmth seeping into my side. It takes everything in me not to wrap my arm around her and pull her even closer.

"Doesn't look like it to me," I growl. "She said she's leaving. I suggest you let her."

He scoffs, puffing out his chest. "And who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend?"

“I'm leaving," Grá says, her voice soft, but I can hear the fear in it.

She moves to step away, but the guy grabs her arm. "Come on, don't be like that?—"

In a flash, my hand is wrapped around his wrist, squeezing it tight. There’s no doubt that I’m going to leave a bruise, but he shouldn’t be fucking touching her.

"The lady said she's leaving," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "I suggest you take your hand off her."

The guy's eyes widen, a flicker of fear crossing his face as he realizes he's out of his depth. He releases Gráinne's arm, and I let go of his wrist. He takes a step back, rubbing his wrist and glaring at me.

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