Page 72 of Tempting Little Thief

“Someone is getting a nice little bump in their account tonight.”

“The way these girls like to shop, it’s probably already as good as gone.”

Damiano laughs, sliding in behind me.

My muscles stiffen as his arms settle around me and he catches it, his doing the same.

“Something wrong?” he asks, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

I sigh, watching as a man pushes a half million in chips to the center of the craps table. “What do you know?”

Slowly, his grip shifts, and he spins me to face him, his eyes locking with mine. “I know someone ran your plate a few weeks back and we couldn’t figure out where it came from. I know you know who it was because you didn’t so much as bat a lash when, normally, you’d be suiting up for war or sending meout to handle the problem before it became one. I know you went off Greyson grounds without protection the other day.”

“I had protection.”

“Not the kind of protection your car has inside it and not the kind that comes from letting us watch out for you.” He frowns. “I know your sister showing up is a big problem for your family, and we will help any way we are able, but I don’t have to tell you this. You already know that.”

“Get to the but, Dom.”

He licks his lips, glancing around us to make sure no one is tuning in. “I don’t want you making a mistake you can’t take back and since whatever it is you’re doing, or whoever it is you’re doing, requires you to be outside of our walls, I can’t help but think you know it’s wrong.”

“Wrong is subjective.”

“Wrong is putting yourself at risk for someone who couldn’t even pretend to protect you.”

“You know nothing about him,” I snap before I can stop myself, the need to defend Bastian catching me off guard, but Dom doesn’t fret.

“I know I’ll be here when he’s gone.”

The thought tugs at something behind my ribs, and I have to work to hold back the frown threatening to settle along my brows. Damiano’s words, spoken strong and undeniably … true. The time will come when Bastian must go. It’s inevitable.

“Yes.” My voice sounds scratchy, even to me. “You will be.”

The golden boy before me settles, his hand coming up to cup my cheek as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just be careful, gorgeous, and remember, I’m here. Always.” His lips press gently to my jaw, and he releases me without another word, joining his friends at the bar.

The soft-blue lights around the tally board in The Game Room blink white, indicating the round is up and it’s time to switch dealers. Around the room, the girls who have yet to have a drink—only the sober allowed on game nights—hustle their way through the side door, eager to claim their table of choice.

The betting is halted for two minutes during the shift when the men at the tables order new drinks or spark fresh cigars, some even standing to stretch their legs.

That’s when I see him, there at the entrance to the room.

Everything inside me turns to stone as he saunters in like he owns the place but sticks out like a ruby in a bed of diamonds.

The men here wear suits if only to hide the markings of what gangs they’re tied to, and they walk in with a sense of ease, almost a pep in their step if men like them are capable of one. Why? Because they know, win or lose, at the end of the night, when the tables are closed, the money they came here to wash will end up right where it’s supposed to be.

That’s the beauty of this place.

We’ve erased the threat of a setup or worse.

The hard part is whatever the hell they did before coming here that led them to need to make a visit, and we don’t ask where their money comes from; we just accept it and take our cut. Should whoever handles their money once it’s squeaky clean ever fuck up and make the government wonder, they have something to fall back on.

Gambling winnings or losses.

It’s a win-win, and they send their most trusted into our space, the ones capable of relaxing, who can sit back and enjoy a drink and a pretty face because they know she’s not placed there as bait.

Bastian isnotrelaxed or calm or anyone’s most trusted.

I’m not so sure I can claim to trust him at all, though I think a really dumb part of me might.

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