Page 35 of The Gambler

Sadly, she expected that to be true. “Being able to fight isn’t what makes a man a man,” she argued.

Now, she had three pairs of eyes staring at her as if she said something totally stupid.

“It’s exactly what makes a man a man, unicorn. A man who can’t protect his woman is no man,” Luca added.

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you for real? He was about to blow your nuts off a minute ago. Now you are defending him?” She wasn’t sure why she was arguing about Trevor’s case. After all, he had used her. But plotting to take him down and admitting out loud to her pops that she was bested by that pansy were two totally different things.

Luca nodded at Pops. “I think we understand each other just fine.”

She couldn’t believe it. It was time to nip this bromance in the bud. “He has ties to the Bratva, Pops.”

“Yeah well, that’s still an upgrade from that milk boy you’ve been dating. Never liked Tim.”

“Trevor. His name is Trevor and you know it.”

“I also know that I never trusted him. Now, I’m gonna leave you two youngsters to it. You know where to find me when you need me.”

With those parting words, he disappeared, as if going up in smoke. He sure liked to be dramatic.

“I can’t believe he just left me here with you,” Tess grumbled.

Luca was staring in her grandfather’s wake. “That was your pops? The guy was dressed for Armageddon. He looks like Schwarzenegger.”

“Not what you expected, huh?”

“The way you talked about him, I expected more Santa Claus and less Rambo.”

Yup. Us Gibsons are like that. What you think we are isn’t always what you get.

CHAPTER 14

LUCA

Luca woke up to the smell of apple pie. For a second, it took him back to the mornings when his mom had still been alive. He didn’t have a lot of memories of her, but he did remember her loving to bake. He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. It wasn’t the first time his mind played tricks on him. Any second now, he would wake up, only to find himself in a jail cell. The only food he would get would be of the processed kind. His only companions, other convicts. There would be no home-baked apple fucking pie. Except, this time the scent didn’t fade away. It didn’t turn into the cold, sour smell of his unwashed cellmate. The taste of baked apples and cinnamon lingered under his nose, slowly enticing him to open his eyes.

When he saw the beige and blue wallpaper of his bedroom, he blinked.

I’m free. I’m still free.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled. A few more deep breaths and the ever-present darkness between his eyelids dissolved. If his room was real, then maybe the pie was too? He took a quick shower, put on some sweats, and followed the delicious scent into his open kitchen.

Then he saw her. Tess Gibson. Picture perfect, straight from his erotic dream last night. Fuck, she’d almost crippled him after their make out session, making him hot for the second time and not finishing. Not that he could blame her, but still, a man could only take so much.

There was no way around her presence in his house. The kitchen counter was stacked with piles and piles of, what appeared to be, muffins. In the center, there was also an apple pie. The baker in question sat on the kitchen island, legs crossed, typing on her phone.

“You trying to feed an army, or what?” he asked, as he walked over to find coffee. The espresso machine almost disappeared between all the baked goods.

She looked up from her phone. “I stress bake.”

Bake talk. Good thinking. Discussing last night would probably be a bad idea. He shouldn’t have descended on her like that anyway.

“How so?”

“The insurance company is giving me grief about my stolen goods. Since there are no signs of breaking and entering, it’s going to take a while before they’ll pay up, if ever.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, taking a mug from the cabinet. “I’ll reimburse whatever damage was done.”

“Not the point. Insurance companies are the big crooks in our lifetime. They’re worse than banks.” He could practically see the wheels turning inside her head.

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