Chapter 2

His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was pointless to have the ringer on in the casino; it would never get heard. He steeled himself when he saw Maury’s name on the display.

“I’m on my way over to take your place,” Maury said before Shane could open his mouth.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re needed in the Poker Room. Lucky and Stella crashed a game.”

Somehow, he kept from sighing out loud. He supposed it was asking too much to think his best friends would give him a reprieve of more than a few days from saving their asses.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Double-time it.”

Even if Shane could fly, he wouldn’t be able to get to the poker rooms soon enough. Lucky and Stella only went to the trouble of crashing private games when they were bored and looking for the sort of entertainment that would get anybody else permanently banned from the Rio. Which meant that Shane would be handing out vouchers and apologies for all sorts of bad behavior. One of these days, Lucky was going to push Maury too far, and then it wouldn’t matter how much money he had, and how much money he spent in the casino every month, he would be thrown out on his ass. Stella, too.

Shane had already asked Lucky to consider moving himself into a different penthouse, or even a nice, quiet mansion somewhere off the strip. But Lucky didn’t go for nice and quiet, and neither did his wife. They wanted to be at the center of any and every party. They wanted to be singing and dancing and drinking every night and every day. They had finished college four years earlier, but they still lived every day like they were freshmen at their first frat party. When Shane expressed any hint of disapproval, they merely scoffed at him, teased him for being an old man before thirty, and offered him a stiff drink. Shane just hoped he wouldn’t need a stiff drink before the end of the night.

Shane hesitated when he reached the corridor of private poker rooms. Maury had told him which one. His hesitation was short-lived, however, as it became very, very clear where Lucky and Stella had sought their entertainment.

“What are you doing in a private room if you’re not willing to bet a little money?” Lucky’s voice boomed. He was already more than a little drunk. His question seemed to be equal parts amused and annoyed. “I’m just looking for an honest game of poker, here.”

Taking a deep breath, Shane grasped the door knob and pushed. Cigarette smoke immediately assaulted his nose and made his eyes water. Damn, but he did not miss the smoking on the floor. Every time he hit a private party that circumvented the restrictions of the clean indoor air act, he thanked God he didn’t have to deal with it anymore. At least, most of the time.

This party consisted of nine men, eight of which were seated around the table. The one standing loomed over a lounging Lucky, his bony hands balled into fists at his sides. Lucky looked like he always did—completely unperturbed. A lock of wavy dark hair fell across his forehead, and his brown eyes danced where they tilted up to his opponent. He wore an expensive dark suit, and though Shane had little doubt he’d probably had it on most of the day, it was immaculate, fitting perfectly across his broad shoulders.

“Oh, look, the cavalry’s arrived.”

The female voice at his elbow could only belong to one person. Stella Marshall. Shane only risked a glance sideways at her, but it was long enough to drink in the gauzy blue dress clinging to her curves, the blonde hair falling in long curls over her shoulders, and the bemused cant of her scarlet lips as she lifted a tumbler to her mouth. Before he had the chance to look away, she winked.

God help him.

Lucky shifted his attention to the doorway. “Shane, will you tell this brute to have a seat? He’s ruining the card game.”

“This is a private party,” the so-called brute said tightly. “That means, it’s invitation only.”

“Yes, yes, invitation only.” Lucky waved his hand, like the words were nothing more than fluff. “As I’ve tried to explain to these ladies, we don’t need invitations here. Will you please let them know of our general come-and-go-as-we-please policy?”

Shane gave the group a small smile and shifted his gaze directly to Lucky. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I’d like a word with Mr. Marshall.” He gestured toward the hallway. “If you please.”

“Just one?” Stella hooked her arm through Shane’s and dragged him to the table. “Why do we need to break up the party? Let’s deal Shane in.”

“Should we?” Lucky nodded. “I think we should. Gentlemen, prepare to be dazzled. Shane might not look like much, but he’s a hell of a card player.”

The tips of Shane’s ears burned, but he managed to remain composed. “Only when I’m not on the clock, Mr. Marshall. Now, please—”

“You’re so cute when you’re all official.” Stella pressed against his side, her breasts soft and full. “Shane here’s an old friend, aren’t you, Shane?”

“He’s quite old,” Lucky added. “I mean, on the inside. Even when he was fifteen, he could pass for a man twice or three times his age.” He shuffled the cards between his fingers, flipping them so fast they were almost invisible. He did it again, and again, making sure that everybody was paying attention. “Come on, who’s up for a hand?”

“Will you get the fuck out of here?” Brute demanded, his face turned aubergine.