“Abby.” He sighed.

A sob caught in my throat. “Don’t say it. If you don’t think it’ll work, just don’t tell me, okay? It was all I could think of, and if he finds out why I’m doing this, he won’t do it.”

“Of course he won’t. Abby, I know you’re afraid, but this is crazy. You can’t marry him to keep him out of trouble. This won’t work, anyway. You didn’t leave until after the fight. ”

“I said not to say that.”

“I’m sorry. He wouldn’t want you to do this, either. He would want you to marry him because you want to. If he ever found out, it’d break his heart.”

“Don’t be sorry, Trent. It’s going to work. At least it will give him a chance. It’s a chance, right? Better odds than he had.”

“I guess,” he said, sounding defeated.

I sighed and then nodded, covering my mouth with my free hand. Tears blurred my vision, making a kaleidoscope out of the casino floor. A chance was better than nothing.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Congrats!” Cami said in the background. Her voice sounded tired and hoarse, even though I was sure she was sincere.

“Thank you. Keep me updated. Let me know if they come sniffing around the house, or if you hear anything about an investigation.”

“Will do . . . and it’s really fucking weird that our baby brother is the first to get married.”

I laughed once. “Get over it.”

“Fuck off. And, I love ya.”

“Love you, too, Trent.”

I held the phone in my lap with both hands, watching the people walking by stare at me. They were obviously wondering why I was sitting on the floor, but not enough to ask. I stood up, picked up my purse and bag, and inhaled a deep breath.

“Here comes the bride,” I said, taking my first steps.

CHAPTER FIVE

Caught

Travis

I dried off, brushed my teeth, and slipped on a T-shirt and shorts, and then my Nikes. Ready. Damn, it was good to be a man. I couldn’t imagine having to blow-dry my hair for half an hour, and then burn it with whatever handheld metal hot iron I could find, and then spend fifteen to twenty minutes getting my makeup just right before finally getting dressed. Key. Wallet. Phone. Out the door. Abby had said there were shops downstairs, but she hinted strongly that we shouldn’t see each other until the wedding, so I headed for the Strip.

Even when in a hurry, if the Bellagio fountains are dancing to the music, it is un-American not to stop and stand in awe. I lit a cigarette and puffed on it, resting my arms on a large, concrete ledge that lined the viewing platform. Watching the water sway and spray to the music reminded me of the last time I was there, standing with Shepley while Abby efficiently kicked the asses of four or five poker veterans.

Shepley. Damn, I was so glad he wasn’t at that fight. If I’d have lost him, or if he’d lost America, I’m not sure Abby and I would have been here. A loss like that would change the whole dynamic of our friendships. Shepley couldn’t be around Abby and me without America, and America couldn’t be around us without Shepley. Abby couldn’t not be around America. If they hadn’t decided to stay with his parents over spring break, I could be suffering the loss of Shepley instead of preparing for our wedding. Thoughts of calling Uncle Jack and Aunt Deana with news of their only son’s death made a cold shiver crawl down my spine.