He pressed a fast, soft kiss to her mouth because he thought he’d explode if he didn’t. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” Then he stood, careful to keep his laptop positioned over his groin, because his cock wanted to be in her bed. With her.

In her. He shuddered, barely able to bite back a groan when she looked up at him, her eyes gone dark with desire. She wants me. Thank God.

But he didn’t make a move. Not yet. Not like this. Not with two kids upstairs who might come down at any moment. Not until she completely trusts me. Not until she tells me that she wants me. Out loud.

Patience, he told himself. He’d been patient for eighteen months. He could last a little while longer.

He took a step back, putting necessary distance between them, feeling a spear of satisfaction when her face fell in obvious disappointment. “Get Hawkeye,” he said. “I’ll walk him while I do my perimeter check.”

Chapter Ten

Lawrenceburg, Indiana
Sunday, March 17, 1:15 a.m.

Grant Masterson’s feet hit the dock and he drew a strangled breath of frustration. An hour and a half sitting in that damn riverboat casino and he hadn’t heard or seen anything resembling the poker game he’d been looking for, even after “getting lost” in the upper level. But he knew that the matchbook was the invitation. He’d picked up another matchbook from the bar and, while the front was the same, the back had been different, printed with the full name of the riverboat and its address. There had been no fancy gold writing on the inside.

He had to figure out how to get an invite to the game. He needed to find Wesley’s contact. Richard.

He leaned against the small fence surrounding the dock, listening as guests straggled off the riverboat. Some complained about the rigged games. A few crowed over their winnings, but they were definitely in the minority.

But the games that people were complaining about were the vanilla variety. Slots, blackjack. Nobody mentioned a high-stakes game. But if they weren’t invited to it, they wouldn’t know about it.

He had a gut feeling that the game he wanted was exclusive and, if the cash Wes had been throwing around was any indication, only for the very rich.

He ducked into the shadows and waited another hour for the riverboat’s employees to begin filing out as the shift changed. One of the last out was the woman who’d been called over to settle a dispute between a dealer and a guest. She’d identified herself as the manager. Hopefully she knew Richard.

Grant followed her to her car, stepping into the light from the streetlamp as the woman was pulling her keys from her purse. “Excuse me,” he said quietly.

She gasped and spun around, a small spray can in her hand. “I have no money!”