I poked him in the ribs. He grunted. “Fine,” I muttered, digging in my shorts pocket. “Guess I’ll have to use that five instead.”

But before I could stick the money into the machine, Garret abruptly pushed away from the stool and took my hand. My pulse jumped, and a tingle shot up my arm, even as the soldier pulled me away from the aisle and into the crowds.

“Garret.” I almost had to jog to keep pace with him. “What are you doing?”

“Security,” he replied, and I looked back to see two men in uniforms pass the row we were just in. One of them caught my eye, frowned and angled toward us through the crowds. I squeaked.

“He’s following us!”

“Don’t panic.” Garret’s fingers tightened around mine. “And don’t act nervous. Just keep walking, and don’t look back.”

Squeezing his palm, I faced forward and followed his lead. We “fast-ambled” through the casino, weaving through crowds, circling around roulette tables, trying to appear nonchalant and move quickly at the same time. I didn’t dare look back, but Garret, without stopping or turning his head, somehow knew exactly where the guard was and what he was doing.

“Still following us,” he muttered as we strolled through a slot machine aisle hand in hand. “I think he’s waiting to see if we try to play a game. I believe that’s illegal here, right? You have to be twenty-one to gamble?”

“I am twenty-one,” I protested, and he shot me a quizzical glance. I raised my chin. “According to the ID of Miss Emily Gates, I turned twenty-one this January.”

His lip twitched. “Do you really want them checking up on that?”

“Um. No.”

“And do you really want Riley finding out that they checked up on that?”

I grimaced at him. “Right. Point taken. How do we ditch the rent-a-cop?”

“Just be ready to move when I do.”

I nodded. Garret made a meandering left turn down a slot machine aisle, but as soon as we were out of sight of the guard, lunged forward with a burst of speed. I scrambled to keep pace. He pulled us around another aisle, and I followed, clinging to his hand and biting my lip to keep a maniacal giggle from slipping out. We wove through a couple more slot machine corridors, melted back into the crowd and circled a noisy, cheering roulette table. Abruptly, Garret pulled me to the edge of the table, somehow squeezing us between a pair of half-drunk guys and their girlfriends. They jostled us, their attention solely on the spinning roulette wheel and the little ball bouncing within, but then Garret wrapped his arms around me from behind and leaned in close, and I forgot about everything else.