Naomi shoved off the weight of her maudlin thoughts and focused back on Michael with a wry grin. “If they thought they could outrun you, they haven’t seen you tearing down the Strip in that chair like you’ve got a rocket under your scrawny ass.”
He chuckled. “Scrawny ass? You should talk.”
She laughed, glad to be falling back into normal mode here at home. Their teasing was an integral part of the day to day. It had to be. If they couldn’t find a way to compartmentalize and lighten the heavy load of watching these kids struggle, they’d both go mad.
She cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll do the eggs and bacon. You’re on toast duty.”
“Yes, boss.” He wheeled over to the refrigerator and pulled out two loaves of bread while Naomi busied herself in the cabinets, getting the necessary pans and seasonings. “Don’t think I’m going to forget where we left off before the boys showed up, Nay. My legs may not work anymore, but my brain is in tip-top shape. And I’ve got a plan.”
She swiveled a narrowed look on him. “What kind of plan?”
With the kids well out of earshot, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You want to hit Slater’s casino again for the big score? Fine. We do it my way. And we do it tonight.”
“What? After last night, are you crazy?” She shook her head. “I have to lay low for a while first. Give Slater a chance to get comfortable again.”
“Nuh-uh,” Michael said, that familiar old hustler’s gleam lighting up his hazel eyes. “Think about it, Nay. Right now, he probably doesn’t even know his guys are missing yet. He’s probably sitting by the pool drinking a Bloody Mary getting jerked off by his masseuse, thinking everything is fine and dandy. Soon, though, probably after he’s had a five-course lunch and another hand job, he’s going to start making calls to his men and realize he’s not getting calls back. He’ll be annoyed, but he sure as fuck won’t think one tiny woman could’ve taken on three of his armed goons, so he’ll give it a little time. By late afternoon, he’s going to start really wondering. He’s going to start making calls to other, bigger goons to go and find them.”
“You’re right. Shit, you’re absolutely right.”
Once the black sedan was found wherever Asher must have ditched it, suspicions would rise. Initially she’d been nothing but another cheat in one of his many casinos, a gnat that needed to be smacked. He’d handed off the chore of dealing with her to his thugs, and to his mind, that was the end of it. But to realize she’d gotten away? Slater wouldn’t like that one bit.
It would eat at him, make him feel weak. Especially that he’d been outsmarted by a woman. He’d pull the security tapes from that night and he’d be looking for her. He’d be turning the city inside out until he found her.
“You know the last place he’ll be looking for you?” Michael asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Right under his nose. But how am I going to do it?”
“We,” Michael corrected.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. Aside from your magic when it comes to machinery and magnetics, I taught you practically everything you know about the grift. Cards, dice, you name it. Hell, I even showed you how to cobble together a decent disguise and where to get the best fake IDs this side of the Mississippi.”
“No, Michael.” She balked, shaking her head at him. “No way. This gig is too important. It’s too big. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“Why, because I’m in this chair?”
She reared back, feeling as though he’d slapped her. “That’s a low blow. And not anywhere close to the truth. You know that, right?”
When he said nothing, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You’re all the family I have, Michael. I’d die before I let anything happen to you.”
“The feeling is mutual, Nay. So, don’t think you’re going to change my mind.” He stared up at her with a hard, determined gaze. “You’re not going back to Slater’s casino without me.”
Every instinct she had was telling her this was too dangerous, too much risk. Especially now that he wanted to add himself to the equation. If anything happened to her friend . . .
“I don’t know, Michael. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Maybe it is too soon. I mean, what if I get spotted? What if Slater’s got his security detail watching for anyone matching my height and build? They’ll never let me close to the machines, let alone walk out with that size of a purse.”
Michael didn’t seem persuaded, not one bit. As much as she was motivated by vengeance on Leo Slater, he was addicted to the thrill of the chase, the glitter of ill-gotten gains. He always had been, at least before the accident. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so energized. Part of her loved seeing her friend get excited—truly excited—about something again.
But another part of her was terrified they were about to make an enormous mistake.
“I’ll worry about the how,” he told her. “You worry about breakfast, then you’re going get some rest before we start putting our plan together for tonight’s big score.”
CHAPTER 7
The only thing Asher hated more than the Vegas Strip was the Vegas Strip on a Saturday night.
It was oceans of people, moving like a school of fish containing species of every size, color, and shape in existence. There were the brightly dressed, heavily made-up girls donned in sashes or sparkling tiaras that proclaimed them “bride-to-be” or “finally legal” toddling on heels they could barely maneuver sober, never mind after five drinks. The guys were no exception, carousing in packs to celebrate their last hurrah on the eve of their wedding, surrounded by the other bachelors determined to get them into trouble. The tourists with their Vegas hats and shirts emblazoned with the ubiquitous reminder that what happened in Vegas . . .
