“What did Ned do?”
Asher let out a bemused exhalation. “He did the damnedest thing. He held out his arm to me. He let me feed, right there where we stood. It was the most generous thing anyone had ever done for me. When I’d taken what I needed, he patted me on the head and told me to get in the truck with him. He said I looked like I could use a shower and a place to wait out the coming daylight.”
Naomi looked at him, silent and clearly moved. “Sounds like Ned was a very special person.”
“Yeah,” Asher said. “Best I’ve ever known.”
“You said you never stayed long in any one place. Where were you before that night?”
He shrugged. “Around.”
“Well, I guess it was awfully lucky for you that you found Ned. Then again, I’ve got a feeling he’d say he was the lucky one. Seems to me you both needed each other more than you realized.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, lost in the old memories, the parts of his life that he’d never shared with anyone before. And never wanted to share until now.
Naomi smiled. “I guess maybe you came around at just the right time for me too, Asher. If not for you stopping last night in the desert, I wouldn’t be standing here.” She smiled, her pretty lips tremulous. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I owe you my life. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay that.”
Against every discipline that had been seared into him from the time he was a boy, Asher reached out, the desire to touch her too strong to deny. He cupped her fragile face in his broad palm. Stroked his thumb over the skin that was as soft and creamy as satin.
He growled a curse, a wordless warning to himself to not let whatever was building between them slip any further out of his control. “You stay alive, Naomi. That’s all the payback I need.”
He expected her to pull away from his touch, but she didn’t. She stood still, as frozen in place as he seemed to be. She turned her face further into his hand, her gaze darkening to the rich, warm color of whiskey.
No question, it was an invitation. One he didn’t know how he had the strength to refuse.
“It’s getting late,” he uttered, his voice deep and rough. He withdrew his hand, shoving it into the front pocket of his jeans. “Like I said, the bedroom is yours. I have animals outside that need to be taken care of, but you’ll be safe in here for a few minutes until I come back. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t wait to hear her reply.
He couldn’t. His sanity depended on putting immediate distance between her tempting mouth and body, and his threadbare will to resist her.
He stalked out the kitchen door on a hissed curse, his breath steaming in the chill desert night.
CHAPTER 12
Cain stared out the large UV-blocked window of his penthouse suite at Casino Moda, watching the sun rise over the coppery mountain range in the distance. A storm was rolling in, bringing dark, boiling clouds and fat droplets of rain that streaked down the smoky glass with rapidly increasing intensity.
It was rare to get this kind of torrential soaking, especially during the daytime, but when it came, he relished it. The change in the air. The gunmetal gray sky pressing low over the mountains in the distance while lightning cracked and thunder boomed. The power of it sent vibrations all the way into his bones.
In a world where he’d always felt so big and indomitable, he supposed storms like this gave him some perspective that there were a few things on this Earth that he couldn’t control.
Not that he wanted that reminder at the current moment.
Barefoot on the pale gray carpet and dressed in loose drawstring pants that hung low on his muscled physique, he stepped away from the glass and turned toward the desk in his study to glance at the open laptop screen again.
The face that stared back at him had been niggling him for the past twelve hours. He’d looked at the images from far away, had zoomed in to the point that he could make out every line on her face, but damn it.
He still wasn’t certain.
With a grunt of frustration, he dropped into the leather chair and began scrolling once more through the videos he’d compiled.
It had started a few months ago at one of Leo Slater’s small casinos downtown. The Gold Mine was one of Vegas’s most aged casinos and it looked it. The old-timers that frequented the tired establishment wouldn’t have had it any other way, though. Cain supposed there was a comfort in those wallpapered halls and worn red carpet, a familiarity that made its patrons feel at home in a way that the sleek, marbled gloss of Moda never could.
Never one to pass up the chance to close his fist around a buck no matter who it was coming from, Slater accommodated the blue-haired set, offering up nostalgic games served up by uniformed, old-fashioned dealers and hawking early bird specials like meatloaf with mashed potatoes or Yankee pot roast with all the fixings night after night. The Gold Mine would have been more aptly named a bronze mine when it came to profits, and it would never truly compete with Moda in terms of income.
On the other hand, it also wasn’t susceptible to the whims of the jet-set, who no doubt would eventually bail on Moda and crown a new hotspot, leaving all that chrome and lacquer to tarnish and dry up. Boom to bust was a way of life on the Strip, but part of Cain’s job as head of security for Slater Enterprises was to ensure the boss’s financial interests stayed flush as long as possible.
The Gold Mine was Leo Slater’s insurance policy against the fickle winds of fortune. So when the place had shown decreased profits in the slots and roulette pits every other quarter for the past year and half, Cain had taken notice.
