What the fuck was that son of a bitch doing here? What was he looking for?
Cain let the video roll, keeping the focus trained on the Breed male and barely able to stifle his growl. He wasn’t the only Hunter with no love for Asher. Hell, the male had earned every last ounce of scorn that came his way.
As the surveillance footage continued, he saw the moment Asher locked on his target. Those dark blue eyes narrowed with laser focus, Asher had cut through the thick crowd on the casino floor, his long strides carrying him in the direction of . . . the ladies’ restroom.
Holy shit.
It was the woman. That’s who he was looking for.
He watched the feed for a couple of minutes, his veins pounding with certainty as Asher took up a position just outside the restrooms and waited.
Were they working together?
And if not, what the fuck did he want with Leo Slater’s persistent little thief?
Cain closed his laptop on an incredulous curse.
He didn’t know what Asher was up to, but he was damned well going to find out.
CHAPTER 13
The rain had started sometime before dawn. Naomi knew because she’d been awake most of the night. She had plenty of reason for tossing and turning until daybreak. Keyed up after the big hit on Moda. Concern for Michael and the wellbeing of the kids staying at the house. Dread over the fact that if Slater got wise to her, he could retaliate not only with his security team made up of homicidal human goons but a Breed male besides.
A trained assassin, according to Asher.
And then there was him.Asher.
Of all the thoughts that continued to plague her mind, it was being under the same roof with Asher that made sleep next to impossible.
It hadn’t helped that the bedding and the T-shirt she slept in all smelled like him. Every time she closed her eyes, her head filled with images of him. His angled, rugged face and deep cobalt eyes. His square jaw and broad, lushly shaped mouth. Now that she knew what that mouth felt like on hers, she was finding it hard to think of little else when she was near him. As comfortable as it had been talking with him in the kitchen last night, every time he met her gaze she felt certain he knew how badly she wanted to kiss him again.
Yeah, she was pretty sure he’d figured that out.
When she’d reached out to touch his hand and tell him she was sorry about Ned’s death, he couldn’t seem to get away from her fast enough.
And although he had taken her face in his hands after she’d all but thrown herself at him with that mostly innocent offer to pay him back for all he was doing for her, he had evidently thought better of kissing her a second time. The way he practically bolted from the house, it was a wonder he didn’t knock out the screen door as he went.
Naomi heaved a sigh and got out of bed. She didn’t know where he was, or where he’d been during the night. The house was quiet except for Sam, who was parked outside the bedroom door, sleeping in a lump on the faded runner. He lifted his head as she came out, showering her outstretched hand with licks and nuzzles.
“Good morning to you, too,” she murmured, padding quietly to the bathroom.
On the vanity was a packaged toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste, evidently placed there for her sometime between her shower last night and daybreak. After cleaning up a bit and running damp fingers through her hair, she stepped back out to the hallway.
Sam led her into the empty kitchen and over to his equally empty bowl. “Are you trying to get me in trouble, or do you really need some breakfast?”
He tilted his head at her, eyes pleading and basically irresistible.
“All right, then. Breakfast it is.” She retrieved his food and poured some into the bowl, then refreshed his water too.
She couldn’t help wondering how things were going back home, picturing the happy chaos of kids setting the table and helping with eggs and pancakes—one of Michael’s specialties. The urge to call and check in was nearly overwhelming. But they’d already risked enough with their texting last night. Once the casino check was in the bank, then she could think about resuming her life back in Vegas.
Which would mean leaving Asher to resume his without her.
Why that thought gave her a pang of regret, she surely did not want to know.
She pushed the feeling aside, and turned her focus toward more productive ideas. After foraging without success for coffee or a means to make some, she settled on tea that she found in one of the cabinets. With a steaming mug in her hands, she moved through the house, slowly taking it all in—the upholstered furniture and TV from another era, the framed photographs and whimsical knickknacks. The old sound system and the collection of music CDs, classic R&B sharing shelf space with country albums of all kinds spanning the last couple of decades. There were book cases filled with paperback novels, their spines bent, pages yellowed. And one the floor near a worn recliner sat a basket of crossword puzzles and Sudoku, most of them solved with pencil in the shaky scrawl of an aged hand.
She saw snapshots of Ned and Ruth’s life in this house everywhere she looked.
