Lucky Streak (Lucky 2)

He’d kidnapped her father and used him as leverage. Even if Amber hadn’t opted out of the life for her own reasons, there was no way in hell she’d trust Marshall on any level now. She may have once viewed him as her salvation, but now she saw him as he truly was—a shell of a man, a pathetic con artist, and nothing more. But she knew better than to let her true feelings slip again. Especially when she looked into the dark depths of Marshall’s eyes and saw nothing there.

She decided to humor him. “Didn’t you pay off the loan shark?” she asked.

He nodded. “But there’s always the next score. You know that. And I need you.”

She wondered if he was in more trouble and didn’t want to admit it to her. “We can talk,” she promised him.

He exhaled a long breath. “That’s my girl.” He not so subtly patted the pocket of his jacket and she realized there was a bulge there.

He had a gun.

Her heart pounded in her throat, fear rising like a wave but she refused to panic. She knew now to keep him calm—she wouldn’t give him any reason to use the weapon. Her next priority was to get inside where she wouldn’t be alone with him.

“You must be roasting in that jacket. Let’s go in where it’s cool. I’ll buy us each a bottle of water and we can figure out a plan.” She started for the door.

To her relief, he followed. “I knew you’d come around. You’re heading home anyway. What happened? Prince Charming turned out to be a frog?” He laughed.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling Marshall that Mike was one hundred times the man he’d ever be. “He didn’t understand me,” she said instead.

He nodded, obviously pleased. “Not like I do, baby. We’re partners, you and I.”

“We’ve had our moments.” She stopped short of agreeing, too busy trying to figure out how to get away from him once they were inside the bus station.

“Amber!”

She whipped around at the sound of her name.

Beside her, Marshall froze as Mike walked toward her from one side.

“How y’all doing?” King Bobby called from the other.

“Shit,” Marshall muttered. Without warning, he grabbed her arm once more, stopping her from running away.

“Let her go, Banks,” Mike said, his voice low.

Deadly.

Amber wouldn’t think of crossing him when he sounded like that. But Marshall always had an inflated sense of self. He was also holding a grudge against Mike for coming between him and Amber in Vegas. She knew this wasn’t going to be pretty.

She broke into a sweat, as much from fear as from the sun overhead.

“Everyone relax,” King Bobby said in his long drawl. “Listen, son, I just want to talk to you.”

“Bullshit,” Marshall said. “You want your money and he wants her.” He yanked Amber closer to him.

“Don’t hurt her, Banks.” Mike’s warning was loud and clear.

Amber tried not to grimace and give Mike a reason to act, but Marshall’s fingers dug into her arm painfully.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my lady, Detective,” he said with a sneer. “She was leaving you anyway, so you’ve got no rights where she’s concerned. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Amber swallowed hard. She never tore her gaze from Mike as she repeated the words Marshall needed to hear. “That’s right.” Anything to keep Marshall from turning on the man she loved.

Loved.

Oh, God, she loved him.

She didn’t just want a chance, she wanted him. Now, forever. Nothing else mattered. They’d work out the little details over the next fifty-plus years.