“Get a room,” Sam muttered under his breath.
Lisa laughed softly.
Skylynn drew back, her cheeks flushed.
“Sounds like good advice to me.” Thorne slapped a hundred-dollar bill into the minister’s hand, then took Skylynn’s arm and escorted her out of the chapel without a backward glance.
Sam and Lisa followed, arm-in-arm. “They seem to be in a hurry to get back to the hotel,” Sam remarked with a wry grin.
“You can hardly blame them,” Lisa replied. “After all, they’re on their honeymoon.”
“Well,” Sam drawled, “it seems we’ve been abandoned for the night, what would you like to do?”
“Anything you want is fine with me.”
“Hmm. We could go to one of the casinos and try our luck at the tables.”
“Sounds like fun,” Lisa said. “I’ve never been to Vegas before.”
The MGM Grand was booming. Sam held Lisa’s hand as they made their way through the crowded casino. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked. “Craps? Roulette? The slots?”
Lisa shrugged. “I really don’t have a preference. This is all new to me.”
Sam decided to shoot craps. It had always been his favorite game, probably because it moved so fast. He threw a twenty on the DON’T PASS line. A skinny blonde woman had the dice. She threw a three.
Sam collected his winnings, but let his original twenty ride.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Lisa said.
Sam explained, as best he could, what the rules were, then added, “The easiest bet is the field. If the shooter rolls a two, three, four, nine, ten, eleven, or twelve, you win. The payoff is even. If you bet a dollar, you win a dollar, except for the number two, which pays two-to-one. A twelve pays three-to-one. Your bet’s good for one roll of the dice.” He handed her a stack of chips. “Go for it.”
Lisa placed a five-dollar chip on the field. The shooter rolled a twelve.
“I won!” Lisa exclaimed.
“Beginner’s luck!” Sam said. “Try again.”
Lisa placed another field bet. And the shooter rolled another twelve.
For the next half hour, the shooter was every field bettor’s best friend. And then she rolled a five.
“Can we go try something else?” Lisa asked.
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“What do you want?”
“You,” Sam replied candidly. “In my arms. In my bed.”
Lisa stared at him a moment, then took him by the hand. “I can’t wait to try out that big round bed.”
Chapter 41
Girard Desmarais scowled as he watched Sam and the girl with him leave the casino hand-in-hand. Laughing and smiling at each other, they were apparently oblivious to everything and everyone else around them.
Girard nodded. He knew if he waited long enough, he would get the two of them alone. Or as alone as anyone could be on the crowded streets of Las Vegas after dark. He smiled as Sam and the young woman turned down a quiet side street, pausing a moment to kiss in the shadows before moving on.
Girard slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The right pocket held a fat wooden stake; the left a snub-nosed revolver loaded with silver bullets and fitted with a silencer.
He would take out the young man and his girlfriend, then wait for an opportunity to exact his revenge on Kaiden Thorne.
Thorne closed the door to the bedroom, and then drew his bride into his arms.
“No regrets?”
“Of course not.” Sky looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “We haven’t even been married half an hour. I don’t know if you snore,” she said with a teasing grin, “or how you’ll be about taking out the trash, or ...”
“You know I don’t snore,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “And I’ll be more than happy to take out the trash, as long as I can do it at night.”
“Well, no regrets, then.”
“You make a beautiful bride, Sky Blue.”
“Thank you.” Standing on her tiptoes, she slid his jacket over his shoulders. After tossing it on the bench at the foot of the bed, she removed his tie and shirt. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt and she ran her hands over his back and chest. His skin was smooth, cool to the touch.
He nuzzled the side of her neck. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Anything I want.”
“I think I married a hussy.”
“Could be. Do you mind?”
He laughed softly. “What do you think?” Tilting her chin up, he kissed her. “You look so pretty in that dress, I hate to have you take it off, but ...”
Before she knew how it happened, her veil and dress were on the bench and she was standing there in nothing but her new lace bra, panties, and heels. “How did you do that?” she asked, stepping out of her shoes.
“Magic fingers, babe.”
“Well, excuse me if I do it the old-fashioned way,” she muttered as she removed his belt and ever so slowly unzipped his trousers.
Thorne obligingly heeled off his boots and stepped out of his slacks. “You’ve got some magic fingers of your own, Sky Blue.” And so saying, he removed the last of her clothing and his own, then drew her down on the bed and wrapped her in his arms.
“I love you, Skylynn,” he murmured. “As long as I live, as long as you live, I will love no one but you.”
Sam was laughing at something Lisa had said when she suddenly stumbled forward. He caught her before she hit the ground, his nostrils immediately filling with the scent of her blood. And overlaying that, the acrid stink of gunpowder.
“Lisa? Lisa!”
She moaned softly but before Sam could determine the extent of her wounds, a dark shape launched itself out of the shadows and barreled into Sam. He fell backward. His head hit the sidewalk, hard. He lay there, too stunned at first to identify the three muted pops. Too late, he realized they were gunshots.
He sprang to his feet when their attacker turned toward him. Things happened very fast after that, but Sam seemed to see it all in slow motion.
He stared at Lisa, sprawled on the ground, her eyes wide and empty of life, blood streaming from three small holes in her chest, and one in the side of her head.
Girard Desmarais sprang toward him, his face contorted with hatred as he pulled a wooden stake from his jacket pocket and lunged forward.
Sam darted sideways. The stake, meant for his heart, penetrated the right side of his chest. The pain drove the breath from his body and left him momentarily unable to move.