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Facade

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“Follow me. I’ll show you how real men do it,” Derek said.

He took my hand and led me from the table with our chips lying out on the table. We walked all the way toward the front of the casino where the manager stopped him, and the two of them began to talk. I was sizing up the manager and casing everyone that walked by us, clocking their bodies to see what they were packing and where. The security guards were stereotypical, with guns on their hips and knives at their ankles. There were a couple of unsavory characters that had a gun on their hip as well as tucked into the band of their pants at their back. A few people had pocket knives in their coat jackets and some of the women had mace in their purse.

If Derek knew the types of things that were allowed into casinos if someone had enough money, he wouldn’t feel safe here.

“Okay, I’m ready when you are,” Derek said.

“So, where do we go from here to get your money?” I asked.

“You were casing the casino again, weren’t you?”

“What else should I have been doing?”

“I have an arrangement with The Bellagio. Any earnings I make at their tables are donated to the state’s homeless shelters. Nevada has one of the highest homeless statistics in the nation. I’d like to think my money helps put a dent in those numbers.”

I was stunned, absolutely stunned at the man who was holding my hand. As he led me out of the casino and back to our limo, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

He had just willingly donated half a million dollars to fight the battle of homelessness in a state he didn’t even live in.

“What?” Derek asked.

“Half a million dollars,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Just ... like that. To the homeless. In a state you don’t reside in.”

“What else was I gonna do with it?” he asked.

“Recoup the money you spent gambling? Didn’t we blow through, like—”

“Two million dollars? Sure. But I don’t need it. I’m already rich. What’s another five hundred grand gonna do for me?”

The limo pulled away from the casino as Derek’s phone began to ring. I sat there, stunned as he pulled his phone from his coat. There were sides to Derek that were astounding, and this was one of them. He was nothing like some of the rich men I’d guarded before. He wasn’t nearly as pompous and long-winded and—

“What?” Derek asked.

His tone of voice ripped me back into reality as I poised, ready to fight.

“Who is that?” I asked.

He held up his hand to silence me as his face flushed with ... worry?

“Emma, Emma, Emma. Slow down. Call Doctor Farlow and tell him what’s going on. Let him know there’s a very large donation to his hospital in it for him if he gets his ass into that hospital. Sam and I are gonna get on the jet tonight and get back into town. Okay?”

Something had happened. Something very bad had just happened.

“Derek, what’s going on?” I asked as he hung up his phone.

I watched the red drain from his cheeks as his eyes grew glassy with fear.

“Derek, I’ll call Emma if I have to. What the hell just happened?” I asked.

“Driver, take us straight back to the hotel,” he said. “And wait for us. You’ll be taking us to the airport after this.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver said.

“Derek!”

He whipped his head over to me as I reached for his hand. It was the only thing I could think to do to get his attention, and it worked. He curled his fingers around me as the limo turned around, carrying us at high speeds back to our hotel rooms.

“It’s Jacob,” Derek said. “He’s been attacked.”

Chapter 17

Derek

I CALLED THE PILOT of my jet as we gathered our things and told him to be ready to fly out immediately. Sam and I booked it for the jet, not bothering with who saw us as we threw our stuff into the overhead compartments. I opened a bottle of wine and sat with the bottle between my fingers, trying to distract myself in any way possible. Jacob was unconscious and in the hospital, and I knew it was because of me.

Because of this fucking threat we couldn’t neutralize.

“The money never really matters unless you’re keeping score,” I said as I took a sip of wine. “In my world, that’s all money is.”



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