Page 4 of Bad Moon Rising
The woman waved for her to follow past the guards through the door at the top and again at the bottom of the stairs. The moment the second set of double doors closed behind them, the noise from the club upstairs faded to a distant throb of the bass.
Ms. Platinum whispered, “Who’re you here with?”
Nova scanned the dim, sparsely populated room and roamed over the four felt-top gambling tables until she foundhim.
Target acquired.
Whoa.The mini phone picture didn’t do him justice. He might be attractive, like…tongue-lolling-on-the-floor hot with his huge shoulders, thick chest, and his deep scowl, but above that, the man oozed power and unpredictability. His dominating presence was wrapped up in a heavy black leather jacket, tailored to fit his big frame. The concept he might attack her outright both intimidated and excited her.
What did that say about her? Was she an adrenaline junkie or some sort of masochist?
She waited for her memory to return like the reveal at the end of a magic act.
Nothing. Not one single iota of a memory popped into her mind.
Damn it.
Maybe he needed to speak for her brain to jumpstart? Perhaps he truly had the antidote.
“Him?” the lady asked, bringing her out of her daze. “He’s broody. I’ve never seen him accept a woman, but it looks as if one is making a play for him tonight.” She nodded at a stunning redhead hovering behind him.
“We’ll see who wins then, won’t we?” She followed her temporary companion into the gaming area, past the muscled ogres securing the entrance to the room. The guards nodded to the lady and barely glanced at her.
Her target kept his full concentration on the five poker players surrounding him. A scattering of onlookers watched, including several conspicuous bodyguards and elegant women. An eerie quiet surrounded the table.
She gave the model-perfect redhead hovering behind her guy a smile with a tinge of threat. The woman backed up a step with her hand against her throat and rushed away.
Guess she excelled at throwing a scary face.
She had maybe seven minutes, probably less, to inspire this stranger to leave with her.
His concentration didn’t deviate from the game. The stakes were raised, and all the players put an obscene amount of cash, not chips, into the pot.
Her heart pounded.End this game. Look at me!
Maybe she was here to save him from whatever would kill the cheap-cologne guy upstairs, if the vision was of the future and that future was tonight. If a shooting was about to happen upstairs, she preferred to be far away from here when it kicked off.
All of this strategizing meant she believed the awful images.
Her stomach clenched when her cell phone vibrated against her breast, most likely anothertick tockreminder. Got it.
His gaze slid sideways and scanned around the table, as he glared through unruly, dark hair that fell over his face. The instant his crystal blue eyes met hers, they sucked all thought right out of her head as if draining a tank dry.
Awareness raced down her spine and through her limbs, tingling all the way to her toes. Details of him sharpened into fine focus. She saw the faint wrinkle lines next to his eyes and the dampening of sweat on his upper lip.
His posture stiffened for an instant before he returned focus to his cards and competition. Did that mean he recognized her? Her pulse hammered inside her ears.
Get him out of here.
But how?
A player called for a show of cards. Every person around the table flipped to show their hands, ending with the man seated across from her target, who revealed a winning royal flush.
The winner claimed his pot with a fair amount of drama and accolades. Gathering up her nerves, she moved to stand next to her target, draped her arm across his wide muscular shoulders, and leaned in to whisper close to his ear with the small silver hoop. She spoke low enough that those closest couldn’t overhear. “We must leave. Now.”
Simple. Direct.
It didn’t have a hint of sexual suggestion, but it also didn’t give any clue of intent. He might not like that.
