Page 89 of Nest of Thieves
It’s not unusual for omegas to walk around on their own, but in a place like this, a place crawling with drunk patrons and bruised egos, it could be dangerous. The knife on my thigh is a steady reminder that I can handle anyone who tries to fuck with me, or at least deal with them long enough for Vette to snap out of the acting and swoop in to kick some ass.
There’s a short wait at the bar. I lean against it, taking in the casino floor. It’s busy. Almost every table is full, and on the other side of the room, people are crowded around the slot machines. A tall man with long black hair catches my eye, and I tip my head, waiting for him to turn around. I frown when he does. It’s not Lark. I search the floor again, but there are too many people. Finding the men will be next to impossible. Giving up my search, I start to face the bartender but pause when I see a familiar face. Steel-colored eyes hold me frozen in place.
Laurence stares at me. My heart beats, racing faster than a Kentucky Derby horse. He’s here. Fuck. What happened to two months? It hasn’t even been a week. Has he changed his mind? Has he decided to kill me for losing the ring?
“What can I get you?” the harried bartender asks.
I don’t answer. Laurence’s eyes narrow slightly. My mind races. Why isn’t he storming over? I lift my hand to wave. He scowls, fierce lines of anger burrowing into his skin. Laurence’s black hair is peppered with gray and slicked back. He’s wearing a nice suit, all business as he threatens me from across the room without so much as a word. Then again, Laurence doesn’t need to repeat himself. His ultimatum hangs in the air like moisture before a heavy storm.
Two months.
“Ma’am? What can I get you?” the bartender asks again, irritation seeping into her tone.
A group of people pass in front of Laurence. When they’re gone, so is he. I suck in air, realizing I’d been holding my breath during our stare down. My hands shake as I turn toward the woman who pats the bar top to catch my attention. Her eyebrow inches up her forehead, waiting for my order.
“Sorry. Can I have a virgin Cape Cod? I’m pregnant, but it’s a secret.” I dig my nails into the wood of the bar and glance over my shoulder. Laurence is gone. I face forward and clench my jaw. What the fuck was he doing here?
Did he see me with Vette?
My disguise isn’t enough to hide me from my boss. He’s seen a hundred versions of myself. He knows me in every form. Like I said, there’s no hiding from him now that he knows which city I relocated to.
Her eyes search my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Fine, sorry. Just got a little dizzy is all.”
“Only one drink?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She moves to prep my mocktail, and I discreetly check behind me. There are a few cameras overhead. The woman next to me is trying hard to get the man next to her back to her hotel room. A group of women screech somewhere in the distance. Someone won. I continue cataloging everything in the room until the trembling in my hands subsides.
“Tab?” My virgin Cape Cod appears on the bar top.
I nod. “Under Smith.”
“Thanks. What can I get you?” she asks the next customer while tapping on the portable POS she’s holding.
Grabbing my drink, I pick my way through the crowd and sit next to Vette. His eyes slide to me, squinting. I glance away and take a sip, too worried he’ll witness the panic on my face. Running his palm over my leg, he squeezes it twice.
Everything okay?
I place my hand over his and take another sip. Everything is not okay, but there’s still a job to be done. I suspect Laurence showing his face was meant to scare and remind me of the real job. I’m not here to play house. I’m here to get to the ruby. The back of my neck tingles with awareness. Someone is watching me. I resist the urge to turn around and find whoever it is. My fear won’t get the better of me.
“Goddammit!” Vette smacks his hand on the table.
The game is over and he lost again. I push Laurence to the back of my mind. It’s almost time.
“Easy,” the dealer scolds.
“Sorry,” Vette grumbles, holding up his finger to indicate he wants in on another round.
I purse my lips. “Do you even know how to play this game?”
The alpha glares at me. “Of course, I do.”
“Is that so? I keep trying to figure out why you’re losing.”
A man at the table snickers. “He’s not very good.”
