Hold 'Em: Vegas Top Guns, Book 3 (24 page)

“No questions asked?”

“That would damage the whole ‘discreet’ thing. Spill it, Strap.”

“I want to take her out. Do something she’d like. But…” He shrugged. “Hell if I know what that might be.”

Jon nodded sagely. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk when fucking.”

Mike tensed. No, he was beyond tense. “Forget it.”

He stood to go, but Jon grabbed his arm. Damn if the kid wasn’t a helluva lot stronger than he looked. “Relax, man. I said no questions, but this is Leah we’re talking about. I’m trying to keep it light so I don’t grill you.”

“Throwing out random barbs to see which ones stick?”

Jon smiled, showing off the dimples he hated to be reminded of. He sucked down Slurpee. “Something like that. Now, you feel like hearing me out or not? I have…” He checked the time on his iPhone. “Four minutes.”

“The safety briefing, yeah.”

“Oh, no. Ditching that. Turned in my report yesterday. My imaginary girlfriend and I have lunch plans.”

“What about this magnificent feast?”

“Let me rephrase. We have plans to enact over her lunch hour.” Before Mike could smack the kid’s nose into the back of his brain, Jon sobered. “Look, you probably already know enough about her to guess. She’s a chick, but she’s a throttle jockey like the rest of us. So what does she like? Things that go fast. Things that are dangerous and stupid. That used to mean drinking herself into a bar fight and the possibility of a public-nudity charge, but thank fuck, those days are gone.”

His words hit hard. The relief in Jon’s voice was impossible to miss. Whatever edginess Mike had been carrying since thinking up this stupid plan suddenly eased. Sure, Jon was a filthy-minded punk, but he really was one of Leah’s best friends. If Mike wanted anything to do with the woman, he’d need to do more than put up with that fact.

Jon sat up, snapped his fingers. “I got it.” He started gathering his stuff. Slim Jim and phone in the pocket of his flight jacket. Slurpee in hand. “Rock climbing.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. When she was just crawling onto the wagon, she mentioned it to me. I was a dick because Heather and I were in the middle of some tough shit.” Again, that hint of sincerity. Mike could hardly believe his ears. “Anyway, I never took her up on it. Would’ve been fun. But lunch dates are fun too.”

He turned to go, but Mike couldn’t risk a damn thing. “Tin Tin? Not even to Leah. Got it?”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” He offered a half-assed salute. “Good luck, Strap.”

He’d left his Cheetos. Mike only noticed when, scant minutes later, Eric and Dash slumped like rag dolls into chairs at the same table.

“Right on time,” Eric said.

Dash laughed. “Through no credit to you, ass face. I dragged you away from that hot brunette sergeant so Mikey here wouldn’t be lonely.”

Mike let their usual asshole banter become part of the food court’s white noise. He’d deal with those two bozos in a minute.

Rock climbing. Made sense. The only trick would be convincing Leah he’d thought of it himself. In the meantime, he had to believe Tin Tin was as good as his word.

“And you promise it doesn’t involve
any
mariachis?”

“None,” Mike said with a grin.

Full of bubbling anticipation, he gripped the wheel of his beat-up old Bronco. He was a pussy for being so pent-up eager, but this was important. Something he’d planned. Something he hoped she liked. It was a helluva lot riskier than waiting for her next command. With their sex life, the payoff was guaranteed.

The wind whipping through the cab played with her dark hair. She tucked loose strands behind her ears. “No musicians of any kind?”

“
Negativo
. That’s Spanish, by the way.”

“
Chinga te, pendejo.
”

“Anytime, Princess.”

“Deal.”

She laughed, then glanced back to where he’d put a tarp over the rock-climbing gear. He hadn’t gone so far as to pack a picnic. Planning an outing didn’t mean it had to be all Martha Stewart perfect. Protein bars and Gatorade—that was just practical. The ingredients for roasting s’mores—that was a seduction in the making.

“And you promise we’re not driving into the desert to dispose of the body you’ve stashed back there?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He smiled like an innocent. “But I like you too much. So no body disposal.”

“C’mon, pet. Fess up.”

“Nuh-uh. Put it away, ma’am. You know that doesn’t work out here in the real world.”

“Yet.”

Shooting her some serious side eye, he thought about protesting. Nothing came.

Yet.

Part promise, part utterly fucking terrifying threat. And not the kind that could get him off. The kind that kept him single.

However, he couldn’t deny the decision he’d made that morning. While dressing for the day, he’d looked down at his right wrist. The gleam of silver no longer suited him. Memories of Georgia seemed like a distant planet. Removing the cuff and sticking it in his medicine cabinet had been as liberating as it was nerve-racking.

A choice made. An expectation forged.

He returned his full attention to the road because it was a lot safer. The city was about forty-five minutes behind them, with only the barest highway traffic on that clear Saturday morning.

“Not even a hint?” She’d put away her bedroom voice in favor of the playfulness he wanted. “A teeny one?”

“Is this you being a girl? Like,
really
trying? If so, you need more time with Cass.”

“You dragged me out of your nice, warm, cozy bed and made me drink Drano coffee, and for what?” She threw up her hands. “The desert. Gee, something new!”

“You’re as impatient as you are competitive.”

“Known, quantifiable fact.”

“How about you just chill out and trust me?”

She inhaled and looked out the passenger-side window. “It’s not you,” she said quietly. He barely caught the words over the sound of cool wind.

“What was that?”

“It’s not you, okay?” Louder this time. Almost…angry? Although he didn’t think it was directed at him. “I could trust the hell out of you, but that doesn’t mean surprises are any easier. I just don’t like them.”

“
Could
trust me? Does that mean you don’t?”

“Never mind.” Her forced cheer was not what he’d wanted to hear. “I’m sure it’s gonna be great.”

Damn it.

If she’d unclench for half a second, she might have a good time. Maybe years of trying to prove herself had created some two-headed monster. She was either frayed at the edges, like Jon had hinted about her days of drinking and partying, or she was crushed down into some complete control freak. Did she really distrust herself so much?

Again, it didn’t scan. She was one of the coolest, most in-command chicks he’d ever met. She wasn’t supposed to hesitate, but he’d seen it at the car show. She wasn’t supposed to white-knuckle her way through surprise outings, but she was doing that right now.

“Rock climbing, Leah. Does that help?”

He glanced toward her, and sure enough—relief. She actually exhaled, as if a thousand unpleasant scenarios had been beaten back by two words. A stay of execution.

What was he supposed to do with that?

“Cool.” This time the enthusiasm was genuine. She practically bounced on her side of the bench seat, craning her neck out the forward window. “Ooh, it’s Red Rocks, isn’t it? Nice! We’re not that far then. Maybe ten minutes?”

Mike forced himself to calm down. She was who she was. That didn’t mean speaking her language was easy, mostly because she sure as hell wasn’t the kind of woman to open up and ramble on.

“Wait.”

He frowned. “What?”

“How did you know I like rock climbing?”

He couldn’t get into her head, but she was dug tight as a tick into his. “You’re athletic and a daredevil. Seemed perfect.”

The laser beam of her gaze was unmistakable. Mike kept his eyes on the road and tried to loosen his shoulders. Saturday morning. Fun drive. Nice day planned. Why was this feeling so stiff?

“And you just…guessed? Don’t lie to me, Mike.”

He blew out a breath. Indulging in a temper hadn’t been his style for years. “I asked Tin Tin.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Thanks for sharing our sex life with the world’s biggest pervert.”

“
You’re
the one always talking about how he’s such a good guy. It’s not like I pulled down my shorts and showed him my bruised ass. I wanted to
surprise
you, which is apparently a no-go. And I wanted it to be something you’d like. Other than planes, bikes and flogging me, I don’t have a clue what that is.” He took another deep breath and let it go. Anger was easier to ditch than disappointment. “So forgive me for needing to ask
your
friend. It wasn’t my favorite conversation.”

To his surprise, she chuckled. “How’d that go, exactly?”

“He was eating lunch in the food court.”

“Cheetos?”

“Yup.”

“And texting Heather?”

“If that’s the name of the phone-sex worker he calls his girlfriend.”

Her smile widened briefly. She slid to the center of the bench and fastened the lap belt. Mike put his arm around her when she nuzzled his shoulder. They were close to the park’s entrance, but he planned on holding her until the last possible moment.

“Jon will keep his mouth shut,” she said. “I’m not worried about that.”

“Back to this being about you?”

She only nodded.

“So…” He nodded too as more pieces of Leah came together. “Another surprise you weren’t ready for.”

This time it wasn’t a question. Impatience and a competitive streak the size of Nebraska had nothing on her need for control. In and out of the cockpit. In and out of the bedroom. He’d been a bigger stickler for control during their first affair—probably a huge part of the problem back then. In the years since, he’d learned to let go.

Just the opposite for the woman he held.

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

She lifted her head and kissed his neck. Peppering kisses. After edging those little apologies to his mouth and back down his throat, she snuggled along his side once again.

“I mean it,” she said against his upper arm. “I didn’t mean to fuck it up and get so jumpy.”

Mike shook his head softly. Did many people come close to understanding how complicated Leah Girardi really was? Why did realizing he was one of them make him feel proud rather than scared as hell?

“Apology accepted, okay? We’ll just enjoy the day.”

“Out of the city? Risking life and limb? I can do that.” God, her smile was back. Her dark eyes were brighter. Excitement sizzled from her body into his. “I promise.”

He kissed the top of her head, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. “But you had every right to be jumpy. There
is
a dead body in the back. I hope you’re good with a shovel.”

“Just tell me it’s a dearly departed mariachi singer, and I’ll do whatever the moment requires.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Leah was no rock-climbing superstar, but neither was Michael. As they unpacked the gear from the back of his ancient SUV, she quizzed him on his level of experience. They’d both had rappelling through the Air Force. He dabbled in his off time, which didn’t sit well with her. That need to win, yet again. Most of the equipment was his personal stuff.

Still, this was going to be a blast.

She hopped from one foot to the other as they ran through the checks and lined up ropes. Her fingers flew through knots and felt for frayed pieces.

Within minutes they were on the rock, with Michael on belay below her. Holding the end of Leah’s rope, he literally held her life in his hands. That she could relinquish her trust so easily…

Maybe they had a real shot after all.

Yeah. A damn good day.

The rough sandstone scrubbed her fingertips as she reached for handhold after handhold. Balancing on the outside edge of one foot, her thighs began to burn. The sun was bright and provided just enough warmth on her back to keep her blood going. A rare but welcome spring breeze reached out to wick the sweat from her skin.

She slid to the side before she found a way up, using her thumb to dig into a tiny dip of rock. Her breathing wanted to blow fierce. She pushed it all down, made herself still, even while adrenaline snapped in her veins.

She looked down.

Only twenty feet—a relatively short drop in the scheme of Red Rocks. This was only an overnight trip, and they wanted to hit as many different opportunities as possible. At the same time, saying she was
only
twenty feet above hard-packed canyon sand was like saying she’d only jumped off a roof. The drop could kill her. She owned the fucking world in the balance of one foot and three fingers.

Perfect
day.

She dipped her free hand into the chalk bag at the small of her back then shook off the excess.