One More Night(37)
Mindy winced, as if this were painful. “I wish I could, but we are really trying hard to root out the pickpocketing that this entire Strip has been facing,” she said, and that’s when the bell went off.
Ding, ding, motherfucking ding. Her brain raced back to what she’d witnessed at one-fifteen. To the chip she planned to offer Mindy.
“You have security cameras here, right? Eye in the sky?”
She shrugged, not answering.
“What if I could tell you that it’s highly likely the pickpocket was at the pai gow tables at one-fifteen today and seemed to make off with a handful of chips? He was wearing a hoodie and has a rather large nose that I believe is a prosthetic.”
Mindy’s eyes lit up as if she’d just been handed the keys to the kingdom. “Really?”
“Check it out. See if you see what I saw. And if you do, and I can ID him like I think I can, what would you say to not reporting Clay?”
Mindy chewed away at her lower lip, considering the offer. “Can you wait here for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”
She exited, leaving them behind in the open office. Clay turned to her, the first time they were alone since security had rounded them up. Worry was etched in his features. He held tighter to her hand. His touch was comforting, and she sensed he needed reassurance as much as she did. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I am now.”
“Do you want to go back to New York once we’re done? If they let us go,” he added, narrowing his eyes, huffing through his nostrils.
She squeezed his hand, trying to comfort him, calm him. “They’ll let us go.”
“Why are you trying to make me feel better?” he said, with a sigh. “You’re the one who was hurt. And all you’ve done is try to avoid me taking the fall.”
“I was. But I’m okay now, and I don’t want this to get worse. I care too much about you, and your reputation. I thought that morality clause mattered to me. I thought that expanded contract mattered. But you know what?” She reached a hand to him, cupping his cheek. “I don’t give a shit what people think about me. I’m a bartender. If I have a rap sheet a mile long, it makes me cooler. But you’re a lawyer and you need to be as unimpeachable as you have always been, so I want to make sure you’re safe.”
He looked at her, such softness in his eyes. “It’s my job to keep you safe.”
“And you did. You found me.”
“I want to get you out of here, Julia. I was only trying to protect you,” he said, and his eyes looked terribly sad, as if he felt like it was his fault that he was somehow being deemed culpable.
“You did protect me,” she said insistently, grasping his hand tighter for emphasis. “And I’m glad you punched that asshole.”
Mindy’s footsteps sounded outside the door.
“Hey. Who do you think it is that’s pickpocketing?” he whispered.
“Get ready for this,” she said with a wicked smile. The first that afternoon. “Tad Herman.”
His brown eyes sparkled, and he smiled too. “No fucking way.”
“I think it’s him, Clay. I really do. He wears a fake nose when he lifts the chips. But it sure looked like him, blond hair, skinny build and all.”
“That would explain why he’s so hard-core about his morals clause. It’s his alibi to cover up his own very bad habits.”
She shrugged playfully. “Everyone has a racket in this town,” she said as Mindy returned to the office.
Standing in front of them, Mindy held out her hand to shake. “Thank you, Ms. Bell. I believe we’ll be able to use that security video from one-fifteen after all. I so value the tip, and I don’t recall any additional punches being thrown at all. Everything was done for your protection,” Mindy said, and Julia smiled briefly. This was Vegas through and through. A handshake, a deal, a tit for tat. Everyone was on the take in some way—some more above the board than others. But everyone had a price, and she was just damn grateful she’d had the trump card in this round. “If you could just stay and give your statement to the police about what happened with Dominic, I’d be most grateful. And I’ll be sure to let them know about our very Good Samaritan.”
* * *
She pressed her forehead to his in the elevator. They were alone, shooting up to the twenty-first floor. “You saved me,” she whispered, so much gratitude in her voice. So much need for him.
“You saved me,” he said, as he threaded his fingers tenderly through her hair, holding her close.
“We rescued each other,” she said.
“Yes. We did. Let’s always do that.” His deep voice was gentle, the one he saved just for her. He brushed his lips against her softly. A rescue kiss. An only you kiss. A kiss that said so much about the two of them, how they fit.