The Resistance(7)

“You need to walk away while you still can,” Dalton says, unflinching.

Holy shit. Dalton’s protecting me. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that before. I’m instantly drawn closer to him, grabbing hold of the back of his shirt with one hand, his arm with the other. Feeling brave, I say, “I don’t owe you a thing.”

“What a little bitch. You’re a tease just like the rest of th—”

“You have your answer,” Dalton says, his words a snarl that vibrates his chest.

The confrontation I was trying to avoid is now in full swing. After a heated moment of hard glares between the two of them, the drunk looks away. “Whatever, Asshole,” he spews. In his haste to take a shot at Dalton, he stumbles, spilling the remainder of his drink on him. “You can have her. She’s a fu—”

Dalton doesn’t back down though his shirt is wet. Standing strong and tall, his eyes locked on the other guy. “You should walk away while you still can,” Dalton says, keeping his voice low between us. “Because if you finish that sentence, you’ll be leaving on a stretcher. Your choice.”

Two large security guys walk up behind him, but they wait. After a few more profanities, the guy meanders off without another word, out the door and disappears into the crowded casino.

A camera flashes in the corner of my eye and I lower my head toward Dalton, hoping the camera wasn’t aimed at us. I’d hate to end up in an online story saying I got into a bar fight.

“C’mon, we’re leaving,” he whispers, taking possession of my hand. Moving fast, he tosses a large bill on the bar and tells the security guys, “Thank you for your assistance.”

Our fingers lace naturally, his grip tight, confident, but intimate. Looking down at me, he asks, “Now that you know my name and the fact that I might be related to criminals, how about that more we spoke about earlier?”

I grab my purse, anxious to see exactly where ‘more’ leads me. “Okay,” I reply, not putting up much of a fight… or any fight at all. Maybe it’s because I just gave him the answer he wants or maybe it’s because he feels he might get to second base, but his arrogant smile is becoming less cocky and more endearing the more time I spend with him.

On the way out, whispering is heard throughout the bar. “Is that who I think it is?” The chatter makes me paranoid. I’m not used to the attention and it’s unsettling. Tracy says I need to get used to being in the limelight the more PR I do, but I’m not there yet.

Dalton notices when I tense, and asks, “Everything alright?”

I shake it off. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

He leads me out and around the walkway to the right instead of through the casino. While riding the escalator, I feel the need to say something. “I’m sorry about that jerk.”

“Not your fault. No need for sorries.” He gives my hand a little squeeze.

At the top, we take a right toward a security guard behind a podium. Dalton doesn’t flash his room key like I’ve had to do every time I come back to my room. I guess since they both work for the hotel, they know each other. The guard smiles at him and tells him to have a nice night. Dalton returns the gesture, but keeps walking until we stop in front of an elevator. He pushes the button and the doors open immediately.

When we step inside, I ask, “Are you taking me to a hotel room?”

“Yes,” he replies, still holding my hand. “I want to spend time with you privately.” With his other, he inserts the key card into the slot, then waits to push the button. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah.” Maybe I should’ve said no, but when he pushes the button for the top floor, I let it ride just like in roulette “I don’t do one-night stands,” I announce with my chin in the air. Anymore, I add silently.

His eyes meet mine and there’s a vividness to them, a sly happiness shining in the green. Ahhh, green. “Who said anything about just one night?”





“The ones who anger you the most may turn out to be your most trusted ally.” ~Johnny Outlaw





If the doors hadn’t opened right then, distracting Dalton’s eyes away from mine, he would have seen my jaw hit the elevator floor. He walks, but gets jerked back when my feet stay firmly planted inside the vestibule. When he looks at me, he laughs. “I was kidding.” He raises his eyebrows, his eyes reflecting his mischievous side. “Unless you don’t want me to be.”

My breath deepens as a debate sparks inside. I shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too damn enticing not to.