Sucker Bet (Vegas Vampires #4)(62)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"I think we can slow down," she suggested.

Drake reacted with a battle cry of "To the bar!"

Or they could go to the bar. Sure, that was fine, too.

They skidded to a halt, and Gwenna took the opportunity to slide off Drake. She took a deep breath and shoved her hair out of her eyes. And saw Nate standing in front of her.

"Hi!" she said, feeling more than a little ridiculous.

She introduced Nate and Drake to each other, grateful when Drake handed her a martini glass and excused himself.

"So, how are things?" She set the martini down on the bar, knowing it for best for everyone if she didn’t drink that.

Nate just looked at her in that unnerving way he had. She shifted uneasily, glancing around the room. "I found out what the slayers are wearing—"

"Gwenna," he interrupted her brusquely.

"Yes?" Here came the lecture, about improper behavior and the seriousness of what they were doing, etc., etc. She should probably deliver it first and spare him the breath.

"You know how I said I wasn’t sure if I could trust my feelings? That I wasn’t sure if I’m in love with you?"

Of course she remembered that. It had been a really lousy moment for her, so thanks for bringing it up again. "Oh, yes, I remember."

"Well, I was wrong. I am completely and totally in love with you." He moved closer to her and took hold of her waist. "When I saw you bouncing on some other guy’s back, I suddenly realized that I love everything about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever." He touched her cheek. "I want you to move in with me."

Honestly, she had not seen that one coming. Perhaps she should ride on men’s backs more often if it brought about the very thing she wanted. She grinned at Nate, heart swelling. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Kissing him lightly on the lips, she said, "Then I would love to move in with you. And I love you, too."

More than she could believe possible. But then again, she was ready to fully and forever, and this time she was absolutely certain she had chosen a man worthy of that kind of devotion.

"Aren’t you going to lecture me for my inappropriate behavior?" she asked, pulling back slightly and smiling at him.

"Hell no. I have no intention of telling you how to act. You’re a grown woman."

Good answer.

His eyebrows went up and down. "Besides, I think I needed a little jolt of jealousy to make things clear. You’re an amazing woman and I want to be with you, live with you, love you. Now let’s rope up these slayers and get the hell out of here so I can get you naked and do wicked things to your body."

Even better answer. "I like the way you think. So here’s the deal. David Foster said the slayers are wearing T-shirts that say, ‘Get Impaled, You Know You Want It.’ "

Nate tilted his head a little. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because I see four guys and a girl standing right in the freaking doorway wearing shirts with that catchy little phrasing on them."

Gwenna stopped herself from turning around by sheer willpower. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. So let’s go take them out."

"How?"

"They’re mortal, we’re immortal. Shouldn’t be too hard." Nate squeezed her hand. "This is your take-down, babe. You’re first man in, and I’ll take your back. Get them in the hall and the rest should be easy."

Easy. Sure. He was trained in combat and she was trained in embroidery. She looked up at him, about to protest.

But he gripped her shoulders and said, "You can do this. I know you can. You are badass, Gwenna. And you’ll be saving hundreds of lives in the process."

Well, hell. If he could trust her abilities, then surely she could, too. She nodded. "Let’s do it."

And she turned and moved toward the door, confident that Nate was right behind her.

"I have nothing to say." Sasha pushed away the drink Ringo had ordered for her.

"You’re going to sit with me until you explain why you tried to kill me. I have all the time in the world." More than he really wanted to think about, given that every day—well, night actually—was a struggle for him.

Kelsey was sucking down a cosmopolitan to his right, looking ditzy and disinterested, gaze fluttering around the dance floor. But Ringo knew better. Kelsey was watching everything they did, and if he needed assistance, she would be there. She was good at convincing people to dismiss her as a dumb brunette and that al-ways worked to their advantage. It caught people off guard when she made a move.

Sasha just stared at him.

And Kelsey, without even turning toward them, said, "It’s because of Kyle."

Ringo started at the mention of his brother’s name. He should be used to it. Kelsey dropped Kyle’s name randomly, sometimes even calling him Kyle as a nickname, which he both despised and liked. But the stab of pain he always felt whenever his brother was mentioned was insignificant next to the realization that Sasha had reacted to Kyle’s name.

Tears popped into her eyes and her lip trembled. "Do not bring Kyle up. Ever."

"You knew my brother?" he asked, horrified.

For a second he didn’t think she would answer, but she smoothed her hair, which was pulled back tightly, and pressed at her temples. Then she lifted her eyes. "We were engaged. I met him online. We were in love. We were going to get married, and you killed him."

Ringo felt rancid bile rise into his mouth. "That’s true," he said. "I did kill him. Accidentally."

It had happened so fast, it had been reactionary on his part. He was a trained killer, first in the Marines, then as an assassin, and he couldn’t hesitate, never hesitate, or he would wind up dead. So when he’d been living in California and Kyle was visiting, he had never paused, defending himself with his semiautomatic when a competitor had opened fire on his house in a drive-by. The smart thing to do probably would have been to lie low and let it go, but Ringo didn’t want to give the impression that he could be intimidated. Threatened. So he had shot back, to make a point.

Kyle was just a nice kid, a college student, raised in a suburban neighborhood with none of the demons that his older half-brother had been exposed to. He had panicked. Stood up.

And when the noise settled and Ringo picked up his brother’s dead body, it was obvious that the fatal bullets had created entry wounds on Kyle’s back, not front. Shot in the back by his own brother. Dead.

"I do not care what happened. All that matters is that Kyle is dead and you killed him. And he was a better man than you could ever be." Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. "I do not understand how a man with so much love and potential had to die, when you—despicable, lazy, a disgusting drug addict with no thought for anyone but yourself—you get to live forever."