GAMBLING WITH GABRIELLA (A MENAGE MFM ROMANCE NOVELLA)

A PLAYING FOR LOVE NOVELLA

TARA CRESCENT

CONTENTS

Copyright

Dedication

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Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

A Note from Tara

About Tara Crescent

Also by Tara Crescent

Text copyright © 2015 Tara Crescent

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

My editor Jim takes the comma-filled words that emerge from my keyboard and shapes it into a story worth reading. As always, my undying gratitude.

Cover Design by Eris Adderly, http://erisadderly.com/

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Never on a Sunday

Stephanie Rice has her sex life all figured out. She fucks six different men on six days of the week. Monday is the Chef. Tuesday, the Technician. Wednesday is the Playboy. Thursday, Mr. Buttman has his way with her. Friday, she has an appointment with the Doctor, and on Saturday, the Dominant works her over.

On Sunday, she normally does laundry. However, on this particular Sunday, her worlds collide. All six men find out about each other, and they are determined to give Stephanie an evening she will never forget.

PROLOGUE

Gabriella:

New York is filled with glamorous spots, but this bare room somewhere in Chinatown, illuminated by cheap fluorescent lighting and furnished with scratched particleboard tables and metal folding chairs, isn’t one of them.

I’ve just lost almost one hundred thousand dollars in a poker game that I’m convinced was rigged.

Belatedly, my skin is covered with goosebumps, and I can’t seem to stop shivering. The adrenaline has finally caught up with me. Outside, the night is warm and the air thick and humid. A storm is coming. I can sense it in the breeze that blows through the open windows. I can feel it in my bones.

Or maybe it’s just the money I’ve lost that’s making me fanciful.

Ninety eight thousand, five hundred dollars, lost in one night of poker. One bad hand after the other, and a sense of hubris that made me repeatedly ignore my more sensible self. I should have bailed and I didn’t. I wanted to figure out who was cheating and how, and I thought I could take advantage of the situation.

I have no idea what to do.

The guy that runs this underground poker room knows me well. I’ve been playing at his tables for five years now, ever since I moved to New York. His name is Sammy. He’s a big guy. Once upon a time, he would have been considered handsome, but now, all you can see is a guy gone to seed. Muscles have deteriorated to fat, and his shirt buttons strain over the expanse of his belly. His bald head shines with sweat that all the fans in the room haven’t been able to wick away.

“Gabriella,” he wheezes. “Rough night.”

“You said you’d give me credit, Sammy,” I say, a prickle of fear at the back of my neck. My head spins and the room shimmers in and out of focus. My mouth is dry. What have I done this time? I know I can be reckless, but until this moment, I would have argued till I was blue in the face that my risks were calculated.

“Of course, of course,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You are one of my good customers, Gabriella. One of my best customers, in fact. For you, an extension is no problem.”

Sammy has two enforcers. They stand now on either side of him. One of them looks like a low rent version of Elvis, with sideburns and slicked-back black hair. The other is bald, like Sammy. Standing the way he is, with his arms folded in front of his broad chest, he reminds me of Mr. Clean.

I don’t know their names, but their work is legendary. Busted kneecaps are their stock in trade. It’s amazing how motivated you can get about paying Sammy when your ability to walk is at stake.

Fake Elvis licks his lips as he leers at me, and I repress my shudder. I can’t show fear here, not even for an instant. In the shark-infested waters that I swim in, any weakness is like blood.

“I can pay you back, Sammy. I just need a couple of months.”

He laughs and it’s a chilling sound. “Gabriella,” he chides me, “I’m a businessman, dollface. Even if you sweeten the pot,” his gaze rakes my body, lingering on my breasts, “I can’t wait that long. But I like you, and you have been playing with me for a long time. Two weeks.”

On a different day, I would have snickered inwardly at his term of endearment. Dollface. Sammy can’t be much older than fifty, yet he talks like he grew up in the forties.

But I hear the time I’ve been granted and a cold grip of fear clamps around my heart. Two weeks.

Fourteen days. One hundred thousand dollars.

I’m absolutely fucked.

1

Gabriella:

It’s the same dream every single night - the dream that prevents me from getting any sleep.

The images haunt me. Their fingers trailing over every inch of my skin… Tangling in my hair, pulling at it till I groan in pleasure-pain… Spanking my ass until my skin is crimson, tweaking at my nipples till I gasp and beg for more…

“Carter,” I whimper in my sleep. “Dominic. Please.”

One night stands are not supposed to have this effect.

“Did I give you permission to speak, Ella?” Dominic asks me. Gorgeous, beautiful Dominic, with his wavy shoulder-length brown hair that has me yearning to thread my fingers through it and pull his mouth closer to mine. His grey eyes gleam with warmth and twinkle with barely concealed amusement at my desperation, but his rock-hard cock betrays his own feverish arousal.

“He’s waiting for an answer,” growls the other man. Carter.

Even in my dreams, I notice the incongruity of that growl, and I have to bite my cheeks to conceal my smile. Carter has red hair and green eyes and a friendly smile. Growling is an odd sound coming from him. “No, you did not give me permission to speak,” I whisper, then I toss my head in defiance. “I don’t always do what I’m told.”

Another growl, another laugh. A palm connects sharply with my butt. My legs are held open. A condom is rolled on, and a cock impales me.

Sharp, jagged lust is everywhere.

I moan and raise my hips to meet that thrusting dick. “Yes, yes, yes,” I moan, until another penis nudges my lips. “Open your mouth, princess,” Dominic says.

Fuck yes. That thick, long cock, with its perfect mushroom head dances near my face and I reach out to grab it and guide it into my mouth. “No hands, Ella,” Dominic breathes, his eyes closed, clenched need writ large on his face.

Gone now are the domination games we were playing earlier. Now, we just float in a sea of desire, hands and cocks everywhere. The pressure builds and I know the first of many orgasms is imminent. I’m holding on, pushing it back, knowing that it’ll be better if I can just wait… just a few more seconds…

The blaring of my clock-radio sounds in my ear, penetrating my sexual fog, and wakes me up. As I sit up on the futon that masquerades as my bed, my skin drenched with sweat, my body trembling from the effort of staying poised at the cliff edge of climax, I think to myself, Gabby, you have got to start dreaming of something else.

Then I reconsider. The other dream I could be having is one that’s too soon going to come to pass. I’m trying not to think of Fake Elvis and Mr. Clean with iron pipes, aiming at my kneecaps.

MONDAY EVENINGS AFTER WORK, I hang out with my girlfriends. It’s our standing weekly date, and very few things are allowed to interfere. Since it’s the start of the week, we don’t get too rowdy. We just drink a little and giggle a lot. Sometimes, we commiserate about the shitty men we’ve been dating, and rarely, we brag about the good ones. Not too often. Single women outnumber single men in New York City by a wide margin, and all the guys know this and take full advantage.

I walk up 11th Ave and across W 49th street to get to Piper’s restaurant after work. It’s eight at night, and I’ve been at work since seven in the morning. All fairly typical of a PR firm in New York. The expectation is that you work hard and you play hard, and because I moved to the city with a burning desire to prove myself, I’ll put in the time without complaint.

An Arsenal fight chant sounds from my phone and I answer without needing to look at the screen. My father programmed the ringtone into my phone himself when I was home last, chortling the entire time at the look of exasperation my mother was giving him. “Ola, papa.”

“Gabriella,” my father’s voice is thick with affection. “How’s my favorite daughter?”

I laugh. “I’m your only daughter,” I point out. Then I glance at the phone in puzzlement. “Wait, isn’t it two in the morning in London? Why are you calling so late? Is everything okay?”

“We were out at a party, honey,” my mother’s crisp voice fills the receiver. “And I thought I’d call you to make sure you are also doing something fun.” Her voice is a mixture of disapproval and concern, wrapped up in motherly love. “You work too hard.”

“Si,” my dad agrees. “When I was your age…”

I doubt my dad was doing anything too wild. He’s a retired soccer player, and when he was my age, he’d just been recruited from Rio de Janeiro to play for Arsenal in the Premier League. The club owners and coaches would have made sure the talent was in peak shape. Partying was for the off-season.

Ever since my twenty-seventh birthday, my parents have been hinting that it’s time I found someone. Their calls have been increasing in frequency. Any day now, they are going to offer to start setting me up. Given that the only young guys my father knows are soccer players, I’m going to pass. I’m not looking in that cesspool for fidelity and true love.

“I’m on my way to a party now,” I tell them. It’s only a half-lie. They don’t have to know that there will be no men at this gathering. “What’s going on with you two? Tell me what’s happening in London. Who was at the party?”

My attempt at diversion is successful. My mother launches into a story about her friend Paula, and we gossip as I walk. I say my goodbyes once I near Piper’s restaurant, promising my parents I’ll visit them soon.

I SHOULD BE TRYING to figure out how to lay my hands on a hundred grand, but I have no good ideas. No one in the shadowy world of underground poker in New York will extend me any credit so I can buy my way back into a game. At work, I won’t get a bonus until November. My checking account has just enough money to pay the rent.

Again and again, I replay Saturday night in my head, trying to remember each hand. Normally, when I lose, I look for patterns so I can improve my game. But this time around, the images remain fuzzy and my recollections are tinted with panic. Though I try to sift through the evidence to spot the instant I knew that something was going wrong, nothing becomes clear. The only thing I know for sure is that I was taken for more money than I’ve ever lost in my life.

My palms dampen with sweat as I imagine how agonizing the pain will be when Sammy’s thugs break my bones.

Mom and Dad will loan you the money, a sensible voice pipes up in my head. This is a smart voice. I should listen to this voice, unless I’m attached to the idea of spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair.

But it’s precisely because I don’t want to rely on my parents that I’ve crossed the Atlantic. In London, in the circles I’ve grown up in, I’ll always be the daughter of ace striker Manuel Alves. Had I stayed in England, I could have never been certain that my achievements were my own, and not engineered for me by someone who wanted to get close to my father.

There has to be another way, I argue with the sensible voice. I lost the money Saturday night. It’s Monday today. I still have twelve more days to figure this out. Maybe I’ll win the lottery.

Maybe pigs will fly, Gabriella.

“I KNOW, I know, I’m late,” I say as I enter. “Sorry.”

Piper greets me at the door. “That’s okay,” she says cheerfully. “Wendy just texted us. She’s going to be another ten minutes. Gabby, want a drink? Rum and coke tonight, or is it tea?”

Those are admittedly a strange set of drink choices. My mother’s English and my father’s Brazilian, and as the product of two diametrically different cultures, my drink tastes are, well, a bit messed up. Sometimes, a very British yearning for tea will overwhelm me. Other times, the Brazilian side will rise up and I’ll crave a caipirinha, or a rum and coke.

Today’s the kind of day when tea’s not going to cut it. “Rum and coke, please,” I tell Piper and follow her to the bar. “And make it a double.”

“Rough day?” she asks me sympathetically. “Too much work?”

“Actually, I just finished a major project,” I tell her. “I’m at a loose end for the next two weeks. Nathan suggested that I take time off.”

“Are you going to?”

Wild thoughts of leaving New York have been running through my head for the last two days. But that’s a stupid idea. Nothing good ever comes of fleeing. “Maybe,” I reply. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought.”

I take the drink she offers me and carry it over to the table in the back where my other friends, Katie and Bailey wait. If only Miki were here, not in Houston, that’d be the entire gang.

Bailey’s blushing about something. “What’d I miss?” I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer. I’ve given up on love and have no use for relationships, but I’m still a little envious of Bailey. In a city with an acute shortage of decent guys, she’s managed to find not one, but two of them. And the only reason she even hooked up with them for the first time was because of my own threesome with Carter and Dominic, the one that has taken center stage in every single one of my dreams.

I try not to remember being sandwiched between Carter and Dominic’s hard bodies. Of being caressed and held, and made to feel cherished and wanted. Until I’d panicked and run away.

I think they call this irony.

“Sebastian and Daniel are taking me to Hawaii on vacation,” she says. “I made the mistake of telling them I’ve never been there.”

She’s a lucky girl, and not just because they shower her with gifts. Bailey was dating a complete asswipe of a guy before she met Daniel and Sebastian, a guy who had ruined her self-image and made her think she was worthless. Sebastian and Daniel treat her the way she deserves to be treated. Like a goddess.

Wendy walks up to the table. She’s helped herself to a beer from Piper’s refrigerator, taking full advantage of the fact that the restaurant’s closed and we are the only ones here. “You know, I couldn’t help overhearing,” she says to Bailey, “and I want to register my protest.” Her tone is teasing. “The entire thing is not fair. It’s hard enough to find one good guy in New York, and you and Gabriella are taking more than your fair share.” She makes a face. “What about Piper and me?”

Everyone chuckles, but my response is instantaneous. “Leave me out of it,” I say flatly, “My threesome was a one-time experience, and I’m not interested in repeating it.”

“Still?” Katie frowns at me. “Gabby, I think you should reconsider this and try to find them. They might be good guys, you know.”

Unlike Piper and Bailey and Katie, who are all calm and reasonable and lovely, my temper is never too far from the surface. “Really?” My voice rises. “You think they are good guys? Let’s just run through the last two men I dated, shall we? There was Stan, who dined me and wooed me, until the moment he had sex with me, when he decided to reconcile with his wife. A wife he’d conveniently forgotten to mention in the two months we were dating.”

I take a long gulp of my drink, and the rum warms my throat. “Then there was Vinny.” A collective groan greets that. In an ocean of shitty guys, Vinny had still managed to rise to the top. Not only had I found him fucking some bimbo on my bed, on my birthday, but he’d also ended up stealing money from me.

“You really do have terrible luck with men,” Wendy says.

“No,” I correct her. “It’s me. I’m cursed. Normal guys turn to jerks when they start dating me.”

Every single one of them open their mouths to contradict me, but my glare stops them cold. “Not dating is easier.”

I’ve told none of them that I can’t stop thinking about Carter and Dominic. I don’t know why I’ve kept it secret. I sometimes find it difficult to talk about personal stuff. Maybe that’s my British, reserved, stiff-upper-lip side coming through.

I’ve also told none of them about my secret nights in underground poker halls, and I’m absolutely not going to mention the debt that’s hovering like a Sword of Damocles over my head. If they knew, Bailey would insist on emptying out her savings for me. As will Piper and Wendy and Katie.

I keep silent for the same reason I kept silent when I talked to my mom and my dad. This is my problem. I got into this crazy situation without any help. Now, I need to figure out how to get out on my own.

2

Carter:

It’s been seven hours since my nephew, Noah, was kidnapped by his biological father.

I’ve spent most of those last seven hours here, in my office, on the penthouse floor of the Grand River Casino, where I work as the head of security, pacing the plush grey carpet till I’m convinced my shoes are going to wear the pile out. Monitors on the wall flicker with images of the casino floors and elevators, but I’m not watching.

I fight the urge to smash my fist into one of them. To scream and yell, to do anything to dampen my fear for my nephew. Sweet Noah, who is obsessed with Legos, who has just started to learn to swim. I promised him I’d teach him to ride a bike this weekend, I remember absently. The shiny cobalt blue bike still sits in the corner of my suite. Blue is Noah’s favorite color. He’s only five.

Dominic Crawford, my best friend and owner of the Grand River is hunched next to me, his ear pressed to his phone, his eyes unseeing as he looks out of the window onto the bright lights of Atlantic City. “When was he released?” I hear him ask whoever he’s talking to. “Why wasn’t I notified?”

Ed Wagner, Noah’s biological father, was released from prison yesterday. We should have been informed. I had protocols in place when Ed got out, plans to protect Noah from his father. The father that hasn’t set eyes on his son since Chloe’s death. The father who was never any kind of parent at all, but is still listed on the birth certificate because my sister, Chloe, was stupid and sentimental that way.

Chloe’s gone now. Noah’s the only member of my family left alive.

Somewhere, a link has failed. I fight the sneaking suspicion that I’m to blame for this. Ed Wagner had parental rights that I should have terminated, but I hadn’t acted, secure in the knowledge that Wagner was too busy surviving his jail sentence to pay attention to his son. I had warned the daycare never to release Noah to anyone other than Dominic or me, but I hadn’t accounted for temporary summer care workers who hadn’t known what to do. I should have hardened my heart when Noah asked me where his daddy was, and I should have never shown my nephew photos of his father.

“Noah called him daddy,” Olivia, the woman who runs the daycare explained earlier, almost in tears. “He ran towards this man to hug him. Patty didn’t know…”

What can I say to that? Can I tell Olivia that my drug-addicted sister had no sense of judgment, and she’d been convinced that her boyfriend Ed was father material? Can I tell her that I’m terrified that the courts will rule in favor of the biological parent over the uncle who has always been there for Noah?

At my side, Dominic has finished his conversation. Judging from the way the phone is flung onto the couch, I’m assuming his attempts to locate Ed Wagner have gone no better than mine.

“No luck yet,” he confirms. He holds my eyes. “We’ll find the fucker, Carter.”

“I know.” I have to hold on to hope. I have to believe I’ll find Noah before Ed Wagner starts using again. My sources tell me he was clean in jail. But outside? He’ll get sucked in again, like he has before, time and time again. The same way my twin-sister Chloe was sucked in, until she died of an overdose.

“Carter,” he repeats. “Calm down. Noah’s not in danger. As much as I hate to admit it, Ed was a good enough father before Chloe died. And he’s not doing drugs anymore. All our sources tell us that.”

“And then he walked away,” I point out. “He disappeared and left me to take care of Noah. Are you forgetting that?”

“I’m not.” His voice is calm. “I’m not defending Ed Wagner. But you are only choosing to remember what you want. Ed called Noah every week. He didn’t abandon the kid - he left him with you while he went and tried to get his life straight.”

If Dominic wasn’t my best friend, I’d be tempted to punch him. “I’m not listening to this,” I say flatly. “I don’t need to hear you defend Ed. If my sister had never met that asshole, she’d still be alive. You know that as well as I do.”

The office phone on the desk rings loudly, startling both of us. Dominic shakes his head. “Ignore it,” he suggests, but I’ve already reached for the instrument. “What is it?” I ask. Though I’m not working tonight, the security staff have seen me make my way into my office, and they know that if I’m around and they have a concern, I’m usually available to respond.

“Carter, we need an authorization for a player to join the back room,” Linda, the woman in charge of the high rollers says. “Monitor One.”

This is routine stuff. The back room has the high-stakes tables, and we don’t let people play there until we know they can handle the heat. When the blind is more than a thousand dollars, the losses can rack up alarmingly fast. Two years ago, a guy lost fifty grand one night at the New Sun, just down the road from us. He walked outside into the cool night, put a gun to his head, and blew his brains out. Ever since then, no one gets an auto-entry into the back room.

I turn my head to look at the screen Linda has indicated, and my eyes lock on to a woman that my body remembers, even after five months. I click my fingers to get Dominic’s attention and gesture to the screen. “Brunette dressed in green,” I say to him, covering the receiver with a hand so my conversation is muffled from Linda. “Looks familiar?”

He focuses on the image, then a slow grin covers his face. “Well, well, what do you know?” he says. “Runaway Ella in my casino.”

“Linda says she wants to get into the high-stakes games.”

I watch his expression change as he puts it together. “She’s a poker player? You think Ed will go to Bulldog?”

“It’s a backup plan,” I reply. “Just in case we can’t locate Ed in the next forty-eight hours. If Ella will go for it, of course.”

He grins. “From the impression I got of her, she didn’t seem like the kind to back away from a challenge.”

Though I’m consumed in worry for Noah, I still remember that night. She’d been fiery. Passionate. She’d been open about her desires and she’d played no games. She’d wanted both of us and she hadn’t been afraid to tell us that.

And when we’d woken up in the morning, she was gone. No note. No contact information, and no way to find her again.

She should have been a passing fancy, but I haven’t been able to forget her. “What’s her name?” I ask Linda, knowing that she would have checked the woman’s identification before placing the call.

“Gabriella Alves,” she says. “New York license.”

That makes sense - we had met her in a bar in midtown Manhattan.

“Can she play poker? Did she play on the lower tables?”

“She did.” Linda sounds grudgingly impressed. “Girl did pretty damn good.”

I make my decision. “Can you have someone escort Ms. Alves to my office, Linda? I’d like to talk to her.”

She sounds confused, but she agrees. “Of course, Carter. Right away.”

3

Gabriella:

Even though it is a mere two hours from the city, I have only been to Atlantic City once. But last night at Piper’s restaurant, Wendy had made an offhand comment about one of her clients, a woman she was representing in a divorce. “Her husband claims he’s spent all their savings playing poker at the high stakes tables at Grand River in Jersey. Of course, it isn’t true - he’s just hiding his assets. Idiot.” She’d snorted in derision and moved on to talk about something else, but I wasn’t listening anymore.

Atlantic City. Of course. A small glimmer of hope had pierced through my veil of gloom. In a casino, I wouldn’t need Sammy’s tacit approval to play. It might be a way out of the jam I was in.

Early this morning, I’d called my boss Nathan. “Can I take a week off?” I’d asked him, knowing he wouldn’t have a problem with it.

“Absolutely,” he had said readily. “Going somewhere?”

“I’m just going to rent a car and putter around the area,” I’d replied. “Maybe go to Atlantic City?”

“Scouting out a different place to live?” he’d asked me with a knowing tone in his voice.

“Huh?”

“Haven’t you heard? The company is planning to open an office there. Cheaper than Manhattan and a lot of our work is done over the phone and the internet anyway.”

I’d rolled my eyes. Nathan would find it a tough sell to get people to move away from New York. I couldn’t imagine the men and women I worked with voluntarily exiling themselves away from the excitement of the big city.

“Keep your phone on, just in case something comes up,” he had requested. “And I’ll see you back in the office Monday? You can take more time if you want. There’s not a lot going on.”

AS I WAIT IN A SMALL, yet luxuriously decorated private room, I get angrier and angrier. By the time ten minutes have elapsed, I’m spitting mad, ready to rip these fucking Atlantic City security goons a new one.

I know what this is about. People see a woman win some games, and they get nervous. When I asked to move to the high stakes tables out back, the dealer had told me she needed to call it up to the head of security. She’s been gone fifteen minutes. No doubt, she’s stalling. The guys who play at the high stakes table don’t like to lose to a woman.

So far, I’ve won three thousand dollars. It’s nice, but I have to speed this up. I need the high-stakes tables. The Grand River is the only casino in the town with them, and they only run the games three nights a week. I’ll need to win, and win steadily, for more than one night to make up the gap. I don’t have a lot of time and I still have ninety five thousand, five hundred dollars to win.

Tapping my feet impatiently, I look around the room. I typically don’t visit casinos. I find them dim and depressing spaces, filled with seniors gambling away their social security money. Of course, Sammy’s rooms are hardly the height of cheer, but at least there, no one is exploiting the loneliness of old people for gain. Just suckers like me.

But the decor in this space is unlike any casino I’ve been in before. The walls are a deep charcoal grey, with modern art paintings dominating the space. The couches are red and the lighting is warm and golden. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was in someone’s living room. Somebody wealthy, and with impeccable taste.

Finally, the platinum blonde comes back. “Mr. Hughes, our Director of Security would like to talk to you,” she tells me. “Please follow me.”

My anger returns full force. This Mr. Hughes is going to get a piece of my mind.

THE ELEVATOR OPENS INTO A LARGE, open space, with floor to ceiling windows that look out on the street below. Ready as I am to open my mouth and start yelling, I ignore the gorgeous room. I move forward, indignant, my tirade quivering at my lips, then I halt dead.

Because the men that face me?

It’s them.

The two guys from my unforgettable one-night stand five months ago.

Dominic and Carter.

In front of me.

I gape. I can’t help it. If I could have a redo of the moment, I’d say something. Instead, I squeak.

At that noise, both of them grin and the full force of their sex appeal washes over me. I thought I remembered how magnetic the pull towards them had been, but I’ve been wrong. My dreams, which have kept my bed warm since that night, have dulled the sharpness of the images. In front of me, these guys exude a heat that I can barely withstand.

You have to, a voice in my head speaks. You cannot succumb to them. That way lies only pain.

“Gabriella Alves,” Dominic speaks, if his name is really Dominic. I’d called myself Ella that night, reassuring my conscience that I wasn’t exactly lying. His lips tug up and his eyes gleam as they run over me. “You look good.”

He does as well. His dark, wavy hair still grazes the collar of his shirt. His face is covered with a five o’clock shadow, one that I ache to brush against. I remember doing that. I can still feel the way his stubble prickled against my skin, how it felt against my inner thighs as his mouth covered my…

Stop it, I scold myself. Stop.

I turn towards Carter. He too looks better than my memories. His red hair is shorter than I remember, but his eyes have a predatory look that I’ve seen repeatedly in my dreams.

At that look, the one that brings back all the sensations of being pleasurably trapped between their bodies, I finally find an ounce of common sense. “Which one of you is Mr. Hughes?” I ask coolly.

Carter speaks. “That's me.”

Dominic steps forward. “We should introduce ourselves properly,” he says with a wry smile. “I'm Dominic Crawford. I own the Grand River. And Carter is the head of security.”

He owns the Grand River? Fuck. He’s loaded, and that’s putting it mildly.

“Did you just bring me up here to say hi?” I ask bluntly. I’m feeling prickly, but I don’t know why. Perhaps it's a belated sense of self-preservation.

Carter jumps in before Dominic has a chance to reply. “Why do you want to play in the back rooms?” His voice sounds strained, abrupt.

I look up. I tend to charge into situations, speaking before I have a chance to think. But hearing the tension in his voice, I pause and pay attention. Something is going on here. They haven’t brought me here just to catch up.

When I stop to think, my instincts are pretty spot-on. And right now, they are telling me that something is wrong.

“I need money,” I answer Carter’s question. “Why else would I be in a casino?”

“Why?”

I gulp. No one knows of the stolen nights spent under the harsh glare of cheap lighting, in the stark back rooms where I play poker. I haven’t told my best friends, the women I hang out with every week on Monday nights. None of my boyfriends ever knew, nor do my parents. Yet somehow, my tongue doesn’t trip over itself, and I feel no pressure to keep this secret from the two of them. “I lost a lot of money in an underground game of poker. I have two weeks to come up with it.”

Or else. Sammy’s unvoiced threat I keep secret. Fake Elvis and Mr. Clean do not belong in this conversation.

Of course, these two men would know that there are consequences to owing money to the loan sharks that circle in the underworld. They exchange glances at each other, and I sense an air of suppressed excitement. “How much are you on the hook for?” Dominic asks.

We are still standing in the center of the room. For the first time, I look around. The woman downstairs called it Carter’s office, but this office is easily the size of a large apartment. Here, the red couches from downstairs have been replaced by comfortable leather chairs and sofas. There’s an array of monitors on one wall, beaming up images from the casino floor. A floor-to-ceiling window provides views of the streets below. The coffee table contains two glasses, filled with an amber colored liquid that I’m guessing is Scotch.

“Do you live here?” I ask Carter, stalling, trying to avoid revealing that I’m almost a hundred thousand dollars in debt.

He shakes his head. “How much money, Gabriella?” he asks, repeating Dominic’s question

“Ninety eight thousand and five hundred dollars.”

I’m prepared for their condemnation, but it’s not forthcoming. Carter’s shoulders have slumped with relief, and Dominic sits up, his eyes gleaming with a nameless emotion. “So you need money in a hurry,” he says. “I have a deal for you.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with you for it?” I snap at them. Too late, I remember my resolution not to jump to conclusions, to think before I speak.

Dominic’s eyes turn heated. “You’ll sleep with us because you want to,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. His words send an arrow of molten lust straight to my pussy. “But that’s not what I’m talking about at the moment.”

He waits for Carter’s curt nod before he continues. “We have a situation on our hands. Earlier today, Carter’s nephew Noah was kidnapped by his father, a junkie called Ed Wagner. We have people looking for Ed, but so far, they haven’t been able to find him.” There’s a trace of frustration in his voice.

Carter picks up where Dominic left off, and he adds some clarity to the story. “Ed Wagner’s spent the last six months in a prison in upstate New York,” he says. “He hasn’t seen Noah for three years.” That comes out through gritted teeth. “But Noah knows who his father is. He’s been asking questions about Ed, and I’ve been honest with him, as much as I’ve been able. I’ve told him his father’s away.” His face clenches. “The last few months, Noah’s kept asking when his father’s coming to visit, and because I couldn’t break his heart, I told him that Ed was going to visit soon. My mistake. Today, Ed picked Noah up at his daycare. We can’t find him.”

My heart aches in sympathy. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to be in Carter’s shoes. Yet I’m not sure how they think I can help, and the idea of being caught in the middle of a custody dispute holds no appeal for me. When I respond, I keep my voice non-committal. “Where do I come in?”

“Ed plays poker in places we can’t reach,” Dominic responds. “Now that he’s out of jail, we are hoping that he’ll want to get back in a game. Help us with this, and I’ll wipe away your debt.”

A hundred grand, just like that. It must be nice to be that rich.

Yet I don’t really know Dominic and Carter and it takes the kind of trust in men that I don’t have any more to take what they are saying at face value. Why would this Ed Wagner guy kidnap his own son? “You think I can reach him at the poker game?”

“Noah’s only five, Gabriella,” Carter breaks in bleakly. “He’s just a kid.”

And just like that, looking into his eyes, my hesitation vanishes. Carter can’t fake the depth of pain in his eyes and the heartbreak in his voice. No one can. They don’t think I’m going to help, but they are wrong. I’d do it for free, if only to erase the desperate worry in their gazes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing dangerous,” Dominic assures me. “Infiltrate the game. See if you can get Ed to reveal where he lives.”

Why would a perfect stranger tell me where he lives, especially if he’s hiding from someone? If I were Ed Wagner, I’d be very, very careful. I’d be terrified of the shimmering anger in Carter’s eyes.

Then I get what they haven’t spelled out. “You want me to seduce Ed and get him to take me home.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Carter says. There’s reluctance in his voice, and his eyes won’t meet mine. I can tell he doesn’t want to get me involved. He doesn’t like this plan.

Yet he has no choice, and neither do I. Carter needs to find his nephew and I need money to pay off Sammy’s goons. I’ve already made up my mind that I’m on board. “I’ll do it,” I say. “Of course I’ll help.”

4

Dominic:

The next hour is all about nailing down the details.

Gabriella gets on the office phone and calls her dealer in New York. I’ve heard of the guy. Sammy D, he calls himself. As sharks go, he isn’t the worst one in the ocean. He’ll still beat you up if you don’t pay, but he won’t mess with you if you don’t mess with him.

We’ve put her call on speaker phone. When the guy answers, her shoulders tense, but her voice stays calm. “Sammy,” she greets him. “It’s Gabriella.”

“You’ve left town, dollface,” the voice on the other end says flatly. “You aren’t planning on running on me, are you?”

Her eyes flash with irritation and I bite back my grin. In the last thirty minutes, I’ve learned that Gabriella has a temper. Well, that and she gave us a fake name at the bar we met.

“Would I be calling you if I was running?” she says pertly. “I’ve got to play somewhere, Sammy. No one in New York will give me credit.”

“Where are you?”

“Atlantic City,” she says. “I need to get in on a game here. Can you help?”

We’ve discussed this. Sammy has no reason not to help her. As far as he knows, she has no other way of getting the money he needs. Since he’s a consummate businessman, he’d much rather help her if it means he’ll get paid without needing to resort to violence.

Besides, beating up women, especially ones as lovely as Gabriella, never plays well in the press. Sammy’ll do it, but he’d much rather not. We’ve gambled on this.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll give my friend Bulldog a call. He runs the games in Atlantic City.” His voice turns suspicious. “Where are you calling me from? This isn't your number.”

“The Grand River,” she says. “I thought I’d play the high-stakes tables here, but the assholes won’t let me get on it. Then my phone battery died. I’m charging it now.”

Carter glares at her at the assholes comment, but she ignores him. Again, my lips twitch. She was beautiful that night, and she was sexy, warm, and very memorable. Now, she’s all of that, and more. She’s interesting and brave, and really quite reckless.

My cock stirs in my trousers as the memories crash back to the forefront. Her beautiful olive skin against the white sheets of the Plaza. Her chestnut brown hair, spread on the pillow. Her plump breasts, firm and round. Her erect nipples, broadcasting her desire. That pretty cunt, those parted legs. The way she’d tasted, like sweetness and sin. The breathy moans, the whispered pleas. Those lips around my cock, sucking, sucking until I was fighting to hold back my climax. The sight of her body, wedged between the two of us.

Fuck me. I’m rock hard thinking of her. And even though I’m consumed with worry about Noah, I can’t lie to myself. I’m dying to touch her again.

“DINNER?” I ask her when she’s off the phone. There’s nothing to do now but wait. Sammy needs to contact Bulldog - seriously, the fucker has the most ridiculous name in the world - and until he does so, we don’t know where the poker games are. You’d think I would know, but I’m persona non grata in the underground gaming industry. My venture is strictly legit and people like Bulldog don’t trust me at all. To these guys, I might as well be the feds.

Apart from the underground poker angle, Carter and I have teams of people looking for Ed Wagner right now. It doesn’t sit well with either of us to sit back and stay out of the action, but we have no choice. Noah’s safety is far too important for us to act like gung-ho cowboys.

“Isn’t it rather late for a meal? It’s nearly ten.”

“Have you eaten?” Carter asks. I’m glad he’s engaging in this conversation. He hadn’t said a word all through Gabriella’s phone call with Sammy. As worried as I am about Noah, I know that what Carter’s going through is far worse. We both took it hard when Chloe died. For a long time, the only way that Carter could function was to care for his nephew. Noah is everything to him.

“It won’t kill me to miss a meal,” she says wryly. “A diet might be good for me.”

“What are you talking about?” Carter growls. “Your body is fucking perfection, Ella. Don’t ever suggest otherwise.”

I couldn’t agree more with him. She’s lush and curvy and her hips made for a man’s hands to grab on to, her generous breasts designed for a man to suck. Perfection.

“Let’s go eat,” I insist. “Come on. I know a place.”

WHEN THE THREE of us are settled into a tiny booth in my favorite restaurant in Atlantic City, a bistro that makes Sicilian food so authentic you’d swear you were in the old country, I turn to her. “Ella or Gabriella?” I ask.

She’s sitting next to me, and Carter has slid into the seat opposite her. She’s trapped by the two of us, but if she’s nervous, she doesn’t display it. “My friends call me Gabby,” she responds, blushing faintly.

“Are we your friends, Gabby?” The waiter brings us a bottle of my favorite Chianti without prompting, pouring generous portions into three wine glasses.

“You called me Gabby just now,” she says with a small smile. A non-answer. She takes a gulp of the wine, and I can see that her fingers are trembling slightly.

Carter notices too. “Are we making you nervous?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “Are you afraid of us?”

“Yes,” she says simply. “And no. Yes, you are making me nervous. No, I’m not afraid of you.” Her eyes flash fire again, and my lips twitch. “I’m not afraid of anyone,” she adds defiantly.

Carter’s feeling it. I’m feeling it. And though Gabriella will deny it till she’s blue in the face, she’s feeling it too. Energy crackles between the three of us. It was like this in that bar in Midtown. There was the same sense of anticipation. The same bated breath, the same threads of desire drawing us nearer…

“Why did you run away that night?” My fingers trace a path up her bare arms, and I watch as goosebumps break out on her soft skin. “Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”

She doesn’t pull her arm away from my touch. Carter notices, and he pushes, just a little. He pats his thighs. “Put your legs here,” he orders.

“I’m not your toy,” she snaps. “I’m not going to be your distraction.”

“Is that what you think?” His voice is soft and dangerous. “Do you know how hard I’m fighting this feeling, Gabby? I’m so afraid I’m going to drown in your sweetness, and right now, Noah needs all my attention.” He fixes his gaze squarely on her. “Put your legs on my lap, honey. I’m not going to ask again.”

Her teeth nibble at her lower lip, a move that sends a sharp shard of lust straight to my groin. God, she’s beautiful. A sultry temptress.

Then she kicks off her high heels and obeys Carter, putting her feet on his thighs. My cock hardens to steel. I want this woman.

I move closer to her, and my fingers caress her skin. My thumb moves in slow circles at the nape of her neck, and she sighs in pleasure. I look over - Carter’s giving her a foot massage at the same time.

“You guys are too dangerous,” she whimpers. “That’s why I left that night.”

“Huh?” Carter’s looking just as confused as I feel.

“You will affect my peace of mind,” she clarifies, though her body softens at my side. Her words tell us to stay away, yet she doesn’t make any move to pull free. “Then the moment you are important to me, you’ll become assholes.”

I’m even more confused now. “Huh?” I say again. It’s not the most articulate of responses, but in my defense, all the blood in my body has pooled in my dick. I’m almost light-headed with desire.

“That’s what happens,” she whimpers as I find a tense spot on her neck. “Dominic, please,” she moans. “Don’t stop.” She bites her lip again. “It’s what I do. The moment they get involved with me, good guys go bad. Guys will lie about being single. Guys who would have never thought about cheating will fuck other women on my bed. They’ll promise me anything. Say anything. Until they’ve slept with me, until I begin to care. Then, their true colors go on display. I’m done with men. No more. I don’t date.”

“I’ve never heard anything stupider,” Carter says bluntly. He’s normally slightly more tactful, but he is very worried about Noah.

She flips him off, and I choke back my surprised laughter. Oh, I like this girl. She’s a little spitfire.

“No promises. No lies,” I hear myself say. “But we want you, Gabriella.” My fingers wrap around a strand of her hair, and I tug her close. My mouth descends on her lips, those soft pink lips that she’s been biting all night. My kiss is brief but possessive. Carter was right earlier. A man can drown in her sweetness if he’s not too careful. “And if I’m not mistaken, you want us too. Come back with us tonight?”

She’s about to open her mouth to say something when her phone beeps. She fumbles for it in her bag and she gazes at the screen for a long minute. “That’s Bulldog,” she says finally. “I’m in. There’s a game in an hour and a half.”

5

Carter:

All evening long, I’ve pushed the nagging sense of guilt I feel to the back of my mind, but as soon as she gets that text message, it comes surging back. I shouldn’t involve her in this. Though I tell myself that the situation isn’t dangerous, Ed’s like a cornered beast right now. He’s hard to predict. Anything can happen.

Not to mention that the idea of that fucker laying a finger on her is having me see red.

The waiter places steaming plates of lasagna in front of us. Gabriella has argued that we should leave, but Dominic and I overrule her. The address Bulldog has texted her is only ten minutes away from the restaurant. There’s plenty of time to eat.

“What does Ed Wagner look like?” she asks, once she’s swallowed the first, steaming bite. Her eyes close in bliss, and she moans softly. “God, this is good.”

Moan like that around my cock, Gabby.

Then I get angry with myself. My nephew is in danger, and I’m thinking of her giving me head. I’m so distracted by her that I’ve forgotten to tell her how to identify Ed when she gets to Bulldog’s poker room. I’m an idiot. I need my head in the game. Thoughts of making love to Gabriella can wait.

I pull up a surveillance photo taken seven months ago, right before Ed was arrested, and hand her my phone. “This is him.”

She stares at the image. “Got it,” she says finally.

“Bulldog runs three kinds of tables,” Dominic says. “One low stakes, one medium, one high. Wagner’s a grinder. He makes rent playing poker. Or, he used to before he was arrested. He’ll be playing on the medium stakes table.”

“If you know so much about him, how come you can’t find him?”

My voice is rueful. “Neither of us can get anywhere near Bulldog,” I say. “Not without a gunfight. Bulldog hates Dominic’s guts.”

“He’s not a fan of you either,” Dominic says dryly. “To answer your question, Gabby, Ed’s keeping a very low profile this time around. He’s not at his usual haunts. His credit card hasn’t been used. And now that he has Noah, he’ll be even more careful. He knows we’re searching for him.”

“Take this.” I give Gabby a small tracker, the size of a button. “Put it in your purse, don’t leave the poker game without it. We can’t get too close to this address without tipping off Bulldog, but we’ll be close, and we’ll follow you.”

She nods. She hasn’t said very much since that text came through. She’s also taken her legs off my lap. Pity.

We finish our meals in silence, and we drive her to her car, in the parking lot of the Grand River. “We’ll be right behind you,” I tell her reassuringly. I’m not sure who I’m trying harder to convince. Her, or myself.

“Okay,” she says softly.

“I almost forgot,” Dominic interjects. “You’ll need money to play. Here.” He hands her an envelope, and she opens it. Inside, there’s a thick wad of hundred dollar bills.

“How much money is in here?”

“Ten grand,” he replies. “Enough to keep you in the game till the end.”

She grimaces slightly. I can tell she doesn’t like taking Dominic’s money, but she tucks the envelope into her handbag without protest. “The winnings are yours, of course.”

Dominic wisely shuts up and doesn’t say anything to contradict her. On impulse, I pull her into a hug and hold her tight. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise her. “I wouldn’t involve you unless I was desperate.”

She tenses at first, then she relaxes. Her arms snake around my waist, and she clings to me. For a few seconds, my worries recede and all that remains is the feel of her body in my arms. “Don’t worry, Carter,” she says when we finally separate. “I’ve got this.”

Think about Noah, I tell myself fiercely, as I watch her get into her car and pull away. Think about tucking him back in his own bed tonight, safe and sound, with his teddy bear Graham, and the floor of his room covered in little sharp Lego pieces.

Yet no matter how many times I try to persuade myself, I can’t shake my sense of wrongness. “I don’t like this,” I say aloud to Dominic. “I can’t help feeling that we’ve placed her in danger.”

He doesn’t reply. What can he say? Like I told Gabriella, it’s not like we have a choice.

6

Gabriella:

The underground poker halls in Atlantic City look very much like the ones in New York. Same cheap furniture, same too-bright lighting. This room is in the back room of a non-descript Chinese restaurant. Every time someone opens the door, I smell fried rice.

Bulldog is huge. His bushy eyebrows come together in a frown as his gaze rests on me. “You’re the girl Sammy spoke of?” he asks suspiciously.

I nod.

“Can’t be too careful,” he grumbles. “The cops, the casino owners, everyone wants to shut me down.”

Ah. That explains the bad blood between Dominic and Bulldog. In New York City, there's no legal gambling, and for those of us that want to play, the only competition to the underground rooms are the online poker websites headquartered in the Caribbean. Here in Atlantic City, there’s a third option, and the casino owners will fight to protect their territory.

No wonder Dominic and Carter can’t come close.

I look around as unobtrusively as possible, my job in public relations helping me here. When you manage world famous soccer players, you get good at blending into the background. But my search is in vain. Ed Wagner is nowhere to be seen.

Bulldog’s eyes fall on my handbag and he bristles. “No personal effects,” he says. “No phones. No cameras. There’s a closet you can put it all in.”

“Certainly.” What else can I say? I can’t rely on Carter’s tracker, and I can’t call Dominic for help. I’m on my own.

Strangely, I’m not flustered. I’ve spent many years in rooms like this. Here, I feel at home. Here, I belong.

ONLY THE MOST hardcore of players are out on a Tuesday evening. There’s fewer than twenty people clustered around four tables. Bulldog gestures hopefully to the sparsely populated high stakes tables when I exchange my ten grand for chips, but I shake my head. “I should warm up first,” I tell him. Hiding his disappointment, he leads me to the medium stakes table.

The four guys occupying it look up at our approach. “Guys,” Bulldog says, “this is Gabriella from New York. She’s going to be playing with us tonight.”

“Hi,” I say, surveying my competition for the night. It’s the typical assortment. One of them looks straight out of Wall Street. He’s wearing the investment banking uniform - Armani suit, expensive watch and handmade Italian leather shoes. The two spots next to him are occupied by two geeky looking guys who nod shyly at me. I smother a grimace and nod back. I know I’m typecasting, but these two are probably going to outplay everyone because they are math geniuses. And even though I’m playing with Dominic’s money and have no real skin in the game, I’m still competitive enough to want to win.

The last guy is a wildcard. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and faded jeans, and unlike the others, he’s completely relaxed. He’s either a professional, or he’s got money to burn. Neither scenario is particularly good.

Most importantly, there’s no sign of Ed Wagner. I wonder if he’s even going to show up, or if this entire thing is a gigantic waste of time.

“Another five minutes and we’ll get going,” the young dealer tells us. He doesn’t look a day over eighteen, but his gaze is alert. “Bulldog’s just waiting for a few more people.”

“Do you normally wait for the tables to fill?” I ask him, shamelessly pumping for information. Hey, any bit of information might be useful in finding Carter’s nephew. “That’s different from the places I usually play in.”

“Not always,” he confides, then shrugs. “Still, when the boss says to wait, I wait.”

Five minutes later, Ed Wagner walks in.

I’ve seen his photo; I know what he looks like. He’s got blond hair and hazel eyes, and a thin face. But photos are never a substitute for seeing someone in person. Up close, Ed looks tired.

He’s also older than I expected. Looking at him under the unforgiving fluorescent lighting, I’m guessing he’s in his forties. Carter’s in his early thirties and his sister Chloe was a twin, which makes her at least a decade younger than Ed. Ten years isn’t a huge age gap, all things considered, but it’s notable. Maybe this is why Carter’s so angry with Ed. Maybe he thinks Ed led his sister astray.

This situation is filled with unknowns. For Ed to resort to snatching his child away from Carter, there has to have been so much history and bad blood between the two men. Should I even be involved in this mess? I don’t know.

I remind myself to keep an open mind. As worried as Carter is, Ed is still Noah’s father. As I think of my close relationship with my parents, what I’m doing prickles at my conscience. I’m interfering without knowing all the facts.

Then again, Sammy’s goons know how to wield their iron pipes, and I’m extremely fond of my knees.

The dealer at the table raises his hand in greeting to Ed as he walks up to our table and takes a seat. “Ed, long time no see, man.”

Ed shakes the dealer’s hand. “I’ve been away,” he says dryly. “You’ve heard?”

“Yeah. That was a bum rap, dude.”

Ed’s hazel eyes glitter with anger. “My brother-in-law set me up,” he says. “But I’m going to hit him where it hurts.”

What the heck? He went to prison because Carter set him up? Neither Dominic nor Carter have mentioned this. I sip at the can of Coke that I got from the vending machine in the corner, thoughts bouncing off the corners of my brain.

Is everything on the up and up? Carter and Dominic haven’t gone to the police, though that would be the first thing I would do if my child went missing. They’ve acted like they don’t know where Bulldog holds his games, but Atlantic City isn’t a large town. Are they being straightforward with me, or am I being duped by them?

If the situation isn’t exactly as described, I don’t want to be the person that comes between a father and his son. Ed is Noah’s father. Sure, I need the money to pay off Sammy. But at the end of the day, I’m not going to aid and abet in the kidnapping of a child for it. Though I really hate the idea of disappointing them, I can call my parents to help me with my poker debt, and I can ask my friends.

Don’t trust Carter and Dominic quite so readily, Gabby, I caution myself. Not before you fully understand what's happening here.

WE PLAY a few hands before we stop for a cigarette break. As luck would have it, I’m doing really well, and Ed Wagner is doing really badly. He’s nervous and distracted. He keeps checking his watch. When the dealer calls a fifteen minute break, he retrieves his cell phone from Bulldog’s closet and goes outside.

I follow, bumming a cigarette off Wall Street guy, who is also losing heavily. It’s been so many years since I last smoked. When I was sixteen, a rebellious teenager in London, my mother had caught me with a pack in my jacket. Shit had hit the fan, bigtime. My mom yelled and my father looked bemused, until he realized he needed to yell at me as well.

Normally, that kind of parental disapproval would have just made me dig in my heels, but then my mother wisely made me smoke the entire pack at once. I felt so gross by the time I was done that I’ve never smoked again. Until now. “Do you have a light?” I ask Ed, once he hangs up.

He nods curtly and hands me the lighter. Okay then. Chivalry is evidently dead. “Thanks.” I hand it back once I light up, and I try not to retch. “Rough night?”

He nods again, then decides it’s okay to speak a sentence or two. “I’m having shitty luck,” he says, puffing away at his own cigarette. “You’re doing well. I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

I’m supposed to seduce the guy, not have a conversation with him. Those were Carter and Dominic’s instructions. I ignore them and trust my own instincts. Ed’s skittish. If a woman makes a pass on him out of the blue, he’s going to bolt, not take advantage. “I play in New York,” I tell him. I’ve decided to be as honest as I can. “But I need money in a hurry.”

“Don’t we all?” he replies, and it’s the kind of question that doesn’t need answering.

We smoke in silence for a few minutes. At least, he smokes, and I’m trying to take as few puffs as possible. My mouth feels dry, itchy and gross. I stand there searching my mind for something else to say to Ed, but I’m coming up blank. Dominic and Carter found you sexy, I tell myself, in an effort to bolster my confidence enough to make a move on this obviously disinterested guy.

“I’m Gabriella,” I say finally, giving him a weak wave. “Hi.”

“Ed,” he offers, before he takes his final puff and throws the butt to the ground, grinding it under his heel. “I think break time’s up. See you upstairs?”

“Sure thing.”

What a fantastic seduction job, Gabby.

Lady Luck is still beaming at me when we resume playing, and Ed’s run of crappy cards doesn’t come to an end. He’s playing rashly now, his betting erratic, his decision making weak. Finally, after one big loss, he gets up and knocks his chair over. “I’m fucking tired of this,” he yells. “I never have good luck at your tables, Bulldog. Why’s that, do you think?”

Conversation in the room dies down instantly. The room becomes so quiet that if a pin dropped in that moment, you’d hear it. Heads swivel to watch the confrontation, and more than one person looks openly nervous. Everyone’s wondering the same thing - has Ed Wagner lost his mind? In the shadowy underground, one thinks very carefully before throwing around accusations of cheating. For the first time, I’m really glad Bulldog made everyone check in their bags. I’m not sure if anyone here is packing, but when tempers flare, the last thing one needs to toss into the mix is a loaded gun.

What happens next sets my spidey senses tingling. Goons do not materialize to toss Ed Wagner out of the room, and Bulldog doesn’t go ape-shit. He just walks up to Ed and talks to him soothingly. There’s a lot of arm-waving from Ed, a lot of ‘calm down’ gestures from Bulldog. I can’t tear my eyes away from the spectacle, and I’m not the only one. This is weird.

“What the hell?” Wall Street asks our dealer.

“Ed has more money than sense.” The dealer shakes his head. “He shows up here, loses a lot, makes a scene, then comes back the next day. That’s his pattern. You know what they say. A fool and his money…”

My brow furrows. Carter and Dominic told me Ed’s a grinder, and I believe them. They’ve also led me to believe that Ed doesn’t have a lot of money. What the dealer’s saying doesn’t quite add up.

Then I look again at the guy from Wall Street, whose eyes gleam with greed and I realize what’s going on.

I smother a grin. I don’t have to worry about my failed seduction attempt tonight. Ed’s definitely going to be back tomorrow.

“YOU DON'T KNOW where he lives? Damn it, Gabby, what if Wagner doesn’t show tomorrow? What if he doesn't go back to play again at Bulldog's?”

I’m back at Carter’s office in the Grand River, slumped on the couch, utterly exhausted. “Will you calm down?” I snap at him, my own voice rising. “I was winning and he left in the middle of a hand. It would have looked crazy suspicious if I’d followed him. But he'll be back.”

“How can you be sure, Gabby?” Dominic sounds calmer than Carter, and he's prepared to listen. He hands me a glass of red wine, and I accept it gratefully, taking a sip. It’s been a long day. Right now, I just want to sleep.

That’s a lie. It’s two in the morning and I should rest, but I can’t stop thinking about my threesome with Dominic and Carter. I can’t stop wondering what would have happened at the restaurant if Bulldog’s text hadn’t interrupted us.

“Because he's working for Bulldog.” I describe the Wall Street guy. “That scene with Ed yelling was absolutely staged for the Wall Street guy’s benefit. Bulldog wanted that guy to come back and lose big the next day, so he made Ed seem unstable. The dealer on our table was in on it too.” I give them an earnest look. “I’m absolutely sure. I was there. Trust me.”

“That is Bulldog's modus operandi.” Dominic’s voice is thoughtful. He sits next to me on the couch and pulls me towards him. His hands clasp my neck and his fingers massage the knots of stress out. I whimper slightly in pleasure. This feels amazing.

Carter drops to the couch on the other side of me. He burrows his head in his hands. For a few moments, he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. “It’s going to be fine, Carter,” I say softly, resting my hand on his thigh. “Bulldog told me there’s another game tomorrow. I’ll get to Ed then.”

He sighs finally. “Yeah,” he says. His hand covers mine, enveloping me with warmth. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“That’s okay,” I soothe him. “You are under a lot of pressure.”

He gives me a small smile.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Dominic’s voice is a low, seductive murmur in my ear. “Will you stay here?”

“Here?”

Carter looks up, and his look of tension has receded, replaced by an expression that sends the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “As you pointed out to me just a minute ago, Ed’ll be back tomorrow to play at Bulldog’s. We have people looking for him right now. There’s absolutely nothing I can do.” His lips twitch. “That’s not strictly true. There’s one thing I can do.”

“We can do,” Dominic corrects with a lazy smile. I feel my tiredness evaporate looking at that smile. “If you are interested, Gabby?”

I have a rule, one instituted after Vinny, the boyfriend that cheated on me. If I must sleep with someone, it can only be one night. Anything more and my heart’s on the line. Anything more and I will get hurt.

“What do you think, little spitfire?” Carter runs a large, callused hand up my bare ankle, and each nerve ending in my body sparks to life. “Stay with us tonight?” His lips twitch. “The whole night.”

My rule has been set in place to protect my heart and mind, but I’ve always been reckless. I’m a gambler, after all.

“Yes.”

7

Gabriella:

Oh god oh god oh god oh god.

Dominic tangles my fingers in his, and sucks my forefinger into his mouth, his eyes shimmering with the same lust that’s rampaging through my body like a herd of wild elephants in the Serengeti. Carter, on the other side of the couch, covers my left hand in his own, much larger hands, and leans in to kiss my neck.

Shivers wrack my body at that kiss, at the raspy whisper of his stubble against my tender skin. Dominic groans at my reaction. “I’d forgotten how responsive you are,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Carter grins. “I hadn’t,” he says smugly. He presses another kiss on my neck, right at that spot that seems to be a hot button to my pussy, and I squirm on the couch, restless and wanting more.

I’d forgotten how long they’d teased me before they let me come.

Dominic wraps his hand around my neck and turns me towards him, his mouth kissing a pathway towards my lips. Carter’s hand closes on my breast through my clothes, and again, I wriggle and whimper and throw my head back on the couch. I’m rewarded by a squeeze of my breasts, and a trail of kisses on my neck.

My own hands are pressed helplessly at my sides, but now I bring them up and pull Dominic and Carter closer. “Please,” I beg. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Where’s the fun in being in a hurry?” Dominic raises an eyebrow at me. I can’t decide if I want to throw a shoe at him, or if I want to smother him in kisses. Yeah, lust has scrambled my brains.

They both run their hands all over my body. They rest teasingly on my knees, before inching upwards over bare thighs. My legs fall helplessly open for them, an invitation that they somehow manage to resist. They cup my breasts, kneading and squeezing and bending their heads down to suck on my nipples through my dress and my bra, the sensations muted by the clothing, but still sending shudders of pleasure through me.

“You can take off the dress,” I breathe. Please take off the dress.

“Can I?” Carter mocks. “Good to know, Gabby.”

I’ve already flipped him off once, I remind myself. Before I have to convince myself not to do it again, Dominic works on getting my dress undone. His fingers tug at the zipper in the back, and I shrug the fabric off my shoulders. The dress falls to my waist.

My bra is removed with practiced ease. Too practiced? Doubts swirl in my mind again about the foolishness of revoking the Vinny rule. Then Dominic’s mouth finds a nipple and he bites down, and all I can do is bury my fingers in his hair and pray that I don’t end up regretting this moment.

“Stop thinking,” Carter instructs. “Just feel.”

“Quit giving me instructions,” I say crossly. Or at least, I try to be cross, till Dominic nips my tender skin again. Then my voice trails off into a whimper and a plea…

Carter tips my chin towards him. “You didn’t complain about my orders that night,” he whispers, his voice a delicious mixture of sin and promised pleasure. “You liked it, if I remember correctly.”

He does remember correctly. I’m not exactly the shy, retiring sort, but they had been so dominant that night and each time I’d obeyed, they’d brought me to an orgasm. That’s the kind of Pavlovian conditioning I approve of.

“I’ll obey if you let me come,” I bargain.

Dominic laughs. “It doesn’t work that way, Gabriella.” Still, his hand snakes down to my bare thigh, then it glides upward. “Your skin feels like warm velvet,” he groans. “Touch her, Carter. See how soft she is.”

Hands grip my knees open. I feel their touch inch its way up towards my pussy, like lost ships seeking a lighthouse. A wet, dripping lighthouse.

Then one hand strokes me through my panties in an achingly slow touch and all thoughts, silly or otherwise, about stranded ships and sea wrecks, flee my brain.

“She likes that.” Carter doesn’t sound smug this time. Just satisfied.

“Yes she does,” Dominic agrees. “Her entire body shivered.”

“Will you stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I demand. I’m about to shatter from the waves of lust that are pounding through my body, and the two of them are picking apart each reaction.

Okay. Time to start getting even.

I close my fingers over their erections. My left hand strokes Dominic’s impressive bulge, my right hand rubs Carter’s rock hard cock over his trousers. Two sets of deep groans reward my move. “Gabby,” Dominic grates into my neck, then his fingers graze my panties again.

My hips rise to meet his hand, and my grip on their cocks tighten. They react in unison. “Fuck,” Dominic groans. “You are going to be the death of me, princess.” He pushes the panties to one side, then his fingers are on my bare skin, on the soft folds of my pussy, and I am lost.

“Please Dominic,” I beg, as he explores my slit, teasing me, but refusing to touch my clitoris. “Please.”

Carter exhales loudly as a twitch of Dominic’s finger has me tightening my grip over his cock. He moves my hand aside for a few seconds, and before I can begin to protest, he’s unzipped his fly and pulled that lovely, hard dick out. “Touch me,” he orders again, and this command I’m happy to obey. His skin is soft steel, and I ache to take him into my mouth, to lick each and every inch of him, to feel his tremors of need as he responds to my touch…

Then Dominic finds my clitoris and once again, my thoughts dissolve into nothing. The only thing left are my senses. I can feel the heat of their bodies pressing into me. The cool air conditioning causes my nipples to harden into bullets, and each time they roll an erect nub between their fingers, a sharp spike of pleasure-pain roils through me.

I run my hand up and down Carter’s cock, and I yearn to do the same to Dominic. I reach for his zipper. “Get this off,” I tell him. “I want you.”

He smirks at me and complies. His cock jumps out, hard, ready and eager, and I stifle a moan. I’d forgotten how big they both were. They’d filled me so completely that night, taken me so thoroughly that my pussy and ass had been sore for days after.

Oh god, I want that again. I have to feel their bare skin against mine. I have to feel them slide into my waiting, eager body. I need Dominic and Carter.

The sounds of heavy breathing fill the air, interspersed with moans and whimpers. The guys have their heads thrown back on the couch, and their faces are clenched with need as I focus on their cocks. “So good,” Carter grits out, leaning forward to kiss me on my bare shoulder, a touch that sends shivers through me. “So very good.”

He keeps kissing me. His tongue laves my earlobe, and I arch into him as sensation floods my body. “Carter,” I whimper helplessly. Dominic, not to be outdone, finds my clitoris again and his finger rubs at that bundle of nerves. “Fuck…”

Hands everywhere. Exploring my pussy, cupping my breasts, stroking me till I stretch and purr like a kitten. Mouths kissing my lips, my shoulders, my neck. Stubble rasping at skin, sending need prickling through me, a restless need that coils tighter and tighter as Dominic teases my sex. Though I love this extended, slow seduction, I whimper my protest. I need to feel them in me.

“So impatient, princess,” Dominic says softly.

“Guilty as charged,” I reply. There should be a prize for being able to form words at a moment like this. I don’t conceal the lust in my eyes when I lock my gaze onto him. “I want you in me.”

Dominic curls a hand around my neck and pushes my head back on the couch. I should be afraid, I think, as he encircles my throat. I should remember I don’t really know these men…

I’m not afraid. And when they both lower their mouths onto my skin in tandem, kissing a trail up my jaw, I shudder as the sensations overwhelm me. The slight danger of Dominic’s touch, the hot molten ache their caresses cause in my body… It’s too much.

Finally, just when I think I can’t take it for even another second, Carter pulls away and growls out an order. “Get up.”

Yes please, let’s take this to the bedroom.

“Put your hands on the back of the couch,” he commands. “Bend over.”

Goosebumps break out all over my skin at his firm tone, at his brusque orders. I obey eagerly and their hands tug at my dress, sending it to the floor. My panties follow, and I’m naked at last.

“Are you guys going to get naked too?”

“All in good time,” Dominic says calmly, smacking my ass.

“Hey,” I protest half-heartedly. The sharp sting is fading already, but it has ignited a blaze in me.

Dominic reads my reaction perfectly. “Beg me to do it again.”

Oh god oh god oh god. I’m going to die here, in this room. I’m going to die of longing. “Please spank me, Dominic,” I whisper, heat rising on my cheeks. I can’t believe I’m asking for this.

“Gladly, princess,” he replies. I brace myself for another slap, but instead, I feel the itch of his stubble against my globes as he presses a warm kiss on my skin. Then he spanks me.

Something shifts in the air. A sense of urgency propels us forward. Dominic and Carter’s hands run over my slick pussy, over my tight asshole. “So beautiful,” Carter breathes. I can hear the lust in his voice. Turning my head, I can see the shimmering fire in his eyes. “So completely perfect.”

I want to protest that I’m not, but as I look at them, I bite that thought back. They want me. Their cocks are steel-hard with desire. Their gazes are heated and appreciative as they look at me as if I’m a feast waiting to be devoured. Now is not the time for insecurity. Now is the time to believe.

Carter pushes a finger into my heat, and I cry out. “So tight,” he says. Then Dominic adds a finger, and I grind back as the two of them move in and out of me in perfect unison.

A stream of garbled words pour out of my mouth, a mixture of Portuguese and English, mingled prayers and curses as their touch makes me shiver in arousal. But before I’m ready to erupt, they move their fingers away. Dominic urges me sideways so I’m lying on the couch. Carter sheds his clothes quickly, and I twist so that I can take his dick into my mouth.

We both moan as we get one step closer to fulfillment.

I hear the sound of a condom wrapper tear, and Dominic spreads my legs. Carter’s cock jerks in my mouth as I focus on my rhythm, bobbing my head up and down on his rock hard length. Then Dominic shoves into me, and everything goes hazy.

This moment, I remember. This memory, I’ve masturbated to a thousand times since that day. And now, I can experience it all over again.

I’m a gambler, and right now, I feel lucky. I feel the same rush of adrenaline that I do when I know I’m holding a killer hand.

Dominic pumps in and out of me, his fingers rubbing at my clitoris at the same time. Tendrils of lust multiply till everything feeds the flame, and I double-down, my hand curving around the base of Carter’s cock, moving up and down on it. Magically, his already hard dick gets even more engorged. “Fuck,” he groans, his eyes clenched shut. “Gabby.”

We are all adults with reasonably broad vocabularies, though you’d never know it listening to us now. Desire has warped our brains till all that’s left is moans and curses, prayers and pleasure. I am a slave to their cocks.

“So slick, princess,” Dominic breathes. His pace quickens, the slams get harder. Each thrust is hitting me perfectly. “I can’t hold on.”

I want them to lose control. I want them to unravel, and I want them to fall apart because of me.

Dominic grips my thigh as he pounds into me. My hand tightens around Carter’s cock, and my head bobs faster. The rhythm is quicker now, more uncontrolled. I can feel it. I’m so close.

“Yes,” Dominic urges. “Come for me, Gabby.” His thumb grinds into my clitoris and his thrusts get frantic, and that’s all it takes. I convulse, flail and shudder, and I explode, muscles clenching and quivering around Dominic’s steel length.

He’s right with me. He gasps his own climax as I’m still lost in mine. Through all of this, by some miracle, I’ve managed not to move my mouth away from Carter, and even better, I’ve managed not to graze him with my teeth. As my tremors slowly die down, I focus again on Carter’s dick, a slew of hilarious motivational one-liners running through my head. All for one and one for all. Leave no man behind. In a threesome, make sure all three participants get to orgasm.

I didn’t need to worry - Carter isn’t too far behind. His grip on my hair tightens. “Not going to last,” he rasps. “If you don’t want to swallow…”

Though I appreciate the warning, I want to taste him and suck every last bit of him. “Don’t stop,” I moan.

He doesn’t. He comes hard, and I swallow every drop. We all slump on the couch, exhausted from the tidal wave of desire that has swept over us. I’m limp and satiated, and I feel like I’m glowing all over. There’s really nothing quite as amazing as good sex. And this wasn’t good sex - this was great sex. Fantastic, toe-curling, want-to-do-it-again sex.

The Vinny rule can bite me.

“Again?” Dominic reads my mind. “And this time, in the bedroom?”

What a good idea. Carter sweeps me into his arms, and I rest my cheek against his broad, muscled chest. He carries me to the bedroom, where he sets me down gently on the bed, and the two of them prepare to take me all over again.

8

Dominic:

She’s not Chloe.

As the sun rises in the sky, I watch Gabriella sleep peacefully. She’s curled up into a ball, every blanket tangled up in a cocoon around her. She’d bristle if I tell her, but she looks adorable. Like a sleeping angel.

It’s been almost ten years since I’ve felt this level of connection with another human being. Not since Chloe, as a matter of fact.

And you ended up ruining Chloe’s life.

I shy away from that thought, from the familiar sense of self-hatred that rises, unbidden, even after eight years. I know that I’m not responsible for what happened to Carter’s sister. She was on a path of destruction, and the time we spent together was just a pit stop on her personal highway to hell. Still, the nagging guilt remains and it’s acted like a wall around my heart.

“Breakfast, Crawford,” I tell myself firmly. “And coffee. Now’s not the time to fall to pieces. Not while Noah’s still missing.”

CARTER LEAVES before Gabby’s awake to talk to the teams of people that have been working through the night trying to find Ed Wagner. Before he takes off, he stands at the edge of the bed and looks down on Gabriella’s sleeping form.

“You feel it too?” he asks me quietly.

He doesn’t need to elaborate - I know exactly what he was talking about. What we shared last night, the three of us - it was more than sex. When she walked away after our night in Manhattan, neither of us had been able to forget her. Now, she’s here again.

This time, I don’t want to let her go without a fight. Life doesn’t offer too many second chances, and when one comes my way, I’m going to seize it and hold on. She is scared of trusting us. I’m going to show her there is nothing to fear.

It’s a few minutes after nine. I sit at the kitchen island and open my laptop with a cup of coffee next to me. For a few moments, I sip at the beverage and answer emails, but my mind isn’t on the task in front of me. Thoughts hammer at my head. Concern for Noah wars with empathy for Carter. I think murderous thoughts of Ed Wagner, who is putting us through so much grief.

Of course, I think about Gabriella, how can I not? She’s special. Fiery and passionate, but with a sweetness that shines through, and a sense of humor that makes her irresistible to be around.

“Hey.” As if my thoughts can summon her, she walks through the doorway, wearing my t-shirt. “I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your clothes.”

“It looks far better on you than it ever did on me,” I respond with a smile. “Do you want breakfast? I can call down for it. And coffee?”

“Tea please, not coffee,” she replies. “My mom’s English. She likes to claim that my preference for tea is the only thing I got from her.”

I dial room service and put in an order for food and tea. When that’s done, I cock my head to one side and survey Gabby. There’s so much I don’t know about her, so much I want to learn. “And your father’s Brazilian?” I ask.

She nods, pulling up a barstool and sitting next to me. “He’s a retired soccer player, but you already knew that.”

I frown, confused. “I didn’t, actually. Why would I?”

“Oh.” She blushes faintly. “I just assumed that you had a background check done on me last night.”

“Is that what passes as normal in New York dating circles these days?”

She glares at me, her fingers playing with a strand of her hair. “I thought that’s what you rich guys do. Especially when you need me to track down Carter’s nephew.”

“You really have some issues with trust,” I say with a shake of my head. “I don’t have some kind of dossier on you. I prefer to get to know the women I’m dating in more old-fashioned ways.”

“Is that so? How did you know my dad’s Brazilian then?” She folds her arms across her chest in a protective huddle, and I instantly want to soothe her.

“You told us that the first time we met,” I remind her, grinning at the memory. “Then you taught us some Portuguese swear words. Afterwards, we sang Spanish drinking songs. You are very multilingual.”

She turns scarlet and fidgets with a pen on the island, twirling it between her fingers in a restless motion. “I’d forgotten that,” she admits sheepishly. “I do some silly things when I’m drinking.”

“Like losing a hundred grand?” I’m curious about her poker debt. That’s a lot of money to lose in one night.

“Ah,” she says wryly. “Cue the judgment. I’m kind of surprised you held off condemning me for as long as you did.” She doesn’t look at me when she resumes speaking. “I live for that rush,” she says softly. “The moment you look at your hand and you know it’s a winner. The times when adrenaline tingles up your spine, when you know that something special is going to happen.” She sighs. “You own a casino. I thought you might understand it.”

“I do understand,” I reply, leaning forward and covering her hand with mine. “I wasn’t judging you. Just curious, I guess.”

Her eyes search my face. She doesn’t want to believe me, but I’m not lying. The game has owned me many times. I’ve lived for the same feeling of exhilaration she describes.

Finally, she nods. “I’ve thought about that game so many times,” she says. “And whichever way I slice it and dice it, the only conclusion I can draw is that the game was crooked.”

“You think it was Sammy?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t see it.” She starts to add something, but a knock at the door interrupts our conversation.

I get up to open it, and a white-shirted waiter enters the room, wheeling a cart of food and an assortment of tea. He starts to set it up and I wave him away. “I can manage,” I promise him. “Thank you.” No doubt the manager has instructed him on exactly how to set up, but I’m far more interested in continuing my conversation with Gabby.

“Tea?” I offer when the door shuts behind our waiter.

She selects a tea bag and I pour some steaming water into a white mug etched with the Grand River logo, and hand it to her. “You were saying?” I prompt her.

“I don’t think it was Sammy,” she replies. “The more I think about it, I’m convinced it was the dealer at my table, working with one of the players.”

“Have you told Sammy about your suspicions?”

She gives me an incredulous look. “Of course not. How’s that going to sound? Hey Sammy, I owe you a hundred thousand dollars, but I think your tables are rigged. I don’t have a death-wish.”

Her voice turns animated as she speaks. Her eyes sparkle and her pitch rises. She’s so very expressive that I could watch her all day.

That’s just creepy, Crawford.

I push the basket of assorted pastries towards her. “There’s an omelet too,” I offer.

She laughs. “It’s an improvement over the selection at Motel 6,” she quips.

“You’re staying at the Motel 6?”

I must look disapproving, because she huffs in irritation. “Dominic,” she says very slowly, as if she’s talking to an idiot. “I know that in your world, this isn’t even a consideration, but I don’t have any money for fancy hotels.”

“The Motel 6 is in the crappiest part of town,” I point out, “and I have a vested interest in keeping you safe. I’m coming with you to pick up your things, and I’m going to arrange for a room for you here.”

She opens her mouth to argue, then she shuts it. “Thank you,” she says.

I’d been bracing myself for a fight, and I’m surprised I don’t get one. Mentally adding unexpected to the list of her qualities, I munch on a croissant.

“SO TELL ME SOMETHING, Dominic,” she turns to me in my car. “Carter works for you, right?”

“Yup.” Traffic is unusually heavy for a Wednesday morning. School’s out, but I’m still surprised at how busy the roads are. The beach must be jam packed with people. That thought leads to me imagining Gabby in a bikini, and I have to fight to concentrate on driving.

She doesn’t know the distinctly sexual direction my thoughts have taken. “You two seem really close.”

“We were in college together,” I tell her, navigating around an idiot driver who has swung wildly into the right lane in order to turn left. “We’ve known each other for a very long time. And technically, I’m Noah’s godfather.”

“So you knew his sister as well?”

“Yup.” I don’t want to talk about this, but I owe her the story. She’s putting herself in danger to help us find Noah. She deserves the complete truth.

That’s not why you are being honest with her, Crawford. You’re hoping this relationship will go somewhere.

I ignore my annoying inner voice that insists on pointing out inconvenient truths. “I used to date Chloe a long time ago, when she was twenty-three and I was twenty-five. We dated for two years, until she started using again.”

“Were you in love with her?” She doesn’t meet my eyes as she asks the question, and her voice is quiet.

“Yes,” I admit. “I was crazy about her. It killed me when we broke up. I was hoping that she’d go clean. Instead, she started dating Ed Wagner.” I can’t keep the tone of loathing out of my voice. “A year later, Noah was born.”

“Is he your kid?”

I shoot her a startled look. “No.” I take a deep breath. “I wish he was.”

“Do you still love her?” Soft as the first question was, this one is barely a whisper.

“Had you asked me five months ago, I would have said yes.”

“What does that mean, Dominic?” Her knuckles are clutching the seat, and her eyes are fixed firmly on her lap. She’s refusing to look at me.

“I met a woman at a bar five months ago, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her.” I risk a traffic accident and reach out for her hand. “I hurt Chloe. I drove her to Ed Wagner. Had she not hooked up with a junkie, who knows what could have happened?” I stare at the car in front of me, but I don’t register its presence. “They binged one night, and she died of an overdose. Noah was two. Ed wanted nothing to do with a child, so he took off.” Those days had been really difficult for me, but my distress had been nothing compared to Carter’s. He’d been devastated. If we hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day madness of raising a young child, we would have both fallen apart in different ways. “Since Chloe’s death, I haven’t been able to think about anyone else.” I pause. “Until I met you.”

She makes a scoffing sound, but her grip on the car seat hasn’t relaxed. She’s still tense, and given that I’m inching forward at ten miles an hour, it isn’t because I’m driving like a madman. Our conversation is making her uncomfortable.

I recall her words from last night. She thinks she’s some kind of nice guy repellant. The men she’s dated have given her a reason to be distrustful, to shy away from real emotion, to conceal her feelings behind a derisive exterior.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I’m not calling you a liar,” she rushes to reassure me, as if that is what’s important in this moment. “I think your brain is scrambled by sex, that’s all. I mean, I’m the woman you had a threesome with. Unless you do that on a day-to-day basis, of course you are going to remember me.”

“Nope.” I keep my eyes on the road, but I’m sure she’s scowling right now. “That’s not what this is about. That night wasn’t my first threesome. What I felt, I felt for you. I’ve had enough sex in my life that I can tell when it’s more.”

She opens her mouth to argue, then she shuts it. We drive in silence till we pull into the Motel 6 parking lot.

TRAFFIC’S LIGHTER on the way back. “It’s my turn for the inquisition,” I tease her. “Tell me about yourself.”

She laughs. “The dreaded open-ended question,” she mocks gently. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Everything,” I reply honestly. “Tell me where you grew up. Do you get along with your parents? What do you do for work? What do you do for fun?”

“Whoa there,” she holds up her hands, but she’s still grinning. “That’s a boatload of questions. I grew up in London. My dad played for Arsenal for a few years. My mom was the coach’s daughter.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I’m a PR rep,” she answers. “I represent Brazilian and Portuguese soccer players. My firm finds them endorsement deals in North America, and I work with them because I speak both soccer and Portuguese.”

I grin. She’s funny. “Did you move to New York for work?”

She nods. “In London, everyone only knew me as my father’s daughter. I just wanted to make it on my own.”

That sentiment, I can understand. It also explains why she hasn’t asked her parents for money to pay off Sammy. Gabby’s got an independent streak. I like it. “And for fun?”

She rolls her eyes at my questioning. “You already know about the poker,” she answers. “Apart from that, not much really. I have a set of friends I hang out with every week.” A fond expression fills her face. “They’re a great group of women. What else do you want to know?”

“Do you get along with your parents?”

“Absolutely,” she says instantly. “My parents are great. Well, they’re great, except for the fact that they think I should get married and give them grandbabies.”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

She shrugs, and she wraps her arms around herself again. “I don’t have the best history with men,” she replies finally. “Love, relationships, romance, marriage - these things aren’t exactly a priority anymore.”

I’m often accused of being direct. You have the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, Chloe used to complain. It’s a reputation I come by honestly. “Will your parents object to you dating two guys?” I ask bluntly. I want Gabby. I don’t want this to become a problem.

She gives me a startled look, her eyes wide in her face. “Dominic,” she mutters, “I think we are getting ahead of ourselves.”

“No.” We’ve tiptoed around the issue long enough. “If you don’t want to date us, Gabby, all you have to do is say so, and we’ll both back off. But if this is because of your bullshit theory about your effect on men, then we are going to prove you wrong. We aren’t going to cheat on you, and you can trust us with your life. Whatever it takes to show you that, I’m in.”

“What are you doing, Dominic?” The skirt of her green dress is bunched up in her fist, and she eyes the fabric as if it holds the secrets of the universe in their threads. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know how to trust my instincts,” I respond, my voice hard. “Do you?”

She doesn’t reply.

9

Gabriella:

When Carter shows up after lunch, his face is bleak. “No luck?” Dominic asks, his voice rich with concern.

Carter shakes his head. “None at all,” he exhales. He paces to and fro in the living area of the suite that Dominic has set me up in. A suite that has three bedrooms, for heaven’s sake. Still, I’m not complaining too much. The master bathroom had a Jacuzzi and I’m looking forward to soaking in it. It’s large enough for the three of us, in fact. Hmm.

“Fucking Wagner,” he swears. “He’s good at hiding,” he adds as an explanation to me. “He used to sell fake IDs to teenagers for a while, so he can craft himself a new identity. He can’t stay concealed forever, but each day Noah spends with him, it makes me so afraid…” His voice trails off and he resumes pacing.

I get up and go to him, putting my arms around his waist and drawing him close. “Carter,” I try to calm him, “Ed seemed clean yesterday. You said he wasn’t using, right?”

Dominic’s stretched out on a leather recliner. His eyes follow us but he doesn’t interrupt.

Carter shakes his head. “As best I know, no. He’s clean. ”

“And do you think Noah’s in danger?”

“No,” he says reluctantly. “I can’t stand Wagner’s guts, but when he’s clean, he’s not a horrible person.”

THERE’S a small smile on Dominic’s face, but I ignore him. Our conversation earlier has made me skittish. I don’t want to hear how Dominic can’t stop thinking about me, because the instant I start believing it, things will change. Dominic will morph into a jerk and he will hurt me. As will Carter. That’s my superpower, and it’s not a good one.

Yet Dominic’s words play through my head, and a thrill passes through me each time I remember them. The questions he’s asked terrify me. Did I get along with my parents? Would they be okay with their daughter in such an unconventional relationship?

These are the kinds of questions that somebody who was serious about me would ask. None of my boyfriends in Manhattan have ever wondered about my family, short of noting that I was ‘exotic’. None of them have demonstrated a desire to be involved with me.

If I could isolate the stupid, hopeful part of my brain that thinks that maybe these are the guys who will be the ones who are honest with me, I’d have it surgically removed.

Two simple questions, and I’m thrown into a tailspin. Damn it. My heart’s been through the wringer, time and time again. I don’t want to be vulnerable. Each time I heal from a betrayal, I feel more brittle, more damaged. Less trusting. I need to keep aloof to survive.

This thing between us, it’s just sex, I tell myself, because I cannot allow myself to believe that it is more. We are all under a lot of stress, and these heightened emotions are the natural result. Nothing can come of this.

So to ward off my concerns, to pretend to myself that my heart doesn’t flutter each time they gaze into my eyes, I initiate sex. When Carter kisses each finger of my hand slowly, I assure myself that there’s no impact. When Dominic kneels in front of me and peels down my skirt and then my panties, I tell myself that I feel nothing, even as his fingers and mouth pay homage to each inch of revealed skin. They are just really good at arousing me, I promise myself, as I run my fingers through Dominic’s hair and pull his face closer to my pussy.

Just sex.

But I’m lying to myself. The heightened emotions might be a result of the turmoil we are all in, but I still feel them. My voice screams out Dominic’s name as he makes me come. I moan pleas to Carter as his fingers circle my asshole, lubricating it for his cock.

Dominic urges me onto his lap and I lower myself onto his hard steel. His eyes are hazy with lust; his lips moan my name. Carter carefully positions himself at my anus, and my tight bud yields to his gentle push. When we rock against each other, three people becoming one, our need twining us together and holding us tight, I remind myself that this is a temporary fling, nothing more. Soon, I’ll find Noah, and I’ll have enough money to pay off Sammy, and I can get back to my life in Manhattan.

My lonely life, where I play poker to distract myself from the emptiness within.

When my body convulses in pleasure, when I gasp out their names and cling to them, I know I’m a fool. After just one night five months ago, when we were strangers to each other, they’d taken up residence in my dreams and refused to leave. Now that I know them more? Now that I have seen the depths of love in Carter’s tortured eyes when he talks about Noah, now that I’ve heard the open vulnerability in Dominic’s voice as he tells me he can’t stop thinking about me?

Walking away at the end of this isn’t going to be easy at all.

10

Carter:

Dominic receives a phone call at six. Gabby still hasn’t heard from Bulldog, and she’s getting twitchy. As am I.

Bulldog’s an unreasonable son of a bitch, and he hates Dominic’s guts. Things would have been so much easier had I just been able to call him up and ask for his help locating Ed Wagner. But as much as I’d like to think that even Bulldog wouldn't want to endanger a child, I’m not naive. He won’t move openly against us, but helping me is out of the question. There’s too much history there, and too much hate.

Same thing with Ed. He’d been there the night Chloe overdosed. I’m never going to be able to forgive him for that. I’m never going to be able to get over the fact that had Ed not supplied Chloe with the drugs she’d taken, she’d still be alive. Now, I feel the same sense of helplessness that I did in the first few months after her death.

Should I have taken a harder line with Chloe? Should I have checked her into a rehab facility against her will? Should I have threatened to take Noah away from her, though she was a good mother who deeply loved her child? These regrets have haunted me since the day she died.

Then, Gabby gets up to go pour herself a cup of tea, and as I look at her beautiful warm brown eyes, the pit in my stomach vanishes. She’s here, and she’s helping, and even though her own body is tight with tension, just being around her soothes and calms me.

Five months ago, we should have never let Gabby go. Touching her, making love to her over the last day and a half has just reinforced what my heart knew right from the instant I’d set eyes on her. I’m not going to let myself be haunted again by thoughts of things I should have done, words I should have said. Gabby left us once. This time, I owe it to myself to tell her that I don’t want her to go. I want her to stay and I want to get to know her. I can’t stop thinking about the fire in her eyes or the softness of her touch.

This time, I will lay my cards out on the table. I think I’m falling in love with her, even though I’ve only really known her for twenty-four hours.

But first, we need to find Noah.

DOMINIC LISTENS in silence to the person at the other end of the line. “Okay,” he says into the receiver. “Let’s grab dinner and discuss this. See you in a few minutes?” He hangs up and looks at the two of us. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’ve got an urgent situation to deal with.” He takes Gabby’s hand in his and kisses her palm. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself,” she says, with her customary sass. “Besides, isn’t Carter going to be right here?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I agree. “Shall we go out for dinner, Gabby?” I’m deliberately needling Dominic. He had all morning with Gabby, and I’m not above admitting I’m a little jealous.

She rolls her eyes at me. She’s smart, and she knows exactly what’s going on. “Every girl’s childhood dream,” she mutters under her breath. “Two hot guys fighting over her.”

“You think I’m hot?” I smirk. In response, she throws a cushion on the couch at me, one I snatch effortlessly out of the air. “Go,” I tell Dominic. “We’ll be fine.”

His eyes are amused, but that hard edge that usually accompanies it is gone. Gabby’s good for both of us. In just a few hours, she’s drawn both Dominic and me out of the protective shells we’d retreated into when Chloe died. She’s making us feel alive.

When he’s gone, I turn to Gabby. There’s something I want to talk to her about. “Dominic told me that someone scammed you at the poker game in New York.”

“Dominic talks too much,” she grumbles.

I sit next to her on the couch. “Why don’t you want us to help you?” I ask her softly. “You are helping us find Noah. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you in return.”

Her expression turns bleak, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. “I don’t like depending on people, Carter,” she replies, her voice muffled against my chest. “In London, I was always in my father’s shadow. Whatever I did, no matter how hard I worked, people assumed that any success I achieved was because of who my dad was. Either that, or they just outright dismissed me as a spoiled rich girl.”

I run my hand up and down her back, soothing, steadying strokes that communicate that I’ve got her. She might not want to depend on us, and she might even believe we’d betray her trust. But none of this is true. I would walk through fire for her, and not just because of her help with Noah. “Everyone can use a helping hand sometimes,” I correct her.

“It’s not for the right reasons.” She isn’t looking at me. “You are feeling grateful, but you don’t need to help. Dominic’s paying Sammy off. That was the deal, right? You don’t need to do more.”

I frown at her. “This isn’t because of the deal.” I put my finger on her chin, lifting her head up so she’s looking at me. “I’m helping because I want to.”

She still won’t look at my face. “This thing isn’t real,” she mutters.

“What thing?”

“This weird attraction between the three of us. It isn’t real. Everything’s just amplified because of the pressure of the situation.” She sounds frustrated. “I told Dominic that. Why won’t the two of you listen to me?”

“Because you’re wrong.” Okay, that’s not the most diplomatic answer in the world, but she’s so wrong. “Is it because of Noah that I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that night at the Plaza? For the last five months, every woman I meet is measured against my memory of you. Is that because I’m grateful?”

She tenses against me, but I’m on a roll.

“I know you don’t want to believe me,” I say into her hair, which smells like mint and warm summer. “I know that we will have to earn your trust. I understand this, and I’m okay with it, but don’t let past fears tarnish what we have, Gabby. Judge us for our actions, not for the actions of the assholes you dated before.”

She’s quiet for a long time. Finally, she gives me a small nod. “I’ll try,” she whispers.

Well, it’s a start. I turn the conversation back to her poker loss in New York. “The money you lost, when did it happen?”

“Saturday night,” she says, her voice reluctant.

“Was it just regulars who were there? Did you get a suspicious vibe off anyone?”

She sits up and wrinkles her forehead, her fingers playing absently with a lock of her hair. “The dealer at my table was acting odd that night,” she reveals. “He’s normally very chatty, very friendly, but that night, he seemed really subdued.”

“And your fellow players?” I quiz her.

“There were two that didn’t quite fit in,” she muses. “Sammy’s halls are usually filled with young guys. You know, the kind that watch World Series of Poker and think they are going to make their fortune playing cards.”

I nod. We are the peddlers of dreams in the gambling business. We help people escape the monotony of their lives for a few hours.

“But the big winners were a couple in their late thirties. I’ve never seen them before. They looked like tourists.”

“Tourists?” I ask sharply. “How did they find Sammy’s tables? You have to know someone on the inside to find the games, right?”

She frowns. “That whole night was so strange,” she says. “I wasn’t the only one playing recklessly. Everyone seemed off their game somehow.” She shakes her head. “It all seems so hazy. All I know is that I lost an absolutely inconceivable amount of money, and when I woke up the next morning, I had the worst hangover in the world. Even though I’d only had one drink.”

I’ve seen her in action; she can hold her liquor. My intuition tells me that she’d been drugged on Saturday. Most people have heard of roofies, but there’s an absolute flood of designer drugs on the market and a few of them work by lowering your inhibitions the same way that alcohol does. If Gabby had been drugged that night, it would explain her uncharacteristic losses.

“I’m going to make some calls,” I tell her.

“I don’t want to piss off Sammy, Carter,” she warns me. “He has enforcers, and I’m not interested in making waves. I don’t want my kneecaps busted.”

Her statement confirms my hunch. She’s spirited, but she’s not reckless. She knows how to weigh the consequences of her actions before she jumps in. Something made her lose that money. Something or someone, and I’m going to find out who was responsible.

“I promise you, your kneecaps are safe,” I say, drawing her into my arms and kissing the top of her head. The thought of her being hurt in any way brings out my protective side. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. All I’m going to do is investigate a little bit. Call some friends, try to see what the word on the street is.”

Try to see if a new designer drug has made its way onto the open market.

“Okay,” she concedes. “But if I end up in a wheelchair, I’m going to get one of the electric ones, and I’m going to run over your leg with it.”

I laugh. She’s adorable when she’s feisty. “Fair enough, Gabby,” I smile at her. “Now, can I interest you in dinner?”

“Chinese?” she asks. “Bulldog’s game yesterday was behind a Chinese restaurant, and it’s given me a terrible craving for kung pao chicken and fried rice.”

11

Gabriella:

Okay, I confess. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy to know that Carter and Dominic are watching out for me. Carter’s questions about Sammy and the night of the big poker loss should irritate me, but I just feel protected and safe.

This is bad. I’m a gambler, sure, but even for me the idea of trusting two men, men I barely know, feels risky and reckless.

I haven’t brought anything formal to wear with me, but I do the best I can, pulling out a turquoise silk blouse and my most flattering pair of jeans and taking special care with my makeup. Carter’s eyes heat up when he sees me, and he growls in his throat. “I’m tempted to rip your clothes off and feast on you,” he says.

“What about Dominic?” I ask, then immediately regret it. I don’t know what the expectations of a threesome are, but asking Carter what the rules are makes this a more serious conversation than I’m prepared to have. Whether I have the money for Sammy or not, I have to leave Atlantic City at the end of the week. What’s the point of wondering whether Carter will consider it cheating if I have sex with Dominic when he’s not around, or vice versa?

He shrugs. “I don’t know all the answers, Gabby,” he says honestly. “This is new to me too. This is the first time either Dominic or I ever wanted something more out of a threesome than just sex. But we are three adults who are rational most of the time, right? I assume we can figure it out.”

This is the first time I’ve ever wanted something more… I don’t know what to do with his words, so I avoid thinking about them, smiling brightly at him instead. “Shall we? Somewhere out there, there’s a plate of kung pao chicken calling me, and I want to find it and put it out of its misery.”

He gives me a knowing look - my changing of the subject has been noticed. But he links his hand in mine without any further comment, and we take the elevator downstairs.

THE TWO OF us decide by mutual consent to try the Chinese restaurant in the casino downstairs. To be honest, I don’t have any capacity to think about where to eat dinner. I've tried to hide my stress from Carter, but I am incredibly nervous about this whole situation.

Last night, I was convinced that Bulldog would want me back so that his regulars could win back some of the money they lost to me. But as the day ticks on and Bulldog doesn’t call, my nerves have frayed to the point where I’m constantly looking at my phone, worrying about whether I’d been wrong in my diagnosis.

If Carter notices, he doesn't let on. I sneak a glance at him as we ride in the elevator. He’s so broad and strong. I feel safe around him.

Both Carter, with his promise that he’d make inquiries into Saturday night, and Dominic, with his insistence that I stay somewhere safe, have made me realize that my relationships in New York were woefully inadequate. All my boyfriends, such as they were, were only interested in sex, in going and checking out the latest restaurants and being seen at the trendiest clubs. What they didn’t demonstrate was a willingness to be involved in my life. Asking me how my work day was? That never happened. Showing me I could depend on them? Yeah, Vinny couldn’t even keep it in his pants.

It makes me realize that the criteria I use to find boyfriends needs some updating. I don’t trust that Carter and Dominic are around for the long haul. But at some point in the future, I will decide to date again. When I do, I promise myself that I will look for the kind of care and concern that the two of them have demonstrated to me since I’ve come to Atlantic City.

The hostess at the entrance of the Red Dragon recognizes Carter immediately, of course. “A table for two, Mr. Hughes? she asks deferentially. “It’ll just be a minute.”

“Thank you, Allison,” he responds.

She’s very pretty and she’s very thin. I’m trying to ignore my insecurities when I hear a voice shout out my name. “Gabriella!”

I turn around and recognize Xavier Garcia, one of my least favorite clients. Xavier is a former European soccer player who recently moved to New York to play Major League Soccer, because he didn’t have the consistency and talent to stay in the much more lucrative Spanish clubs. He’s on my dislike list because he just cannot take no for an answer. He persists in hitting on me every time I see him. It’s tiring, to say the least. Because he’s a client and I’m a lowly PR rep, I can’t even knee him in the groin like I want to. All I can do is rebuff his advances politely and hope he eventually gets the message.

He comes up to me and kisses me on my cheeks, holding me just a little too close for a little too long. I can smell the alcohol on him - he’s been drinking. I stiffen in his arms, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Carter clench his fists. Shit. I really like my job, and I’d like to keep it, drunk client or not.

I disentangle myself from Xavier’s octopus-like grip, but even as I think I’ve managed to escape, he puts an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. “Gabriella,” he slurs. “Keep me company. This place is so boring, mi amorcito.”

I roll my eyes. My love, he’s called me, even though he’s married, with a young son and another child on the way. I’ve even met his wife. Not for the first time, I silently wonder how she manages to turn a blind eye to her husband’s many indiscretions.

Carter goes very still. I’m praying that Xavier backs away before he does something stupid. I don’t want this to turn into a pissing match between the two men, because in a contest between Carter and Xavier, my money’s on Carter.

No such luck. Xavier plants his wet, slobbery lips on mine, prodding his fat tongue at my lips to try and find a gap, and as I’ve been dreading, Carter intervenes. I see one hand come up to Xavier’s shoulder and in the blink of an eye, Xavier’s on his butt on the floor, blinking up at us. His face darkens with a mixture of anger and confusion. Shit.

“Xavier, is it?” Carter asks smoothly, with a pleasant smile on his face. He offers his arm to Xavier and helps him up to his feet. “The marble floors can get so slippery here.” He shakes his head sadly and turns to the hostess, who’s gaping at us. “Allison, please send for a cleaning staff at once to mop up the floors.”

“What?” Xavier gapes, but I’m relieved to see that he still sounds drunk. In the morning, when he’s recalling this incident, I hope the suggestion that Carter’s planted in his mind - that he slipped on a slick floor and fell to the ground - will be the one he remembers.

“You know my girlfriend Gabby?” Carter continues to ask, that same wide smile on his face.

“Xavier’s one of my clients,” I chime in. “Xavier, we were just going in for dinner. You want to join us?”

I know he’s going to say no. He blinks, his gaze pivoting back and forth between Carter and I. His alcohol-fogged, pea-sized brain is trying to make sense of this situation. I can see him register the word girlfriend, and he takes another look at Carter.

Sometimes, people can sense danger even if there’s no evidence suggesting it. Right now, even though Carter’s smiling at Xavier, his green eyes are icy. He’s warning Xavier to back off.

“No, no,” Xavier declines my offer. “Thank you.”

“See you back in Manhattan,” I say brightly. I get the sense that Xavier has finally received the message that his advances aren’t welcome. Not only that, but Carter’s handled the situation perfectly, taking advantage of Xavier’s obviously inebriated state to avoid an incident.

I feel protected, and my job is safe. Damn it, Carter, I think to myself. Don’t make me believe in love again. Don’t make me hope.

“I CAN’T STAND possessive men,” I tell him when we are seated.

“Not possessive,” he contradicts me. “Protective. I’m not going to stand by and watch a man paw a woman when she clearly doesn’t want the attention.”

“He’s a client. I can get fired.”

He gives me an amused look. “Gabriella,” he says. He links his fingers to mine and brings my hand up to his lips, kissing my palm softly. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.” His eyes remind me of a moss-covered rock in the early morning mist. “You are ours. We take care of our own.”

“I’m not a possession,” I snarl. I’m terrified of how nice it feels to have someone to rely on, someone to watch over me. “I’m not yours.”

“You are never a possession,” he agrees. “But you are ours, and we are yours. Both Dominic and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy. And before you get angry with me and protest, think about this. Aren’t you doing the same for me? You are putting yourself in danger to find Noah. Do you think the protection is one-sided?”

I don’t meet his eyes. “I’m just doing it for the money,” I lie. “I need to pay off Sammy.”

He laughs in my face. “Sure you are. Your parents would give you the money in a heartbeat if you ask them. But you keep telling yourself what you need to believe.”

It feels futile to glare at him, so I turn my attention to the menu instead. Right now, satisfying my craving for kung pao chicken seems a lot easier than dealing with Carter.

We both order. When the food arrives, I dig into it in silence. I’m still wary. I’ve been in Atlantic City for a little over a day. The moment I start having expectations of Dominic and Carter, they will disappoint me.

“We talked about you often,” Carter says out of the blue. There’s a note of regret in his voice. “So many times, we were tempted to find you.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask before I can remember that I don’t care what his answer will be.

“You sneaked out of the hotel room,” he responds. “Through your actions, you made it clear that you didn’t want to be found. You had a right to leave.” He sighs heavily. “It didn’t mean that we didn’t want to find you.” His eyes meet mine. “Did you think about us? Did you think about that night?”

Images from that first night flash through my head, each memory steamier than the next. “All the time,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says. His lips twitch into a smile, but unlike his usual look of cockiness, he just looks sincere.

I soften and start to reply. But before I say something really stupid and emotional, I catch a glimpse of Dominic. He’s sitting a few tables away from us, and he’s having dinner with a beautiful blonde woman.

I freeze and I harden my heart. They told me to trust them, and I almost started to believe it. But less than six hours after he’d left my bed, Dominic is having dinner with someone else.

This is a familiar script, one I’ve read before. I had a twenty four hour reprieve, but in the end, my curse always strikes.

12

Dominic:

“He’s suing you,” Laura says to me. “He claims that he was unfairly fired.”

He is a dealer called Jack Leland. Jack skimmed twenty grand from the casino before Carter noticed and busted him. We didn’t have enough proof to get him arrested, so I gave him a choice. Return the money and leave, and we’d call it quits.

Now the fucker’s filed a lawsuit. Idiot. And Laura, who is the manager at the Grand River, is in a tizzy.

“Relax,” I tell her. “Carter’s got a stack of dirt on this guy. He’ll take care of it.”

She’s still tense. Laura’s ambitious, and she’s worried that I’m going to take Jack Leland suing the casino as a sign that she screwed up. I’m about to say something to reassure her when I look up and notice Gabby and Carter eating dinner a few tables over. And Gabby’s staring right at me, and in her eyes, I see betrayal.

Only one way to cut this off. I lift my hand up in greeting, and Carter notices. He looks at Laura and at Gabby, and he puts it together. He leans forward and says something to Gabby, and she nods reluctantly before the two of them get up and come over.

I catch the eye of our waitress. “Could you put a couple of tables together for us, please? Mr. Hughes and Ms. Alves will be joining us for dinner.”

“Of course, Mr. Crawford,” she says. “Right away.”

The tables are moved before the two of them can thread their way through to us. I rise to greet Gabby, kissing her lightly on her lips. “Hey princess,” I smile at her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She knows she’s read the situation wrong between Laura and me. Her lips draw into a rueful line. “I jumped to conclusions,” she says softly. Carter’s chatting with Laura, and neither of them can hear her.

“Laura’s the manager here,” I tell her quietly. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” she replies. She leans forward and kisses my cheek, and I can smell the jasmine and spice notes of her perfume. “I’m sorry.”

Squeezing her hand in reply, I gesture to her half-eaten meal, which the waitress has placed in front of her. “Dinner?”

She smiles, and for the first time, the wariness has left her eyes. “What a good idea.”

ONCE WE’VE EATEN, Laura rises to leave. “It’s late,” she apologizes. “And I’ve been here since seven in the morning. My cat’s probably plotting to murder me right now.”

Gabby laughs. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says warmly. When Laura’s gone, she turns to us. “So I might need to be more trusting,” she says with a grimace.

“You can make it up to us,” Carter suggests with a shit-eating grin. “I’ve a thought about dessert, and it isn’t the green tea ice-cream that’s on my mind.”

She winks. “You’d prefer eating a different kind of cream?” she jokes. “I’m on board with that idea.”

I’m ready to get up and rush us back to her suite when her phone beeps. We all stiffen. She reads the message and her shoulders slump with relief. “It’s Bulldog,” she says. “He’s sent me an address.” Her eyes gleam with excitement as she looks at us. “I’m in.”

13

Gabriella:

This time, I’m a little early to Bulldog’s game. I’m hoping that Ed will be early as well, so that I can attempt to seduce him.

Seduce my ass, a skeptical voice inside me mocks. I don’t think I’m capable of being the temptress. Still, the silk blouse I’m wearing shows plenty of cleavage, and my jeans hug my ass. Men like looking at tits and ass, right? I’m hoping that after a few months in jail, Ed’s eager to get laid.

A thousand thoughts buzz about in my brain, like bees in a hive. Carter’s line of questioning about Sammy makes me suspect that he thinks I was drugged that night. Was I? I can’t be sure. All I know is that I wasn’t acting like myself on Saturday night. I don’t usually play with such high stakes.

I make a decision, one that simultaneously terrifies me and excites me. Carter and Dominic have given me no reason to doubt them. Though it is difficult for me to have faith, I’m going to trust the two of them. Even if it means that I’m putting my heart on the line.

AS I HOPED, Ed is early. He walks in and sits down at the empty seat next to me. Remembering my resolution to seduce him, I move my chair a little closer to him and I smile brightly. "Hey there," I say. "Fancy seeing you here."

He grunts a reply. Not a talker, Ed. That's okay though. I have no idea what to say to him either.

I think of my Aunt Maria, my father's sister. She's a natural at this. Men flock around her, drawn to her giggles and the fluttering of her eyelashes, the way she winds her fingers through her hair. Taking a leaf out of her book, I wrap a strand of my hair through my fingers and try to look seductive, but if Ed notices, he doesn’t let on. Ugh. Kill me now.

I blame my mother for my utter inability to flirt. Elizabeth Alves is the quintessential English rose. She never raises her voice in public and she has never fluttered her eyelashes, not even once in her life. Yet somehow, she has my dad wrapped around her little finger.

Judging from Ed’s utter obliviousness to my seduction attempt, I haven’t inherited either my mother’s ability to make people fall in love with her, or my aunt’s ability to have men eating out of the palm of her hand. But I need to do something, and there’s an urgency to the situation. We have no guarantees that Ed Wagner is going to keep coming back to Bulldog’s poker tables, and we are no closer to finding Noah than we were yesterday.

The game starts. The dealer deals us in, and I look at the cards in my hand. Not great, not bad. A pair of kings and a two of hearts. The next round of cards, I pick up a seven of clubs. That's completely useless to me, yet I elect to stay in the game. I’m not playing to win tonight. I’m playing to gain the trust of both Bulldog and Ed.

The hours tick on. I win a couple of hands, but not enough money to attract undue notice. Things are going according to plan, and Ed is softening towards me. A few times, he makes a joke, and each time, I giggle. Honestly, I sound like an idiot, but it’s working. It’s like my friend Wendy says. The secret to keeping a boyfriend happy is to laugh at all their jokes, and assure them they are the best sex you’ve ever had. Of course, Wendy’s a divorce lawyer, and her profession has made her cynical about love. Still, it seems to be working on Ed right now.

When it is time for a smoking break, I once again rise and follow Ed outside to the small parking lot. The night is dark, and the air is dry. Tonight, I've come prepared with a pack of cigarettes, and I take one and hold it to my lips. Without prompting, Ed offers me a light. That's an improvement over last night, when he just lobbed a lighter in my direction. A glimmer of hope pierces through me. Maybe I'm making inroads after all.

Then I inhale smoke and start coughing.

"You're not really a smoker, are you?" Ed asks me, and his tone is hostile.

Shit. I'm caught. Frantically, I try to think about what to say, and I decide to go for broke. I need to tell him the truth, but not the whole truth. A minor variant of the truth.

"I'm not really," I admit sheepishly. I worry a strand of hair between my teeth, and I try to look both coy and bashful. I'm channeling Aunt Maria at her flirtatious best. "To be honest, I'm trying to flirt." I laugh, an embarrassed sound. "I'm not doing very well, am I?"

"With me?" he asks. His eyes stay hard, but he takes a step towards me.

"There's no one else here."

He moves closer, and I fight the urge to back away. He presses me against the building wall and his mouth collides with mine. In vain, I bring my hands up to his chest, but before I push him away, I remember that I need him to kiss me. This is the only way I can get him to take me home. This is the only way Carter can find Noah.

But when he kisses me, I feel violated. His mouth smells like an ashtray and when his tongue makes contact with mine, it feels like I’m licking soot. More than that, I feel wrongness. It feels like I'm cheating on Dominic and Carter, and I hate it.

His tongue flaps around in my mouth like a fish wiggling on a line, and I push back the urge to retch. I make moaning noises, and he’s encouraged enough to squeeze my breast through my clothes. I groan again, trying to sound like I’m in the throes of passion. "Please," I beg.

I wonder if I'm doing enough to sell this.

Suddenly, abruptly, Ed pulls away from me. There’s lust in his eyes, but the suspicion hasn’t evaporated completely. I open my mouth to say something but he interrupts. "I'll see you upstairs?" he asks me.

I adjust my top and run my fingers through my hair, curving my lips into what I hope is a sexy smile. "Sure thing," I tell him.

But when I go upstairs, he is nowhere to be seen. The rest of the night, the seat next to me stays empty. Ed Wagner has disappeared.

14

Gabriella:

They say that that the darkest hour is before dawn. I desperately hope so.

As I drive back to the Grand River, dreading the idea of telling Carter that I have failed once again, I cannot see a bright side to this. What did I do wrong that Ed Wagner disappeared? I have no idea. Something must have tipped him off.

The tears start pooling at my eyes. Yesterday, I was confident that Bulldog would invite me to play poker, and that Ed Wagner would be there, and Noah would be found quickly and without fuss. Today, I have no such faith.

Just when I was beginning to be hopeful that there might be some kind of future for the three of us, I have failed Dominic and Carter, I don’t know what to do next.

BECAUSE I’M CARRYING the tracker, Carter and Dominic can trace my route, and they know that something’s wrong when I head back to the casino. When I pull into the parking lot, they are there waiting for me. I brace myself for Carter’s anger, but if he’s furious, he hides it well as he listens to what happened.

“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip hard, hoping the pain will keep me from bursting into the tears that have threatened to erupt all the way back. “I’m so sorry, Carter. I failed you.” But I can’t hold back the deluge. Tears start dripping down my cheeks. I bow my head in the dimly lit parking lot, and hope neither of them have noticed.

Dominic makes a distressed sound, and Carter pulls me into his arms and holds me tight. I feel the strength in his embrace, and I take comfort in it. “Gabby,” he says. “You did what you could.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” I bawl. If something happens to Noah, I’m terrified that Carter will never be able to forgive me.

He soothes me with a kiss on my lips. “I could never hate you,” he says simply. His hand strokes my back, and his thumb massages my tense muscles. “How could you think that, Gabby?”

“Come,” Dominic adds. “Let’s go back to your room, princess. Why don’t you shower and head to bed? Things will look better in the morning.”

“Not a shower,” I mutter. “A bath. I’ve been lusting after that Jacuzzi tub.” I hesitate before plunging ahead with my request. “Will the two of you join me?”

I’m still wrapped up in Carter’s embrace. His grip on me tightens. Next to us, Dominic chuckles lightly. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, princess.”

DOMINIC DRAWS THE BATH, ignoring my protests that I can do it myself. “I’m sure you can, Gabby,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Humor me though. Let me take care of you.” While he’s doing this, a waiter arrives and drops off a bottle of chilled white wine and three glasses. “You hungry?” Dominic asks me. “I can call him back and order some food.”

I shake my head. Steam is rising off the bathwater, and I just want to luxuriate in the heat, sandwich myself between these two men and forget this evening. Not just this evening. For one night, I want to forget all my cares. I head to the living room to see if Carter wants to join me in the tub.

Carter’s sitting on the couch, his legs stretched out. He looks far more relaxed than I would have expected. “Are you closer to finding Ed?” I ask him. “You don’t look very upset with me.”

“We’ll find him, Gabby,” he responds. “And we’ll find Noah. I have teams of people working around the clock on this. No one can hide forever.”

That’s a frustrating answer. Yesterday, finding Noah was the most urgent priority. Today, Carter doesn’t seem fazed by my failure. “Don’t coddle me, Carter,” I snap in warning. “I know I’ve let you down.”

He shakes his head and gestures to me, patting his lap. The message is clear. Come sit on me. Desire, sly and unbidden, rises in response, and I obey. “You haven’t let me down,” he says, when his arms are once again around me. “You had an impossible task, and I was a fool to think that this situation would resolve itself in just one day.” His fingers brush a lock of my hair back from my cheek and I fight the urge to grab his hand and kiss it. “But it will resolve, do not fear.”

Dominic, who’s finished running the bath, joins us in the living room. He pours some wine into a glass, and hands it to me. “I should also point out that resolving this situation isn’t your responsibility,” he adds. “It’s ours.”

“I don’t think so. As Carter noted earlier this evening, protectiveness is a two-way street,” I tell him. “If you want to take care of me, you’ll have to accept that I’m going to feel the same way.”

His lips twitch. “Touché.” He fills two more glasses, one for Carter and one for himself, and we lift our glasses up in a toast. “To second chances,” he says.

A second chance. Life offers very few of them. I don’t know what lies in the future. But right now, though I’m both tired and weary, I want to seize this opportunity and make the most of it. I rise to my feet and walk towards the bathroom. “Join me?” I ask them. “I’ve always fantasized about two gorgeous guys washing my back.”

Carter’s eyes glint. “I think we can help you out there.”

In the bathroom, I strip slowly, savoring the look of heat in their eyes. They shed their clothes much quicker, and I’m thrilled that they are both hard, both ready. They’ve made no secret of the fact that they want me, and their bodies bear witness.

They get in the tub ahead of me, and Dominic’s grey eyes fill with lust as he surveys my naked body. “Gabby,” he says. “Do you want to play a game?”

“I am a gambler,” I respond.

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” His voice is satisfied. “Follow my instructions.”

I think back to last night, to the hard spanks that sent bolts of lust shooting through my entire being. I think I’m being offered that right now, and more.

And I want more. Dominic’s dominance is smoother and more refined than Carter’s, but it’s definitely there. Last night, Carter had growled orders, but it was Dominic who spanked me, and my guess is that that was just the start.

“Get in,” Dominic says, tapping the space between him and Carter. “What are you waiting for?”

I wink at him. “I’m following instructions,” I say meekly. “You know, I’m doing only what you tell me.”

Carter laughs and Dominic’s lips lift in a smile. When he speaks, I can tell he’s fighting not to laugh, but he sounds stern. “Do you want to get spanked for being a brat, Gabby?”

Yes, but not tonight. Tonight, I want softness. The bottle of wine is on a ledge near us, and I want to lie back, soak in the steam, and relax. I step into the tub, and moan as my skin makes contact with the water. “God, this is perfect,” I breathe, settling down on the ledge between the two of them. “Why don’t I have a tub like this in Manhattan?”

Dominic hands me the glass of wine I’d given him to hold, and I sip at the chilled liquid. He lets me take a small mouthful before his hands curl around the stem of my glass and he urges it from my grip. I give him a curious look, but he just gives me an enigmatic smile. “Remember, do what you are told.”

I nod. “Okay.” My nipples harden with anticipation; my skin prickles with desire.

Carter’s hand dips below the water surface and he cups my breast. Meanwhile, Dominic urges my knees apart, and places my thigh over his own. On the other side, Carter does the same, effectively locking me with my legs open.

They’ve hardly touched me, and I’m already on fire. And that has nothing to do with the temperature of the water I’m soaking in, and everything to do with the two men who flank me.

“Put your hands on your thighs,” Dominic instructs. “And don’t move them.”

“No,” I pout. “I want to touch you.” Their cocks are stiff and erect. I want to curl my fingers around their thick lengths and feel their hardness. I want to discover how long I can hold my breath underwater when I taste them. After all, though I went down on Carter yesterday, I haven’t had the opportunity to do that with Dominic yet.

“Did you not promise to obey, Gabby?” Carter asks. The tone of his voice is lazy, and he takes a long sip of his wine, his eyes on mine. “Are you too afraid to listen?”

“Listen to me, hotshot,” I start angrily, then realize I’ve been baited. “Damn you, Carter,” I say to him, trying not to giggle. “That’s not playing fair.”

“No one promised fairness, princess,” Dominic says. His voice hardens. “Hands on thighs. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

I shiver, liquid lust running through my veins. My palms move to rest against my thighs. As ordered.

“Good girl,” Dominic says approvingly. “Want a sip of your wine?”

I nod, and he brings the glass to my lips. I tilt my head back and swallow, closing my eyes as the cool liquid runs down my throat. Without the use of my hands, I feel helpless, but the way he’s feeding me the wine is so strangely intimate. I feel very precious. Cherished. I’m not used to feeling this way.

Except in the last two days.

That’s too heavy a thought for the moment. Right now, Dominic’s stroking my skin under the water, and Carter has, with a grin that bodes trouble for me, leaned forward to turn the Jacuzzi jets on.

Oh. Oh.

With my legs parted, and my hands held captive, I can’t flinch away from the pulse of water that’s aimed directly at my sex. The jets throb against my pussy, and my hips roll and pump as I try to position myself just so. I’m not sure if I’m trying to avoid the stream from hitting my clitoris, or if I’m trying to embrace the feeling of intensity it causes.

“Stop.” Dominic’s voice is calm and controlled. “Don’t move. You don’t make the rules, princess.” His fingers stroke my nipples, his neatly trimmed fingernails scratching my skin. “Stay still, else Carter will turn that jet up.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I mumble.

Dominic chuckles. “Not really,” he admits. He pets me with his left hand, on my breasts and my thighs, hovering over my mound, but refusing to touch my clitoris. With his right hand, he fists himself.

I’m already ready to whine and beg him to touch my pussy. But when I see him stroke that cock, the one that I ache to explore with my tongue? It takes all my willpower to keep silent.

Though Dominic seems intent on testing my ability to balance at the edge of pleasure, Carter isn’t as cruel. He scoops some hot water and trickles it over my skin. His mouth follows the liquid, kissing a path from my shoulders to my chest, then to my breasts.

My nipples engorge even further, if such a thing is possible. Carter releases my thigh from his grasp and moves in front of me, cutting off the jet of water that’s been massaging my core. I breathe a sigh of mingled relief and frustration. Then he pushes my breasts together and bends his head over them, and I moan and forget all about the water, because oh my fucking god.

As he bites and nips those tender buds, sending sharp spikes of intense pleasure through me, Dominic’s fingers grip my chin, and he tilts my head towards him. As Carter plays with my breasts, he kisses me slowly, leisurely, as if kissing is the goal itself, not a prelude to the heavier action. Any other time, I’d admire his restraint and his willingness to engage in foreplay. But desire coils tight in my belly. There’s two guys with erections next to me, and I’m impatient.

Yet I obey, keeping my legs parted and my hands on my thighs, because it also feels good to see how much I can take. I’m masochistic enough to want to see how hard I can be wound up before I can’t hold back my need.

Carter takes a deep breath, then lowers his head below the water, diving for my pussy. I squeak in surprise. “How long can you hold your breath?” I have to ask. “It’s a mood-killer if you drown, you know.”

He spanks my pussy to quieten me. If I weren’t submerged in water, his strike would undoubtedly produce a sharp stab of pain, but the water muffles the spank to a dull thud, one I want to experience again. “So good,” I breathe. “Do that again.”

“No talking,” Dominic chides. “No smart-assery. No thinking. Just feel, princess. Put your head back and let us pleasure you.”

You do pleasure me, I want to say to them. You give me more than any man ever has.

But those are the thoughts I’m not allowing myself to think, because those are the yearnings of someone who wants more, and I’ve learned that I cannot be that woman.

Carter’s mouth closes over my clitoris. He sucks that nub between his teeth, and I come off the bench. “Oh my god,” I moan, inadvertently disobeying Dominic’s edict. “Please…”

As Carter comes up for air, Dominic has a wicked gleam in his eyes. He tops up our glasses with the last of the wine, then he moves the bottle towards me, rolling the cold glass over my nipples. Again, I almost buckle at the sea of sensation that I’m swimming in. The contrast of the cold against the hot water, the dull throb of the jets of water that continue to pulse towards me now that Carter’s no longer in the way - it’s all too much. Is it possible to die of pleasure? Because I’m at a serious risk of it.

Then Dominic immerses the bottle into the water, and moves it towards my pussy, and I realize what his intent is. There’s more pleasure ahead. More toe-curling, full-body-shiver pleasure.

“Keep your hands on your thighs,” he whispers into my ear. “Okay, princess?”

I nod my acquiescence. The neck of the bottle enters my overheated sex, and I groan. It’s still a little cool, but warming rapidly. Both Carter and Dominic look at me, never taking their eyes off me. As Dominic fucks me with the wine bottle and I shudder and writhe my way to an orgasm, their gazes sear into me. I feel the heat of their desire, and it sends me over the edge. I climax hard, muscles clenching, limbs flailing, every inch of my body surrendering to pleasure.

When the waves of lust slowly recede, Carter holds my wine glass at my lips. I gulp the liquid, spilling some of it down my chest. His fingers scoop up each droplet, and he feeds them to me, and I suck his fingers as if they were his dick. Fuck me, I want to plead. My nails bite into my skin with the effort of keeping my hands on my thighs.

Dominic sits back up, looking satisfied, and thankfully, he lowers the intensity of the jets of water that drum against my ultra-sensitive clitoris. “Let me please you,” I whisper to both of them. “Please.”

“Don’t you want to come again?” Carter asks me.

“There’s two dicks here,” I complain lightly. “And I’m being fucked with a bottle?” My voice rises with frustration. “Seriously?”

They both crack up, then Dominic relents and lifts me off my seat and sets me down on the outer ledge of the tub. I lean back against the tile wall, shivering a little at how cold it feels on my back. Carter rolls on a condom, and positions himself between my legs, while Dominic’s hard cock nudges at my lips. “I want to feel your mouth on me, princess.”

“I’m entirely on board with that,” I mutter. I open my mouth and take Dominic in, and at the same moment as his cock hits the back of my throat, Carter pushes into my pussy.

His thrusts are steady and hard. Each stroke presses my back against the wall, each stroke hits my g-spot. Dominic waits for Carter to establish a rhythm, then his cock shoves into my mouth, his own rhythm acting as a counterpoint. I suck on him the best I can, but mostly, I let him fuck my mouth, and it is amazing.

“God, your pussy is so fucking wet,” Carter groans.

It’s the mouthfucking, I want to say. I wouldn’t have thought it would turn me on as much as it does, but my body doesn’t lie. Carter can tell, and I catch a glimpse of his amused face out of the corner of my eye. “Such a bad girl, Gabby,” he laughs. “You like being fucked this way?”

I’ll only be stating the obvious if I answer. Besides, Carter’s fingers find my clitoris at that point, and all thoughts escape my mind.

Dominic’s cock is buried in my mouth. I suck in my cheeks, and caress the underside of his dick with my tongue, and I bring my hands up to cup his balls. A prolonged groan greets that gesture. “Princess,” he grinds out. “You are killing me here.”

That’s sort of the point, Dominic, I think. Carter’s fingers pinch and tease at my clitoris, and I push into his hand shamelessly, begging silently for more. So much pleasure. So much overwhelming, toe-curling pleasure.

“Please may I come?” I mumble around Dominic’s cock. “I need to come.” I don’t know why I’m asking for permission, except that it feels right. It feels necessary.

“Hold on,” Carter urges. His voice is tight, urgent. He sounds close to his own release. Dominic’s body betrays him as well. His strokes increase in frequency as he too nears his climax.

The swell of lust lifts us, and we are prisoners to it. The water in the tub cools, forgotten, as we chase our climaxes. Carter’s hands move faster and faster on my sex. Dominic’s hands tighten around my hair and it’s all too much, too good, too hard to hold back my release…

Dominic erupts in my mouth and I swallow each drop, and the deep groans that accompany his orgasm are the last straw. I shatter, my body flailing and my thighs clenching. Carter can feel me because I hear him utter a muffled curse, then his hands grip my hips, and he slams into me in release.

“Mmm,” I purr contentedly, as the two of them collapse next to me, splashing me with lukewarm water. “That was amazing.”

“That was only the start,” Dominic promises. “Let’s dry you off and get you to bed, and we’ll continue.”

I giggle. Somehow, I’ve hit some kind of magic hot-guy lottery. Either that, or I’ve managed to dream up the entire last few days, in which case, I don’t want to be woken up. “Since I did agree to obey,” I reply solemnly, “I guess I have no other choice.”

I stand and they both dry me off between luxuriously soft towels, and we go to the bedroom and make love all over again.

15

Carter:

In order to keep myself from going ballistic, I spend most of the next day trying to get a handle on what really happened with Gabby the night she lost ninety-something thousand dollars at the poker table.

In a perfect world, I could approach Sammy D directly. No one is accusing him of anything, and he should be just as eager as I am to see that his dealers are clean. If word gets around that his games are rigged, his business will dry up.

But things are never that simple. People are touchy, and they act before they think. It’s just as likely that Sammy will get offended and refuse to talk to me entirely.

Which leaves tracking down the dealer, or tracking down the couple that won big. The dealer is easier, so I start there.

Underground poker is a strange beast. Stopping people from gambling doesn’t bubble to the top of the agenda of New York’s overworked cops. As long as Sammy runs a clean game, the police will turn a blind eye to his activities. That doesn’t mean they don’t know what’s going on.

If anyone is likely to have some insight into this world, it’ll be my buddy JP. He’s worked on the force for twenty years. He’s smart and observant, and he has a soft spot for Noah. I dial his number, and the phone rings, once, twice, before JP picks it up.

“I’m on a date, Hughes,” he growls into the line.

“It’s nine in the morning, JP,” I retort. JP’s been married three times. He pays an absolutely crazy amount of money in alimony. If I’ve interrupted his date, I’m probably doing him a favor.

“Do you have any idea how much it costs to spring for dinner in this city?” he grumbles. “I’ve taken to taking them out for breakfast. Much cheaper. Plus, the women think I’m original.”

No doubt he’s got a line for the woman he’s with. If I know JP, it’ll be something to the effect of him wanting to start his day right. JP is a master at pickup lines. “I need some information,” I tell him. “I’m looking for a dealer that works with Sammy D.”

“The guy who runs the poker rooms?” He sounds curious. “He keeps out of trouble.”

“He’s not in trouble,” I assure him. “But one of his dealers might have drugged someone I know.”

“A girl?” JP sounds amused. “And just like a white knight, Carter Hughes rides in to save the day?”

I give him the finger, but of course, he can’t see it. “Can we focus on the dealer?” I grind out.

JP ignores my attempt to change the topic. “Girlfriend of yours? About fucking time you settled down.”

“JP,” I say patiently. “The dealer.”

He sighs. “You are no fun, Hughes,” he grumbles. “Okay, I’ll look into it. A crooked dealer will leave a trail.”

I know. If the dealer received a payoff for his role in that night, we’ll find him. When people receive an unexpected sum of money, they can’t resist spending it. In fact, if I correctly remember the statistic, most lottery winners are broke within a year. “Thank you,” I say to him.

I don’t tell him that Noah’s birth father has abducted him. I don’t tell him about the stress that weighs down on me, stress that lifts only in Gabby’s presence.

MY MORNING IS BUSY. I meet with the teams that are working around the clock trying to find Ed Wagner. This should normally not be as hard as it’s proving, but Ed’s keeping his head down.

“No activity on his credit cards?” I ask for what has got to be the tenth time.

Neil Holder, the guy who’s leading up one of the search teams, shakes his head. “Not even a peep,” he confirms.

“We’re watching his friends,” Matt Gao adds. “We’ve got eyes on his former roommates, his older brother, his ex-girlfriend, everyone.” He looks sympathetic. “We’ll find him, boss.”

“I know you will,” I say. I’m tempted to yell and scream, but what’s the point? They are doing everything they can. Neil and Matt look like they haven’t slept for days. “Soon, this will all be behind us. You guys are doing a great job. Thank you for going above and beyond on this.”

The two of them stand a little taller; their eyes brighten. It’s the magic of a well-placed compliment. Now, they’ll work even harder to find Noah.

Yes, I’m a cynical bastard. But if it’ll bring back my nephew, then it’ll have been worth it.

I don’t see Gabby till well after lunch. She looks despondent as she opens her door. “Hey,” she greets me. She’s missing her customary fire, and it shocks me how much it affects me that she’s sad.

“Hey yourself,” I pull her in for a hug. “What did you do with yourself this morning, and where’s Dominic?” She was still sleeping when I’d left her room at dawn, and I hadn’t wanted to wake her.

“Moping, mostly,” she says honestly. “I feel like a fuck-up, Carter.”

“Hey there,” I soothe her. “Where’s this coming from? Where’s the Gabby that threatened to run over my foot with a wheelchair?”

Her answering smile is small. “It’s better that Crazy Gabby doesn’t make an appearance,” she says. “Had I tried harder that first night, had I not been so caught up in my own hubris, maybe Noah would be back here by now.”

Okay, she’s in full-on self-hate mode. I’ve seen this happen before with Chloe and I know, firsthand, how destructive it can be. “Stop,” I tell her firmly. “You did all the right things. It would have looked extremely suspicious if you’d abandoned a winning hand to chase after Ed.” I wink at her. “After all, Wagner’s no looker. Not like me.”

She laughs, a clear bright peal of laughter that transforms her. “Vain much, Carter?”

“Made you laugh, didn’t I?” I retort smugly. “Mission accomplished.”

She grins. “Where’s Dominic?” I ask. “I thought that he’d be here.”

“He had to work,” she says. “He did come and have lunch with me though.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s like neither of you trust me to spend a moment alone.”

“Come take a walk on the beach with me, and I’ll explain what that’s about.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Okay,” she agrees, “that sounds like a plan.”

IT’S A WEEKDAY AFTERNOON, and although it’s still summer, the beach is relatively empty. Of course, in Atlantic City, this means it’s still crowded enough that we have to make our way around clusters of sunbathers. I shouldn’t complain too much. In the evening, these tourists will spend their money at Dominic’s casino, and their willingness to return to Atlantic City keeps me employed. The Grand River is growing while other casinos in the area are on the verge of shutting down, and I have plenty to be grateful for.

“Did Dominic tell you how my parents were killed?”

At my words, her beautiful brown eyes lock on my face, wide and stricken. “Oh Carter,” she says softly, taking my hand in hers. “No, he didn’t. I’m so sorry.”

It should stop hurting after all these years, but the pain is always there as a dull background ache. “It was a long time ago,” I shrug. My attempted indifference isn’t fooling her; her grip on my hand tightens, and she moves closer to me.

“How? When?”

“It was the stupidest thing,” I reply. “A house robbery gone wrong in Buffalo. Some kids were searching for money.” I pause before I speak the next words. “To buy drugs.”

Life can be so ironic sometimes. The same forces that killed my parents killed Chloe.

I can see from the flash of understanding in Gabby’s eyes that she gets it. “How old were you, Carter?”

“Sixteen,” I tell her. “Chloe and I were twins. We were both sixteen.” I try not to think about Chloe. “Both of us had a hard time coping with their deaths,” I continue. “But we reacted in very different ways. I threw myself in my studies. While I was busy busting my gut in college, Chloe fell in with the wrong crowd. She started using.”

“And she dated Dominic?”

I nod. “Dominic and I were college roommates. She’d come up and visit sometimes. He was crazy about her. He asked her to go out with him for years before she accepted.”

“He didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s in the past,” I assure her. “I loved my sister more than anyone in the world, but even I can tell you that the idea of dating Chloe was much better than the reality of dating Chloe.”

“What do you mean?”

“She could be flighty,” I say. It feels disloyal to talk about my dead sister this way, but it’s the truth. I can see that Gabby thinks that Chloe was the love of Dominic’s life, but it didn’t play out that way. Real life has a funny way of interfering with the fairy tale narratives in our minds. “She’d blow hot and cold. And, most importantly, she swore to Dominic that she was clean. And she wasn’t.”

“He broke up with her.”

“Part of him was hoping that she’d be shocked clean,” I confirm. “But there’s also a part of him that was relieved to be out of that relationship.” I grimace. “That’s the thing about the dead,” I say. “The things that you can admit to yourself when they are alive, you can’t say after they die. The truth that they weren’t right for each other. She hurt him more than she provided comfort.”

“How does this relate to the two of you not letting me out of your sight?”

I smother a smile. Gabby is so… well, Gabby. I hear the note of ire in her voice. “You’re upset today,” I reply. “Do you think either of us will let you bear that alone?”

“I’m not Chloe,” she replies. She’s two steps ahead of me. “I’m not fragile. Sometimes, I’m going to be upset, and want to be left alone.”

“You aren’t Chloe,” I agree. I don’t know how to articulate the desire to make amends for the past. Had I not been as busy with school, maybe I could have kept Chloe away from her friends, the ones that pulled her down. Had Dominic not broken up with her, maybe Ed Wagner would never have been in the picture. This time around, I’m determined to get it right. “And if you want to be left alone, all you have to do is ask.”

She puts her hand around my waist. “What’s that?” I tease. “Did I hear those words? Leave me alone, Carter?” I put my hand behind my ear in an exaggerated gesture. “Did you say something, Gabby?”

Her lips twitch, and she pinches my side hard. “Not an ounce of spare fat,” she marvels. “It’s very intimidating to sleep with two guys that are so physically perfect.” She pinches me again for good effect. “I’m enjoying this walk on the beach,” she says. “Every single woman here is looking at me with envy because I’ve snagged a hottie, and that’s pretty damn nice.”

“They are?” I haven’t noticed. I’m walking alongside the woman who’s taken residence in my dreams for many months now. Why would I look around?

She laughs. “Yes Carter, they are.” She rises on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this. For noticing that I was sad in the hotel room. For caring enough to help me.”

Seriously, who are the fuckers she’s been dating? Still, I can’t complain. Had even one of those guys been man enough to keep her, she wouldn’t be ours now. I’m about to say as much when her phone rings.

She pulls it out of her pocket, making an apologetic face at me, then she looks at the screen and tenses. “It’s Bulldog,” she says to me. “Why is he calling me?”

16

Dominic:

It’s ten at night. The sun has set and the bright lights of the neon signs shine in the dark. People are wandering about on the streets, walking from casino to casino, chasing lady luck.

I’m in the parking lot of the Grand River, standing in front of Gabby’s rental car. “You don’t have to do this,” I say, for what seems to be the hundredth time. “This whole thing doesn’t seem right to me.”

That’s as much unease as I’m going to vocalize. I don’t want to make her any more nervous than she already is, and maybe I’m just being paranoid. But something doesn’t add up in this situation. Gabby’s made a fair bit of money both days at Bulldog’s table. The chances of him inviting her back are slim - his regulars will undoubtedly have grumbled about the woman from New York who was stealing their hard-earned money. If Bulldog was thinking about this from a business standpoint, he wouldn’t have sent her tonight’s location.

So he’s not thinking about business. The only other explanation is that Ed asked that Gabby be there. Perhaps it’s because of Gabby’s charm, but a more sinister explanation is that Ed suspects something.

Like I said, I don’t have a good feeling about this.

“Look,” she reasons. “If there’s a chance to find Noah, don’t you think I should take it?”

Yes, damn it. That’s the rub, isn’t it? There are no good choices here. Either I endanger a woman I care very much about, or I endanger my five-year old godson.

“You have the tracker?” Carter asks.

“I do,” she confirms patiently, slipping off her pretty high heels and showing us where it’s hidden on the inside of her shoe. This is not the first time Carter’s asked that question. “I promise, I won’t go anywhere without it.” She smiles bravely. “You guys will be right behind me,” she says. “I have nothing to be afraid of.” She envelops us in a hug, drawing us near. I can smell her perfume, the subtle tones of jasmine and mint messing with my mind. We all cling together for an infinite second, then she pulls away and unlocks the car door. “I have to go.”

“We’ve got your back, Gabby,” Carter promises.

She grins. “I know, Carter,” she says cheekily. “Else I’m going to break your toes with my wheelchair, remember?”

ONCE SHE’S GONE, I turn to Carter. “What do you think?”

“I don’t have a good feeling about today,” he says. “It’s risky, but I think we should move closer.”

“Can we get anywhere near the address? Where is it, anyway?” Even as I speak, I’m punching in the address Bulldog texted her into Google Maps. “Shit, this isn’t even in AC. This is Pleasantville.”

Carter nods. “It’s the basement of a Mexican restaurant,” he says, looking over my shoulder. “I know the place. I can’t get crews right to the door, but I can set a perimeter in a two-block radius.”

“Do it,” I say. I feel the same disquiet that Carter is feeling, the same sense that something bad is going to happen tonight. “Let’s get as close as we can. If this ignites a war with Bulldog, then so be it.”

Gabby’s brave and spirited, and she can take care of herself. But we are still going to be right behind her. Noah’s precious to us, but so is Gabriella, and tonight, we are getting both of them back.

17

Gabriella:

I’ve tried to conceal my nerves from Dominic and Carter. I can tell they don’t want me to go. But though Carter doesn’t want to admit it, his men are no closer than they were to finding Ed than they were two days ago. This might be the quickest and easiest way.

As I drive, there is a clamor in my brain, but one set of facts rise to the top. There’s a ton of bad blood between Carter and Ed Wagner. Carter blames Ed for Chloe’s death, and he judges Ed because of his failure to see his son since Chloe’s death. And on the other end, Ed even accused Carter of sending him to jail.

I don’t know what the whole and complete truth is, but this situation just seems sad. Noah’s a child who has lost his mother, who barely knows his father. I know that Carter’s desperate to protect his nephew, but is it right to keep a child from his father?

Of course it is, a voice rebukes me. Not all parents deserve to be parents. It’s a genetic lottery, not a measure of worth. Plenty of people who are kind and good, who long with futile desperation for a child of their own, aren’t lucky enough to have their wishes for children come true. Conversely, there are people who should have never become parents. Lady Luck is capricious and willful, and life isn’t always fair.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if my mind is clouded because of my overpowering attraction to Carter and Dominic. Two days ago, as I’d driven to Bulldog’s, I’d had the same doubts I’m having now. Are they worth listening to?

I wish I knew more. I wish I could figure out why Ed took Noah, and what he really wants.

But the time for wishing is past. I’ve arrived at the address that Bulldog texted me. There’s a pink neon sign of a margarita glass in the window of the restaurant, and next to it is a green neon cactus. The universal sign for a Mexican restaurant.

I have reached my destination. Bulldog’s guards signal me to stop in the parking lot, and I roll down my window. They shine a flashlight in my face, then they nod and step aside. Security’s tighter tonight, another thing that frays my nerves.

But I force it all to the background. The game is upon me. It’s now time to go and play, and tonight, it’s time to win, and win big.

ED’S already there when I arrive. He greets me with an uncharacteristically wide grin. “Hey there,” he says to me.

Well, that’s different. He hasn’t ever been this friendly. “Hey,” I reply. I remember I’m supposed to be pissed that he took off yesterday without telling me. “So what happened last night?” I ask him. “You sort of disappeared on me.”

He looks apologetic. “Sorry about that,” he replies. “I got a phone call. My son’s babysitter had an emergency, and I had to go watch my kid while she dealt with it.”

My son’s babysitter. My skin prickles with excitement. This is the first time he’s mentioned Noah, the first time he’s ever actually volunteered any information on his own. “You have a son?”

“Yup. Is that going to make you stop flirting?” He smiles as he asks the question, but he’s not worried about my answer.

Alarm bells have been chiming dimly in my head ever since his first warm greeting, but they rise in volume now. Something’s off. Bulldog calling me as early as he did, Ed’s unusual friendliness. “No, of course not,” I wink, stalling for time. “Ready to play?”

“Sit next to me,” he invites. “You can be my good luck charm.”

It’s poker, not a game of dice, and we’re playing for the same pot of money. Ed’s words don’t make any sense. But I smile and nod as if every word he says is fascinating, and I inch close to him. I don’t know the entire situation between Carter and Ed. But I can’t afford the luxury of doubt. When Noah’s back home, I can reassess the situation, but right now, I have to do everything in my power to locate that little child so that he can be reunited with Carter.

I’VE NEVER PLAYED A MORE distracted round of poker. My mind is pulling me in a thousand different directions. Ed’s thigh periodically grazes mine, and every single time this happens, it takes conscious willpower not to stiffen and pull away, but to lean into his body and do my own touching and flirting. The dealer watches us with curious eyes, but I ignore him and everyone else. I have to convince Ed Wagner that I’m into him.

At the cigarette break, Ed turns to me. “Want to get out of here?” he asks. “Take this somewhere more private?”

This is it. We are finally going to track Noah down. I should be filled with triumph, but my stomach churns, and I feel a sick sense of fear.

I push back my nerves. Not now, Gabby, I tell myself. Focus. I’ve played in a thousand high stakes poker games in my life and I haven’t flinched away, but the stakes are even higher now. My palms are cold and clammy, and my skin is covered in goosebumps. I take a long gulp from the can of club soda that I clutch in my hands, and I will myself to smile.

“You are going to miss a few rounds of poker on my behalf?” I say, keeping my tone light and flirty. “I think I’m flattered.” I flutter my eyelashes. “When you say private…”

“I mean my bedroom,” he interjects bluntly. He runs his hand up, from my hips to my waist, then he pulls me close to him. “Have I been misreading the signals? Are you a tease, Gabriella?”

I giggle like a silly child. “Guys usually buy me a drink first,” I stall. Why am I stalling? But something about this moment feels wrong and forced. Ed was entirely disinterested the first day, and he walked out on me after kissing me yesterday. This eager pawing is an about-face, and I don’t trust it.

“There’s a bottle of rum in my apartment,” he says. He pulls a set of car keys from his pocket. “Coming?”

“Why don’t I follow you in my own car?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “I’ll drop you back,” he promises.

His eyes are starting to get wary again, and he’s probably wondering why someone who threw themselves at him yesterday is so reluctant to play ball today. I can’t delay this anymore. If he spooks, we might never find Noah.

But I can’t also ignore my feeling that something is very wrong. On a sudden impulse, I lean towards Ed. “Let’s do this,” I say. “But I need to go to the bathroom first.”

“Sure. Why don’t I get your purse from Bulldog while you use the ladies? I’ll meet you at the restaurant entrance.”

Fuck. That’s one tentative plan cut off. I was going to call Carter from the bathroom and ask for instructions. Now, I can’t insist on my purse without raising Ed’s suspicions.

I make my way to the ladies’ room and sit on the toilet, my head in my hands. Think, Gabby, I urge. How can I communicate to Dominic and Carter that something is possibly wrong?

Then it comes to me like a bolt out of the blue. The tracker. It’s stuck on the inside of my shoe, where it’s been chafing my skin all evening long. I pull it out and contemplate the tiny electronic device. I can’t smash it with my heels - that noise might be heard from the outside. But I can flush it down the toilet, and though I’m sure that it’s well constructed, the gadget won’t survive being immersed in water.

If the tracker goes dead, will that give Dominic and Carter enough of a message that I think something’s wrong? I remember the worry on both their faces as I drove away. Yes, I think it will.

That’s what I do. I hop off the seat. Closing my eyes and saying a little prayer, I flush the button-shaped device into the toilet. Then I open the stall, eyeing my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands. I look tense. Hopefully, Ed confuses that with lust.

Opening the door, I smile brightly at Ed Wagner, who’s waiting right outside, holding my handbag in his hands. “I’m ready,” I tell him. “Shall we?”

I can’t shake the feeling that I’m walking into a trap, and as soon as we get into Ed’s beat-up pickup truck, my hunch is confirmed.

Because Ed Wagner is turned towards me, and there’s a gun in his hand, pointing straight at my head. “Tell me, Gabriella Alves,” he says. “Who are you working for?”

18

Gabriella:

“What the hell?” I screech. “What are you doing?”

With the gun in my face, I’ve never been more grateful I followed a hunch and flushed the tracker down the toilet. Had he found it…? My blood runs cold.

Ed ignores my yelling. The gun stays pointed at my face, and he rifles through my purse, searching for anything that might incriminate me. But there’s nothing there. There’s not even a key to the Grand River suite where I’m staying, because I’ve intentionally left it behind both days, for fear of being connected with Dominic.

His search comes up empty, and for the first time, I see the gun waver. “Who are you?” he repeats, though his tone sounds less confident than before.

I exhale. How would a person act if the guy she was hoping to get it on with pulls a gun on her? With indignation, I imagine. Should my ardor be cooled off? Definitely. Would I be willing to resume the hanky-panky? Depends on whether I’m an adrenaline junkie, I guess, and I’m definitely that.

Besides, we are still in the parking lot of the Mexican restaurant. Bulldog’s crew patrol the place, and Carter and Dominic have told me they can’t get too close, not without risking a shootout. We are no closer to finding Noah. I have to play along.

“Again, what the hell?” I say. “Is this how you react when a woman’s hot for you? Because I have got to point out, having a gun shoved in my face is not really a turn-on.”

His expression swings from sheepish to suspicious, and back. “Sorry,” he says as he tucks the gun in his waistband, clicking on the safety first to protect his junk. “I confused you with someone else.”

“Someone you want to shoot,” I say flatly. It wouldn’t add up if I forgave him too easily.

“I didn’t want to shoot you,” he protests. “I just want the truth.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I’m going out of my mind here.”

Though he pointed a gun at me, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Up close, he looks exhausted. Dark circles line his eyes, and his fingers tap a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. “What’s going on?” I keep my voice sympathetic. “Are you okay?”

He tosses my handbag behind the seat before he answers. Though the gun’s tucked away, his suspicion hasn’t evaporated completely. My phone is out of reach, and I have no way of calling Dominic or Carter. Damn it.

“I’m in the middle of a custody battle for my kid,” he says vaguely. “There’s a lot going on. I might have overreacted.”

“Yeah, that’s quite an understatement,” I say dryly. “Sounds like you need a drink or two.” I give him a sidelong glance. This is my chance, and I can’t mess it up. He has to want to take me home. “Didn’t you say you had rum at your place?”

“You still want to go?”

“I am a gambler,” I reply. “You just keep that gun tucked in where I can see it, and I’ll try to forget you pulled it on me.”

“Sounds like a deal.” He turns the key in the ignition. “Let’s go.”

Not for the first time tonight, I’m left wondering if I’m making the right decision. I try not to focus on that ominous weapon, and I try not to remember how terrifying it felt to stare down the barrel of a gun.

Dominic and Carter, I whisper to myself, the two of you had better bail me out of this situation fast.

Carter:

“Fuck,” I swear.

Dominic looks up.

“The tracker just stopped transmitting,” I explain to him, double-checking the readings to make sure it isn’t my imagination. The two of us are in a van, about a mile away from Bulldog. Neil Holder has a dozen men in place closer to the Mexican restaurant, but the restaurant is in the middle of a flat street, and there aren’t too many places we can set up watch without being fully in sight of Bulldog’s guards.

Matt Gao is in the van with us. He’s the communications expert. He studies the screen. “The tracker’s broken,” he says.

“Why would it break?” Dominic asks. “Where did it break?” I say at the same time.

Matt answers me. “It stopped transmitting in the restaurant,” he says. “But I don’t know why. It just went dead all of a sudden.”

“Could it just be a malfunction?” Dominic inquires.

“Unlikely,” I say. “I checked it myself.” I’m opening my mouth to suggest we try calling her when my phone rings. It’s Joshua, another one of my team working on finding Ed Wagner.

“Carter,” he greets me. “I have some news.”

“Tell me you know where Wagner lives, Joshua,” I say.

“Sorry, Carter,” he replies. His voice is serious. “I just heard something that could be a problem. Ed Wagner’s best friend in high school bought a gun today.”

Fuck. Fuck. Of course, the purchase of the gun could just be a coincidence, but two things have now gone wrong. The tracker has failed, and a gun’s been added to the mix. I feel a cold trickle of worry at the back of my neck.

“Thanks for calling,” I say absently. “Keep looking.”

“Will do, boss,” he says and hangs up.

Dominic’s overheard enough of the conversation. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I.” I dial Neil’s number to warn him about the gun and to caution him to stay alert. This situation is like a pressure cooker. At any moment, the lid’s going to blow.

Gabriella:

I’m trying to pay attention to where we are going, but I’m hampered by my absolutely terrible sense of direction. Without that little blue dot on Google Maps to tell me where I’m going, I’m worse than useless.

But we eventually turn along the road that runs parallel to the ocean. When the car stops at a light and the engine noise dies down, I can hear the faint sound of waves washing against the shore. There’s even a full moon in the night sky. Under different circumstances, and with a different companion, this moment would be romantic gold.

Ed seems to agree, because his hand rests on my thigh and he strokes my skin. It’s ironic. Had Carter or Dominic touched me this way, I’d have been turned on in seconds. But with Ed, I’m fighting my queasiness, and I’m doing my best to act as if I welcome his touch.

“You can touch me back,” he says, giving his crotch a suggestive glance.

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on the road?” I say. “I don’t want to get us in an accident.”

“Don’t be boring, Gabriella.” His face twists with displeasure. “Live a little. There’s no one around.”

There’s no avoiding it, so I reach over and rub his hard-on through his jeans, a little surprised that he’s good to go. So far tonight, he’s pulled a gun on me, threatened me and is now driving me back to his place. I would have thought all of that would have cooled his lust, but no. His bulge is clearly visible underneath his pants. “Mmm.” I channel my best porn star voice. “Is that for me?” I giggle. “I’m flattered.”

“Harder,” he clenches out. “Rub harder.”

Ugh, ugh, ugh. I am feeling so squicked out by the idea of touching Ed that my pussy is as dry as sandpaper.

“Are we close to your place?” I ask innocently. I’ve been trying to notice the road signs without it being too obvious. I think we are headed south on Atlantic Avenue. All the houses look identical in the dark, and we are far enough away from the glitz and the glamour of Atlantic City that streetlights are few and far between.

“Getting there,” he grunts. His eyes are open just a sliver, and his attention is clearly on the hand-job I’m giving him, not on the road. Delaying tactics aside, I am genuinely afraid we are going to crash, so I pull my wrist away. “Why did you stop?” he whines.

“I’ve a better place for that bad boy,” I tell him with a wink.

“We’ll be home in ten minutes.” He gives me a sidelong look, one that’s heated with desire. It frightens me a little. I’ve believed all along that Dominic and Carter would be right behind me, but what if they aren’t? I’m not prepared to go through with the promises I’ve been making to Ed Wagner. I don’t want to have sex with him.

Ten minutes. Where are you, Carter and Dominic?

Dominic:

“Tell me we know where she is right now,” Carter’s voice is dangerous, and I feel a brief moment of sympathy for Holder, on the other end of the line. “Damn it, Neil. What the absolute fuck?”

Neil must be saying something soothing on his end, because Carter’s shoulders relax. He hangs up with a curt goodbye and he turns to me. “They aren’t a hundred percent sure they are following the right car,” he says. In deference to Matt Gao, who’s sitting in the van with us, he doesn’t say something disparaging about the general incompetence of Neil’s crew.

“Let’s get on the road. Which way?”

“If Neil’s right, south towards Margate,” Carter replies. “Yeah, let’s go. I feel about as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.”

“That’s oddly descriptive,” Matt quips, shaking his head. “Where do you get these things from?”

I know where the phrase is from. Chloe. She was full of odd metaphors. She’d find the oddest expressions, and she’d amuse all of us with them.

I’ve been in love with her for so long, and I’ve spent the last three years mourning her memory. There’s a part of me that’s always going to cherish every single moment I had with her, but I didn’t lie when I told Gabby that Chloe was in the past.

I’m done being in love with a ghost. There’s a real, live woman in danger now, a woman whose smiles have beguiled me, whose laugh soothes my heart, whose warmth eases away all of my cares. Somewhere ahead of us, Gabby’s in a car with Ed Wagner. She’s destroyed her tracker for some reason, and I’m afraid that this situation is spiraling out of control.

But she’s not alone. Carter revs the engine and we tear out of the parking lot, making our way towards Margate City. Hang on, princess. Help’s on the way.

19

Gabriella:

Ed pulls up in front of a non-descript ground floor apartment tucked away on a back road. Leaning forward, he opens the glove box and locks the gun into it, before getting out of his truck and slamming his door shut. To my surprise, he comes around to open my door for me. “That’s very gallant,” I tease. I don’t really know what to make of Ed Wagner. Just thirty minutes ago, he pulled a gun on me. But if he’s dangerous, that’s not the vibe he’s giving out.

“The door sticks,” he smiles back. He doesn’t make any effort to retrieve my purse, which is behind his seat, and thinking about it quickly, I decide against mentioning it. After all, I supposedly have the hots for Ed. I’ve been stroking his dick on the drive. He’s already searched through my purse, and there’s no makeup in it, so I can’t even use the excuse that I want to freshen up.

“You have to be really quiet,” he warns me as he opens the door. “Noah’s probably sleeping, and I don’t want to wake him.”

I remind myself that even if Ed’s being friendly at the moment, I’m walking into potential danger. But mostly, the emotion that fills me is puzzlement. Carter hates this guy’s guts, but right now, Ed Wagner just sounds like a concerned parent.

My confusion deepens when I see the teenage girl sitting on the couch, her eyes glued to her phone, scrolling through Facebook posts. “Hey Mr. Wagner,” she greets him. She ignores me. If she’s surprised that Ed’s accompanied by a woman, she doesn’t show it. More likely, she just doesn’t care. I remember finding adults incredibly responsible and boring at her age, and I would have rather endured a trip to the dentist than spend a few moments in conversation with my parents’ friends.

“Hi Tiffany,” he replies. He reaches for his wallet and pulls some money out, giving her two crisp twenty dollar bills, money I know he won tonight playing poker. “Thanks for watching Noah. Was he good?”

Hang on. This guy has a babysitter for his kid? More and more, I find myself questioning Carter’s loathing of this guy. There’s two sides to this story, and I’ve clearly only heard one.

The babysitter answers him, takes her handed money and leaves. In the meanwhile, I look around the apartment, which isn’t large. The kitchen is just a nook in the corner of the living room. The furniture looks shabby and tired, but the place is spotlessly clean. “I’m just going to check on him, okay?” he tells me, gesturing to the couch. “Sit down, or if you want a drink, it’s in the kitchen. The rum’s on the counter and there are some beers in the refrigerator.”

He disappears into the adjoining room, where I assume Noah is sleeping. For a moment, I debate following him and trying to catch a glimpse of the child, but I talk myself out of it. Ed seems cool now, but I can’t allow myself to forget that he held a gun to my face. While every instinct of mine is screaming at me that his action was borne of desperation, not any genuine desire to hurt me, I’m still a fan of self-preservation. There’s only one of me - it makes me rather preoccupied with staying alive.

Ed comes out a few minutes later. I’m still on the couch. “No drink?” he asks me.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Beer or rum?” he asks me over his shoulder, walking to the kitchen area.

I can generally hold my alcohol, and I’ve never developed a taste for beer. “Rum please,” I reply.

He opens the refrigerator and grabs himself a beer. “Neat or with a coke?” he asks me as he takes a long sip from his bottle.

“Coke, please.”

He pours a generous amount of rum into a glass, then fills it to the brim with the contents of a can of cola. He hands me the drink, then takes a seat next to me, close enough to cause me to stiffen. I sip the sweet drink and cough. “This is strong,” I choke out. “Is the Coke just for color?”

He doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he moves even closer, and places a hand on my jeans-clad thigh. “Where were we?” he asks.

I wriggle uncomfortably. Stall, Gabby, stall. Dominic and Carter can’t be far away. “Can a girl finish her drink before the heavy petting begins?” I ask pertly.

“You can manage both at the same time,” he remarks, undeterred. His lips graze a trail of kisses at my neck, and I have to fight my urge to empty the drink over his head. “Feel free to participate, by the way.”

Okay, I can’t avoid this forever. I have to do something sexual here. What’s likely to cause me to retch the least? Nothing with my mouth - that just feels gross. A hand-job? Can I beat him off without barfing?

The situations I get myself into. First, the stupid poker debt. Then, my stubborn refusal to ask my parents and friends for money. Finally, the deal that I struck with Carter and Dominic. All of which lead here, to this spot, where Ed Wagner has just stuck his tongue in my ear.

I’m imagining that an eel is wriggling around there, and it isn’t a picture that arouses me in the slightest.

Slowly, I graze my fingers across his forearm, then over his leg. I hover over his crotch, then move away with a giggle. It’s a delaying tactic, but hopefully, he thinks I’m engaging in teasing foreplay.

“Don’t be like that, Gabriella,” he complains. He unbuttons his jeans, then stands and strips down to his boxers. “Let’s kick this up a gear, shall we?”

I eye his rapidly hardening erection. I’m running out of options. How can I delay this? I think frantically. What can I do? My phone is in my purse, which is locked tight in his truck. If I run for it, he’ll catch me, and in any case, where can I run? There’s no phone in the apartment, I’ve looked already. There’s no way I can reach Dominic and Carter.

“Get down on your knees, Gabby,” Ed Wagner urges, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me down. “Take that top off and let me see your tits as that pretty little mouth gets to work.”

Choices are disappearing. I don’t want to do this, but I’m not sure how to prevent this anymore. I unbutton my shirt slowly, delaying the inevitable blow job. His eyes are hot with desire as each inch of skin comes into view. When I slip my shirt off my shoulders, his eyes bulge. “Lose the bra,” he orders hoarsely.

I reach behind me for the clasp, undoing it. I pull it off and toss it at him. “Hello, cowboy,” I say seductively. Aunt Maria would be clutching at her rosary, while simultaneously cheering on my newfound flirting ability from the sidelines. “Like what you see?”

His hands move towards my breasts. His skin is coarse on my flesh, but while Carter’s calluses turn me on, Ed’s touch repels me. Still, it’s a lot better than sucking his dick, so I’ll deal.

As if thinking of my lips on his cock is a jinx that makes him remember, he pushes his boxers down. His erection bobs in the space between us, impossible to ignore. Just when the assault of his slug-like cock appears imminent, there’s a banging at the door, and it smashes open. Two men hurtle through, both with drawn guns.

Carter and Dominic. My heroes have come through for me.

20

Gabriella:

Five minutes later, everyone is dressed, thank heavens, and the guns have been lowered. Carter’s finger still hovers near the trigger, but at least the weapon isn’t pointed at someone’s face.

That’s the good news. The bad news is that the two men are facing each other, and from their body language, they are going to trade blows any second. Hatred is etched on both their faces.

“You kidnapped Noah,” Carter yells. “I should have you arrested.”

“For what? He’s my son, Hughes. I’m listed on his birth certificate. Do you think anyone’s going to arrest a father for wanting to be reunited with his son?”

“Father?” Carter sneers. “Please, give the devoted parent act a rest. You haven’t seen Noah in three years. Stop acting like you give a shit.”

My head swivels back and forth between the two of them, and my head hurts trying to take in this conversation. I thought Dominic would intervene, but he says nothing. There’s a peculiar look in his eyes and he appears troubled.

“Fuck you,” Ed says, his voice pained and raw. “My girlfriend died and I fell apart, okay? I’m not proud of it. Every time I saw Noah, all I could see was Chloe. We all deal with our grief in different ways.”

Carter clenches his fists. “Your way was to walk away from a two-year old, Wagner. And now that you have him, what do you do? Leave him alone while you play poker at Bulldog’s. Some father you are.”

“Carter,” I interject hesitantly. “There was a babysitter.” I take a deep breath before saying the next few words. “I know this is hard, but can’t the two of you let the past go?”

As I ask them that, I’m faced with a realization that stops me dead in my tracks. I’m asking Carter to do something that I cannot seem to do. Each no-good boyfriend has left scars on my heart, and they’ve made me afraid and angry. I’m the biggest hypocrite in the world. I’m asking Carter to forgive and forget, when I’m unable to do the same.

“You had a babysitter for Noah?” Dominic cuts in, his voice sharp.

“Yeah, of course,” Ed snaps, not taking his eyes away from Carter. “What do you expect, Hughes? You’ve seen to it that I can’t get a job in this town. You’ve put me in jail. You think I can raise a child without money? You think I want to be beholden to Bulldog? I do what I have to.”

Carter looks away, shamefaced. “I didn’t put you in jail,” he mutters, but he doesn’t deny Ed’s other accusations. “That wasn’t me.”

“Daddy?” A child’s voice interrupts the angry recriminations. I turn around and see an adorable little boy with a mop of curly red hair standing in the open bedroom doorway. His face breaks out into a wide smile when he spots Carter and Dominic. “Uncle Carter, Uncle Dominic,” he says excitedly. “Daddy took me to the zoo today. And we are going to get a puppy.”

The palpable tension in the room drains away. “Noah,” Ed picks the kid up. “Remember, you have to be good to get a puppy. No staying up past your bedtime, remember?”

“Can I have a glass of milk?” Noah bargains, in an effort to thwart all mention of bedtime.

“You actually have milk, Wagner?” Carter’s voice is hard.

Ed gives him a withering look. “In the refrigerator. Plain or chocolate, champ?”

“Chocolate,” Noah chooses, and Ed sets him down and pours out a glass.

Noah drinks the milk in silence, then Ed picks him up again and turns in the direction of the bedroom. “Okay, Champ. Bedtime.”

“I don’t wanna,” Noah whines.

Dominic’s lips twitch and he turns to me. “I’ve heard that whine from Noah more times than I can count,” he tells me. “Good luck to Wagner.”

“How about I read you a bedtime story?” Ed offers.

The young child considers that offer with his thumb in his mouth. “Both of you,” he says finally, removing his finger long enough to form a sentence. “Daddy and Uncle Carter can read me a story.”

Carter sighs. “You drive a hard bargain, kid,” he replies, giving Ed Wagner a dubious look. “Let’s do it.”

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” I ask Dominic bemusedly when the two of them have left the room.

Dominic shakes his head. “You know, I’m not sure,” he says.

“How much of what Ed said is true?”

“Depends on who you ask,” he says obliquely. Before I can ask him to clarify, he continues of his own volition. “We only saw Ed as the guy who had caused Chloe to overdose. Both Carter and I blamed him for it. We didn’t stop to think that he might also be suffering.”

“Why not?”

He makes a wry face. “Chloe picked Ed Wagner over me.” He shakes his head. “I guess it had more impact on me that I was prepared to admit.”

“What now, Dominic? Noah shouldn’t have to pick between feuding members of his family.”

“No, he shouldn’t,” Dominic agrees. “Tell that to Carter. He’ll listen to you.”

“Why?” I ask bluntly. “Why would either of you listen to me?”

He looks puzzled. “Because when Carter calms down enough, he can’t dispute that this is best for Noah. But most of all, Gabby,” he says. “We’ll listen to you because you are important to both of us.”

“OKAY, the two of you,” I point at both of them when they emerge from Noah’s bedroom. “Sit.”

Carter smothers a smile at my bossy tone and sits on the couch. Ed blinks in confusion, but he obeys as well.

“Listen to me,” I continue. “Carter, your parents were taken from you when you were just a teenager. Noah’s mother is already dead. Don’t you think he deserves a father?” I glare at him, willing him to agree with me.

He could reply and tell me that he’s acted like Noah’s father in Ed’s absence, and he would be entirely within his rights to do so. But he doesn’t say anything to contradict me, and right now, I’ll take that as a good sign. I turn to Ed. “And you,” I snap. “Drugs have killed Carter’s parents and Carter’s sister. Can you see why he might have gone off the deep end?” I’ve only just pieced it together. Carter’s parents were shot dead by some kids searching for money to buy drugs. Carter’s sister died from a drug overdose. When he heard that Sammy’s dealer might have drugged me, his reaction should have given me a clue that this particular cut runs deep.

Ed nods reluctantly. “I’m not using anymore,” he says to Carter. “I went away after she died, and I cleaned up.”

“Both of you love Noah,” I say softly. “Isn’t it time to leave the past behind?”

Dominic hasn't said a word until this moment, but he speaks now. “Chloe would have wanted us to get along,” he says. He looks at Ed Wagner. “I’m sorry for the role I’ve played in this.”

“Come on, you two,” I urge, looking at Ed and Carter. “Do the right thing. For Noah’s sake…”

Carter glares at me, and I stare right back, refusing to be cowed. He transfers his glower to Ed, who doesn’t quail either. “If I find that you are doing drugs again, even if it’s just pot, I’m going to sue for parental rights,” he warns.

“Fair enough,” Ed agrees. He extends his hand out to Carter, who shakes it. “Joint custody?”

Carter nods. “I don’t want to wake Noah,” he says. “Why don’t we all get out of here, and we’ll work the details out in the morning?”

“I’m assuming there’ll be guards posted at the door?” Ed says wryly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And enough of the zoo. Take him to daycare tomorrow, god damn it,” Carter grumbles, though there’s very little malice in his tone. “Else the kid’s going to forget that I’m his favorite adult.”

21

Gabriella:

“You did a good thing,” Dominic says, when we are all finally back in my suite of the Grand River. “You helped right an old wrong.”

“You did,” Carter agrees, putting an arm around my waist. “I’m still going to grumble about it.”

A weight lifts off me at his touch. I know I did the right thing tonight, but I wasn’t sure whether I was lobbying for a reconciliation at the cost of my relationship with Carter and Dominic.

“Fair enough.” My reply is distracted. I’ve just realized something, and it causes my heart to sink like a rock tossed into a pond. With Noah safe and sound, there’s no reason for me to remain in Atlantic City any more. A lump forms in my throat as I contemplate driving back to New York. Alone. Without the two of them. “You’ll have to grumble to Dominic, I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” I say with a hitch in my voice. Do the words need to be said? “I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain. You’ve found Noah.” I force a smile on my face. “It’s time we all resumed our lives, don’t you think? I should head back to Manhattan in the morning.”

“I don’t want to resume my old life, Gabby.” Carter’s green eyes trap me in their gaze. “In that life, I was consumed with my failures and my regret. I nursed my hatred for Ed Wagner, and I lived in solitary bitterness.” He covers my hand with his. “Then I met you for the first time, and then I got lucky enough to meet you again. And while life can sometimes offer second chances, only a fool would hope for a third.”

“We aren’t fools, princess.” Dominic takes my other hand. “We aren’t going to let you go again.”

“What about the Vinny rule?” I ask faintly.

“What’s the Vinny rule?”

“I can’t sleep with a guy more than once, else they turn into assholes.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Carter says bluntly. He never sugarcoats his words, Carter.

Dominic is a little more diplomatic, but his expression reveals his opinion of the Vinny rule. “Are you a gambler, Gabriella Alves?” he asks me seriously.

“I think the evidence suggests that that is the case,” I say, fighting the urge to cry. Both of them are holding onto my hands, and heaven help me, I don’t want to say goodbye. I’m not ready. They mean too much to me.

“Not for a hundred thousand dollars this time,” he says, bringing my hand up to his lips. His soft kiss breaks my heart. “Will you gamble for something more important?”

“Don’t do this, you guys,” I plead. “Don’t make this difficult.”

They ignore my faint protests. “Gabby,” Dominic’s grey eyes bore into me. “Will you gamble with your heart?”

“But I must warn you,” Carter interjects. “It’s not much of a gamble. We will keep your heart safe, Gabby. We will keep it protected. We will do whatever it takes to make you happy. We are,” his lips curve into a smile, “something of a sure thing.”

At the start of the week, my boss Nathan mentioned an Atlantic City office. Is that serendipity? Do I dare believe in love again?

“What are you suggesting?” I whisper. “What’s on offer? Will we date other people?”

Carter laughs in disbelief.

“Absolutely not, princess,” Dominic says. “Just the three of us. No one else. I had to fight to keep myself from ripping Ed Wagner apart with my bare hands when I saw the two of you. I can’t do that again.”

“Gabby,” Carter adds, just in case there’s any doubt in my heart. “I want you to live in Atlantic City. I want to come back home every evening and cook dinner for you. I want us to fight about who does the dishes. What I’m trying to say, Gabby, is that I love you, and I want to spend every single day with you.”

“I think Dominic should do dishes,” I mumble. My heart hums a happy tune, and it’s threatening to turn into a full-fledged aria any moment.

Dominic laughs. “I’m sure I can manage my way around a dishcloth and some soap,” he says. “The things you have to do for the girl you love…”

The girl you love… I’m trying to say I love you… Their declarations hang in the air, waiting for me to form my own reply, but I don’t need to look too deep into my heart to find my answer. I’ve known the truth for a long time now, though I’ve never had the courage to acknowledge it before.

“This is a lovely suite,” I look around. “I could get used to living here.”

“You could,” Dominic agrees. “Or you could just move in with us.”

“You guys live together?”

He nods. “It was the most efficient thing to do when Noah was younger,” he says. He grins. “And now, well, it’s the most efficient way to do a lot of other things.”

I can imagine the other things he’s talking about, and my body’s definitely on board with all of them.

“So,” Carter asks. “Can we agree that we will never again speak of the Vinny rule?”

If there’s ever a time to roll the dice, it’s now. “Okay.” The two of them are still holding onto my hands, and I pull them into my body, hugging them tight against me. “Let’s do this thing.”

EPILOGUE

Two months later…

“Piper,” I speak into my monitor. “Spill.”

It’s Monday night and Carter and Dominic have cleared out of our home, taking Noah with them. They said something about going to get dinner with Ed, followed by ice-cream. Noah solemnly promised to bring back some for me. “I know you like strawberry, Gabby,” he said. “I’ll remind Daddy and Uncle Carter.”

Ed Wagner is working in Dominic’s casino now as a dealer, and he’s really good at it. He’s also living in a nicer apartment, one that even Carter approves of. Relations are slowly mending between Ed and Carter, and I could not be happier. It’s absolutely wonderful to watch Noah’s eyes shine when he talks about his daddy. Carter grumbles a little, but even he doesn’t try to deny that we all did the right thing.

Nathan was delighted that I was interested in the Atlantic City office. I guess he was having a tough time convincing people who lived in the city to move away. I used to be one of the people that never wanted to leave, but though I do miss Manhattan from time to time, plenty of other things make up for it. Reading Noah a bedtime story. Soaking in the hot tub with Dominic and Carter. Sharing a bed with the two of them, and waking up tangled up in their limbs, every single morning. Above all, being utterly, completely loved.

My move to Atlantic City happened a month back, and really, things cannot be going better. I even put my big-girl panties on and told my parents about my unorthodox relationship. I know they had some difficulty with it at the start, but then they saw a photo of Noah and melted. Now, they send him toys from London, and spoil the shit out of him.

Hey, Noah’s adorable smile works on everyone. I’m not too proud to use it to get what I need.

Though Dominic was ready to pay Sammy the money I owed, Carter’s contacts came through for him. The dealer at my table had indeed been running a scam on the side, and the tourist couple were swindling us of our money. Sammy acted swiftly to clean house, and he forgave my debt. No doubt Mr. Clean and Fake Elvis are working their magic on the guilty parties. I don’t want to think about that too much.

Right now, I’m Skyping with my girls. Bailey’s still with her billionaires, and all’s well on that front. Wendy’s kicking ass at work, as usual. Miki’s somewhat subdued, and I wonder if she’s okay. But the bulk of our attention is on Piper. She’s got that ‘I had mind-bogglingly good sex’ look on her face. I should know that look - I see it every morning in the mirror.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she says weakly.

“Piper,” I warn. “There are consequences to keeping secrets from your best friends.”

“Shot, shot, shot,” chant the others. Piper grimaces and takes her penalty shot from the bottle of vodka next to her. “We miss you, Gabby,” she says. “There are no sandwiches.”

“I’ll be in Manhattan in two weeks,” I tell them. “Dominic has some kind of work thing, and we are all coming down for the week. I’ll bring sandwiches then. And Piper?” I glare through the screen at her. “I know an attempt to change the topic when I hear it.”

“Okay,” she says sheepishly. “I may have been inspired by you and Bailey, and done something stupid.”

“Wait a second,” Wendy leans forward, her mouth open. “You jumped on the ménage wagon?”

“I didn’t go all the way,” Piper protests.

“Who with?” Miki butts in. “Anyone we know?”

Piper gulps and avoids looking at any of us. “Sort of,” she whispers, her cheeks scarlet. “It’s Wyatt and Owen.”

I can’t help it. I burst into laughter. Wyatt and Owen are a couple of genius restauranteurs who are helping Piper make a success of her own New York eatery. But in the process, the three of them have been fighting like cats and dogs.

It seems like hate and love aren’t too far apart in this case.

“What about you, Gabby?” Piper makes another frantic attempt to change the topic. “One month living with the guys, how’s that going? Do you miss having your own place?”

I think about the way Dominic massages my feet when I take off my high heels. The way Carter always has dinner ready when I get back home from work. I think about our Friday night routine, where we all go out to dinner at that Italian restaurant that Dominic introduced me to, and our big, boisterous family lunches on Sunday, where we are joined by Ed and other friends.

“You know something?” I say. “It was the best gamble of my life.”

The Playing for Love series continues with Playing with Piper. Coming May, 2016!

They fixed her restaurant. Can she fix their hearts?

Piper Jackson wants to make a play for her two hot partners.

PIPER’S RESTAURANT isn’t failing anymore, but her conservative Southern family still won’t stop interfering in her life. And if they find out she’s contemplating a threesome with the two men who saved her restaurant, all hell will break loose...

Owen Lamb has been playing a role his entire life.

After his parents were brutally murdered in a gang war, Owen changed his appearance and fled the country. He’s lived in peace and quiet for many years, but now, an old enemy has resurfaced. Everyone Owen cares for is at risk. Especially Piper…

Wyatt Lawless has played into his blackmailer’s hands.

For ten years, Wyatt has kept a secret that has the potential to destroy his life. Now, the truth is about to be revealed, and everything Wyatt has built is about to come crumbling down. Unless he can trust Owen and Piper…

When the stakes have never been higher, can three wary people trust each other and make a play for love?

Note: Playing with Piper is a stand-alone full-length ménage novel (mfm) and part of the Playing For Love series. Intended for mature audiences only.

Click here to pre-order Playing With Piper (A Playing for Love Novel)

Want more?

On April 15, I’m going to be sending out a free short story to my mailing list, featuring Bailey, Sebastian and Daniel from Betting on Bailey. If you want to read this story, which will only be released to my mailing list subscribers, please do sign up!

A NOTE FROM TARA

Dear readers,

I hope you enjoyed reading Gambling with Gabriella.

Would you help me out by leaving a review? Reviews are hugely important in helping readers decide on their next book. Please take a moment to tell me what you thought — I’d really, really appreciate it.

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You won’t receive sale notifications that way (I think), but you will find out about new releases.

Cheers and happy reading!

Tara

ABOUT TARA CRESCENT

Get a free story from Tara when you sign up to Tara's mailing list.

Tara Crescent is a writer of steamy romantic fiction. She believes in sassy submissives, firm Dominants, completely consensual relationships and happily-ever-afters! Her favorite kind of romance stories are ones that are somewhat believable.

In her spare time, Tara reads, gardens, cooks, and procrastinates about cleaning. From time to time, Tara blogs about what she's working on (and anything else that she finds interesting) at http://www.taracrescent.com. She lives in Toronto.

She is somewhat active on Facebook and Twitter, especially when the writing is going poorly.

Tara also writes sci-fi romance as Lili Zander. Check her books out at http://www.lilizander.com

Find Tara on:

- @TaraCrescent

- tara.crescent

www.taracrescent.com

taracrescent@gmail.com

ALSO BY TARA CRESCENT

The Playing for Love Series (Contemporary Ménage MFM Romance):

Betting on Bailey

Gambling with Gabriella

Playing with Piper - Pre-order now!

Wagering on Wendy - coming Summer 2016!

Messing with Miki - coming Fall 2016!

The Girls Just Wanna Have Fun Series (Contemporary/BDSM Romance, Romantic Comedy)

A Touch of Blackmail

A Very Paisley Christmas

Boyfriend by the Hour - coming soon!

The Assassin’s Revenge Series (Romantic Suspense)

Assassin’s Revenge - The Complete Series

Found (Book 1)

Bought (Book 2)

Freed (Book 3)

Claimed (Book 4)

The Storm Series (Contemporary/BDSM Romance):

Storm Boxed Set (Episodes 1-5)

Which includes…

Storm: The Hottest Guy in Hollywood - A BDSM Romance (Storm Episode 1)

Storm: Kinky Valentine - A BDSM Romance (Storm Episode 2)

Storm: A Road to Forgiveness – A BDSM Romance (Storm Episode 3)

Storm: Tabloid Trouble – A BDSM Romance (Storm Episode 4)

Storm: Home is Where the Vibrator is (Storm Episode 5)

Nights in Venice Series (BDSM Romance):

A Thief in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 1)

An Heiress in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 2)

A Starlet in Venice (Nights in Venice Book 3)

Standalone BDSM Romance:

Teaching Maya

The House of Pain

The Professor’s Pet & follow-up short The Professor’s Girlfriend

The Audition

The Watcher

Chronicles of Raan Series (BDSM Fantasy):

Chronicles of Raan

Which includes:

FREE! Magic Everywhere (Chronicles of Raan Volume 1)

Raina’s Wedding (Chronicles of Raan Volume 2)

Leila’s Training (Chronicles of Raan Volume 3)

The Doctor Dom Series (BDSM & Medical Play):

Triage (Doctor Dom Volume 1)

Observation (Doctor Dom Volume 2)

Diagnosis (Doctor Dom Volume 3)

Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4)

Recovery (Doctor Dom Volume 5)

Or, buy the collections for a discount…

Doctor Dom Series Sequence One (Triage | Observation | Diagnosis)

Doctor Dom Series Sequence Two (Relapse | Recovery)

You can also keep track of my new releases by signing up for my mailing list!

Table of Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Free Story Offer

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

A Note from Tara

About Tara Crescent

Also by Tara Crescent